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l l . â€". "Save you kindly, Keenan of Lisman- Iy, anti will you give me a ride to t ,Cork 1" "And me, Martin 1" "Strong" farmer as he was, Martin Keenan was none too ready to give iway even the courtesy that cost him nothing. , _ poorly. and lain hardly these many months, and held together close. ly; and because her trouble is near at hand he has written to you. Martin Keenan, there are so many mouths you have left unfed; feed these two who are flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone." “Let them starve, why not i" the fair girl whispered in his ear. "Mary, his mother. died of a starved heartâ€" why wouldn’t he die, too? His will be but one mouth the fewer to keep ‘and feed! And you‘ll spend your old age putting coin on coin, gold and copper with silver; and when you die “And who's to pay my trouble. then. tthe house will get no tenant, but ind the mare‘s 7" he said. He drew up his cart with a creek and a jerk, and looked hard at the two girls who had Itopped him by the wayside a mile and a bit from Lismanay. Would they pay him for the lift? he wondered. Stran- gers to him both they were, but soft- voiced: and very fair to see. and Mar- tin Keenan looked at them long. The In .hion of their clothes was dif- ferent and even so was the color of their hair, but themselves were as like Is lwu ,sislers. The fair girl's gown was a red color and rich stuff, and the hood on her shining hair was of quilt- ed silk. but the dark-haired girl went barefoot in a gown of ragged green, the red shawl cast over her head, fad- ed and patched. But it was to her of the bare feet that Martin Keenan spoke first. "Vt'snting a. ride down the Cork road. are’ you! and you knowing my name. colleen dhu! But up with ye first. and answer after, for it’s tired ye look." "Tired indeed I am this hot day, and footsore, too," said the dark girl, throwing back her shawl from her face that was as pale as a bramble flower. "And I thank you kindly for the lift; but it’s empty-handed, too, I am. and I cannot pay you for it." "Get up, empty-handed or full-hand- ed," gruuted the farmer, "and no more .words about it, colleen dhu !" Then he turned to the fair girl, speaking un- graciouxly. "Come up with you, then, if you‘re after wanting; a ride in earn: est, and will pay for it, colleen dhas; for it's a beggar on the high road' I’d be, if I gave two free rides in a tday." “0, I will pay for it, man, never fear. I am like you, 'for Ialso do no- thing for nothing." she said smiling. "And like you, Martin Keenan, it's bit- ter and ugly and ill and cross I am to them that help me on the road. And like the wand- ering dust I am, and like the wind, .since far have I gone, and I've far- ther yet to go." He helped her into the cart sulkily enough, though even his eyes could not help but make open confession of her beauty. ' "Sit fast then, and draw close the hood over the face of ye, for there‘s a' power of dust on the road to-day, and the windâ€"bad cess to itlâ€"blow- tag it up like gossip into our faces. And better would you have done to wait for the car, colleen dhas.” "I like better still to- ride to Cork with you, friend," said she of the fair hair. composedly. "I wonder, now, how‘many angry men have ridden hot- foot down this same road to meet their sons and their sons’ wives? How many before you, Martin Keenan f" “1 never told it," Keenan said, his florid face grown gray, "into the ear of living soul that my crazy lad had married that Madame Fine-airs of a Gracey Roche; nor yet that I and the mare were bound for Cork, to-day." Then edging nervously away from her. "And what are ye at all, at all, that know what I’ve never spoken 3"' "Ah, what are We now, I wonder i" 1 said the fair girl, openly laughing. “But,” said the dark girl leaning forward, and whispering, "I know a thing, too, that you never let on to‘ anyoneâ€"not even your own soul, when you and it kept company, Mar- ' tin Keenan. Mary learned that you loved your money better than you loved her, body or soul; I knowt that she did not slip,'gathering dulse on the Bull Rocks ‘ out yonder, but that it was her own good will she went to drown in that see that drowned her father.” “Drive on, and trust our tongues to keep pace with you," said the fair girl, sharply. "Drive on while you hark to us. Drive on, and drive fast now." Mechanically the farmer obey- ed, shortened the reins, and drove on, every nerve of him listening. “I know, Martin Keenan," said the dark girl, whispering on, "how your son learned in a black and bitter school, and how there was never a kindly welct me for him to his own fa~ ther's home." “I know,” murmured the fair girl, "the home he took Gracey Roche to, and the home he took her from. And I know, too, what man’s shadow keeps 1 the ‘door of Graoey Keenan’s small heart_ to-day, and his name is not Maurice; though he gave her only shame and Maurice gave her a ring." .“And I know," said the dark girl, sighth and smiling, "that he knows she does not love him; but neverthe- les he loves her greatly all the same. And I know that these nine wedded‘ months have been dearer to him than the sixteen years that he spent in his father's house." :‘You have his letter carried this minute in your breast, Martin Keen- I know that your wife‘ .your ghost will haunt empty Lis- lmanay, and you‘ll watch your money still, Martin Keenan." "Let Mary beâ€"you of the bitter tongue!" Keenan said gruflly. “She's dead ten years back, and today the quarrel lies between me and her son." "The quarrel will die to-day, my sis- ter Sheila," the dark girl said. The fair girl broke into scream of mark- ing laughter that put terror into Mar- tin Keenan‘s face. "Will it, Kathleen l" she cried. "Will it now? I think the quarrel will live, Martin; but I know Maurice Keenan will die toâ€"night. . e o e e o The same fore-knowledge came sud- denly to Maurice Keenan himself. where he and his wife sat hungry and cold in their sky parlor, looking down on a by-street in the city of Cork. He turned his face to the wall, that Gra- cey might not see the heavy Sorrow in his eyes ;and then he roused himâ€" self from his own trouble of human .love and fear, to touch his wife's hand, and to smile into the peevish face that stooped over her fine stitching. "Gracey, put up your sewing, my colleen, and rest your pricked fingers, ‘and take to me a whiley. I'm too tir- ed to sleep, and there's time enough for that." “How can I talk f" Gracey answer- ed, wearily. "You'll not let me lay a rough tongue to your father’s name; and it‘s I that have no more words to say, Maurice." "I'll go out the morn’s morning," her husband said restlessly, "and see 'if Mr. Donnell has any work that I can do. It's better I’ll be the good to-morrowt if the sun shines. maybe." "Never anny more,” Grace answer- ed hopelessly. "Dr. Mag-inn said so yesterday, agra, and what will I do my lone? You'd better left me to Jimmy, after all." "Don't talk so. my girleen; it hurts," Maurice said in ,a sharpened voice. "You were too good for him. Gracey, and soon would he have grown tired; and you would have gone hungry to the pity of the streets, mavourrluen l" “Aan are we not starving here?" Gracey cried. "0, yes, there's a roof above us, sure, there is! and a brave roof, tool 0, I wish'tâ€"my grief! I wisht you‘d let me tdrown myself that night, Maurice. It wasn’t kindly done to stop meâ€"no, and it wasn’t wise! For, wanting me, lyou'd be in your own home now." "Gracey, dear, these are better days than the days at home," said IMnurice Keenan, slowly crossing the ‘room to the one small window, and ,looking down on the loud street 'be- llow. Many's the day at Lismanay I went hungry. and the sharpmt strug- gle now to me is the knowing that my girleen's hungry, too." Shamed color came up into Gracey‘s worn young face, and she laid her head on her husband‘s arm, with a solb. I 2'0, it‘s the bitter woman I am," she said, "and you putting the food from your own hungry mouth into mine. It wasn't my heart spoke so, but the hunger ,dear." "Ah, Gracey, oge machree, sure, and there are two nungers; and the worst to bear of them is the heartâ€"hunger, my glrleen. 1 know this of myself, for I‘ve known them both.” Gracey sighed impatiently; she was not of the stuff whereof saints and martyrs are made, and she looked [down enviously at the fullâ€"fed pros~ perous folk going and coming in the street. "\Vho‘was that in the street below ,â€"that fine lady with her yellow hair, and tn the grand silk hood? Sure, and ye saw her, Maurice, for she looked ,up here at you? And" (jealously) 5twhat’s she to you that you’d look so , rangea one another? ‘her [hen 'n a Do ye know "Noâ€"yesâ€" The never a know do I know Gracey." Her husband‘s hands were on her shoulders now, resting ‘ there heavily. " Help me, mavourneen. ‘thll ye, now ?" " “'hat is it, avivck 9" . "I‘m struck with death I’m think- ingâ€"and I‘d rather die standing up, but you wouldn’t be able to do with me afterwards. Id‘s be too heavy for you. Better help me back to the bed, ‘Gracey, dear. Thank you, my colâ€" ; leen." . t He took his arm from Gracey’s shoulâ€" ,ders, and dropped down upon the bed ,tutrntng his face to the wall, lest the idra'wn pain of it should frighten : heir. ' ‘Mauriceâ€"" "Yes, pulse of my hen-rt?“ { "Is it dying hard ye are?" ‘ He tried to smile at her. ” Yes, ma- : ch~ree."' "Then I'll draw the pillow from un- ‘der your head, agra, stuffed with istrarw it is, but there might be spig- _son‘s feather in it, annyhow.“ She ida‘ugged the thin pillow from under her husband‘s head, and then sat down ton the edge of the poor bed, waiting, 1 ,‘with folded hands, till Maurice. Keen- an should have lost his last battle. \Vhen it was nearly ended the door opened suddenly, and Martin Keenan came in. with a. wild. gray filt‘P. His heavy step roused Maurice from the “1'” said the fair girl. leaning near- . drowsiness of death, and he held peace er. to him, "And he does not write to you in sorrow. Let hunger break his pride a little smaller !" “Why should he be broken who has done no ill 7" said the dark girl. "For he. did a. bit of God's work and lifted up a woman from the mudâ€"one he knew when she was a slip of a child. and as clean of heart as the canna is clean of color. Now he and the wo- man have loved greatly. have lived at arm's length from him for a min- ute's breathingâ€"space, while he drew Gmoey down to him and held her fast. At first the boy and girl clung silent- ly together; then Gm‘t‘ey took fire and spoke. "You‘d best go home. Keenan, for it‘s little we \vant of you to-day, though we wanted food last night.“ " M‘aurice." LIartin Keenan falters-d. Maurice boy. won‘t you speak to me? Is it the tongue of her hate talking to me or a worse thing? Is what she says truth or a lie? Is it bare food you've wanted for, and I eating mate and stirabout and drinking {Dead at Lismnnay? “Yes, father," Maurice whispered, keeping his face half-hidden from sight on his wife‘s heaving breast. "God forgive me for it,“ his father said hoarsely, " but there‘s time for me to make it up yet to youâ€"and Gra- cey hereâ€"and the child that‘s coming, And ye'll have good doctoring Maurice agra, and ye‘ll see your child yet, place God! Graoey, tell him we want him back at Lismanay? "0, his mother wants him most," Gracey sobbed, as Maurice‘s head grew heavier on her bosom. 0 my grief! my grief; and she has him now. 0 Maurice, agrn, and why shouldn‘t you take me, too? the worlds so cuold a place for as women." "Hush, hush now! Gracey, my wo- man." " \Vhy would I bush 2'" Gracey wail- ed, “and my heart breaking in two with the weight that he‘s put off, my man lying here !" " For God's love don’t cry so," said Martin Keenan, "Sure. I‘ll take up the weight myself, Grarey, and you shall never carry any more sorrow. Maurice, agra, do ye hear?" Maybe he did; for the smile on the dead face was so satisfied and tender that it mlnldlfl Gracey bush her useless tears, and put her hand into Martin Keen- an’s and with it full forgiveness. " “that use was it for you .to strive so hard with me for him, my sister 2" the fair girl said to the dark girl as they stood among the blackberry bushes, watching Martin Keenan and Gracey drive slowly home to Lisma- nay. "What use? For the yellow-hair- ed boy, died, and the man‘s heart is black still. Kathleen.‘ ' "Black with sorrow Sheila, but not black with sin." “ And he will count up his gold again; I lay the doom upon him," an- swered the fair girl, frowning heavily in the shadow of her hood. "But I lay it upon him, sister, that he shall spend it too," "I lay it upon the child unborn to be as womanâ€"souled as his father Mau- rice, and to die heart-hungry, even as he died," cried the fair girl, angrily. “I lay the same fret upon him, col- leen dhns," said the dark girl, with smiling lips and eyes shining none sure, and not as a curse." " But I lay it upon him to live hun- gry as well as dtie hungry," said the fair girl. " I lay the same fret upon him," said the dark girl, smiling still; "for the satisfied soul is a rotten kernel in a fair husk; and therefore shall the child suffer hunger and thirst and shall not be sufficed by the fruits of Tir na. n‘Og and the mead of Flath- Innis, but he shall feed the hunger and quench the thirst of other mouths than his." " He shall not be the better for any woman‘s love, Kathleen, however long he lives." " Not the worse for any man‘s hate, Sheila O‘Galra." " Nevertheless, here and there a man shall hate him, Kathleen. And here and there a woman shall love him, but not the one woman that shall be his star." " You have the power to give him all these sorrows," said the dark girl; ” but I have power to promise him comfort in the love of the Gentle Peoâ€" -ple, ourr kindred. And I promise him. too, that before he dies he shall see the Gentle People, thrice; and he shall see you, Sheila, my sister, and love you for your beauty‘s sake." "But I shall not love him, Kath- leen, said the fair girl, " because in a dream once his father saw my face, and he did not love me." “Othetr men have seen you, loved Iyou, and died for you, Sheila, my sister.” " But this one man would not love me." “ Let time judge between you, Sheila! Our doom lies on him, meanwhile. and we two are agreed." " We are agreed, Kathleen; and the first lies upon him, and upon us." Then a little wind pushed and nuz- .zled its petulant way through the blackberry bushes, and found neithâ€" er dark woman nor fair; but far away 'up the darkening hill-slopes and throught their wet ferns quested a black bound and a white. â€"+â€" FOR SAVING LIFE AT SEA. A New English Invention That Is ('llllfilllt‘l" ell Very Good. Inventions for the saving of life at sea are almost as numerous as the i wrecks that prove them. useless. Pro- 'ba.bly many have not as much forc- thought and simplicity to recommend them as that which has been patented llll England under the title of the V1.0- tot'ttun life-sztvtng apparatus. It is a collapsttble canvas-colored cyander. seven feet long, expanded by means of screws “'01‘kltllg on the bamboo rods jail the side. I At vttbet‘ end is an air-tight metal lt‘mulpartment to keep it afloat, and the renter ts (nutter-light compartâ€" II is ment of India rubber. Ubvlulh i that there is no danger of su'amplngâ€" it“! important consideration in vase of astoqu and rougll water. The castâ€" :l\' 's may mount axtl'itlv ol the col;- :ttvurt'e or hang lrlllt) the illlntllt‘n‘ on I the red. at the ride ttll amort- (0,,- \'l‘illt’llt ()(‘l'tlélttlL tile Illp llZIL‘JS blip- pottmg ten men. Nor are they left to drth ilt'iillea5l3'. Paddles are fastâ€" enetl to the cylmder, to be detached for use: and there is even a flag and fillgslaff for attracting the atten- lit)"l t'l possible resruers. Cont-entrai- er! tot v- of .H k liti~. fresh \vtter :tnrl filll'lt‘ -;o:| away in safety in «2' .2t ('Olllpill‘tlllt‘lllh‘ inâ€" set tt‘t . . :.t- metal ends. the less for tears, “but. as ablessingl THE CHANCES OF WAR. July About (Duo In lyrry Thouwml )lls~ sllv. I’lmh n Illumul 'l’. Iat‘l. It is certainly a crumb of comfort to a man about to fight for his coun- try to know that in batth not more than one in every l,0Jt) projectiles of all de~.criptions and weight takes ef- fect, says the London l‘Iall. Competent 'tllltll...)l‘iL.v8i state that on the average it takes a ton of shot to kill one man. For instance. it has been estimated that in the Crimean war the Bl'itlnil and French troops litter! beavean them the enormous amount of 45,000,000 projectiles, reâ€" ..ul.ing in till} «tenth otf only 51,t,t0 ltus- ions, with on their sills, the Czar‘s adherents killed Bonnie 40,0t0 ol the al- lues, with an expenditure of over 50,- t.0.),000 projectile), tth representing a death for every 1,087 shots .il‘ed. The Amelican Civil War re urns, which wene got out with very great care, showed that the loss to both the Federals and Conltlereales was about 7 per cent. of the lorcas engaged." to bling about, which inVolJetl the expen- ditune of neatly twentyâ€"two hundred Weight of ammunition per 1.11.11]. At, the siege of lilo-meted, in the Franco-German war, the. I‘russians threw no lewer than 1210.0 prtj.ctllt-s into the ill-rated town, but, strange to say, LESS THAN 100 PERSONS were ktlled by them. Then at Trouâ€" ville, two persons only Were k lletl. a.â€" ter some 27,000 odd shells had been discharged. AL Sedan, however, the aim on both the German and the French, showed a marked imprch- ment, for alber 210,00J projectiles had been fired neatly MM) trench. and Prussians were k.ll.ed. For the Spam h-Alnerican wur the returns Shtth‘dd a tremendous amount of shot and sh-“ lived for very m-eagreJesuls. Of course, in this lease, sl.houugh the nhortahty was not great, the damage to earthwork, for- ttilications. and government bulltllngs generally was enormous, and theft) can be Little doubL that if the bpan- iardls had not made themselms scarce the death roll would have been appal- l‘ling. Again, when the American marines landed at bantiago, outing at luilads supon the enemy, lasting two ughts, able machine guns and; rules alone at;- CUUflL-etl. 101‘ the Consumptmn 0. over £5,000 rounds of ammunition. sixty- evight dead Spaniards were found as a result OI. this enormous expenditure of ammunition. Our own experience in our "little wars," has been very little, it any, batter than the results just recorded. Take, for instance, the Lharwred Company‘s expedition into Matab-ehe- ,ltan-d. Everyone will remember how the warriors o. Limeligqu were mowed. do an by h- Mixim guns. LIKE bKIT'I‘LES, 'but even in thlls instance, which, perâ€" haps, is the most 8L-60[1V‘8 on record, at.) the lmptl advanced on the British lines in solid masses, it would have puzzled a blind man to have missed shooting some of them. The mortalâ€" it y wan very small consumering the vast number ol cartridges expended, but this is accounted lot by the .act ,that on examination some oi. the dead monies contained more than li.ty bul- llets in each. On another occsaion an ,‘ratttaCk on a Larger some twenty miles isotuth of Buluttw'ayo 14,0o'0 rounds of atmmunition \Mdl‘e tliepmed or, with a ,itesul. ort' 3+6 dead Matabele. Military authorities now regadr napidity of tire as being more essen- ti/zttl than range and pneclsion. and content themselves with giving gen- enal orders to trim low, and this, per- ihtaps‘, accaunts for the luct that most {wounds are in‘llrlcted on the enemy‘s ‘l‘otwer extremities, statistics showing tthat on an average 45 per cent. of ,‘wuuntls occur in the legs, 33 per cent. tin the atbtlomen, 21 per cent. in the Earms and chem, and only lper cent. in the head. It will be interesting to learn how many Boer bullets it takes to kill a British soldier, and vice versa, if only for the sake of really ascertaining whether the Transvaal burghers’ abilities as crack shots have not been considenatbly overrated. â€"_.__ DOLL KINDERGARTEN. Over in Germany there are 5,000 chilâ€" detrn in one district alone who are em- ployed to dlress dolls and help in the manufacture of various kinds of toys. All the children who do this work are under 12 years of age. They are taught the art of dressing a doll at the tenâ€" der age of 1. At the same time, ac- cording to the compulsory education law, they are obliged to go to kinderâ€" gnu‘ten for at least one year, and that tetrm is devoted to such thingsas the milking of dolls and dressing them, doing everything in fact, excepting molding the heads, which is done by men expert at it. After that the Ger- man children have three or four years of study, when they are allowed to go into the doll and toy factories to add to the family‘s income to the extent of a few cents a day. The children who go to the kinderâ€" garten have lots of fun making clothes for the dollies, and so fond do they get of some of the little warrenâ€"faced creatures that they are often sore at heart when the matron comes around and collects them all, to be sent abroad many to America, where more fortun- ate little girls may buy them and keep them for their own. KNEW MILITARY SGHEME. ADDITION OF 3t),000 MEN T0 TdE REGULAlt AnMY. 50,t00 to the. Auxlllnrlraâ€"Tlle l'cnlrnl Men In me E lublhlnnvnt ol 'I‘brcc Army (Itl‘|I~. The following is the Imperial Gov- ernment‘s Lllllltlll'y programme outl-n- ed by Mr. Wyndham tn the House. of Commons, as summarized by the Lon- don Uully Tclttglapthzâ€" FORCES AT HOME AT PRESENT MO- MENT. Regulars. . , . 98.000 Reservists. . . . . . 124,00 1 eotmanl’y. . . . . TMIU Militia. . . . . . .. 77,0.)0 Volunteers. . . . . 2154M) Total. . . . . . . 409,0th NEW' REGULAR. FORCES TO BE ltAlSEl). Line. . . . Llne, reserve emerg y. I yield A..l.lery. . . Horse Art.llcry. . . 12 Battalions 17 Klttnlbns. batteries. l buttoned 4 Rig-meats. ROYAL ARTILLERY, AltMl SER- VICE (JOKES, Al‘tl) ENGINEERS. Sulftcient to be raised for two more at my corps. Cavalry. . . . MILITIA. Pay to be put on apar With that of the legultlrs. The ullolc lorce to be, embodied for three or four months, unsteutl of one. Increased, laellltles for target. prac- tlce. Greater transport acuommodatlon. Y EUMAN RY. Each regiment to be invited to go utluet‘ canvas tor amontb. Pay colrcspollutngly .n.reasetl. Each leglmellt to no lnvlled to give atloop apiece to term abrtgade of mounted inlantty for this year. VOL UN TEER ARTILLErtY. To "0: provided with new guns. and to bJ encoulageod to train up to three months annually. VOL UNTEERS. To be armed with the most modern weapons. Any, volunteer battalion may enlist up. to 1,0o0. ' Where in excess of or approximately 1,000 asecond battalion may be torm- ed. Increased capitation grant. The whole force to be encouraged to truth u-nt‘ler canvas for amontu an- leed transport to be paid for by Government. A- mourllted infantry detachment of eacn battalion to be encouraged, where it will not interfere with yeomtanry reâ€" crultung. OFFICERS. Commissions in the army to be of- fered to militia officers, the colonies, the universities, and some Public schools. Officers to be taken from the reserve. MEN. A larger proportion to be taken on three years engagements. NET RESULT IN FIGURES. army. 30,000 .30 mo - . 80.000 Additions to regular Additions to Auxiliary Forces. Total. . . . . . _â€"‘_ TO SEAT ONE‘S SELF AT TABLE. With good table manners one may pass unchallenged in the best so- ciety. De.icacy, inborn refinement or frank vulgarity is inadvertently dis- played while eating, and nothing so marks one as his manners at table. t There are a great many rules on this subject which one can follow with propriety. You might boil them-all down to this: "Be dainty and unosten- tatious." nually, More ranges to be made available. Before she learns how to eat pro- perly or place her napkin or manage an im, the wise woman makes it a point to see that she knows how to seat herself at the table. This may seem a simple task, yet many have found, to thetr discomfort, that it is difficult. To take a seat at table when there is no servant: standing ready to as- sist, demands practice and experience. Many a debutante at her first din- ner has been confronted with this pro- blem without having prepared for it. Never grasp both sides of the chair back at once, and standing in front of the chair. in a half-sitting posture, "hitch" the chair into place. This is decidedly awkward and vulgar. Ga about it deliberately. Gather your dress evenly to one side, out of the way otf the chair legs, and grasping the top of the chair with one band. gently slide it into place. After a little practice this can be done grace- fully antl with ease. .[n rising from the table slip out of your chair rather than push it back. if iL is pushed back the effect is ankâ€" ward, and the disagreeable grating sound produced by the chair legs be- ing rubbed against the floor will draw attention ’to you. -â€"â€".â€"â€" RIFLE) Dl-ZADLIER THAN CANNON, It is generally supposed that more men are killed by artillery Iil'lll infanâ€" try fire. This is a tot'tlly erroneous notion, US from mtuliml reports, it would appear that the rifle, is I'efipOn- »iblt* for neaer 90 per Cellf. of the Bti lib kill '1]. In the Fr-lnc;_(ir-,t'mau wartr isostimated th'tt 61'69 Germans were killerl by rifle bullets, and only 695 by artillery fire