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lHe is holding, the bunch of violets stillIln his hand. As I turn away, he lets them fall, and sets his heel upon them. grind- ing them into tha floor. 1 pity Mrs. Rol- leston's Bsussels carpet more than I pity the violets, which have done me too much mischief to expect sympathy from me in their ignominious end. “ 0h, here you are, Allie l We’ve been searching for you everywhere. Mamma. is going borne." Olive comes up to me breathless, Gus, at some distance behind her, looking black as thunder. “ I am ready,” I] answer, without a glance at my late companion. His Elark eyes have blazed up quite Budden‘y. I had not thnught they could change like thfit. “ Any thing but a landscape painter.” he interrupts, at. no 103! to comprehend my lnsolent pause. “ She would never have dared to do it if she had thought him her (qual. She would never have ventured to do it if she hail dreamed of his thrustâ€" ing himself into the same society which ahgfreqrrxepta. ” libe‘ I do not suppose she bXam as herself very much,’ Ireturned deliberately. with the carelsas Insolence with which I t).in to recover my own conceit. “ I: would be In different, you know._ fit you water-f- __ _ looking do»: height with a. by reason of i than I « v my pu- , forgive h v “If she can forgive herself, the may very well (xhend her forngwesa to you ’ I answer. D'athariug up my billowy train in my hand as I, s‘and he'd-*9 him. looking very ta“ and slim and dfygnified outwardly, “ And will you ask her," he says eag- erly, “ to pardon my presumpfinn in dur- ing to pretend that I midnterprettd her gracious gm 7" “ 1 think she would not refuse to let you kaep them, whoever she is," I an- swer, laughmg, with web a sudden change of mood thatin even puzz'es myseEf. “Ynn think that l" he queafii ma eagerly. “ They do not look very valuable, do “ Tike them than,” I say crele as‘y, feeling that Gun is watahmg me. and tha“. to keep ME. Buxwer's violats would look more remarkable than mer :1V to in- hale their {Hermes and hand them back again. “ Take than], and pty her the farther compliment of forgetting the folly whizh put them into ynur pl‘Sieaalon.” “ It cost: me more than you think t1 give them up," he says, looking at them wlutfglljr: _ “ Misschott,’ he says, standing bef Jre me.and speaking gravely enough now, “I must ask you to forglve me. I am ashamed of myself for having spoken of what I should have kept a secret-of what I ought to have taken for just as much as it was worth. The vlolets were putâ€"where I found them-in j ust. and I have worn them in earnest. I had no right to do it ; and, if you will return them to the owner, I will update my fsn_lt by giving them up to you." they] ’ He takes the bunch of withered violets frcm his button-hole tenderly in the tips of his white gloved fipgam, and hands them to me. ‘: Because they are a little wi’hared. I value themâ€"more than you know.” 7 “ I am sorry I told you anything about it. Do you care to try the mazurka again 7 ” “ No, thank you. I do not care to dance any Amore." “Yrorfirieem to take. it to heart,” Mr. Bax‘ er says looking down at me. I sup- pro_ae I look vgry gross and. disagreeable. There are tears of mortificatlon in my eyes that I shouid have lowered myself by doing this foolish thing. How I hate those miserable violate, how I wish they had withered among their native ferns and mosses under the 61113 and chestnuts at Woodhay, before they tempted me to make such a. fool of myself I “ On the contrary," he answers quick- ly," I know she did it outof mere though:- leae kindneeaâ€"} erhape mixed with a epic» of mischief. And she thought I wouid never know itâ€"I am very sure she intend- ed that I never should l " “No1 so hard as you are perhaps,” I say, a little bitterly. “ Now you think the woman who sent you those vloietaâ€"or gave them to youâ€"is scarcely worthy of yogi-Arespect. " n . m ,..: L CHAPTER ]I[.â€"(CONT1NUED.) “ She scarcely deserves so much con- sideration at your hands," I say shortly. " Why not '1” he asks, with a laughmg look from under his long eyelashes. “ It is I'czucelya lady’s place to send violets to a gentleman. ev m if she were acquainted with him ” . y H _A,. j “ Yon women are very hard upon each other,” STRONGER THAN UFE. "W hatcgfi‘lcffdo Eu: genily Edueeze it Her waist was than within my reach, And, when so near to me I 't nmd it. I spent 1 o precious time in speech, But softly put my arm around in. This brought qu’te near her ripe, red lipaâ€" Sweet lma l Could [noâ€"ta] man resist 'em 1 I trembled in my finger tips, And drew them neuter andâ€"I kl sed 'em? Upon 1in arm she placed her hand. 80 soft and white. I lunged to seize it Would I 011‘):an nook 1t._a.nd 18 )bably not I felt in m; do not see ' not ; though I think she blame for than very reason," ‘11 a slight, almost Imperaep- ant of my shoulders, 20. I would rather take a m (q‘lal than with an infer- he says qfiha quietly, but scrlbable infl action of voice W83 8 most Temptation. un flag me she my life before me ht’reelf,” he says, a fro n his superior vbich diableaaos me ‘gniaed amusement a biam as 136er very liberately. with the I acquiesce, with aned into crimson I: when you call it 337; unpardonable green 511a ha nan ,lléi- Had I dared to insnla him, and he so poor as this? My mind misgives me for having brushed by him so cavalierly this morning on the stain, for having spoken to him so rudely the wuer night in Berke- ley Street. He must have cared for bal violets ( True b‘uougfib gives me pleaauruâ€" ‘illn me wim a little, s'naIP. wnmanly tri umph of which a man woum n 1:: .e; ashamed. “ I know he's bard up sometimes, poor lad 1 " Mrr. Wauchope goes on. “ He wouldn’t my 30 to save his hfe ; bub we landladles know more than people think. And somehow I feel more for the proud distant ones, that wouldn't tell you their troubles if they were starving, than for them that: Makes a poor mouth about: themselves, and is always down on their Tnls evening, while I am at dinue r M rs. Wsuchope comes in to ask me how I liked a pudding she made for me, be- ib used to be a. favourite of mine long ago, at We )dhay, when I was a. chlld. From the pudding our conversation wanders away to other matters, ~- the dearness of everything in London, how she manages be way of cat: r ngor her lodgers. “ I do the best I can for them,” she says, “ especially for the poor young man up stairs. Another person might not trouble her head as to whether his beef- steak was tough or not ; but I take just as much trouble about his meals as I do about your own. I'm not one to neglect a lodg'er because he cannot afford grand j )lnts. M .1y a. time I have gone out of my way gets chop or 2. outlet cheaper ‘or 11111 though he’d never know itâ€"ny, and a led a. bit of my own to it two. In a b .use‘like tlm, where there is so much g g, nobody would mien a. conple of g 9;. now slices ~ " but Ti be On ‘ ldlu my tab: to him. I have acted with unpardonable rudenesr, no doubt ; but, if I had bowed to him, would he have dared to pretend not to see ? Long after I meet 0.ive Dmne the q leetion annoys me -lt fol- lows me into Madame Cronhelm‘s house, into the great crowded class-room. For the first time my mu ‘ic-leseon bores me ; Herr von Kmig's illustrations of the weir-:1 melodious music of Faust, as com- pared with the silver-sweet cad-wees of Rossini. do not interest me ; and Madame Cronhelm accuses me rather sharply 0.168 or twice of singing out of tune. It Is not till I find myself in the great untidy draw- iug~r mm at Dexter Square, looking at Poppy‘s latest wedding-presents, that the uncomfortable feeling of havlng acted un- lr Ali to myself begins to wear away. I exarcwe in chiefly by a resolution not to treat Mr. Baler, should I ever meet hlm again, as if I were indeed the “ village» maiden " with whose fancy for a. land- scape-painter Olive is 9.1 ways taunting wondering whethér Mt. Gerard Baxter “ cut ” me, or whether I might be sup- poged to lgaye adminjntgrtd that .proc.e_sa I recognise him in a moment. as I have no doubt. he recognises me. But I brush by him bru Iquely, withou‘: looking up. Before I have passed him, I regret havlug 5) far forgotten myself, whatever his of- fence ; bu: when I glance up he is look- lng straight before him, Ignoring me as utaerly as if I were the plaster figure of a boy with a basket on his head which stands before the window with the paint- ed blind on the laniing. The whole in- cident does not occupy half a minuteâ€"lb is over almost before 1 am conscious hhatit has happened. But it leaves an uncom- fortable impression on my mlnd, which I cannot: shake off, I walk along the sunny side of the gloomy brown-brick street, looking out for Olive, whom I hope to meet; before I reach the corner ; huh allfhe tim: I am v... uvv- â€"I never listen for the sound of his voice. I practice a great deal, having promised Madame Clonhelm to sing at her concert, and O'ive has lent me “ Pro- bation,” so that I do not find time hang heavily on my hands. I spend the morn~ ings at Madame Cronhelm’s, and very often lunch with the Deanes, only com- ing back to Carleton Street at about four o'c‘ock in the afternoon. It is cold, dies. greeable weather, with an east wind which reddens one’s nose and eyelids and makes my fire and hammock-chit very pleasant in the evenings, which would be getting shorter every day now, if I did not pull down the blinds earlv, and so shut out the dull March twilight, which is so cheerless and so long. One afternoonâ€"the third since the Rollestons' dance â€"I hear a knack at the door, which I feel sure is Ollve‘s knock ; and, having my hat and jacket on, and having promised not to keep her waiting if she called for me, I run down-stairs to meet her in the hell. But, instead of Olive in her blue and cardinal dress, I come rather violently against a young man in a drab-colored overcoat, who stand-I back to let me pass, pulling off his ‘ bet as he endeavours to place himself as flstly as possible against the wall. “ Have you qwarrelled with your hand some cavalier, Allie 7" “ Qisrrelled with him, Olive l ” “ You looked as if you were quarrelling like anything just now.” “ I wonder Mrs Rollestnn cares to ask such people to her house, Olive. 1 don't think that man has the smallest pretens- ions to be called a gentleman.“ Olive laughs, looking at me. “ Ah, I see you have quarrelled 1" she says. shaking her head. “Allie, I'm afraid you are going to fall in love with Mr. Gerard Baxter.” For two days, even to myself, I ignore the existence of Mr. Germ-d Bxxter. I never mention his name to either Mrs. Wauchope or Mary Anne, not do they mention his name to me. I fancy he is in the houseâ€"I fancy I hear his knock at the door sometimes ! but I never }ook cub dy would :her’e mes hance fed tell me ‘senz'ang though CHAPTER IV strolled with your hand )N aim w tom ad taken a. a. bunch of )ln who “ 'Maud Muller all the summer day Reked the meadow 5 meet with hay ' 7" So they chatter and laugh, while I turn over the ketches on my lap in sulky si- lence. Suddenly Katie goes to one end of the room for a book and Craniord to a. a table for another ; and for a moment we two are left alone on the great ottoman, with nothing but the space of one empty velvet mangle between us. “ Speak to me, " he says suddenly, in half-whisper, bending his head to look in- purple garment trimmed w 1521 gold, an. sltting upon 9 golden throne, with yellow clouds a} him."’ “F «I did she ‘ inform herself ’ i tho Katie laughs “ That's wha‘ amayn puzz‘ed me 1" Genrd Baxhe . says grave‘yl “ Us in that which makgs it all so delicious 1 Why don’t you go to the poet: fu- characterâ€" ‘ Maud Muller ’ for instanceâ€" “ We must take a lesson from the no- table Hannah Woelly," he says, laughlng, as he sluks Into the place Kmtle has made for him. “ Don’t) you remember what she says in her book, printed in 1681, and quoted by Charles Lambâ€"‘ Let all Ingenious women have regard, when they work any image, to work im‘igh‘). Fitst let; it be drawn well, and than observe the directions which are given by kncw~ ing mm. I do amuse you I neva. #‘I'lb b“ Var-v ” I my shortly. and turn to Crawford R vllabton, who, however, in lis- tening to Mr. Baxter and not to me. not observing that. he and I, whom she had seen dancing together, had mken no notice of 980‘: othar. “I‘lmh will be de- lightful ; won’a it, Allie 'I " “ I am nnbzmuch ofa. hand at figures," Mr. Butter says, Without any pauae of surprise, or anger, or cmbarraaament. “ I never put them into my pictures if I can help it, and, when I do, I leave them as much as pussible b0 the imagination. But I dare say I might suggest some charactem, and then you could find out the drugs they must wearâ€"or invent; it.” “011 do ; Katie exclalms, nukng room for him on the ottoman beside her, and ing for, and iét some, arrange perversiEy makes me look steadfastly in another diremion, a though I saw him not. Tbe moment he says “ Guratd ” I look up. Mr. Baxter is crossmg the room slowly ; in anobher moment he has shaken hands with Katie, and is looking halt in- quiringly, half depreca’ingly. at me. Here is the opportunity I haw been long- “ That artist: over there ought to make a. sketch for you, Katieâ€"something orlg- lnal, you know. Anything original would be so much more lntereatmg than theae old hmknnyed natlonal costumesâ€"every- body in tired to death of them I say, Gerard, couldn’t you inveub something nawer bhanaSwiss peasant or a rivnzd-zl ere " On the day before the concert, Ellinor and O.iVa Deane call for me to go with with them to the Rollestona'â€"not to an “'At home " there, but merely to pay a visit tothe girls. They are to give a. fancy be“ early in April, and we amuse our- selves with portfolios (f sketches of m.- tional and fancy-dresses, sitting in the great handsome sombre clhy drawing~room, With Its bah oniea darkened by H mating plantsâ€"five or six girls altogether, with two kindred spirits in the shape of Fred Deane and Crauford Rolleston, who are q‘lite as good on the subject of ladies’ dress as ourselves., Katie and Crauford Rolleton and l are studying a. colored print of an Alaaci- an together, and I am saying how pretty the black velvet cap wouRdlook onablonde head llke Olive's, when two people come into the mom whom I, scarcely looking up, and even then aca'ceiy seeing them 113 the dusk-suppose to be J ack Rolleeton and hm brother in-law, Captain ngsley â€"oue of them Iknow to he Jack. They stroll over to a group at one of the win- dowsâ€"Olive and Puppy and Susie Rolles- ton, and I think no Inn-e about them, till Cranial-3. says suddenly-â€" are old friends of mine and old favourite}. Herr von Konig tells me 1 had better have an am we ready, unless I care to re- pent, those two ; but I tell him laughingly that) that would be a. very unlucky thing to do, to prepare an encore beforehand. twantyfirst. 1 am to sing twice, first; the “ Jewel song " from Faust, then Blamen- bhal'a “ Bond of the River." The selec- tion is Madame Cronhelm’a; but both songs are old friends of mine and old favourites. Herr von Konig tells me 1 had better have an em rre ready, unless I care to re- Of course I feel mortlfied, though he may possibly think it was my wish than we ehuuld ignore that introduction at the Rolleetone’. But I know that it was not my wish, and that I would have bowed to hlm this tlme if I had got the chance, and his looking in that determined way over my head makes me feel very angry. However I do not encmmer him agaln m Carleton Street or anywhere else for more than a week, and, though M a. Wduzlmpe tells me that he is more at home than he used to be, and working hard at his picture, I gradually forget his rudeness and my own folly in busy pre pamtions for Madame Cronhelm‘e 0 meat, which is to take place on the eveulng of But the next time I meet him he turns the tables upon meâ€"supposlng me to have been the aggressor in the first in- snmce. I am commg into the house as he passes out, and he never so much as looks at me to see whether I mean totake any notice of_him or not. So that he has himself virtually put an end to our ac- qualntance. those unfortunate vlolets, or he would newer have: worn them, half withered as shay were ; and yet: I had vexed him so much that he had ground them with h s heel into the than I am ashamed and angry, with a vague uncomfortable feeling of having made a fool of myself besides. The next. time I meet him I shall act dif- ferently. though it is a fact that I am b )- ginning to hate him for having pun me on) of conceit w1th myself. bh of the “age If you work J u curled black I: 828 81 Bubâ€"“ Are you going to be my new papa ? ‘ Accepted Suitor â€"“ Yes, my dear chi‘xd." “ Have you got your wig yet ‘3” “ Wig 7" Why, no ; I need no wig. Why do you ask? ’ “ My other papa al- ways said he was so thankful his hair A New York clergyman says thistle men can't visit a skating rink and retain his uprightness. Tnab depends. If he puts on the skates the chances are ninety- nine in a hundred that he will lose his uprightness; bub if he merely tekas a seat among the spectators, hie upright- ness will not suflar. In considering the attitude likely to be assumed by Turkey in the event of swar between England and Russia. two things muit be borne prominent‘y in mindâ€"the pre j 1dices of the Turkish army and the necessities of the Turkish excheq rer. It is something more than a. superstition with the E tropean Turks that Russia is their most relentless foe. Constantinople is the first dream of the Muscovite heart. H arat and the road to the Indian ocean is merely a diversion. The Turk is per- factly conscious of the covetous eye that is never taken off the Bosphovns and the waterway into the Mediterranean. He knows that it is only by the suflersuce of the European powers he is allowed to block Russiaiu the Black see, and he knows that England has been chief among the powers in maintaining him where he is. The c nmmn soldiery and (iii :ers of tie Turkish arm) have baen itrninei in:the school of confl ct and defeat to hate the Muacovite and Cossack. Plevna is yet fresh in their memories They know that single handed they are no match for the armies of the czar. But with Russia engaged protecting herself at every point from English attackéand confronted in central Asia by Afghan, Indian, and Eng‘ ixsh troops, they may dream of retrieving the losses of their last Wit. It is there- fore not surprising to learn thst the Turk- ish army favors an English alliance. But a more potential factor in deciding the question of Turkey’s attitude is Turâ€" ‘ key's treasury. This is in its usual cmdi~ tionâ€"“broke.” Russian finances were on the verge of bankruptcy before she de- l termined to seize on Afghan territory. They are strained to the utmost in the gigantic preparations she is making for war. Her guaranty of s new Turkish loan would not help the porte to a. dollar. England, on the other hand, is solvent ands. great money-lender. If she guar- antees a new Turkish loan it will be dis- counted in the money centers of Europe. It is, therefore. essy to credit the cable report that says : “It is believed that Trikey has already given her option in 'svor of England on the promise of the latter’s assistance in floating a. new T" wk . ish losu.” Money is the great pwm in lr‘C irlng allies among second-class nations, especially where they are under the gov- ernmen‘, of impecunious and irrrsponsible l deepots. Germany and Austria. declare that it wound be a breach of neutra ..y for them to bring any pressure in the tor them to bung: Dorte to close the’D‘ nay expec‘. AE nghsh inn at: the “Wig 2" Why, no Why do you ask?’ ‘ ways said he was s waa't fast to hlm." l l‘sten til! the song is ended, and then I close the door softiy and go back to the fire, laughing. I know at leaet of whom he is thinking ; those were the very words he said to me this afternoonâ€"‘ Speak to me. Why won’t you speak to ma '3 ” The old spirit of mischief prompts me to sit down to the piano and sing something that might seem like an answer ; but the disastrous consequen ten of my former folly are too recent to encourage me to transgress a second time. ” Probation ’7 half-open on my 'knee. Mr. Bsxter has been in his studio all the evening ; he must have left the door open for I can hear hlm whlatlmg a. bar of a song now and then, sometime! singing it in a deaulcory kind of a way. 01% when [ pause to listen, my door being also ajar, I can distinguish the word: of a song I kno v, “ Why turn away When Idraw near? Wny cold (Do-day? Once I waa dear. Then my ham-t stirred am fluuhel thy b'ow I Never a ward welcomes me now. Speak to Inaâ€"speak! Be my hear; heard. 01- will I: break for one kind word ; No vow to bind. no pledge I seek Only be kind. Speak to [noâ€"spank l " I do not like the suggestion ; it vexas me all the evening. while I ptacblae my conc art-music, while I nil: in my pet chair over the fire, reading the latest despatch- es from Woodhay and Yattenden. whileI muse with my feet on the tender, and “ He said so just now. He in coming wi?h the Rolleatons. Do you know 1 think he in an admirer of Katie'sâ€"I saw their heads very close together over chose prin‘a of Dore’a. " “ So your handsome friend is coming to Madame Cronhelm’a concert? " Olive myaL on our way back tQVVCafletpn Street. »“ How do yofi know 2 ” I aeked cate- lesgly; “Dacia,” and in another moment they are all poring over the illustrations to- gether, Katia‘s brown head very near Gerard Baxter's dark one, while CraufJId takes up his old position close to me. I am .hus in a manner fox-ted into their cmsuitation, and, though I am playing a ro’e which suits me very ill, I cannot help being amused by it and laughing and nug- geating with the rest. Even if I had been inclined. l have no time to answer 1111:. Katie has come back with a volume of Tennyson in her band. Cmuford with_ Dore’s splendid 7“ What. have I done that you should send me no Coventry like this ’I " to my face. “ Why won't you speak to But I look at my pictures stubborn‘y, feeling that. now It Is my turn to make myself unnleasanbâ€"if I can. Turkey for or Against ‘2 (TO BE CONTINUED ) BlaEk as:st ate to Horas .eve control at mmy ning is not the way to avoid it. In our own experlence we know several instances where men who had previous- y opposed themselves to be sound have run for trains, and getting aboard have fallen exhausted into seats from which they have been removed as corpse ‘ and knowing such cases we never for trains. Batter miss a traln than run we risk of running into the jaws of death; for ma arr: n on the heart cannot prove beneficxal to one that in sound, whlle in most [multiver will prove more or less (Luau-um to one Lhatia weak. In this The efler of the Princess Louise to send ambulance appliances and men to the scene of the rebellion has been accept- ed. This is the second offer from Har Royal Highness. who, a short: time ago, sent as a present for the volunteers, five hundred pounds of tobacco and four hundred pipes. We have just mined the train, and we missed in because we would not; run. This experience suggests to us to ofier a few words of advice, through an read- ers, to the busy men of America. who are in a chronic state of “tanning for trains." Even to one whose heart is sound, run- ning when not accuetomed to such hurried movement, is certainly not beneficial to dean-nu; to one Lhatia weak. In thi: world of unsuspected physical pitfalls it behooves us “no make haste slowly." The two Crew‘s who Were brought into camp by the rear guard one morning were bundled off very unceremoniously by the Maj )r-Ganeral. They were two disreputable looking creatures apparently half-starved and unmistakably filthy. One who was about thirty years old was armed with a double barrelled musket, while his 0 impani )n, a lad of about six- teen, carried a dirty bow and arrow. They both wore blankets which had once been white, with plain deep lack borders, which it seems is the popular description of blanket with the Indians in this part of the country, as all of the redskins we have yet seen have worn these hi leous-looking coverings, which gives one the idea of poverty in mourning. These two individuals ap- proached the rear guard about sunrise, and having shaken hands with the officer com- manding, asked by signs for something to eat. At reveille, when the guard return- ed to camp, they brought the reds with them and gave them some hard tack. This appeared to them the very essence of bliss and squatting down they set to work to demolish the hard biscuit with an ease and apparent gusto which made them the envy of every one in camp. When conii'outed by General Middleton a short time afterwards they told a pitiful tale of being in search of a missing daughter and sister, but the General, apparently, did not pay much credence to the story, and in plain E iglish expressed the opinion that i‘. was "all a. confounded lie," Ha imme- diately o.dered them to lesvethe camp, and refused to provision them, as he said this would in a few days bring all the Indians in the country into the camp to be fed. The process of crosslng the river in vogue here adopted by the General 1s a very ingenious one. A strong steel wire c ible is stretched straight across the river and the scow used as a ferry ls made fast to this by lines and pulleys, which last run on the cable as travallers. The main mo- ti ve powur is the current of the river, which at this point runs at four miles an hour, but sweeps are used as auxillaries. The traveller attachments are made fast to the scow fore and aft, and when the ferry is started, the aft attachment ls loosened out until the current strikes the upper side of the scow obliq "rely. The force down stream thus imparted with the counter brce of the cablemaintalnlng the scow from drifting down sideway, drives the scow forward and it literally works its way across the river backwards and for- wards in a very steady manner. Private Matthews, of the 905b, who was wounded in the skirmish at. Fish Creek, and whose arm has amca been amputated, was a jaweller in Winnipeg, and closed his store to go to the front. The schoolhouse at raskaboon has been turned into a temporary hospital for the w Junded who have been transported thith- er from Clark’s Cf'ogaing.’ The numerous Indiana lefc dead on the field after the fight at. Fuh Creek, ware bu'led by the troops. Tel9graphlc communica‘ion has now been established between Clark's Crossing and Fish Creek camp. Mrs. Toureau's home ah Fish Creek, around which the fight; was the h finest. in whereGeorge A. Keer. 13‘,er Riel’aprlzon- er, had shelter. Kerr hasa price an on his head. N averthelesa he bravely accom- panles the troops, and swears he will identify every rebel captured. Rev. C. E Whivc ~mbe has left for General Middleton’s command, where he wi'l be attached as Chaplain to the Royal Grenadiars, but his Between will be avail- able for the whole of the force: A correspondent who is Wall acqminted with the country around F iah Creek. the scene of the recent batt1~, says : â€"“The advance from the bottom of the coulee up against the rifle-pins would be a. thousand- fold more daring than Wolfe's ascent of the heights of Qaebec.” Capt. Clark, of Wxnnipeg. who was woundsd in the bind in the Fish Creek skirmish, la recovering rapidily. The Huc‘sou’a Qumpany contribut- The Huc‘son’a Bay C‘xmpmy'contflb ed two thousand five hundred dollars the volunteer relixf fund. W nnzlo Blanls Running for Trains. CAMPING}? NOTES. ioul ery in] nious. that Vlolenb and tumult- ‘o be avoided wnen the ad we «£80 know that) run- i this lll the From. to such hurried It beneficial to valves of the an be diseased