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The Scaled ckc‘ I ‘ CHAPTER I. The gun hung smiling in a cloudless ‘gky, one flower-scented morning in early June. as Arthur Tremont proudâ€" ly led Nellie Monteith to the altar, his chosen bride. Merrily “mg the Wed" ding bells. All nature seemed in tune. It always does. You know! to one who is about to marry his heart's idol, and some folk claim that the surâ€" est way Heaven could provide for man's happiness would be to have him always on the eve of being married to his lady-love, taking care, of course, that the ceremony was never actually performed. “Yes.” remarks an acrid spinster, “but aren‘t the women entitled to some degree of happiness hereafter as well as the men 2" Be that as it may, certain it is that “all went merry as a marriage hell" on this occasion, for "happy is the bride tlie sun shines on." It is likely that the old "saw" particularizes the bride in this instance, because the groom probably knows no better than to be happy even though the sun may not shine; or, because it is a settled con- clusion that there is no happiness in store for him in any case even though the sky were as full of shining sun as lt is of stars. Yet. in the happy crowd that attendâ€" ed this wedding, was one dark but pal- lid face, full of sorrow and pain. The bitterness of selfish, passionate, con- suming love, unrequited, gave to the features a look almost of boding ro- venge. To the bridal he cameâ€"an Angel of \Voeâ€"a Spirit of Darkness in i this heaven of happiness. Whether the sunshine was respon- sible for it or not will doubtless long remain a controvertible question, but certain it is that all went happily with Arthur Tremont and his young wife for the first four years of their wed- ded life in their pleasant home in the picturesque town of Briarton. Then came a day when sorrow, dark and heavy, laid its chastening hand upon the family of the prosperous doctor. A beautiful, bright-eyed boy of two years of ago made the home ring with his joyous happy laughter, while his bright cunning ways filled their hearts with joy. Then the household was thrown into a state of agitation upon the arrival of a. blue-eyed, goldâ€" en~halred, sunny-checked daughter, and their cup of happiness seemed about to be filled to the fullest. ,But at the noontide of joy a cloud drifted into the bright sky. Thus is. it ever :â€"just as our happiness seems: nearing the zenith, across the horizoni floats a shadow bidding us remember this is but earth whereon we live, and all its pleasure transient and fickle as the breath upon the pane; at best, but a mean foretaste of the hoys of that life where the cloud comes not. And yet, for this vain bauble, this‘ fleeting shadowâ€"joy of earth, do men struggle, and toil, and fight, and die; and lose all else, to gain an empty mockery in life, and in deathâ€"an. epitaph. And now the blow fell on Arthur Tremont and his loved and loving fam- ily- Happy in the love of his beauti- ful young wife, and proud of his curly- haired, darling boy, his happiness seemed to be full and complete with the thoughts of his golden-crowned daughter; when, just as his heart was full, the death angel stooped low on his wings of night, and pressed his icy seal on the heart of Nellie, the ‘loving wife and mother, and bade her follow him into that dark realm of mystery, from whose portals the hand of the living may never raise the ourâ€" train. Thus sorrow, deep and bitter, came to the home of Dr. Tremont, for, in one short week after the baby came to them, Nellie Tremont yielded her life for the life she had given and left the helpless infant motherless and the father lonely and desolate. During the last days of the mother's illness, upon the recommendation of the nurse, the baby had been given in- to the charge of a. young woman liv- ing near who had a little daughter of her own about two months old, and who offered to take the little one to care for as she had to depend on her own efforts to obtain a living, having been left penniless and alone with' this one little child. Nothing was known of her history further than that she called herself Mrs. Desmond, and had come to Briarton in widow's weeds about two months previous to the birth of her child. None knew whence she came, and the widow seem~ ed not; inclined to enlighten them, even preferring to keep silence amidst all the unkind things that a heartless community indulged in. suggesting about her history, and certain we may be that there were scandalâ€"mongch in plenty who delighted in hinting at evil enough. It is a lamentable fact that many reputable women are more heartless towards the unfortunate sufâ€" ferers of their own sex than the veri- est' heathen who kill and devour their own kin; and usually the more beautiâ€" ful and attractive the victim. the more bitter their jealous calumny. They revel in their own selfâ€"extolled, 1m- godlike virtues, and def-m themselves superior beings because they have been posted on a pinnacle of spurious virtue safe from this temptation. which to them has never existed, and of which they are as ignorant as a corâ€" morant is of saying grace, thanks to no efforts of their own acrid disposiâ€" tions, but due simply to a freak of na- ture that has decreed that they shall eke out their sterile existence thus, their vapid blood unwarmed throughâ€" out the course of their unnatural lives. The spleen of_ their liquid hearts is productive of nothing liui‘ the denunâ€" ciation of the vices of all humanin exâ€" cept themselves, and equally zealtms ennunciation of their own virtues. Soured out of all humility by the barâ€" renness of their own cankered affec- tions, their evilâ€"gloating minds seck no virtue in any but themselves, and plead no excuse for the slips and short comings of any other. Ever seeking amid the dross which, God help us, is prevalent enough in us all, for some- thing as low andmcan as the unchaste thoughts that form the garbage of their own dwarfed souls. they deem that one the only great vicc on earth: the one from which they have. been preserved more. by the disinclination of mankind to assist them in their ruin than by any virtuous tenacity of purpose on their part, and they bathe in a sea of egotistic sanctity, flushed by the glow of praise for this one v1r- tue kept, and entirely oblivious of the dark shadows cast athwart their path by a thousand other transgressrons. Let suffering humanity expect kind- ness and mercy from heathen brute or devils rather than from them, for their shrivelled hearts and stunted souls never breathed the warm breath of love and sympathy in their lives. ‘Ve never need look far for these self-exalted, apostate religionists; they are notL of the modest retiring disstrâ€" tions that await to be. sought. Like the street vendor of shoddy goods, they flaunt their insipid virtues before us in the church, the Sunday School, the prayerâ€"meeting. young people's so- cieties, and temperance leagues; and l in fact in every position under the shining heavens where they can hope that they may induce people to accept their religious cant in lieu of earnest Christian living. _ So unkind. so unloving. so diametri- cally opposed to the loving manner in which Christ came to a sinning world are these bellowing vendors of religâ€" ious effrontery, that the erring one as instinctively turns from them and their suppositious dogmas asa mad dog does from water. Their blatant dron- ings about the world’s vices, to which they would apply the irritating balm of their pervert-id scripturisms, never yet were prolific of anything but dis- consolate disappointment or open re- bellion. Humanity's laws punish the wilful- ly wicked and reward the noble. and good: but God alone is capable of meeting out a just reward to those monstrosities, which is a task beyond the judgment of man. But whatever the opinion of some of the meagrefminded residents of Briar- ton in regard to the life of Mrs. Des- mond, at least none. could breathe the least suspicion against her since she came to live among them, for the most exacting could not point to the slight- esi‘ hint of a misdemeanor. To Arthur Tremont, in his deep sor- row, there was a. depth of tenderness and womanly sympathy in the dark sad eyes of the widow, that made him instinctively feel that she too had known sorrow, and that bade him trust her. Never strong in health and being considerably overcome by his recent affliction, be determined to travel for a few months, if he could satisfactorily arrange for the care of his little ones while he should be away. Accordingly, hepalled to see the young widow, and was pleased to find her quite anxious to accept the charge of his two children in consideration of what he was willing to pay for their care. ' In his strange forward way he told her at once what he wished her to do for him, and named the price he was willing to pay, adding, with a. slight blush of confusion: "The nurse who attended on my beloved wife assured me that you would be quite willing to accept the charge, as she said you were dependent upon your own indi- vidual efforts for the means of a liv- ing. I trust you will pardon me, Mrs. Desmond, for, believe me, I do not wish towound youâ€"but. wouldâ€"would â€"â€"it be of anyâ€"any advantage to have part of the money in advance l" The widow's dark eyes shone with a wealth of gratitude as she replied, "I sincerely thank you for your kind thoughtfulness, Dr. Tremont: I shall be glad to still keep the baby for you, and to take care of the little boy as well. It is true I must depend on my own exertions to provide the necessiâ€" ties of life for myself and my child, and my poor little girl is not very strong, and consequently needs good care; still, I am not in immediate need of money as I yet have a little left. But it is difficult to get much work from the people of Briarton so far, and your offer is most welcome indeed. I like children and shall much prefer taking care of them to earning my living by sewing; while, aside from all consideration of the liberal amount you offer to pay, it gives me true pleasure to hope that I may be of some little assistance to one upon whom sorrow has laid so heavy a hand." “'hile she. had thus spoken, the docâ€" tor could not but notice that it all seemed to cause her a hidden pang (lfl mortification, until she spoke of the joy of doing something for one trouble, when her face beamed with in i an expression of kindest sympathy which touched his sorrowing ht‘fllt‘ at once. Then a look of cool dignity, almost of scorn, touched heri features, and made her graceful fig-i ure heighten as she concluded-,â€" "But shall you be quite at ease, about leaving your children with me? i- Briarton people, as a rule, seem to bel somewhat suspicious of strangers.” i Then, as her eyes met his and suwi the look of tinder pain in them which i her words had caused as he thought, how she perhaps was falsely accusing him with the rest in her heart. her face fell, her eyes moistened, and deepâ€" ly she regretted the hasty speech. She quickly Iurned her head away to hide the unbiddcn emotion that her quivering lip betrayed, while he rose from his seat, and, stepping to her side, extended his hand, as the pain of her words iOill'llt'tl his heart. “Mrs. Desmond," he said, a little huskily, as be pressed her hand, “I need not ask, for I read in your face that you too have. known sorrow. \Yhatever its nature you have my sincerest symâ€" pathy, for I also know its pain. and moreover, you have my confidence, for I trust you fully. I ask no ‘credentialsfi feeling that my children, who are more 1 ban all else left to me now, are safe with you. I care not what Briarton may say. 0f your life I know nothing, nor ask to know. Your face, your voice, your manner. all tell me you are awo- man true and womanly, and Iask no more. in any trouble believe me. :il~ ways your true. friend, ever ready to advise. and help you, if possible. Half of the money we have agreed on for the six months‘ cure. of the. children, i will pin you before I go, and the re- mninder as soon as you wish. [need not tell you how dcar these little ones are to me, for you are a mother and can know a parent's heart; nor need I ask you to do by them as their mothâ€" er would. I can ask no more than that." “ Dr. Tremoni'," she replied, her voice lremulous with emotion. while a deep sense of gratitude for his trust, in her filled her eyes with. mist as she looked into his honest, earnest face; "I canâ€" not express my thanks to you for your confidence in alone and unknown woâ€" man. but, as God is my witness, Iwill be in them what you ask and true. to the trust you so honorably repose in me," "Say no more, I know you will. I have decided to name. the baby Nellie. after her mother; the. boy's name is Carl: T will bring him over to-morrow so that I may get the house shut up and things ready to leave, as Ishall be starting in about three or four days " To be Continued. â€"_â€".â€"â€"â€" CHINESE JEWS. A Splendid Tabernacle Kingdom. The Biblical prophecy that the Jews should be scattered abroad over the face of the earth is certainly a. true one, for there is no country in the world which does not contain its por- tion of these thrifty people. Even in China they have long been known Early in the seventeenth century, and shortly after the Italian missionaries had come to Peking, one of them, Matâ€" thew Ricoi, received a morning call. His visitor wore the gorgeous Chinese dress, including the queue, but the fig‘ ure and face were not Mongolian, and the smiling countenance was not in keeping with the dignified solemnin of a Chinaman. The gentleman‘s name was Nlai, and! he had heard of the arâ€" rival of some foreigners who worshipâ€" ed one Lord of heaven and earth, and Yet who were not Mohammedans, he belonged to the same religion, be ex- plained, and had called to make their acquaintance. Now, Master Ngai made it clear that he was an Israelite, ana- tive of Kaeâ€"Fung-Foo, the capital of Benin. He had come to Peking to pass an examination for a mandarin degree and had been led by curiosity and brotherly feeling to call at the mis- sron house. . r in. his native city, he said, there were 10 ou- 12 families of Israelites, and a synagogue, which they had recently restored at the expense of 10,000 crowns. and they had a roll of the law 400 or 500 years old. The missionary‘s letters described this synagogue. It occupied a space between 300 and 400 feet in length by. about 150 feet in breadth, and was divided into four counts. It had borrowed some decorative splen- dor from China. The inscription in Heâ€" brew, "Hear, O Israel; the Lord our God is one Lord, blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom for ever and ever,” and the Ten Command- ments were emblazoned in gold. Silk- en‘ curtains inclosed the "Bethel" which enshrined the sacred books, and which only the rabbi might enter dur- lng the time of prayer. Every detail of lhls place, with its incense, its fur- niture and all its types of good things yet to come, is interesting. There, in the last century, the children of Isâ€" rael at Kae-li‘ung-Foo. worshiped the God of their fathers with the rites that pointed to the Messiah, of whose advent, as far as it can be ascertained, they never heard of until the arrival of the ltalian missionaries. Learned men have entered into dis- cussron as to whether these people were Jews or Israelites, whether they come to China from the Assyrian cap- llVlly or the Roman dispersion. They themselves say that their forefathers came from the “'est, and it, is probâ€" able lhai the settles arrived by way of Khurassan and Samarcand. They must have been numerous in the ninth In line Flnwci y .cuntury, for two Mohammedan travel- .(‘I‘S of that period describe a rebel, nillll-‘ ed line-Choc, taking Carlton by storm ,in A. 1). W7 and slaughtering 120,000 .icws. illuhzimmerlans‘, Christians and l’irsees. Allure than one Jew of Kae- Fimrrâ€"li‘oo is known to il‘lVE‘. gained the right to wear llic little, round butâ€" ton (in the lop of his ("in so d ir to ilgu :lllllilllUn of :i(‘l1in:iinan 'l‘be Taipâ€" ingr Ielicllion dispersal the settlement, and the remnant who remain faithful to lllt‘ memory of old iratlilion; are chiefly poor and distressed. ’l'hc widow's needs sometimes give way to the rake. l THEY ARE GREAT SMOKERS. The. Prince of “'nles’ Notable (‘ollccllon and Ike Duke of York's shabby Bl'lar- VVuodi “'Iny klng Humth h'nvc I'p mucking. There is as wide a gulf between the cigars with which lbw Austrian Emâ€" peror solaces himself and tin costly brands affected by the Prince of \Valcs as lH,‘t\\'(‘i‘D Ihe city man’s >liilli1ig Parâ€": It . tagas and ill» sling of the laborer. is a mistake, liouever, Says litâ€"Bits, to imagine. that the. cigar is ill" favorite form of nicotine worship in royal cirâ€" clcs. ncss for :i briur pipe, which, the weakâ€" ness and not [he pipc, they share. with their most lowly subjects. The Duke of York has among his treasures a shabby briar, burned al- most half way down \he bowl, which‘ his cherished "middy," and which has poured out its incense in almost every latitude. Even now he regards a cigar as a” luxury and his pipe as a solace, and the Duke and the Czar of all the Rusâ€" sia, alike in tastes as in appearance, have been seen together smoking a. couple of briars with as much zest as a city clerk in the rapture of his mornâ€" ing pipe. TIIEi PRINCE OF \VALES, too. is at least a pipe smoker, and his briar is more often his Sunday comâ€" panion as he makes his tour of the Sandringham farm and stables than a was companion as a cigar. The. Prince is a great cigar smoker, although he rarely buys a Cigar. His stock, which is the finest amateur collection in England, is re- plenished every year by large conâ€" signments from the. Austrian Emperâ€" or and the Czar, and some of his most co.~tly brands are valued at fifty guin- eas a hundred. The Prince, too, is not superior to the cigarette, and it was with a box oi: exquisite Turkish cigarettes that be. tempted the. Middle 'iemple Benchers to relax their rule against smoking in‘ Hall during the Prince‘s ireasureship of the Inn. The fragrance- of those cigarettes, for thy were circulated through both the messes, lingers yet in grateful memory among Middle 'l‘empie barristersâ€"for to it they owe the revived privilege of producing oven the seasoned briar when the cloths are removed. Th.- Duko of Saxeâ€"Coburg is as much addicted to the briar as to the cigar, and it is his constant companion on his fishing and shooting excursions. King Humbert was for many years as inveterate a smoker as Bismarck; but the strong, green cigars which he affected played such havoc with his nerves that he. was obliged to foreâ€" swear them. Not so the Austrian Em~ peror, whose weakness was the same. He still smokes an incredible number of cigars which would be dear at 108, a hundred, and they rarely leave his lips from his early morning ramble in the Palace Gardens to his final "good- night" to his favorite horses in the imperial stables. Like mo:.t of the Austrian male royâ€" alties he occasionally SgMOKES A PIPE; and Prince Ferdinand, when he takes his long rambles incognito and hob- nobs with wayside innkeepers and stray travellers, is almost inseparable from his “cherrywood.” The Kaiser prefers cigars to a pipe for reasons not unconnected with nausea, and when on horseback often smokim cigarettes, which he throws away after a few whiffs, to be scramâ€" bled for by his loyal subjects if they are near. The cigarette is in great favor among the royal ladies at most European courts, and even the Cizarina's "re- script" against smoking has done no- thing to banish the cigarette except at her own court. Her imperial mother- in-iaw, the Dowager Czarinu, and her sister, Princess Henry of Prussia, are. inveterate smokers, and the Duchess of Cumberland follows their example. The Empress of Austria used to ban- ish her sorrows in cigarette smoke, and. the Queen Regent of Spain finds them a. solace in her trouble, while "Carmen Sylva," the gifted Roumanian Queen, writes her romances under their inâ€" spiration. Some royal ladies even aspire to a cigar. and it is a matter of history that the former Queen of Naples fought iustilyat the defence of Gaeta. in regiâ€" mentals with a cigar between her pretty lips. LUCCHENI'S TERRIBLE FATE. The Neucs \Viener Tagblatt states that the dungeon in which Luccheni, the assassin oi the Empress Elizabeth, is now confined, has no windows. its walls are of cold, generally damp. stone, its floor of stone. its ceiling of stone; and that. l..ucclieni will proâ€" bably pay for his crime by the loss of his eyesight and his reason. Only once a ful-night is be permitted to walk in the prison courtyard for half an hour. He (ices not even see. the attendants who bring him his daily rations at six (1 clock every morning, and pass them through an opnzinr over the iron door uhich Closes ill‘ dungeon. . THE BLO\V OF A SEAâ€"“’AVE. An instrument has been made in Engl‘ind to be sent to Japan. Its use is to measure the blow of a wave. A similar apparatus was used to meas- urc the “'3l\'l-l)li;\v off the Skcri'yvorc Rock, Fcitlunl. ’l‘h're the S\\’i*¢‘ll in tin!” lll‘ wide Atlantic. in summer a force. 0 fiiv:~r b'ivll pounds to ill' sqii‘ ['9 rod “"118 recorded. In‘ Huntir :I- liiwli us a [mi In the squaro‘ fowt was attained. This gives an ltl>‘3l \i' th \‘.illl 'liii-s. lighthouses and other similar structures have to contend. hlirst royal princes have a \\'c:ikâ€", \ViIVES ' KHEDIVE lS OFFENSIVE. llc Forgcts “ lint. l-Ingrluml [Ins Done for Him 0“ c; Ills Tlu'ouc linllrely to That l‘ouutry. The young Khedive is once more ren< dering himself to such a degree. offen- to the British Government that there is a revival in political circles in London of ihe discussion of the ad- lVHnngt‘ of deposing him. ‘ Although the VlK'lUl‘y of Omdurmnn }\V‘lS followed by the arrival at'Kharâ€" ytoum of shoals of telegrams of con- {Iralulation not only from Queen Vio- loria, but also from Emperor Francis Joseph of Austri'i, from the King of Greece, and above all, from the Emper- or of Germany, yet not aline of recog- iniiion did the Khedive see fit to send l . , . . ,either to the commanrlerâ€"in-chief of his :army, General Kitchener, or even to the Egyptian troops. He seems to have been afraid that it might have offended the Sultan, and even since his return to Egypt from abroad has abstained from testifying in any public way the services which have been rendered by the Sirdar in thus restoring to the Khediviate all its former provinces of the Soudan. TO SLIGHT THE ENGLISH. Moreover, it is known that he moved heaven and earth to induce the Kaiser to visit Egypt, taking it for granted that \Villiam would be induced by the very magnificence of his hospitality to treat him, the Khedive, as the sover- eign of Egypt ignoring the English. That Abbas looked upon the Kaiser‘s visit to Egypt as a means of slight- ing the English is apparent from the dimppointment with which he as well as all enemies of England in the land of the Nile, the French first and foreâ€" most, have received the news of the Kaiser‘s abandonment of the Egyptian portion of his trip, all the more as it is known that William has acted thus in deference to English susceptibili- ties. The Khedive, it must be remember- ed, owes his throne entirely to Great Britain. since it was the latter which alone stood in the way of the old Kho- dive lsmail‘s determinition to transfer the succession from the father of the present Khedive to the late Tewfik‘s younger brother. Hussein. who had the advantage of being born the son of a princess instead oi a peasant. KHEDIVE'S INGRATITUDE. Ismail, moreover, was several times on the point or deliberately putting his eldest son out of the way, and, was only prevented from doing so by .an intimation on the part of the British Government that it would hold the old Khedive responsible for the life of Tewfik. The present Khedive forgets all the services rendered by England to his father, as well as the laiter‘s restora- tion to power by the English after the Arabic rebellion. and since he succeed- ed to the throne has persistently shown himself the foe of England in every possible way, even to the extent of giv- ing the names of members of the Brit- ish royal family, and of the chief Eng- lish statesmen and dignitaries. to the most loathsome animals of his private menagerie in his suburban palace of Kubbeh. Moreover, the Kliedive‘s me- tropolitan palace at Abdeen ‘15 the centre of all anti-British intrigues in Egypt. Great Britain would never have tol- erated on the part of any lndian. Ma- harajah, or semiâ€"independent. Hindoo prince, one quarter of the troubleptha petty insults and the manifestations of hostility of which the young Kho- divo has been guilty, and as just at resent, neither Lord Salisbury, nor the English nation, are in .1 humour to be trifled with in connection With Egypt, no one need be astonished to learn at any moment that Abbas has been deposed, and that either his brother, Mahemet Ali, has been apv pointed in his stead. or else that Lord Cromer has been nominated Governor- General and the Khediviate abolished as useless and costly. sivc l ______.'___ SPEAKING CLOCK. We speak of watches and clocks a. telling the time, but we do not as a. rule expect to be understood as saying that they do it in so many words. Now. however. we may mike mention of clocks that literally tell the hour. These phonograph clocks are being made in Switzerland, and are [he very latest thing in the line. of timepieces. \Vhen a button is pressed they pro- nounce the hour distinctly, thus sav- ing the owner the trouble of looking for himself to see where the hands point. The new invention has been utilized to awaken a sleeper in altogether a more natural manner than by the old system. A clock set to awaken its owner at six, calls out to the slumber- er, "It is six o'clock, got up!" Some clocks, evidently intended for the. use of obstinate sleepers, add, "Now don't go to sleep again !" The form of warning can be chosen by the buyer, and may be more or less emphatic. The application of ihe phonographic ,principlc to watches and clocks is the work of a French \vzitcliumker satâ€" 1tied at Geneva. He introduced into ltlie timepieces little slabs of vulcaniz- .cd rubber, on which ill» desired words iare traced in grooves corresponding to the, hours and fractions of hours.