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The writing of that letter was a. labor of lose to Lady Lanewell. She did not wish b be crud»; on the contrary, now that she had gained her wish, she felt, something like pity for the girl she had so entirely crushed. Lord Cbandos would hlVe been quite true to his first; love but for his mo'iher’s influence and maneuvers. She knew that. She knew that with her own hand she had crushed the life and love from “a girl's hem Writing to her would be in initdisagreesble feature in the case. She would be finished wihh them, and there won‘hi be nothing to mar the brightness of I16 future. My lady took upa jeweled pen ;‘ she had paper, white and sofa, with her crest al; the held ;every little detail belonging to her pandeur would help to crush this girl for mm she had so much contempt and so We pity. She thought over every word d her letter ; it might. at some future day, pcrbnpa, be brought, against her, And ahe resolved that it should be a model of moder- “ion and fairness. She had learned Leone's me, and she began : “MY Dun MISS NOEL,â€"-My son has lommiosioaed me to write to you,thinking, In I think, that the business 30 be arranged will be better settled WWeen you and my- nli. I am glad to tell you thub at last, floor many months of infatuamion, my son has returned to his senses, and has now i)!“ one idea. which is at. once and for- ever to put an end to 9.11 acquaintance be- tween you and himself. My son away that it In a great mistake ; he blames himself satirely. and quite exculpabes you; he holds you blameless. Permit me to say that I do the some. “ My son, having recovered his senses,‘ uses that a marriage between you and him- ‘ self would be quite impossible. He regrets having promised it, and begs that you will forgive what seems to be a breach of that promise ; but it is really the best and wisest plan of his life. Neither your birth, training, education, manners, nor sppesrancefit you to hold the position that my son's wife must hold. You must, therefore, consider the whole affair at an end; it was, at its worst, a. piece of boyish folly and indiscre- tion, while you are blameless. It is my son’s wish that ample compensation should be made to you, and I have plined the matter in the hands of Mr. Sewell, my law‘ yenwhom I have instructed to settles thou- sand per annum on you. Let me add,further hot if ever you are in any pecuniary diffi- eulty,I hall find a pleasure in helping you. I‘ One thing more: Lord Chsndos is engag- ed to be married to one of the wealthiest women in Englandâ€"a marriage which makes his father and myself extremely happy, which opens to him one of the finest careers ever opened to any man, and will make him one of the happiest of men. Let me add an earnest hope that your own good use will prevent any vulgar intrusion on your part, either on my son or the lady to whom he is passionately attached. You will not need to answer this letter. Lord Chsndos does not wish to be annoyed by my useless appeals; in short, no letter that you write will reach him, as we are travel- ing from place to place, and shall be so until the wedding-day. “ In conclusion, Icau bub say I hope you will look at the matter in a sensible light. You, a farmer’s niece, have no right. to tabs position of an eat-1’s wife and you have every reason to think yourself fortunate that worse has not happened. “ LUCIA, Courz'rzss OF LANSWELL." “ Thexe,” said my lady, as she folded up the letter , “ to most people that would be a quietus. If she has half as much spirit as I give her credit for, that little touch about the ‘ vulgar iutrusion’ will prevent her from wrzting to him. I think this will efiocumlly put an end to all further pro- ceadiugs.” A few days afterward the countess sought her son. She had no grounds for what she said, but she imagined herself speaking the truth. “ Thank Heaven 1" she said to herself, “ that is over. Ah, me! what mothers have to suffer with thelr sons, and yet few have been so docile as mine." Sure 58 I am that, you, Lance, are one of the moat fortunate men in the world. Now take my advice, and let us heme no more mention of the matter. I am “red cf it and I 3m sure that; you XTEISL be the mine. Try from 3651's time to he happy vnth Lady Marion, and iorgen the past.” She 'sealed the letter and sent it. at the same time sending one to her solicitor, Mr. Sewell, telling him of the happy event pending, and begging of him to arrange with the girl 8.15 once. “ If oné thousand a year does not satisfy bar, offer her two; ofier her anything, so that. we are completely rid of her. From motives oi prudence it would be better for her to leave that place at once ; advise her to go abroad, or emigrabe, or anything, so that she may not annoy us again. and do 110% Write to me about her ; I do not wish tobe annoyed. Settle the busmess your- seH. and remember that I have no wish to know anything about it. Thatlétter {van sent with the other, and my lady sunk back with an air of great relief. " Lemon,” she said, " l have good news {or you. That tiresome little affair of yours in all settled. and there will be no need for us ever to mention the subject again. The girl has eonsenLed to take the thousand a year, and she â€"she is happy and content." He looked at her with haggard eyes. . “ Happy and content, mother '2” he said. “‘Are you Quite sure of nhnt? " LVE REASONS NOT. CHAPTER XXX IV. A PALE BRIDEG ROOM. nave no more :1 “red cf it ‘5 be the same. py thh Lady Ah, how true Leone’s presentiment had been ! The'vow was forgotten, the ring broken, the pretty love-story ell ended. He never dared to ask any question from his mother about her: 'he turned coward when- ever the English letters were delivered; he never dared to think about her, to wonder how she had taken this letter. Pioud, em- bitious, mercenary, heughty as was the Countess of Lsnswell, there were times when she felt grieved for her son it was such a. young face, but there was as line on the broad, fair brow; there was a. shadow in the sunny eyes; the music had gone out from his voice. .uln Did he forget it 2 No one ever knew. He never had. the same light in his eyes, the same frank, free look on his face, the same ring in his laugh; from that, day he was a changed man. Did he think of the fair girl, whose passionate heart and soul he had woke into such keen life ? Did he think of the mill-stream and the ripple of the water and the lines so full of forebod- mg: ,_._.. - , . . g A A . n AL“. Lady Marion was the most gentle and least exacting of all human beings, but even she fancied Lord Chandos was but a poor wooer. He was always polite, deferential, attentive, and kind; yet he seldom spoke of love. After that evening in the Al- Mmhra. he never kisaed her; he never sought any oate-a-bete with her. She had had many lovers, as was only natural for a beauty and a great heiress. None of them had been so cool, no self contained as Lord Chandos. aw, ,_ __V ,, ,7 , “ Marion will soon make it all right," said the proud, anxious, unhappy mother; ” there‘will be nothing to fear when once they {are married." . v 1 Lady Lauswell managed well; she ought to have been empress of some great nation; hegpowers of gdfnipistratiop were so great. Sfie persuaded them to hsve the 'wed- ding in the month of September, and to travel until that came. “ lb will be .a change from the common custom." she said; “ most people are mar- ried in England, and go to the Continent; for their honey-moon; you will be married in the Continent. and go to England for the honey-moon.” Ic was some little disappointment to Lady Muion;like all the girls she had thought a great deal of her marriage. She had always fancied it in the grand old church at. Erskine, where the noble men and women of her race slept. their lost sleep, where the Erakines for many generations had been married. She ha) fancied a long train of fair. young bridemaids, a troop of fair, fond children strewing flowers; and now it, would be quite difl'erent. Still she was contenm she was merrying the man whom she loved more than anything else in the world. She had wondered so much why the countess desired the wedding to take place in Paris. She hnd even one day ventured tonak her, and Lady Lanswell answered first by kissing her, then by telling her that it was best for Lord Chandos. That was quite enough to content. the loving heart, if it were better for him in any way. She did not inquire why. She would sacri- fice any wish or desire of her own. So the dsy of the wedding came, and a grand ceremonial it was. The noblest. snd most; exclusive English in Paris attended in, and everything was after the wish of Lady Lenewell's heart. There had never been a fairer or more graceful bride. There had never been a hendsomer or more gallant bridegroom. One thing struck the Count teas of Lanswell and made her remember the day with a. keen sense of pain, and it Wes this : when the bride retired to change her superb bridal dress for a traveling costume she had time to notice how whine and ill her son looked. He was one of the most temperate of men; she did not re- member that he had ever in his life been in the least. degree the worse for wine, but she saw him go to the bufietend filla small glass with strong brandy and drink itâ€" even that, strong as it, was, did not put. any color into his lace. Then he came to speak to her. She looked anxiously‘nt him. - “ Lance," she said, “ I do not fike ask- ing you the questionâ€"butâ€"have you reflly been dginking hran_d_y?” _ “ Yes, I haw-e indeed, mother. It is just as weil a glass of poison did not aband nhgre; 1 should drink it." Shé shuddered at the words. and it must. be owned they were not cheerful ones [0:13 weinug-dyyf »_ Ahd the pity is that, every woman in- clined to put faith in the vows and gromiav es of a man was not; there to ace how they were kept. Sh'e never forgot" the bftter laugh that, cameufrom _hi§ lips. _ Leone was alone when the letter of the Countess of Lauawell was delivered to her; she had been wondermg for some days why no news came from Lord Chandoeâ€"why he did not write. She had written most urgent and affectionate letters to him, praying for news of him, telling him how bravely and happily she was hearing the separation from him, only longing to know something of him. ‘ The bride End 'bridegroom drove away; slippers rand irice we_re thrown after them. CHAPI‘ER XXXV. “ I LEAVE THEM MY 1“me AN D MY CURSE. The warm, sultry month of August had set in, and she was working hard as ever; there was but one comfort to her in this long absenceâ€"~Lhe longer he was away from her, the more fit, she should be to take her place as his wife when he did rebut-n. She fell; now that she could be as stately as the Countess of Lauswell herself, with much more grace. "She‘had been thinking over her future when Lhatlebter came; it found her in the same pretty room where he had hidden her good-bye. When the maid entered with the letter on a salver, she had looked up with a. quick, passionate sense of pleasure. Perhaps this was to tell her when he would come. She seized the dainty envelope with a. low cry of intense rapture. “ At 18.59," she said to herself, “at last; Oh, my love, how could you be silent so Tfihen she saw that it was not Lance’s writmg, but a hand that was quite strange to her. Her face paled even as she opened it;she burned to the signature before she read ting letter; in was “Lucia. Countess of Lmnxweli." Then she knew that it. was long “ The v0ws are all for otten, The ring asunder bro en." She did not cry ouo, she did not faint or swoon ; she did not sink as she had done before, a senseless heap on the ground ; she stood still like a. soldier stands sometimes when he knows that he has to meet, his death blow. from her mortal enemy, the one on which she had swpm revenge: She read and reread it; at first she thought it must be a sorry jest ; it could not be true, it, was impossible. If she took up the Bible there, and the printed Words turned blood-red before her eyes, it Would be far lees wonderful than that this should be true. A sorry, miserable jest some one had played her,but. who~how? No,“ was no jest. She must be dreamingâ€"horrible dreams come to people in their sleep; she should wake presently and find it all a. black, blank dream. Yet, noâ€"no dream, the laughing August sunlight lay all round her. the birds were singing, there was the flash of the deep river, with the pleasure-boats slowly drifting down the stream. It was no dream, it. was a horrible reality ; Lord Chandos, the lover whom she had loved with her whole heart, who ought. under the peculiar circumstances, to have given he: even double the faith and double the love a husband gives his wife; he. who was bound to her even by the weakness of the tie that should have been stronger, had deserted her. She read it throuvgb. What happened while she read it? The reapers were reep- I ing in the cornfields, the wind had sunk to ; the lightest whisper, some of the great red 1 roses fell dead, the leaves of the white lilies died in the heat of the sun, the birds were tired of singing ; even the butterflies . had sunk, tired out, on the breasts of the flowers they loved ; there was a golden glow over everything ; wave after wave of perfume rose on the warm summereir ; afar off one heard the song of the reaper, and the cry of the sailors as the ships sailed down the stream ; there was life, light, lightness all around, and she stood in the middle of it, stricken as one dead, holding her death warrant in her hand. She might have been a. marble statue as she stood there, so silent, so motionless. Every vestige of color had faded irom her face and lips ; if the angel of death had touched her with his fingers, she could not have looked more whiLe and still. Over and over again she read the words that book from her life its brightness and its hope, that slew her more cruelly thanpoison or steel, that made their way like winged arrow: to her heart, and changed her from a tender, loving. passion- ate girl to a. vengeful woman. S111)me ahe reg-“zed it, slowly the letth fell from her hands, slowly she fell on her knees. No one cares to stand by the wheel or the rack whileaomepoorbodyistortured todeath who can stand by while a human heart is “ He has forsaken me 1” she cried. “ Oh, my God ! he has forsaken me, and I cannon di'e breaking with the extremity of anguish? When such a grief comes to anyone as to Leone, one stands by in silence: it is as though a. funeral is passing, and one is breathless from respect. to the dead. The best part of her died as she knelt there :the blue of the sky, the gold of the shining sun, the song of the birds, the sweet smell of flowers Were never the same to her again. Almost all that was good and noble, brave and bright, died as she knelt there. When that letter reached her, she was, if anything, better than the gen- erality of women. She had noble instincts, grand ideas, great generosity, and self- secrifice ; it was as though a. flame of fire came to her, and burned away every idea. save one. and that was revenge. Hours passedâ€"all the August sunlight. died; the reapers went home, the cries of the sailors were stilled, the birds were silent and still. She sat there trying to realize that for her that letter had blotted the sun from the heavens and the light from her life; trying to understand that her brave, handsome, gallant young love was false to her, that he was going to marry another while she lived. It was too horrlble. She was his wife before God. They had only been parted tor a short time by a. legal quibble. How could he marry anyone else ? “He léved me." sue cried ;"‘he loved me truly and well; but he was weak of pur- posi and my enemy has taken him irom She would n'ot believe it. It was afalse- hood that the proud mother had invented to part her from him. She would not: be- lieve it unless she heard it. from others. She knew Mr. SeWell's private address ; he would know if it, were true; she would go and ask him. Mr. Sewell Was accustomed to tragedies, but; even he felt in some degree daunted when that young girl with her colorless face and flashing eyes stood before him. She held out a letter. “Will you read this?” she said, abruptly. “I received it. Lo-day from Lucia, Countess of Lanswell, and I refuse to believe it.” He book the letter from her lmuda and read it, then looked at. the still white face before him. “Is it true '3" she asked. "Yes," he replied, “perfectly true." “Will you tell me who it is than is going to marry my husband?” she asked. “If you mean will I tell you whom Lord )handou is to marry, I am sorry tolaay my answer must; be 'No.’ Iam not commis- sioned to do so. You may see it for your- self in the newspaggrg." “No, none. And as you have shown me your letter,” said Mr. Sewell, “I may as well show you the one I have received, and you may see for yourself what Lady Lens- well’s intentions about. you are. Take a chair,” added the lawyer, “I did not notice that. you were standing all this time; you took me by surprise. Pray be seated.” She took the chair which he had placed for her, and read the letter through. She laid it) down on the table, her face calm, white, the fire in her eyes giving place to utter scorn. “Then it is nrheZ” she said sluwly; “there is 119 jest, no doubt, no mistake about “I thank you,” she said. The letter written you is cruel and unjust as the one written to me. I decline the thousand per annum now and for all time. My husband loved me and would have been quite true to me, but that. his mother has intrigued to make him false. I refuse her help, her assistance in any way; but, I will have my revenge. I“ had money 3nd influence 1 wouid sue for my rightsâ€"ah, and might: win then. As in is, and {0' the present, I am powerless; bu' I will have my revenge. a," The passion, the dramatic force, the eager interest, the power of her beautiful face, struck him. In his heart. he felt Ten face, struck him. In sorry for this gir1,who cruelly treated. “I would not, think a said; “that is a. kind 01 said; “that is a. about; in novels of date." “Is it. smile. . He nevei forgot ihé 'scorn those wonder- ful eyes flashed at him. “Yes. Take the advice of a sensible man who wishes to see you do well. Yours is a false position, a. cruel position; but. make the beat of itâ€"take the thousand peiannum, and enjoy your life.” “No.” she said, “I thank you; I believe when you give me that advice you mean Well,bnt I cannot follow it. If I were dying of hunger I would not touch even a crumb of breed that came from Lady Lanswell. I will never even return to the house which has been my own. I will take no single thing belonging to them. I will leave them ! my hatred and my curse. And you tell Countess Lucie, from me, that my hatred shall rind her out, and my vengeance avenge I She rose from her chair and took the letter she had brought with her. “I will never part with this.” she said ; “I will keep it near me always, and the reading of it may stimulate me when my energy niresa I have no message for Lord Uhandos ; Lo'vou I say farewell." She seemed to divine his thoughts, for she smiled, and the smile was more sad than bears. “The question is," said Lard Chandoa, shall we go or not 2 Please yourself,Marion. and then,” he added, with an air of weari- neas, “you will be sure to please me.” energy: niresa I have no message for Lord Ulmndoa ; Lo'vou I may farewell." “She in going to kill herself,” he thought; “and then if it, gets into the papers, my lady will wax wrath." “i aHould like to go, cértainly, if you really have no other engagement, Lance.” ssierady Chandos. “1 shall not harm myself," she said: “Death is sweeter than life, but. life holds ‘vengeanca.’ Good-bye." “My engagements always give place to your pleasure," leplied the young husband. “if you go. I will really desire to see this new star we will go. I will see about. it at once." Still Lady Chandos seemed irresolute, “It is qulte true,” she said, “that all London has gone mad about her, just as Paris, Vienna, and St. Petersburg did.” “London is always going nYad about something or other, but the madness never lasts long. " “I hnvé read many things," continued his wife calmly, “qu I have never read anything like the description of the scene at, the opera-house last evening; in really madg me _Iong to gee liner-Ii “Thenlet the longing be gratified, by all means.” said Lord Chandos. “We will go this evening. Consider in aetcled,Ma.rion, and do not think 05 Changing your plans." ‘ A . It was breakfast-time, and the husbsnd and wife were discussing the advent of a, new actress and singerâ€"one who was setting the world on fireâ€"Madame Venira. Lord and Lady Chendoe always tookbreak- fast together; it. was one of the established rules. never broken; it was the only time in the day when they were quite sure of seeing each other. There was more light in the blue eyes, a deeper sheen on the golden hair, a. richer tint on the fair face; there was more of life, animation, and interest. than she had (ii-played in those days when she seemed to glide through life like a spirit, rather than battle through it like a human being. Perhaps for her the battle had to come. In figure she had developed, she looked taller and more stately, but the same beautiful lines and gracious curvss wereK there. As she sits in her morning -dressf the palest blue, trimmed with the most delicate cream color, a pretty, cpquettish cap on her golden head, the bloom and! freshness of early youth on her faca, she looks the loveliest picture of lovely and blooming womanhood, the perfection of elegance, the type of a patrician. Her White hands are covered with shining gems â€"Lady Uhandos has a taste for rings. She is altogether a. proper wife for a man to have to trust, to place his life and honor in her, a wile to be esteemed, appreciated and revered, but not worshiped with a med passion. In theserene,pure atmosphere in which she lived no passion could come, no madness; she did not understand them, she never went out of the common grooves of life, but she was most amiable and sweet in them. It. was three years since they were married, and time had not worked any great; change in either. Lady Chandoa was even more beautitul than in her maiden days. She had the same sweet repose of manner, the same highbred elegance and gmce, the same aott, low voice but. the beauty of her face had grown deeper. Nor had Lord Chandos altered much in these three years; he had grown hand~ aomer, more manly ; the strong, graceful figure, the ‘ereot, easy carriage, were just the same ; his face had bronzed with travel, and the mustache that shaded his beautiful lips was darker in hue. ‘Had they been happy, these three years of married life? Ask Lady Chandos, and she will say, “Happy as a dream." Shel has not. knoWn a shadow of care or fennshe ha» been unuLCerly happy ;ahe is the queen of blondes, one of the most. popular queens of society, Lhechosen and intimate friend of more than one royal princess, one of thel most powerful ladies at court ; no royal i ball. or concert, or garden-party is ever given without, her name being on the list ; she is at the head of hall the charibiea in pin-moneyâ€"Lhan ma.ny a. peer A“ cia, ,n CHAPTER XXXVI. she asked, with a slow, strange AFTER THREE YEARS. Countess of Lauswell so for think about revenge," he kind of thing one reads and plays, but it, is all out; his w had the es, a icher e of i had amed ither lman id to , she same . were ‘1 dress : most ttish and she and un of Her eems She ,n to ionor iated ith a phere :ome, hemI Doves Iweet Lord Chaudos ueVer made any remark upon itâ€"every lady has some foible, some little peculiarity. She was a perfect wife, and this little feeling of small jealonsies was not worth mentioning. If they went to a ball and he danced three times with the same lady, he knew he would hear something in faint dispraise. If he admired anyone as a good rider or a good dancer, out would come some little criticism ; he smiled as he heard, but said nothingâ€"it was not worth while. Like a. kind~hearted man he here this little failing in mind, and. if ever he praised one woman, he took care to add something complimentary to his wife. So the three years had passed and this was the spring-tide of the fourth, the showery, sparkling month of April ; violets and priniroses were growing, the birds beginning to sing, the leaves springing, the chestnuts budding, the fair earth reviving after its long swoon in the arms of winter. The London season of this year was one of the best known, no cloud of either sorrow or adversity hung over the throne or the country ; trade was good, everything seemed bright and. prosperous ; but the great event of the season was most certainly the first appear- ance in England of the new singer, Madame Vanira, whose marvelous beeuty and won. derful voice Were said to drive people mad with excitement and delight. the keeping up of title and estate. She has I husbnnd who is all kindness and indulgenq to her: who has never denied her tin gratification of a single wish; who has nevei spoken one cross word to her; who is almy: devoted 10 her service. What gould any one Wish for more 7 She wc‘uifi. tell you, with a charming, placid smile on her sweec face, that. she is perfectly happy. It were be higher bliss than here she does not know it; yen; ifthere iss love, as there is genius, akin to madness, she has never felt it. Passion does nob enter her life, it is all serene and calm. In those three years Lord Chandos had made for himself a wonderful name. The Duke of Lester had done all that he could for him, but his own talents and energy had done more. He had proved himself to be what the leading journal said of him,“ a man of the times." Just the man wantedâ€"full of life, activity, energy, talent, and power. He had made himself famous as an orator; when Lord Chandos rose to speak, the house listened and the nation applauded; his speecheswere eagerly read. He was the rising man of the day and people predicted for him that. he would be prime minister before he was thirty. His mother’s heart rejoiced in himâ€"all her most sanguine hopes were fulfilled. Ask himifhe ishappy. He would laugh carelessly, and answer, “I am as happy as other men. I imagine." Ask him if his ambition and pride are gratified, and he will tell you “Yes.” Ask him ifambition and pride can fill his life to the exclusion of all else; he will tell you “No.” Ask him again if he has a thousand vague, passionate desires unfulfilled, and his handsome face will cloud and his eyes droop. They are very popular. Lord Chandos gives grand dinners, which are considered among the best. in London. Lady Chandos gives balls, and people intrigue In every possible way for invitations. She gives quiet danger; am? soirefles, which are welcom- “v1 e‘d. She is "at home" every Wednesday. and no roysl drawing-room is better attend-A ed than her “at home." She has selec little teas at five o’clock, when some of th most exclusive people in London drin orange pekoe out of the finest Rose d Barri china. They are essentially popuh} ; no ball is considered complete unless it is graced by the presence of the queen f blondes. As the Belgrsvien matrons 51‘ say, “Dear Lady Chsndos is so happy ip her marriage.” Her husband was slwayis in attendance on her. Other husbands had various ways; some went to their clubs; some smoked, some drank, some gambledf others flirted. Lord Chandos was ine- proschsble ; he did'none of these things. ‘ There had never been the least cloud be- tween them. If this perfect wife of his had any little weakness, it was a tendency to slight jealousies, so slight as to he name- less, yet she allowed them at times to rufile her calm. serene repose. Her hus- band was very handsomeâ€"there was a picturesque, manly beauty about his dark head and face, a grandeur in his grand, easy figure that was irresistible. Women followed him wherever he went with admiring eyes. As he walked along the streets they said to each other, with smiling eyes. what a handsome mam he was. 11 they went to strange hotels all the maid: courtesied with blushing faces to the hand- some y0ung lord. At Naples one of thc flower-girls had disturbed Lady Msrion'r peaceâ€"a girl with a face darkly beautiful as one of Raphael’s women, with eyes that were like liquid fire. and this girl always stood waiting for them with a basket 01 flowers. Lord Chandos, in his generous. princely fashion, flung her pieces of gold or silver; once my lady saw the girl lift the money he threw to her from the groundI kiss it with a passionate kiss, and put it in the bodice of her dress. In vain after that did Carina. ofl'er Parms violetsand lilies from Sorrel) to. Lady Chandos would have no more, and Carina was requested soon after- ward by the master of the hotel to take her stand with her flowers elsewhere. It was to see her that; Lord and Lady Cbaudna went to the Royal Italian Opera on that night in April on which our story is continued. Daughterâ€"“ I quChased these goods at Cstchem 8: Cheatem 3. Motherâ€"" Never heard of them.” D1ughterâ€"“ Why, mother .' don‘z you remember how all the pretty places in the country were daubed u‘p wilh their horrid signs. and how mad we all got ‘2 I’ll never forget. them in the world.” Aide (breathlessly)â€"“T‘ue enemy‘s bicycle brigade is attacking our flank.” General (prmnpbly)â€"â€"“Tell the gunners to load with woke.” General (in the near funure)â€"“Quiok‘ What news?” a Mi§s Thumperâ€" imam“ men L5.” Lying Low. Schoo'mabeâ€""VVhy do you never touch ur piano ‘l‘m anam 1 d stop payin ‘\Vh The Usual Result. War In the Future. (TO BE CONTINUED.) rence “We’re buyiu io Des that. make '3” should hear me play in