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__._.__‘.._,_$ ivupKERS CH AFTER XXI. "ME. AND MRS. MALET." g'our years later, Esther might have been seen walking at a quick pace through the village, on her way from the post-office to the Dower House. She looked brighter than on the day when Sebastian had met her in the churchyard. HAM MANOR. It was a Saturday afternoon. Esther went l straight into the drawing~room, where she knew that she would find Mrs. Ls. Touche. Mrs. La Touche was sitting at her favorite window in a Comfortable chair, Cecily and her younger sisters were in the garden,with some small friends who were invited to tea. By the way in which Mrs. La Touche lifted her eyelids and bestOWed a peculiarly cold sidelong glance upon her governess as Elle approached. Esther felt instinctively that she was in disgrace. Two or three years ago her heart would have sunk like lead in abject, slavish fears at these signs of Mrs. Ls. Touche's displeasure. Now she had learned not to care. “The children are in the garden, Miss Denison.” The hint was unmistakable. “I have been with them until the last quarter of an hour,” she said, “when I walked down to the post-oflice for a letter It was a slip of the tongue which she re- peated. “For a letter, Miss Denison? Are not your letters always enclosed in the post-bag with our own ‘2” “This one was not,” said Esther boldly, “because it was addressed to me under an assumed name.” She held out the envelope on which the address ran thus : “John Florian, Esq., Post-Office, Kersham. To be left till called for.” “I am ‘John FIorian,’ ” she added, with an irrepressible little laugh, at which Mrs. La Touche look- ed shocked. ‘ “0h,” said the lady, very coldly. “You must allow me to say, Miss Denison, that actions of this kind are very liable to mis- interpretation. It is not, in my opinion, a perfectly ladylike action to receive letters under a man’s name. And that brings me to another subject that I have intended to mention for some time. Cecily is now fourteen years old. I think that a change of teachers would benefit her. An older more experienced person, who would help in the formation of her characterâ€"so much more important a. matter than the mere im- parting of knowledge-” She paused a little to let this view of the subject have its full weight, and then con- tinued more graciously. “With younger children I have no doubt at all of your success, Miss Denison. But you have certain disadvantages to contend with in teaching older girls, especially in a neighborhood where your antecedents are known. Social disadvantages, I mean. W'hen I engage a lady to replace you, 1 shall look for a measure of worldly exper- ience and even of good social position in my governess. But I shall be most happy to recommend you for children, and I will do my best to get you a good situation.” “I am very much obliged to you,” said Esther, “but I came here this afternoon to tell you that I do not think of teaching any longerâ€"at least, after midsummer.” “You are going to be married?" There was an immediate increase of respect in Mrs. La Touche’s tone. “No ; I have had a post offered me on a newspaper, and I think of taking it. The letter that you saw came to me. from the newspaper office, Where everybody does not yet know my nameâ€"or even that I am a woman.” “Indeed?" Mrs. La Touche did not know whether to be pleased or offended at Either’s reply. She would very much have liked to ask what newspaper Esther had been in correspondence with, what salary she would have, and what her position was to be ; She meant to know all these things in time ; but at present she restrained her- self. She took up her book again as a hint that the conversation was at an end, only pausing to say : “At the end of July, then. you will leave Kersham, I suppose. I will write to the Horley Street Registry Office to-night.” The words “you will leaVe Kersham,” struck painfully on Esther’s ear. After all, why should she be pleased at the pros- pect of livmg hundreds of miles away from the place with which her fondest if saddest memories Were connected? Herc had her parents lived and died ; here had she known the Malets and the La Touches who had counted for so much in the history of her life. Here she had known Sebastianâ€" and a quick, keen pang shot through her heart at the thought of him. Ah, it was for that very reason that she ought to so, for Sebastian was a married man, the prop- . erty of another, and it was not her busi- ness to think of him. She stood where she was, her head drorping, her eyes filling with reluctant tears. M rs. La Touche lifted her face ; she would perhaps have spoken sharply, had her attention not been diverted from Esther by the appearance of visitors. The irreproachable Briggs had opened the door with a scared and helpless expression of countenance. He was followed closely by two persons. One was the old Squire, bent with rheumatism and leaning on his stick, but ruddy and smiling, and much smarter in his appearance than usual. The other was a woman of about five-and-thirfv, whom Esther recognized as the dau hter fo a small farmer on Mr. Malet’s estate. “I thought you lookedâ€"sort ofâ€" dum- foundered,” said Mrs. Malet. “ I was surprised," she repeated emphat- ically. “But really, after all, it is most interesting ! Of course my dear cousin felt his loneliness, and you have stepped in to console him ; how veryâ€"nice i” “I’m glad you take it so,” said Mrs. Malet, examining the hem of her hand- kerchief with her head on one side and a bashful smile extending her mouth almost from ear to car, “ for Stephen and me thought that you’d not be too civil, and that’s the truth ; didn’t we, Stephen ? So we didn’t tell you nothing about it be- forehand, thinking that you’d make a dis- turbance, so we went up to London this morning and got it over in no time by special license. You should have seen the people at the station us we drove back I My, llOW they stared ! Isuppose they thought I look- ed like a. bride,” and she began t5 laugh. Tho Squire hall seated himself hi; this time, and, with ltis hands still TeSllllf on " ~11”, listened szoiiiC‘.'.’llat surdonicallv to what his wife had to say. . ' there is withing to laugh about. â€"__â€".._._â€"__. ___â€"_____,‘-.‘_______, ._*._~â€" WW”..â€" Martha. Never mind how people look or what they sayâ€"You are right in taking the news so pleasantly, Selina; it is, of course, the only sensible way, though I did think you might harass me with remarks and questions if you knew beforehand of my choice. I am accountable to no one, and I take my own path. I never had my own way while Roland was livingâ€"never. And I'm a lonely old man and want some- body to take care of me." “ And I’m the right person to do that,” said hIztrtha, in a more natural tone of con- siderable briskness. “ Bless you, ma’am, I’ve had experience. I’ve nursed my father through several illnesses, and I had my grandfather on my hands for years. Quite helpless, he was. What an old gentleman like Mr. Malet requires is cockering up wi’ soups an’ jellies an’ pudens, and told what to do an’ where to go like. a baby, for his health’s sake; and many’s the time I’ve pitied him for having nobody to look after him, and I’ve said to father that if he'd let me I’d go to the big house at twenty pound a year to take care of the Squire, because he’s got nobody now, and he‘s allers been good to us.” “But father he said nay," Mrs. Malet went on ; “ and at last, in spite of him, I ups an’ speaks to the Squire himself, and tells him that he’s neglected and wants somebody to take care of him, and thatI would do it myself for tuppence ; and what does he do but ask me to be his wife? And I know that his family will all be set against me, and p’raps it’s alibcrty as I’ve taken lo come among them ; but Squire or no Squire, Mr. Malet’s an old man and wants looking after, and I’m the one to do it.” Mrs. La Touche listened in outraged silence. " Very good of you,” she murmur- ed at the conclusion of her speech. “ She’s the one to do it,” chuckled the Squire. “ Go on, Martha, your father al- ways said that you could talk when you like. Go on.” " I’m sure, Squire,” she said, “ I ain’t a magpie chatterei‘. whatever father may have said to you. Well, ma’am, all I can say is what he knows that I’m bound to say. You see, your daughter Nina having married the Squire’s nephey, I’m in a. sort of a way Nina’s aunt. ain’t I 7” Oh, this was too much l Mrs. La Touche murmured something innrticulate, and lift- ed her handkerchief to her face. “Of course,” proceeded Martha, “ being now Sebastian’s aunt, I’m not going to see him acted unfairly by. He’s often come to see me when he was alittle chamon’ I’m rather partial to him, though I’d never nothing to say to Sir Roland, who seems to have acted father to him, so to speak. But you needn’t be afraid, ma’am, but what we shall act fair and square to Sebastian and Nina. At the same time, when we look at what might happen in the future, nia’am, Stephen and me thinks it just as well to remind you that Sebastian has had his uncle's money already, and he need not cut up rough about it if he don’t get Kcrsham Manor as well. We heard tell that you had talked of Sebastian as the next master, and said what you would do when the Squire was dead, and so on, and the Squire didn’t quite like it, so he’s taken his own way to prevent any more such talk, and Sebastian needn’t feel so very sure of being master after all." . Mrs. La Touche had become white again. “You mean me to tell this to my son- in-law ?” she said, in a small, pinched voice. “ Well, ma’am, to n’raps it would be as well,” said Martha. Z‘But what we chiefly meant to say'was that We would do what was fair and just, my husband an’ me, and that you must not look on it as a robbery of Sebastian ifâ€"-” Mrs. La Touche threw down her mask. “Nobody but a person of your low birth and breeding would attribute such motives to Sebastian,” she said, in clear, lnc1s1ve tOnes which cut the listeners chiefly inter- ested like a whip. “He is happily quite independent of his uncle’s money, and Will not be deterred by mercenary considera- tions from expressing his true opinion of his uncle’s choice. If his uncle chooses to disgrace him, he will probably agree with methat the less intercourse there is between us the better.” “ There row ! I’ve made you angry,” said Martha ruefully, “and I’m sure I never meant to. Stephenâ€"” _ “ You fool,” said the Squire getting, up Slowly but angrily, "don't you see that the Woman wants to insult you? As long as being mistress of Kersham Manor , but, I can make allowances, and I don’t bear mal- ice. You may as Well shake hands with me, cousm; for cousin you are, and cousin I prevent mistakesâ€"- she thought there was anythingto be got out of you she was all butter andmoneyâ€" but nowâ€"” “Oh, rubbish,” said the good-natured Martha, also rising to her feet, “don’t y0u put yourself about for a Word .or tWO. Squire. Of course she’s vexed ; it was a fine thing for her to think of Miss Nina mean to call you, and I'm Nina’s aunt, by marriage if not by blood,” She took Mrs. La Touchc's hand almost by force, and shook it heartily. For the first time in Esther’s knowledge of her em- ployer, she saw her in tears. “As for you,miss,” she said more respect- fully than she had spoken to Mrs. La Touche, ” Iknow you, though you don’t how me. I used to attend your pore pn's kinistry, miss. We were always chapel, though now I s’pose I must change my ways and go to church. At Woodbury it was, where I used to hear him. We didn’t follow him to Kennet’s Green, accuse of the distance. But I was converted under your pa, miss, and always had a great respect for him, and never would give our to those that talk again him,and aswceter lady than your mar I never did see in all my life.” Esther’s heart went out to anybody Whn spoke affectionately of her parents. She held out her hand so readily and gave it so cordial a. clasp that Mrs. little grey eyes grew softer. “You’rea right sort, " she said, “ and I like you. Come and see me when I’ve set- tled down at the Manor, and tell me about your pa and ma. Well, good-by, Mrs. La Toucheâ€"Cousin Ls. Touche, I mean. 1 don’t bear no malice, nor I hope Won’t you. As for Sebastian, it’llztll come right in time. And now I must go with Stephen, for I see he’s fretting and fuming, but I‘ll Soon set that straight with him, won’t I ’1" She relapsed into her foolish giggle, and ztpprouciml .lC'l.‘ husband with the sidling ' ic'n she seemed to think a mark of (elegance, Mulet’s sharp l 1 l / Estlierrcmained for a moment, uncertain Whether to go or stay. Mrs. L3. Touche sat motionless until the ill~mdtched pair were out of sight ; then she rose and walk- ed slowly out of the room. Sympathy was the last thing that she needed. But she was not seen again that evenitg ; it was said that she had a headache ; and all the household knew that the wound had gone very deep. CHAPTER XXII. Mus. Lsroucus msxsuvsns. But on Sunday morning Richard was himselfagaio. Mrs. La Touche came down to breakfast in the best of gowns and tempers. She was particularly gracious to Esther, particularly swoet and amiable with the children. She spoke of Mr. and Mrs. Malet with a smile which really did her credit. The heroism of a woman who wishes to keep up appearances is scarcely second to that of the famous Light Brigade. I am sure that Mrs. La Touche would sooner have walked up to the yawning cannon’s mouth than gone to church that morning, with the knowledge that she must face her neighbours’ curious eyes and sit almost side by side with Mrs. Malct. But she was not going to flinch. She walked leisurely through the village street, as usual, and up the sloping churchyard path without a trace of emotion on her aristocratic face. Fsther followed behind, a sober figure in gray, with a red rose fastened at her throat. Mrs. La Touche could not forbear one hasty glance at the Squire's pew. Thank heaven, they were not there! But Miss Meredith, who sat just behind them, was in her place; sparkling, quivering with excitement, in spite of her respect for sacred things. Matins, the sermon, the first part of the Communion Service, went on as usual. 'Ihen came the pause after the prayer for the Church Militant : the pause that Mr. Wright considered so un- ecclcsiastical, and that the Rector would not omit. The school-children trumped out with noisy boots and much shoving of elbows ; the larger part of the congregation dispersed also ; the organist shut up the organ and slipped away into the vestry :Rector and Curate still knelt before the altar absorbed in prayer. Mrs. La Touche “took the sacrament,” as she phrased it, regularly three times a year. She considered it rather profane to take it oftener. Still she sat on. \Vas Miss Meredith going to stay? And Miss Denisonâ€"of course. Then she should stay too. “ You can walk home by yourself, Ce- cily.” she whispered, “ I am going to stay.” Cecily opened her brown eyes at her mother, but of course made no reply. She slipped out by the side door, just as the Rector, now on his feet began to read. “ Ye that do truly and earnestly repent ye of your sins, and are in love and charity with your neighbors, and intend to lead a newlifeâ€"” Did Mrs. La Touche listen to him, I wonder? I do not believe she thought that she had any sins to repent of. Just when the Sanctus was over, Mrs. La Touche turned faint. , She had bent forward, touched Esthcr’s arm and whispered “ I feel very unwell. Will you help me out into the fresh air? I fear I shall faint if I stay.” Esther often went to Kennet’s Green on a Sunday afternoon when she had taken her Sunday-School class -, but on this occasion she could not be spared from Mrs. La Touche’s side. Mrs. La Touche asked her to read about Farrar’s Life of Christ ; Miss Denison’s sweet voice would soothe her, she was sure. Mrs. La. Touche looked most amiable. She leaned back in an easy-chair, while Esther, at her invitation, drank a cup of cold tea and ates. biscuit. And Mrs. La Touche took some thin sheets of paper from the little table at her side, and began turn‘ ing them over listlessly. “I had a letter from dear Nina this morning,” she said, “ and I thought that you might perhaps like to hear some news of her. Besides I am a. little anxious about her, and should like to have your opinion. I confide so much in your discretion and judgment,” she went on placidly : “ I am sure that you can tell me, knowing Nina as you do, whether she is really unwell, or whether the depression of which she = p ~aks means that she is unhappy. For incâ€"I really cannot tellâ€"I am her mother, and perhaps a little biased. You will be quite unprejudiced.” The color came into Esthcr’s face. How often she had longed to read some of Nina’s letters ! Nina scarcely ever wrote to her now, only to Mrs. La Touche. “ Begin here please,” said Nina’s mother, indicating a line on the second sheet, “ and would you mind reading it aloud to me? It is sometimes a great assistance to hear how words sound from the lips of another.” Esther began. “. . . . I am sure," wrote Nina, “ that you will be quite tired of my housekeeping worries, and you Will not be more tired than I am myself. It is a. great relief to tell you of them, because Seb- astian does not like me to complain, and of course it does not do to be always putting him in a bad temper. If he would only give me the allowance that other Women have out here, wefshould have no more trouble ; and it is all nonsense about his not being able to afiord it. Thank you, dear mamma, for the pretty babyâ€" clothes ; they are perfectly lovely, and will save me a great deal of trouble. I am sure I had no idea. when I married that I should have so many worries. Rollo has been un- well again, because the nurse (a French woman) took him out in the sun. Sebastian says I ought to have prevented it; but I am really not strong enough just now to look after servants all the day long. What it will be when baby is old enough to run about and there are two children to be con- stantly getting into mischief, I can not really tell. I have not been at all strong since baby was born, and the doctor says tliatI ought to leave Algeria before the summer, but what can I do? Sebastian says he can not aflord to take me anywhere and that if I want to come to EnglandI must travel by myself. Isn’t it cruel of him? I know you want me to come to you ; but I can not possibly make the voyage all alone with the childrenâ€"it would be the death of me. Dear momma, could not you come out and fetch me? I am sure I shall die if I stay here ; and I dare not come by myself. Could you not send some one for me, if you can not come? Aunt Illtygltltl‘. pcnscs. Sebastian says that this is a good ideaâ€"I have just asked himâ€"and if I can get a friend to take care of me during the journey he (loos not see why I should not accept your kind invitation and spend the summer at the Dower House.” “ I should be only too glad to have her, poor child l” sighed Mrs. La. Touche, as the letter came to an end. “But Icould not possibly go for her myself, and Mrs. Hay- garth and Marian Haygarth have got scarlet fever in the house. It is most un- fortunate." Then, she laid her hand on Esther's arm. “ Dear Miss Denison, will not you go to your old friend's help?” Esther’s brow contracted ; she did not answer. Mrs. La. Touche noticed that she turned very pale. “I have absolute confidence in you,” she went on. “ You are so sensible, so self- controlled, so trust-worthy. Nina could lean upon you ; she could place her affairs into your hands with such entire repose of mind. And think how necessary that is for her lâ€"I think it is a beautiful idea ;quite l’rovidential. You are not wanted in the north,I think you said, until after July ; and by that time you would be back again. Of course it would be a business arrange- ment ; you should have no expanses ; and it would be such an experience for you 1” “ I could not go on that ground,” said Esther, somewhat abruptly. “If I went, it would be for Nina’s sakeâ€"not for my owu.” “ My dear girl, do you suppose thatI am offering you a pleasure trip ‘2” Mrs. La Touche exclaimed. “0n the contrary, I expect that you would have to put up With every kind of disagreeableâ€"heat, sand, insects, the risk, I fear, of fever ; nothing pleasant at all. It is for Nina’s sake only that I ask you to make the sacrifice : my poor child‘s life may depend on it,” and she pressed a filmy handkerchief to her eyes. “ Why does she not go herself ’2” was the question that forced itself on Esther’s mind Then Mrs. La. Touche put down her hand. kerchief, and began to argue and persuade. She rose up at last. cutting short Mrs. La Touche’s arguments with an abrupt- ness which would have deeply offended that lady had the result been other than she desired. “ You need not say any more; if I can be really of use to Nina I am ready to go,” she said. “ My dear Esther, I shall never cease to be grateful to you!” cried Mrs. La Touche. She rose too, put her hand on the girl’s shoulders and kissed her effusively. Esther had seen her humiliated ; had heard her reproached for indiscretion. It was quite enough to make a cold woman who esteemed herself hate the girl for ever- more. Mrs. La Touche prided herself on not hating Esther; but she was delighted at the prospect of getting her out of the house. (TO DE 00511}! urn.) ~â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-+â€"â€"-â€"‘ NEWS 05‘ ELECTRICITY. A man museum. One of the difficulties that large users of wire have constantly had to contend With, is a sure and simple method of registering the quantity of wire passing daily out of the stock room. A new wire measurer that has just been put on the market in Chicago seems to meet this requirement. The wire passes between two rollers one of which is geared to a counting device that indicates the exact number of feet run out, and the purchaser can thus see at a. glance how much wire he has to pay for. The recording dial is similar to a car register, and the entire arrangement is automatic in action. ELECTRIC PARCEL VANS. The reduction in the cost of operating street cars by electricity in place of horses is a. source of great satisfaction to the stockholders of city lines, and in some places the dividends have increased in such proportion that it is proposed to‘reduce the fares and so allow the public to reap a share of the benefits of the substitution. The trolley, which is virtually the only method of electric traction used in this country, is, so far, found to be the most profitable, but the economy of the storage battery for traction purposes has become established in England, where that system is rapidly growing in favor. It is stated that electric parcel vans for the accom- modation of the enormous parcel-post traf- fic are about to be placed on the London streets. The cost of horse traction in this service is put at 10c per mile, and it is estimated that by the use of the storage- battery vans it will be reduced to So. It is proposed to construct the batteries so that they can be charged for four hours’ work. SAFEGUARDS FOR WORKING ELECTRICIANS. The announcement that a means has been invented of rendering any wire charged with electricity instantly dead opens up the question recently discussed in an English electrical journal of the better protection against accidents from heavy currents of workmen in electric light and power stations. It suggested, among other im- provements, that theinsulation resistance of the rubber gloves and boots worn by men engaged at high-pressure WOI‘KS should be - together again. l WITH THE BED lilAl‘l. Dr- Amyot Spent Years Among 13 Indians- How They Cure a Fever- The many friends of Dr. A. L. Amyot, who practised in Toronto many years ago, will be glad to learn that he has returned from his philanthropic mission among the half-breeds of the North-west and intends spending the remainder of his days at Montreal, his birthplace. Dr. Amyot re- gistered at the “’alker house last evening after an absence of 17 years. In 1876 he gave up a lucrative practice in this city and started for the far west. Speaking to an Empire reporter last evening, he said that he had entered the profession of medi- cine more for the love of the study than for the purpose of amassing a. fortune. He had been left comfortably off on the death of his father. After several years’ practice in Toronto he learned from a missionary father that the Indians of the North-west were in a wretched state physi‘oally,and de- termined to go and give them what relief he could. After leaving Winnipeg in July, 1876 he made his way on foot ACROSS THE PRAIRIE. for over 700 miles north-west in the com- pany of two Indians the priests had sent to meet him. He settled among the natives at a place called Wawagoon, and until the arrival of the troops during the late rebel- lion he saw no white men except Hudson bay traders and mounted police. The End- son bay post had supplied him free of charge even supplying all his drugs. He tells some very interesting facts re- garding the medical practices in vogue among the Indians before he went to live with them. When a man broke his leg he would simply bind it up with ‘arrows and hide, and remain on his back until it grew The leg was not set. The result was that crooked legs were quite common. In cases of fever the patient was buried in sand save his face and allowed to remain there either until he died or asked for food. They considered him out of danger when he desired food, and would then attend to all his wants. Consumption was the greatest foe the Indian had to con- tend with, and this was not to be wondered at, considering THE POOR NOURISHMENT the children received and the great quanti- ties of meat the adults used. \Vhat had surprised him most upon his arrival west was the wonderful recupera~ tive powers of the Indian women. He had known them while on the march to the hunting grounds to deliver themselves of children and catch the main party within 48 hours. He found the Indians 3 most grateful and, considering their disadvantages, a very in- tellectual people. Civilization and whiskey were driving them to the wall rapidly. The rebellion was not a surprise to him. Heconsidered that it was the natur- al result of the system then employed by the Government in dealing with the breeds. The Government had REMEDI'ED MOST OF THE EVILS that existed after the fight, and at present the Indians of the North-west had but little to complain of. Before the C.P.R. there were no medical men north of Winnipeg that he knew of, but himself. There was scarcely a village no matter how far distant from the railway, to-day, however, that had not its doctor, lawyer and saloon keep- er. ._.â€"â€"-oâ€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"- Turkish Superstitions. then in summer a. bee flies in the window it is regarded as the harbinger of good news, as is also a thistleduwn or a beetle. A moth at night flying about alight means thoughts and good Wishes from immortals ; the unex- pected braying of a donkey, a visit from an unpleasant acquaintance. If a man leaves his home for business and walks across the streets and abird alights exactly in front of him three times he turns on his heel and goes home, and no power short of an im- perial firman will make him pass that place again that day, for he is sure that if he at- tempts to do so something will happen him. A dog running three times across his path will also turn him baCk. When a Turk is started out upon an im- portant venture he will say to himself: “The issue will be as I desire it if the first three persons I meet have blue eyes.” Blue eyes being far less common than black, he takes the chances, and sometimes sees the three blue-eyed ones first. I never could reconcile the belief in written destiny and in the omens and signs together. If it was the des- tiny of some one to be killed by accident at such aplace andmoment,of whatvirtue would an evil omen be or a good one? He is bound to he killed anyhow. Augury is also made by the forms of clouds and by the entrails of fish, animals, and fowls, by orange pits and the odd or even number of divisions in the periodically tested. Rubber gloves and pulp. If a red orange was peeled by arch boots are subject to wear an tear, and how- ever good thc insulation may be when new, it rapidly deteriorates. It is stated that gutta-percha molded boots, with no irons in them, are more reliable than rubber boots, as they retain their insulating pro- perties much longer. It is suggested that all high-pressure bars, switches and fuses shall be boxed in, so that the opening of the box would cut off the current and ren‘ der it impossible for it to be turned on while the box was open. Again, manu- facturers are compelled to securely fence in all belts, wheels and other machinery, and high-pressure terminals, bars or switches should be placed under similar restrictions. What is wanted is a simple signal to indi- cate to the most ignorant workman when a bar or terminal or switch is charged, and so warn him off. Such a device would ex- cellently well supplement the use of the newly invented electric “ cut-off” in in- creasing the safety of workmen in electric light staiions. - ~~~AW Servant girls and females of every class d:- not long continue employees in South Africa. The men average ten to one wom- an there, and therefore the latter are quick- ly sought in marriage. Asevcre pain in the ear of Elsie Mc- Litughlin, aged seven, at Frankford, I’a., compelled . parents to calla physician. He discoanrcd that it 'ii'tin of corn lied actually 1) .n to sprvul ';i th; earl Ithud or Cousin Marian would do, if we paid ex. 1 been there several days. l dent the person feels great pleasure, as that betokens prosperity and gold. When the Sultan is about to undertake anything. however insignificant, all the signs are con- sulted. If he is to go to the mosque all the known means are employed to discover whether it would be more propitious for him to go by land or water. Probably there is not a foreign Minister or Embassa- dor who has ever been accredited to Turkey who has been annoyed beyond measure on account of the unaccountable postponement of a. dinner to be given him at the imperial palace, a postponement that always seemed to come in the most awkward and inexplic- able time. But if they had known the truth it would doubtless have been found to be that on consulting the augurs it was found that some condition or other was unpropit- ious, and so the dinner was suddenly post poned until the fates were in some measure appeased. ~_â€"â€"oâ€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€" It was a farmer who invented the rock- ing-chair. His home was in Kingston- Mass., and the chair was made for his own comfort, in 1780. Hard luck seems to attend Joseph Smith, of Pittsburgh, Pa. He was engaged to mar- ry Miss Annie Fugent, but an accident, by which he losta leg, caused a postponement of the ceremony. Months elapsed, and again a day was set. To celebrate the nuptials in a proper manner, he ordered a new artificial leg. \Vhen it arrived it did not fit, ani again the wedding was post.- poned.