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5 OLD flue morning I was walking along the fibre. The tide was ebbing. being al- ready lower than I remembered it,le8.v- ing a broad stretch of glistening sand efiposed. Projecting above the surface I of the water were some timbers. and where they were left high curiosity led me to inspect them. The beams were evidently VETS Old i bl“ be" ing deeply embedded, I could not tell if they were .part of some sunken vessel or the remains of a jetty. Poking “111’ (mg the pebbles that were washed be- tween them, I came to a cavity 001’” taining something round, which could be moved, but was too large to be eas- ily withdrawn. Setting to work with a piece of wood, I succeeded in clear- ing away the seaweed and stones which blocked up the hole, and at length dragged out a small barrel. strongly hooped with iron, and encrusted with limpet and mussel shells. I carried the barrel to the beach. and seating myself in a cave, proceeded to examine it. Forc- ing in one end with a heavy flint. I drew out an oil-skin bagâ€"all the bar- rel contained. Inside was a piece of soil- ed paper, on which the following words were scrawled in faded ink: " We are driving on to the rocks with our rud- der washed away. I, Thomas Quin. do‘ Dammit this to the sea. Let whoever finds it take it to my daughter Doro- thy at Shingle Bay. No time for more." On the other side of the paper was a. :ough drawing, of which, at first, I aould make nothing. This Thomas Quin was one of the by- gone heroes of whom the fishermen in my part of the coast were never tired of spinning yarns. Quin had been very successful in his ventures; but on his last voyage home from France with a valuable cargo, his vessel must have foundered in a terrible storm. for noth- ing had since been heard of him. This happened motre than thirty years be- fore. His wife, who was a. cousin of my mother, had died in giving birth to Dorothy; and the little girl of whom Quin was passionately fond, was thus left alone in the world. She, however, was taken care of by some good friends in the village, who brought her up; and in course of time she was married to a young farmer, with whom things did not prosper, and who came to an early death. Dorothy Hendil was again left in an almost destitute condition. having now to support a little daugh- ter. While in these straits, relief came in an unexpected manner. One even- ing, a weather beaten old sailor trudg- ed into the village, and making straight for the cottage, burst in on Dorothy and threw his whole stock of money in- to her lap. The neighbours crowded round; and it at once became known that her only brother Ben, who had long been given up as dead, had re- turned. After that there was no more want. for Ben was in receipt of a pen- sion; and buying a. small boat, he add- ed to his income by fishing. My greatâ€" est delight was to visit my cousins and to go out with Ben in his little craft. I was almost as often at Sihingle Bay as at home, and thus little Dorothy and I grew up together, and learnt to reâ€" gard each other with more than cou- sinly affection. But I never mention~ ed the subject to my father, as Iknew he would not allow me to marry a penniless girl. These thoughts filled my mind as I sat puzzling away at the drawing in my hand, and raised the hope that per- haps Quintâ€"who, though known to be well off, had left no account of any savingsâ€"might have hidden away his money. and the paper might contain the clue to finding it. Hiding the barâ€" rel in. a crevice of the cave. I made my way to my cousin’s house. Shingle Bay. for which I was bound, was a deep inlet. shut in with high cliffs: the village consisting of one straggling street, built on the narrow strip of ground at the foot of the hill, A rough stone quay ran out into the sea for the unloading of small vessels, which occasionally put in here, and pro- tected the outlet of a. little stream that ran plashing down from a deep glen. As I went. down the steep path I saw Ben Quin in his boat busy over~ hauling some fishingâ€"tackle. On hear- ing my footsteps, he looked up and cried in a lusty voice: "Well, l’m down- right glad to see you, George! I’m g0- ing to hansel these new lines this morn- ing. We'll go up to the Cottage and have a bit of something to eat before we start.” Ben was a short, thickset man, with J square, good-humoured face. the col. '{ur of mahogany; and although get- 1ing on in years, was pretty well as sturdy as ever. \Ve walked up the vil-- tags. and soon came to the little thatch-- ed cottage, and entering its creeper covered porch, were warmly greeted by Mrs. Hendi] and Dorothy. I told the story of finding the paper. and they all crowded round me as I took :t. out ; Dorothy leaning over my shoul- ler in her eagerness. read it aloud. Her mother was greatly affected on hearing this last message from the sea. while Ben had to clear his throat a good many times before he could recover his composure. When they had got. over the exciteâ€" ment. I asked them if they could make anything of the rough drawing on the back of the paper; but after carefully examining it, they came. to the con- clusion It was some 91d Chart which had been used in the hurry of the mo- ment. It represented an irregular ov- al, with the cardinal points marked. in the southâ€"east part of which was a cur- ious arrangement of five circles. the middle one being larger than the oth- ers. I'Ve sat disussing the discovery spccdlating on lllL‘ strange event so long that. the fishing 9);} edition was and dry. , éfiiNN’s BANK. lquite puT’on one side. _ I "I welli remember,” said Mr. Ben- dil, " that on the night on which fathâ€" ler went on his last voyage, he promâ€" l ised me. he would giVe up the sea when E he came back. " l'm getting tooold for his knee before going to bed; " and be- ‘sides, it’s a risky business. If this run ‘ is successful, I've made up my mind to retire from the trade altogether. Any- ‘way, l've laid by a snug nest for you, my pretty. It's in a bank." I rememâ€" ber he added with a laugh. Dorothy and I have searched over his papers again and again, but have found nothing re- lating to any savings, so I never could quite make out what he meant." Dorothy’s mother sat looking sadly into the fire for a long time, during which none of us ventured to break the silence. As I did not wish to be late in get- ting home, I was soon obliged to say "WW-live; and on my way out came across al hulking young fellow, who seemed to be hanging about the cottage. He slunk off on seeing me, but not beâ€" fore I recognized him to be “'ill Jackâ€" son ,the son of a coastguar‘d'man stai- the work, Dolly,” he said, as I sat on . (ioned at the lower end of our vil- ‘ lagc. He was a lazy. goodâ€"fcrâ€"nothing fellow .who had been on voyage but finding ‘lm ‘21.?" «I... 1..~-‘ 1 >01. pre- ferred idling about. at home. i ‘ I That night I dreamed that Old Quin visited me and caused me to accompany him over the bills; but what his sub- ject was, I could not make out, for I awoke just as she seemed to be on the eve of disclosing something that “88 weighing heavily on his spirits. Though I courted sleep again in the hope of taking up the. broken thread of .my dream, I was doomed to disappomb ment. After this, I employed my leis- ure in ramblin along the cliffs With a copy the art in my hand. try- ing to and anything at all resembling it in which to search. Two or three yearsnhowever, passed away without any discovery being made. and I had come to regard the whole thing as al- most hopeless. One afternoon Ben Quin and I had rowed inshore after a successful day's fishing, and hauled the boat up the beach of a little unfrequented bay call- ed Flint Gap. As we had been hard at work in the sun and were tired and hot, we seated ourselves on a flat rook in the shadow of the cliffs, and after refreshing ourselves, sat talking at our ease. Of late. I had relaxed my in- vestigations; but some remark of Ben’s made me take out my copy of the chart, and the sight of this called to mind the barrel which I had hidden away. The Cave was not far off. Telling Ben I would not be long, I started up and running over the sand. soon returned With the barrel. I took out the oilskin bag]. and'ori carefully examining it. wassvurprised to find that it contained an inner pocket. In this was a piece of parchment which had escaped my n0- tice before. To my great joy. it Drov- ed to be a more elaborate drawing of the chart or plan scrawled on the pa~ per, With some written directions be- sides. Ben sat looking on in wonder. when I'shouted: "It's all right, Ben. Vt e’ll find your father’s treasure; it'8 as plain as apikestaff, here. You'll be all rich nowâ€"” "\Vhistl” said Ben at that instant. putting his finger to his lips. "I be- lieve there’s some one listening in the gap up above. It'll be uncommon awk- ward if you're overheard.” 1T0 Continued. SOMETHING FOR IRELAND. Scheme for Public Works that Elli-Its Ex: preselons of Nallonallsl Gratitude. In the British House of Commons on Friday, in the course of a dis- Gusstiom on the Irish estimates, Mr. Gerald Balfour, Chief Secretary for Ireland, after a fierce attack by Mr. Timothy H‘ealy on the Irish Board of \Vorks, made a statement as to the manner in which the Government proâ€" posed to expend the half million pounds voted by Parliament”; last year for the development of the resources of Ireland. "The Scheme," said the Chief Secretary, "proposes the coun- struction of light railways through the congested districts of North Donegal and toopen up by means of steamboats and coaches a new tourist route right across the West of Ireland. A steam- er service a hundred miles up the Shanâ€" non will begin on the fllS‘l of Alugust. \Vlllllie other lines of steamers and coaches will connect Killarney district with Connemara.” Then came a curious Scene. The Nationalists, who had previously been abusing the Government for'its wanâ€" ton disregard of Ireland, arose one after the other and effusively thanked Mr. Gerald BllfU‘llH‘ for the broad and generous manner in which he had dealt \‘Vl’th the problem, all admitting that he had dime- the Lost possible With the funds all his command. _ In the House of Commons on Friday, lln response to appeals by Irish inem- mers that the Government shoulld' make some provision for a Catholic ulnivei'SIty in Ireland, Mr. Balfour. the First Lord of this 'J'reasury. in a veryl sympathetic speech, admitted that thol alzsetn'e of a university was a hardâ€" ship for Ireland. and said he would do his in then directiom of such an institution; tut .hle s:ii.ll be. was not in a positioln to unlike a definite promise: TH E POP‘UIIAR. NINE. er. Shoripurseâ€"I noticed in the pa- per this inorning an announcement of a revolution in the milliner tradeâ€"good ; bargains, etc. i MrnRibbon, brisklyâ€"Yes, sir, we've .done itâ€"greatest bargains you ever saw'; biggest stOck of ladies’ hats and Paris bonnets in the city, too. Make your eyes slick right out of your head when you see our prices. Just look at this Paris beauty. You can‘t buy that bouncy anywhere under thirty dollars l Sirâ€"no sir. Mr. Shortpurseâ€"Indeedl And what is your price? r . Mr. Ribbonâ€"Only $29.99, sir. \Valnuts aind butternuts are being successfully cultivated in \thlccm cir~Iiiiii1v."~\'aslh. They are not native to the region. .of M. A ' am bassador MW' '15 The Wooing 0l_i_llph0nse. "As you will,” answered M. Bernier. drawing in his wrists and elbows and expanding hlis palms, with a shrug of the shouldersâ€""as you will. For my part, I am happy to serve you." "Then, if you will take. breakfast with me at twelve o’clock on Saturday. I will give you all particulars to satisfy Madame lilesnildot." "S‘o soon. Alphonse ‘1" “Ali, Jules, do not suggest a later day! \Villl your convenience pel‘mlt you call upon Madame Mesnildot on Saturday it” i M. Berinier had by no means retover- ed from the. shock of hearing that M- George Theviinet was unacquainted with his son‘s intentions; but. on reflection. he decided that Alphonse was the best Jlndge of his own affairs, and that no responsibility would fall upon himSE-lI by Mcepitimg the post. of ambassador. He therefore replied that it would give him pleasure to breakfast with his friend at midâ€"day on Saturday, and that he would call upon Madame Mes- nilldot afterwards. M. Alplh'onse embraced him with ferâ€" vour. paid for their refresheml. and left the cafe to walk homewards. M. Jules Bernier was a man of his word, and pulnctually at noon on the appointed day he arrived at M. The- viinet’s house carefully arrayed in even- ilng dress in readiness to pay his formal call on Madaime Mesnildot immediately after breakfast. Little passed between the friends durâ€" ing the meal. though they were alone together. M. Bernier was busy with his knife and fork, and though AlP‘ house ate sparingly, his thoughts kept him silent. No qualms of doubt as to the precipitancy of the step he was about to takeâ€"by deputyâ€"oppressed him. His faith in his father’s affection and generosity was too deeply rooted to. be disturbed by his ungiven consent. But at times he was conscious of a mail yearning to follow the bold unseemly custom he had been told was prevalent among the people of Great Britain, to 80 ill-i P815001 to Mademoiselle Adren- ne's mother, and flinging himself on his knees at her feet, implore her to give him her daughter's hand. B'uL of course such an extraordinary proceeding was quite out of the ques- tion. Conventional usage, born of modesty, dictated that the principal should sit quietly at home. while a trusted family friend conveyed the weighty petition to the beloved 0b- ject’s mother. Alphonse had never heard that there are cases on record it!) which a young Englishman has takâ€" e‘n upon him to address the girl of his choice herself without ever consulting the parents on either side at all; and if he had, he would not have believed it, even of Britons. The idea of doing such a thing never crossed his mind. "You have, I hope, made a good breakfast 2” he said to M. Jules as his friend drew the napkin from his collar with asigh of content. ' Excellent; I thank you,” replied M. Blerin‘ier. "With- your permission, Iwill light a cigarette, and you: can inform me regarding your pecuniary position that I may explain iti to Madame Mes- uhldot." Keeping carefully in mind that he had taken his father‘s consent for granted, Alphonse instruer his friend to say that his allowance when he marâ€" ried would be twelve thousand francs per an‘llllhm, and t‘hut he expected to inherit not less than half a million of francs at his parent‘s death. He had nothing else to say, except that a life's devotion would be Mademoiselle Ad- rieinne’s, and he should be glad to learn whether her dot was not to be one hundred and fifty thousand francs, and the furnished house on the Boule- vards Cauchioise. _M. Jules Bei‘nier elevated his expres- aive eyebrows as he heard this. "One hundred and fifty tllO'LlS'llltl francs, and that beautiful houseâ€"fuinished, parâ€" ..ileulâ€"on the Boulevatd, is much to expect Alphonse, my friend,” he said. Nevertheless, you will say that, if you please," replied Alphonse. It was a matter of business ; and Alphonse was DO‘Chlld. I As you Wish,” answered M. Bernier With a. shrug, as he rose from his chair findadjusted has cravat at the mirror. It is now hulfâ€" last one. o'clock I will £9 to Madame lesiniilldot's, and return diirec't to yolu heme, at perhaps three ocl‘ock. “l “'l'll await you in the salon," sail Alphonse with dignity, and he fol- lowed lliiH fricin to the door. “ 6 need not dwell upon the suspense lplioinse Theviinei. or upon the eagerness wuth which he received his when he reappeared two hours later. "You were long gone," he said breathâ€" lessly. "But do not dela ' tell me Mnâ€" dame lvfesinildot’s replyfy ‘ “Her reply," answered M. B-ernier, With the Slllllle of one who loves to bring good news, "is, Yes. She assured me that Mademoiselle would be overwhelm- ed With ratitude for her good fortune. and the heir dot would not be. less than one hundred thousand francs.” And the furnished house?” queried Alphonse. "Madame said nothing of the house," answered M. Bernier. M. Bernier had done this kind of office before, and knew better them to driive bargains at the first interview. y A elouvl gathered upon the brow of Alphonse. I'I‘e had persuaded himself tlivit M. and Madame Mesnildot would lizive pi‘iiinilsed all he chose to ask, and he had demanded thus much. that he might make assurance doubly sun when he came to request his father's permission to marry Mademoiselle Ad IleAllIle. He was disappointed. "A hundred thousand is a small do'. for Monsieur Mesnildot to give his only daughter," he said. I “I would counsel you to let that Side of the matter l‘elllill‘fl for settlement between Monsieur your father and the parents of Mademoiselle.“ replied M. Bernicr. “When does Monsieur The- vinet reuulrn to Roueni" _ Alphonse could not. tell for certain. He was traveling in. the country near Bordeaux, and liud no fixed address at present; but he expected him to reâ€" turn at the end of the month. "\Vell, lwill offer you my congraâ€" tulations, and take my leave for toâ€" day,” mid M. Bernier. "It has given me great pleasure to have bad the hotn- or of conveying your message to Maâ€" dame Mesnildovt.” _ Alphonse hastened to express his gratitude for the. service his friend had done him; the indebtedness, he said with sincerity, was all on his side. Without Jules, he had Leon quite at a. loss to address Madame Mesinildotg thanks could not repay“ M. Biernier for what he had that day performed. He kissed Jules upon both cheeks as he bade. l’llllll adieu. and having seen him depart, threw himself into a chair to dream of Mademoiselle Adrienne. Two weeks later, M. Georges ’l‘hevinet returned home from his travels, and was received with effusion by his son. "l have news for thee. Alphonse." said the old gentleman as they entered the Salon a.rm_jn_u,m, I "And I for thee, also," replied his son. “But first. of all], give me yours." M. Georges Thevinet beamed upon Al- phonse with pa/tei’nal pride as he ans- wered im impressive tones: "I have found for my son a willie. I promised my friend Monsieur Laguerre that you shall espouse his daughter MademOiâ€" selle Clarisse." ' “Mademoiselle Clarissa!" exclaimed Alphonse. "Stir. she is forty."~ . "She is but thirty-eight," replled hIS father iin correction. "She has a squint," said the son“ "She has Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Francs,“ said the father, fixâ€" mg upon Alphonse a. look in Wh-lch af-V. €A‘tl’0n and cupidity were happily blenlded. "It matters nothing." cried Alphonse; "for 1 love smother." “Ehl What‘s that?” inquired old M. Thevinet, who was a little hard of hear-i ling. "But two weeks since, I received Maâ€" dame Mesrnilldot's sanction to marry Mademoiselle Adrienne." _ “Th-en you must WI‘l'be amd apologise or your mistake. I have. already told you that you are afllanced to MademOiâ€" selle Clarisse Laguorre,” replied M. l'hevilniet, firmly. "Never," cried Alphonse, with a ges- ture of deSpiair. "But you are. I absolutely refuse to sanction your marrilage to any? one else. Mademoiselle Mesnildot Will not receive one-thirdâ€",mark me, biOylâ€"‘I-K)L one-third of the dot with which Mon- sieur lLaguerre will endow his daugh- Der." "1 care nothing for the dint,” cried Alphonse, wildly. _“’I‘he boy is mad," muttered M. The- Vlnet, senior. "I will marry no one but Adrienne. A-dri-enne."' And at this point the feelings of Alphonse overcame him and he sobbed. I Coercion, diplomacy, and persuasion. were tried by M. T'hevinet in turn With barren results; and finally there en- sued a quarrel so violent that Al- phonse packed up his portmanteau and left the house. "To think of the boy‘s contracting a matrimonial engagement Without‘ a. word to me!” said M. 'I‘hieviiret to him- self as be retired that night. "What on earth can have got into his head? What is the world coming tot“ "To think of my father givmg away my hand like that 1" said Alphon:e a he strode down the Boulevard. I well he a Turkish‘ slave at it might as once " Fortunately Alphonso had plenty of money in his ipoclaet, and. he had soon installed himself in pleasant lodgings in the Boulevard Jeanne d‘Arc. “It is Indeed lucky," he said to himself. as he unpacked his clothes, "that I am over twenty-five years of age. Were l but a few years younger, the course I. must. pursue, repugnant, as it is to my lilâ€" iul, feelings, would be closed to me." Alphonse had already decided to take such steps as would render his mar- riage Without his father‘s consent :1 legal union, though he shrank from the process, and chafed at' the delay it would entail. Had he been under the age of twentyâ€"five, father‘s refusal Would have bound him hopelessly 'ac- cording to law. The precast-verbal is a. legal weapon denied young men below that age. But Alphonse, as! we. have already remarked, was twentyâ€"eight, and he knew the power the law 0011‘ fei'i’ed upon him. . ' I wish I had been an Englishulan,’ be said to M. Jules Bernie‘r one evou‘ ing a Week later at the cafe. “Why so?’ asked M. Bernier. “Could I not then marry Adrienne at once without my father's vonsentl asked Alphonse. ' "Certainly, you might," replied M. Bci'nier. “Ilut were you an Englishman you would nave other things to consid- er, my friend. l‘ne ludyl might, decline to marry you; and Monsieur your Alu- thei' might exercise the brutal prlvi- leg:- oi an Englishman, and “cut you oil with ll shilling. No, no, Al- phonse, lll: thankful that you sure a citâ€" izen of the Republic." .Liut Alphonse did not feel thankful or pretend to be, he said in meanâ€" tones: "1 yesterday took the first "You do noll mean to eay"â€"â€" ll‘hie reb‘lt of M. Bei‘niier's speech was spoken in an awe-sit:er whisper. Alphonse. pressed his lips together and answered: “I did." It was true. On tine: morning of the previous day a gentleman who pursu- ed an honorable culling analogous to that of sheriff-officer, had waited upon M. Georges ’l‘hevinet with 0. document of .porleiitous size in his hand, and de- 111 i rig; manded audience of that gentleman the meme of the Law. "What have you there?" M. 'I‘hevi'net inquired of this official as he. produced his paper. 7 “It is the prams-verbal, Monsieur. On behalf of your son, Monsieur Alphonse Thevinet, do you consent to his marâ€" riage with {Mademoiselle Adrienne Mesnildot?" "No, I don’t," replied M. Thevinet, with much asiperity. Cl‘he legal gentleman requested that he might be furnished witli a. Noland having received. it, wrote down tM. 'l‘lievinet’s answer with great careapon the document. “I have the honour to bid you respectfully adieu, Monsieur.” he said as he rolled up the paper ind put. it under his arm. "It. will be my duty to call upon you once mate in a. month’s time.” “I fear you will have the trouble of calling also a tibiird time," said M. 'l‘hevinict, forcing himself to be. calm. "Is it not so?" The polite official shrugged his shoul~ ders in deprecution. “if Monsieur did not give his valuch consent. the sel‘nnd. time the ,procesâ€"vei‘bzil was presented," lie “lid, “doubtless it would be the wish of M. Alphonse to have itpreâ€" seated two months hence for the third time." "And then?" inquired M. ’l‘hevinet, who knew all about it, but was anxious for fuel to feed his twrat'hi. ' \Vliy, then, if Monsieur withheld his permission on lit-ling asked a third time, M. Alphonse would be legally able to marry without." The polite official made a profound bow and hastily “llh‘ drew. M. ThEVinet’s linger had mastered him, and he appeared about to vent it upon his visitor. I-Iad M. ’l‘lievinet (been an Englishman with an Englishman’s power over his own propcity, he Would most. inevitably have sent for his solicitor and altered his "will that day. But he could not ; a. French parent’s estate is, irrespective of his wishes, divided by the law amongst his children, or hleirs, at. his demise; so M. 'l‘hevinet could not enjoy that remote satisfaction. However, he did the next best thing. He wrote to Alphonse and told him that until he returned to his roof, penitent and preâ€" pared to marry Mademoiselle Laguerre, he should give him only the barest pitâ€" tance upon which to exist. "If you think," wrote this indignant father, "that Monsieur and Madame Mesnildot. will accept a peniniless suitor for their daughter, the legal steps you have tak- en to set the necessity for obtaining my consent aside, will have served their end.- But I doubt Whether. in your new position you will receive the welâ€" come which they accorded youit repre- sentative, M. Berinier. I should ad- vise you to think this om at your lei- sure." When Alphonse received this letter he recognized the weakness of his case, and proposed a compromise. If his father would not. call upon him to mar- ry Mademoiselle .Laguerre for three years, he on his part would renounce his intention of marryinlg Mademoiselle Mesnildot. \Vould M. Thievinet re- ceive his sorrowmg son upon these terms." The language in which the old gen- tleman indulged when his son’s answer reached him was dreadful to hear. 119 Would agree to no conditions whatever, and Alphonse might take his choiceâ€"- Mademoiselle C‘larisse, or fioverty in solitude until the end of is father’s lifetime. He wrote at once directing! his son to choose, reminding him that this was the sole favour he had) ever asked in return for all he had done for him. It was a powerful and paths the letber; the heart of Alphonse was touf‘hed by it. and he gave way. After alntter struggle with self he made up his mind to obey his father; he Sent the sheriff-officer his fee, and directed him not. to serve the procesâ€"verbal again; re. packed his portmantleau, and went home in a cab. How old M. Thevinet called upon Mil:- dame Mesnildot, and explained that M. Jules Bernier’s visit had been paid under a. misapprehension; and how Madame Mesnildot said she was sorry, but. that it didn’t matter, because she had not mentioned the subject to Adrl' 6111]“ yet it boots not to tell. \Ve '11an 911W to conclude the history of the woo~ mg “Alphonse by the bare statement that his father took him down to Bor- deaux a month afterwards; stood over hun_while he agreed to the promesse d8 manage which Monsieur le Notaire had Prepared, and saw him espouse Made- moxselle Clarisse LLag'uerre at the bur- eau of Monsieur le Maire. Mademoiselle Clarisse promises to be a model wife in all respects, and everybody is conâ€" tented and happy. (The end.) -â€"â€".â€"â€"â€" IN SEARCH OF AN EDEN. Where Eve Predmnlnaled but Found It nol â€" A hlsappolnted Shlplond. The. party of 100 men who sailed re~ cently from San Francisco, on the bri- glinltiniel {PlerCy (Edwards, for some Adamless Eden in. the south seas, where pretty native. women yearned for spous- es. and _whxere there was no harder work than picking up cocoanuts, have come to grief in the Fiji Islands. A letter from one of this colonists says that all their dreams were illusions. No island could be found that were not ore-empt- ed by England of Germany, and most of the good land was. already in the hands of large corporations, which have fenced their possessions with barbed Wire and put up warnings against ties- passers. Forty of the colonists decided to alxains'loin their dreams of a. coral island Eden, and they secured land near Suva, Fiji, and will plant it with ban- anas, which are a. paying crop. Sixty of the adventurers decided to work the brigantine to Aiul.'kland, New Zealand. Most of the colonists on the vessel are single men, who became weary of regular work and hoyed to find some south sea paradise where lei- sure would be ample and food easy to get. One hundred dollars was the price of a share in: the colony. and the round trip. \VOBIAN’S \VAY. Supblflllhvâ€"SOIIIQ wise. old chup said that. a woman will forgive anything but the fact that you do not covetber. Dooced cl-evah w-ermurk, don't you know. tlriinslniwâ€"Yues; but ii; ~' .luld have added that when she discovers that you do covet her she thus no lurther use for you. THEY MAY BE GRATEFUL ALSO. What makes you speak of Miss \Vse- ly as a diplomat? Because. among her best friends are the men whom 5113 his refused tr marry. TOO lNTELLlGEN’l‘. Do you say that you received a wi- lege education? asked the. must ll be wouldâ€"bra juror. Challenged for cause. promptly, in- Irt'l‘rullfk‘d ilii‘ counsel for the Mann" Yes your honor.