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CHAPTER XV. Sir Arthur did not feel quite sure whether his wife's intelligence pleas- ed, him or not. Still he said nothing to that effect to her, but bent down and kissed her pretty young face, and muttered something about happiness It was vague enough, yet it pamfied her. She was quite content. Was he pleased ? If he should have at son, his beautiful, noble daughter would no longer be heiress of Lance- wood. She would never fill the posi- tion for which she had so well quali- fied herself . Her life would be comâ€" pletely spoiled. Sir Arthur under- stood her, and he knew that her de- sire to inlherit Lanoewood was not so much for the wealth or the import» once that would accrue to her, but because she had loft ideas of adding to the luster of er name. of doing good to all in the estateâ€"by cause she would carry out needful improvements for which he had no inclination. He had often said to himself what a noble mistress Vivien would make for Lanoewood. and had thought himself most fortunate in having such a daughter to succeed him. Now, if he should have a son, all hopes of Vivien's succession were of course ended. He could give her an ample fortune, but he knew her wall. No fortune or money could compensate her .for the loss of Lance- wood. He knew that she would ra- t‘her be mistress of Lancewood than Queen of England. It would be a ter- rible blow to her. The bringing home of a young wife 'had been bad enough, but that would seem trivial in com- parison with the loss of Lancewood. Another thingâ€"if he had a son. ill was almost improbable that he could live to see him reach manhood. and. If he did not, who would train him~ who would Teach him all that Vivien bad so aptly learned? He did not say so to his wife, but in the depths of his heart Sir Arthur hoped that a little daughter might be born to them, and not a son. If that were the case, the evil would be changed into a blessing. A daughter could be amply poriioned out of the estate, and would not interfere with Vivien's claims. He did not tell Vivien the news. "It will be time enough for her to know It." he said to himself, "when all the world knows it." Vivien wrote to say that when the Smeatons left London they were go- ing to Germany, and had asked her to accompany them, which she very much wished to do. Sir Arthur gave his consent. . "\Vho knovws, poor child. to what kind of homc she may return 7" he said. “It may have passed from her hands never to be entirely her own again." .. ; So Vivien went to Germany, little dreaming of the news that would fol-‘ low her thither. Lady Neslie was expecting the hour at her triumph. She had never ad- mitted to herself that she might have a. daughter instead of the son slie longed and prayed for. And one hint- lnig ever so remotely at such an idea incurred her severest displeasure- One day she summoned Mrs. Sponsor, the' housekeeper, to a consultation. Ellie wanted to know which of the rooms had been uSed as Miss Neslie's nursery. Mrs. Spenser told her “the 13.1 e room. with the oval window on the first floor." “That will ,not do for me," said her ladyship, decidedly. "I grefer aroom on the ground floor. ways dangerous for children, and boys are so much more mischievous than girls." I "But," interrupted the housekeeper, incauiiously, “your have a daughter." "I shall have not hing of the kind,” said Lady Neslie, angrily; “my son will be heir of Luncewoodâ€"a daughter would beâ€"-â€"" “Useless to me." she was about to add, but prudence came to her aid and checked the words. The housekeeper went away with a smile on ‘her face. "It is easy to see," she said. “that niiladi wants a son. so that Miss Nes- lie shall not have Lanccwood. I pray Heaven she may be disappointed." Lady Neslie herself never seemed to have a doubt. "Arthur," she said one day to her husband, "I have been looking over lhe family annals, and I have found a name for my little son." "Indeed! \Vhat name have you chosen 8" he asked. "Oswald. ll seems to have been a favorite name in lhl‘ family. I countâ€" ed ien Oswalds, ziiid they all Seem to have. been famous man.“ "Yes," observed Sir Arthur. dreamâ€" llyâ€"“Oswald is a famous name wiili us, and we have had some gifted men called by ii. If lhad a sun, I could not “lab for a butler name for him. I often wonder. if I had another name, whether ii would have inspired meta be a greater man.“ He spoke regretfully. like one who felt that he had missin some road in life; then, suddenly looking at his wife, he saidâ€"â€" “Valerie, you make very sure of this son of yours. What if, after all. you should find yourself ihe mothâ€" er of a little daughter as pretty as you are yourself l" She looked up at him excitedly. "lshould in! so terribly disappoint- ed," she said, “that [should almost hate her." "Hush. Valerie!" he cried, shocked at her words. She perceived her imprudence. "It is your fault. Arthurâ€"you make me say “bar I do not mean. My whole heart is bent upon a little son. \V’hy do you contradict me 1" Indeed it was useless, as be. well knew. He said no more. but he hoped and prayed with all the fervor of his soul that the expected child might not be a son and heir. There was great consternation one Through Storm and Sunshine Lairs are al-, ladyship might , eveningâ€"a sweet dewy evening â€"for the young mistress of Lancewood was suddenly taken ill. The doctor was summoned in haste, and he sent at once for another. There was distress and dismay, for Lady Valerie was Sick unto death, and it seemed a terrible thing that one so young and beauti- ful should die. There were long [hours of suspense, when the doctors consulted with grave faces, and the servants whispered in low voices. "It would be strange." the latter said, "if this Lady Neslie too should die;" and there were hun- dreds of wishes expressed that no son lmllghl deprive Miss Neslie of her birthright. Sir Arthur, walking up and down the broad corriditirs. tried to unde- stand his own heart, and failed. Then lthey came to him, those grave-faced .‘doctors, and told him that he had vgreat cause for rejoicingâ€"a son and heir was born to himâ€"a strong, heal- Iihy boy. But there was one draw- ibackâ€"Lady Neslie .was in great dan- ger. He asked if he could see her; iand they told him "Not yetâ€"she was too ill." _ l A son was born to him! When the “doctors had gone away, leaving him alone, he went to the window that llooked over the Hyde woods. The lmoon was rising over the trees. the sky was without a. cloud. The fair domain of Lancewood looked unwont- edly fair. The undulating, well- wooded park, ‘the bills in the far dis- tance, the dark, picturesque masses of trees, the moonlight silvering allâ€"it was a home for a man to be proud of ', and to love. _ ‘ A son was born to him! This fair ,domain would never be his daughter's ‘â€"it would never belong to her; it beâ€" longed now to the little child whomhe had not seen, and Vivien was dism- herited. As he stood there he thought of his first wife â€" Vivren’s motherâ€"of how, during her short life, she had talked of the time when her daughter would inherit Lancewood. He thought of Vivien and of how she had spent her life. She had not cared for romance or sentiment; the light, pretty occupations of other girls had no charm for her. She had fitted her. self to be mistress of Lancewood, as she would have done to be queen of a great. kingdom. He could remember her enthusiasm over the grand old trees. How she had loved them! How ishe had gloried in the fact that, al- though they might die of old age, they could never be cut downll Ile re- membered, as he stood there watch~ 'ing the fair domain that was not to be hers, how she had planned a pictur- esque bridge to span the river, and a iboat house lower down. Now she lwould never plan again. Tears dim< med his eyes, partly in gratitude for ‘the son born to him, and partly in sor- row for the daughter who had lost all through his birth. Then he reproached himself. It was too late, he said, foe thoughts of that kind â€" too late for regret; he was married, and a son was born; there was nothing to be done but make the best of it. Soon afterward he saw the little babeâ€"a strong, healthy boy, with his -mother's eyes and hairâ€"a bonny, beauâ€" tiful boyâ€"and his heart warmed to the child. _ "After all, there will be some sat- isfaction in being succeeded by a son," he thought; "this boy will be Sir Os< .wald Neslie of Lancewood." He stooped down to kiss the tiny rose-bud face, and then he went quiet- ly to his wife's room. She looked so ill and weak. She had fainted, they told him, two or three [times in successsion; but she recogniz- ed him now, and called himl by name, "Arthur," she said, faintly, as be ‘bent over her, “they will not let me ,speak; they will not tell me." He saw her face flush with triumph, ill as she was. "A son, heir to Lancewoodâ€"I am so glad!" she whispered. Then, looking into his earnest face, she said â€" "I shall not die, Arthur; I that l have a son." Then he left her, and she lay still, saying to herself over and over againâ€"- ":ir Oswald Neslie, heir of Lancew Wood, 'l‘hank I have a son." They brought the boy into the room for her to see. It was no sweet Heaven, muthcrly instinct that prompted her‘ questions, "Is he well?" “15 be strong." "Is he he:ilthy‘!'â€"no mother- ly instinct, but the longing that he might live to inherit Lancewood. The moment that the little child cried she waived it impatiently away; she did not want thatâ€"«she wanted nothing but to know that he was living and well. \\ he were with her -â€"â€" that she so seldom desired to ilth‘ the child with her; if he was well, she was content. Sir Arthur saw lli'l‘ smiling one day as sh.» looked at the i-liild‘s faceâ€"she was i‘vctivering rapidly than. "Why ilrt‘ you smiling, Valeria" he asked. "I “as just thinking," Silt‘ litpllr‘tl. “that after all I might have my own way, and See Lady Yalerie's Drive made just uherel wanted it." . Again, lh.-y Were looking over some fine views of the castle, and she saw amunst lllt'lll one of the Dimer lluusc, She showed it to him iiith ‘.I smile of triumph. "i shall never have to live in dreary uld place now," she said. "How do you know that, Valerie!" he asked. "1 am quite sure of it. I need never leave Lancewuod, because my own son will be here, and there will be no need." llllI “But suppose he marries, Valerieâ€"l what then?" She laughed the merry, happy, light laugh that had 5.: long been hushâ€" ed. "He cinniit marry for twenty years shall live now 1 They Wondered much â€" those. to come, at least,“ she said; “and when he does, I will choose his wife â€" she shall be one after my own heart." And as he listened Sir Arthur Won- dered which love was the stronger in her heartâ€"the love of Luncewood, or the love of her child. CHAPTER XXII. The ending of a human life is but as the: falling of a leaf from :1 tree. Sir Arthur Noslie \\’ll3 dead: and when those who had cared most for him summed up his life, tlieru was but lit- tle to record about it. He liud lived and lovedâ€"had made mistakes, and bad dospaireil of rectifying them. The noblest trait in his character had buen his low- for the fair, noble wife whom he had lost years before; his character had seemed to deteriorate after llf‘l' death. Now he too was placed in lbe family vault where the Neslies of L'Inoowood slept. The day of his funeral was one not soon forgotten at the Abbey. There was no sun- shine, but a cold, drizzliiig rain. The worldlooked gray and disconsolate, there was not even ll gleam of blue in the sky. "Such a day to be buried onl" the servants said, as though the dead man could note the darkness of the sky and the absence of the sun. The Abbey was checrless within and without. There was no sound outside save that of the steady downfalllng rain beating on the ground. Inside all was gloom. The blinds were drawn; the. servants, dressed in deep- est mourning, moved about noiseless- ly; there was the muffled step of the mourners; there were the depressing â€"almost terrible â€" paraphernalia that serve merely to add to the bitterness of death. There were two who mourned the dead man; one was Vivien, the other .Gerald Dorman. Lady Neslie did all ,‘that decorum could expect; she shut =herself into her own. room, where she was supposed to be undergoing ar- oxyms of grief, but where, in rea lty, she amused herself by reading a French novel. She professed herself too much overcome even to see any one. But she was able to study the effect of her mourning. "It became ,ber"â€"and she clasped her hands in devout thankfulness. "I was so afraid, Marie," she said ,to her maid, "that I should look. hor- rible in black." Master Oswald, in his nursery, passedlhe morning in aviolent strug- gle with his two nurses, stoutly refus- ing to put on the black dress provided for himâ€""it was ugly, and he hated .it"â€"-which mutiny, on being reported to "miladi," caused her to smile and sayâ€" "The dear child has so much sense; black is very unpleasant. But re- member he is Sir Oswald nowI and he must do as he likes." .The long black procession moved Silently through the park, the rain falling on the waving plumes, So the ,late master of Lancewood passed from ithye home wherehis feet should never tread more while the daughter who had loved him as she had loved no one else lay weeping in her darkened chamberâ€"weeping as though her grief could never grow less. She thought of what Lord St. Just had said about time. \Vould time ever bring healing to her? Would her ter- rible heartache ever cease? Would her awful sense of desolation ever depart; Lady Neslie longed for the hour when the blinds should be drawn up. She had never left her roomâ€"no cren- lure living had a greater dread of death and everything belonging to it than his gayâ€"hearted lady. She paid no visits to the darkened room where lay the man who had loved her; she never saw him after he was dead; and the time seemed long to her while the house was all in gloom. She sat Sir Arthur was buried and she was restless with excitement. A widow’s ,cap lay on the toilet tableâ€"not the lsuimber headâ€"dress that Wives usually wear, but a pretty coquettish cap. "Milzidi" took it in her hands. ‘l‘l shall not mind this so much," she said. "You have really made it very cleverly, Marie; it will not hide my limit." the laid it; on the glossy brown coils of hair, and viewed herself with great satisfaction. ' “Marie, you are a perfect treasure. _H;irkl_That tiresome child is scr‘eaui- ‘ing still. He must have a black suit 'onâ€"for a time at least. We have to go to the library, Mr. Dorinzin says, to hear the will read." “I only hope he may self, but 1 do not think he will," .0b.<«-rved the maid. heart herself, but “miludi's” want of it disgusted her. body Neslie walked resiiessly tothe window. total looked out on the cold, cheerless scene. "What a day!" she said “The very ‘ earth and sky are full of funeral gloom. Ah, this foggy. miserable England, it has nothing to rcuouiuivnd , it but its main-y!“ “'“liuglillld has been a mother Marie. . do not deny that, but look ill the mist, ill" ruin, the drizzle, the lenden skyâ€"such a day for 'l fuuvrlil! if ever ‘l min buried, l hupe it Ul'ly lie when the sun shines." “if over!" repeated the maid. “You ,ivill have to die, 'miladi,‘ just is well ‘as lli" rest of the \iorld." "'l'h:ii will not be for many years " said, laughingly. “New, to you, ‘uill;idi,"‘ remarked yt‘l, hhk' .M-irio, I :im going to enjoy my life. I did not Ulrfl mur‘h about Sir Arthur >you know; he “his :rll very well as re: [gar-ding wtirldli' advancement â€" I ,‘knuw thit i should never do better .tlian in marrying him." I 'l W l.» L‘unzinued â€"_.~ .BOEHS l'Slth CHINESE TACTICS. Masked posit fun» so greatly adopted by the B<)»r'.~' utilized by the ('hiâ€" new against lillllriil forces, nulahly lhB 'l'aku Fouls in her own room with her meld while ‘ It is positively becoming," shesaid- i brute, B.,” be remarked. beha vs him- ‘ She had not much . She drew up the blind and , MECCA'S HOLY CARPET. Mohammed's Tomb Gets a New of Sllk Every Year. Each yi-ar there is a new rug or silken carpi-t made in Cairo and ciirriad ln sol- emn pump to Mecca and carefully hung over the sacred Casba. above Mohammed's tomb. There are two processions. The first car- ries the carpet from the citadel to the . Saldna HllSPlll mosque, Where it is sewed together and lined and made ready for the pilgrims. 'l‘lils processlon takes place on April 6, and the klicdive, the ministers, high officials and notables all take part in r the ceremony. The train whlch conveys the holy car- ‘ pet and its escort to Suez leaves on May 16, and usually presents a very gay appear- ones. At Suez the carpet and its guard of hon- or are conveyed on board the pilgrlin ship along wlt-h a fearful rush of ragtag and bobtuil, who have no respect for govern- ment regulation concerning the Egyptian pilgrims. In addition to the devout pilgrims, camels and horses there are always one or more beggars or bufl‘oons, who accompany the caravan, and a man or woman to take care of the cats which are carrled all the ‘ way there and back again. The mahmal laa curlous feature of the pllgrlm traln and perhaps the most strik- lng. It is carrled, like the ark of the cove- nant, at the head of the procession. It looks not unlike the elephant howdah, in splte of its pyramid at top. Its framework is square and lts covering black brocade v rlchly worked with inscriptions. The sul- taii’s thumb mark and avlew of the Caaba are embroidered on the front. The mahmnl is considered a sacred ob‘ ject by the faithful, who jostle the crowd in their effort to touch it with their hands. Women let. down their shawls and head veils from the latticed windows in order that they may recelve a blessing from contact with it. Directly behind the mshmal there al- ways rides a half naked sheik, who rolls his head from slde to side incessantly.â€" Boston Globe. THE MAN EATING LION. no Uses Cunnlng and Take. No Un- necessary Chances. When llons become man eaters, these inert and treacherous brutes take no un- necessary trouble to catch men, and while human beings are plentiful none of them undertakes perilous enterprises or proceeds on any haphazard expeditions. They know what to do and where to go in order that prey may be procured with the least: amount of risk or exertion. Such a lion is well aware of who tills this cornfield or that meelie patch. He has informed him- self of how many men accompany the vil- lage herds, where any outlying camps are situated and how they are guarded. There is no route by which travelers proceed or traffic is carried on that such animals have not studied with reference to the faculties for attack they affordnnd their own bod- lly powers. If otherwise good strategic positions present natural difficulties, the lion not only considers how these can be overcome, but: perhaps practices his part beforehand At all events, he has been watched while engaged in exercises that: can only be explained ln thls way. So puny a creature as man is, when un- provlded with effective implements for offense, stands little chance agalnst such a foeâ€"an assailant having 40 tlmes his own strength, backed by marvelous activ- lty and an intense passion for carnage. Under these circumstances savages can only shut; themselves up or assault; their enemy in large masses. 0n the other hand. those precautions taken by a inur- derous lion might not seem to comporb with that hold and often reckless temper attributed to this species. But such a dis- crepancy has no real existence. It only appears when a. judgment is made with- out; taklng all the facts into consideration. This animal‘s intelligence, developed in man caters to its highest point, together with an organic stealtliiness of nature and , ; proclivity toward unexpected attacks and sorrowrng strategieiiis, fully accounts for everything a lion does in the way of guarding agalnst failureâ€"Dr. Porter in Outing. The Joke on the Jockey. A well known jockey relates wlth rellsh the following llttle story, though the laugh is decidedly against; him. A few years ago : he was engaged to rlde the favorite in an ‘ important race. On the way to the post he found himself centering alongside a rank outslder, the mount of a stable boy who had only just commenced riding. “You’ll have to be careful with that “I've ridden him before, and you'll never be able to , hold him. " B. thanked the crack for the hint and said that he would "do his best. " Half way through the race the outsider and another were in front, with the favor- i lte close behind. Fancyliig that the others Were in ditiiculties, the rider of the favor- ite shouted: “Pull out, 8 , and let; me throughi I‘ve got the race in hand." The crack was mistaken, however. Looking back, the stable boy replled, with a grin: “I would. but I can‘t hold hlnil" With whlcli the novice lot hisliorse have good Esta“, his head and shot; away, the easiest of winners, to the chagrin of the crack, who finished second. PEN AND CHISEL. Marlo Corolll's real name is Eva Mary Mackay. She is the daughter of the late Charles Muckiiy, LL. D. George Meredith has produced little more than an averagonf one book lnevery two years of his writing life. It is profitable to be a fad, and Bessie Potter. the sculptor, become that ln Chlv cage, where every other woman of wealth had a bust of herself made by the young sculptor. "Sketchy little statuettes" they are called. Rudyard Kipling once sat. in a London club listening to a dlscusslon concerning the existence of God He said nothing untll toward the lust: and then, with 1: ve- lieincnt gesture, said, “I know that there ls somebody somewhere who gives us our licks," "Lick" la a colloquiallsm moon- lug punishment. After Doitoisjiiled. HOW PERLEY MISNER, 0F WEL- LANDPORT, RECOVERED HEALTH. lie Sull‘erod From lllp Jnlnl Dlnensc and Alum-sacs Ills Fl'lelllls h-urecl Ila Would lie in Permanent Invnlld. From The Out .. A. reporter of the St. C‘etharinee ‘Jirurnal visiting Wellandpnrt not long ago, heard of one of those remark- able cures that [have made Dr. \Vil- liams' Pink l’ills {famous as life sav- ,ers_ ihe world over. The case is that of Perley Misner, son of Mr. Mathias Misner, who had suffered from hip ‘jiini disease and abscesses, and who had been under the care of four doe- tors \Vilhout beneficial results. Dir. .Misner gave the particulars of the ‘case as followszâ€"“ln the spring of l892 my son, lPerley, who was then in his thirteenth year, began to com- ‘plain of an aching in his hips, and 'later .myattention was directed to a peculiar’shumhle in his gait. As the :irouble gradually grew upon him I took him to a physician in Duuvills, ‘ who examined him and said the thou- ble arose from a weakness of the ,nerves of the hip. This doctor treatâ€" ed Perley for weeks, during which time a large abscess formed on his leg, and he was obliged to get about ‘on crunches. As he continued to de- cline, I resolved to try another doc- tor, who diagkinsed the case as hip jcint disease. He treated Parley for six months. The lad slightly im. proved at first, but. later was taken lworse again. He would startle in his isleep and was continually in distress as he could neither sit nor recline with ease, and was Weak, faint and confused. During this time the ab- scess had broken and was discharging in three places, but would not heal. A third doctor advised asurgical op- eration, which, he nbjected to, and a fourth medical man then took the case in hand. This doctor confined Parley to the bed, and besides giving medicme, he ordered a mechanical appliance to which was attached a 15 pound weight, to be placed in a position by a pulley system; so as to constantly draw] downwards on the llm-b. This treatment was continued six weeks; causing .much pain, but nothing in the way: of benefit was noticed. The, abscess was dressed twrce and, thrice a day for months. and frequently, deinvlte the aid of crutches, it ,was necessary. for me to carry hunt in my arms from the house to the vehicle when taking him, out. In October of 1893, I decided, other treatments having failed. to- try Dr. Williams Pink .Pills. I told the docâ€" tor of this decision, and he said that Dr. Williams' Pink Pills would quite likely be of much benefit. After using four boxes I could see 501116! improve- ment. After this Perley continued the use of the pills for several months With constant improvement and new vigor, and after taking about 18 boxes the abscess was nicely healed, the crutches were dispensed with, and he was able to work and could walk for miles. I attribute the good health which my son enjoys to-day to the useI of Dr. Williams Pink Pills. This medicine achieved such 8 mar- vellorus success in my son’s case as to set. the whole community talking. about it. L consider no pen expres- sive enough. to do Dr. Willi:ims' Pink Pills justice, as I believe my son would Still be a hopeless invalid but for this medicine.“ Dr. Williams Pink Pills cure by go- Journal, St. Catharines, log, to the roots of the disease. They renew and: build up the blood, and strengthen that nerves, thus drivmg disease from the system. If your dealer does not keep them. they will besent postpaid at 50 (‘cnlsu box, or six boxes for $2.50, by addressing the Dr. Williims' Medicine 00., Brockâ€" ville, Ont. â€"â€"..._.__. How Rooms Are Rented In Mexico. Strangers sometimes mlldly wonder what newspapers or sheets of blank paper are tied on the windows or balconies of certain houses for. A sheet of paper thus arranged ls a sign meaning that there are rooms to rent in the house on which it is dislihiyed and ll just as significant in it» import; as three golden bells over a pawn- hroker's shop are in other countries -â€" Mexican Herald. The Deal- Child. “What are you after, my dear?" said a. grandmother to a little boy who was sliding along a room and casting furtiva glances at a. gentleman who was paying a visit. “I am trying. grandma, to steal papa's hat out of the room Without let- ting the gentleman see it. He wants him to think he‘s out.‘ Marriage In a Serious ’l‘hlng. An Atchison mi tlier's boy married recently. and his wife made him shave off his mustache br’lure i-lie would make him any soup, of which he was very fond. When he lived at home. he got his whiskers in the soup every day. and his mother took it as a compliment to her cooking. The Method. "Here's a case of a man who went to law in order to get the girl he loved away from her parents." “Took out a writ of attachment, I suppose. ' There are annually killed in Africa a minimum of 65,000 elephants. yivld- ing the production of a quantity of raw ivory. the selling price of which is $4.- 200.000. As early as the year 47 B, C. the great Alexandrisn library murmur] over £0,000 vdoable books. .. ~.V_\,