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CHAPTER 1X.â€"-( Continued.) Then she turned, delicately flushed \vith a pleasant excitement. and ran with a springing step in from the frosty air, singing some snatch of song in the glow kindled by this passing glimpse of another kind of life. A long dormant something woke within her under the spell of the lady's gracious presence; her voice, her face, her smile set many currents astir in her half-petrified, half-crushed nature. It was won- derful to Jessie that she should at once have detected her loneliness, not the loneliness natural to a young creature bereft of kindred and friends, but that more invincible loneliness of one who lives among uncongenial and unsympathetic naâ€" tures. Even Philip had never seen this; Philip, with all his tenderness, held her but u. slight, mindless, colâ€" orless creature. “And to think,” mourned Mrs. Plummer, "that the parlor shonld have been all littered up with your painting messesâ€"and the smell too. as if the house was being done upâ€". for company to see.” "Miss Lonsdule paints herself, cousin," Jessie replied. gently. “I don't think she minded it. Please let me do a little more now the light is good. I will make all tidy by dinner-time.” "To be sure, Jessie, I'm not 0110 to go against my own flesh and blood,” continued Mrs. Plummer, in a. resigned voice: "and if you are to be an officer’s lady, tidy ways of plain folk can’t be expected of you. But 'tis a pity. Many a time I'vu spoke to your poor mother against the way you was bred up, never to soil a hand. And I always told your poor father the day would come he’d repent it. But I might as well have talked to that eat.” Sebastopol, whom Mrs. Plummer equally. disliked and feared. was not the only waif from the mill that found refuge beneath her hospitable roof. It chanced that she needed both a. dairy woman and a. cow-man soon after Mr. Meade’s death, and . set her heart upon Sarah, the maid, and Abraham Bush, the miller's man. One obstacle prevented her from engaging them; they were not married, and the Redwood’s cowâ€" ,man and dairyâ€"woman had always hitherto been man and wife. After some reflection, She commanded her husband to open negotiations with Abraham, and at a certain stage to inform him that his bachelor condiâ€" tion was a bar to the office. At the same time she broke, ground with Sarah and lamented was impossible that it to come to terms with a. woman who had no hus- hand. "You never gave a thought to ' marrying, I suppose, Sarah," said at this stage. "I never encouraged nobody poor Misses was alive,” Sarah is lonesome when getting in years. It’s like this, Miss Pluminer, I’ve had my own way this five and forty year, and that’s pretty so ’much as anybody hev a. right stitched to. ' "To be sure, Sarah,” assented Mrs. Plummer, “you’ve had -libcrty than a woman ought. to, and it is time you began to think of doing for some man going to rack and ruin for want of a wife; you don’t know any steady widower- man who might be looking after you now, do you ‘2” "I knows two or three looking af- ter the bit of tvage I've a put by,” Sarah replied, thoughtfully; “ain’t a gwine to hev they, not as I know on." ' more own," suggested Mrs. Plummer, cau- tiously. , “Very like; he's a near one is Abram. Vine weather for gairdens, Miss Plummcr, ain't. it ?” Mrs. Plummer then put a similar question to Abraham. "Ay, I've thought 0’ matrimony many a time." 'Abraham replied. “I’ve always a thought better of it." “You'll be getting in years, Abraâ€" ham," Mrs Plummcr urged. “and you'll find the want of a wife." "I’ve a vound it this vifty year," the best sart of a want. it’s like this yer, mum. Materiinony is ter- ble easy to vall into, but t’s terblc hard to vall out of." "A nice. steady, hard-Working woâ€" man with a bit of money put by, ‘lbrahnm, would be the making of a man like you.” ‘ “I dunno as anybody‘d hue me,” Abraham replied, in a rclenting “'03’; "but there, 1 need so well look round, Miss Plummer.” "Look at Sarah,” suggested Mrs. Pl ummer. “Many's the time I’ve looked at. she," said Abraham; “:1 near one is Sarow." ‘ "And such a dairyâ€"woman !" sighâ€" ed Mrs. I’lunnner. “Well, good even- ing, Bush and if you should hear of a married couple without encumâ€" brance, you'll let us know." éfléWfiflMmWQWMCQOQOWO? a tongue when you knows the Worst â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€".â€"_â€"_â€" il lllth} PRGMlSE OR, THE MISSING she l while over which his hat was firmly ram- . rc- med for the double purpose of con- plied; "but to be sure, a lorn Ooman cealing his blushes and giving him a. nigh strong, "Abraham Bush has money of hisI returned Abraham “and I've vound . it 7" Thus it came to pars. Satisfaction of Jessie. that Sarah Fry and Abraham flush were made, one, and soon afterward installed at Redwoods, where their kind, famiâ€" liar faces made the large kitchen a homeâ€"like place, to which she often resorted for a pleasant chat, Abraâ€" ham's part of which consisted chief- ly of a series of grunts, and which kept Jessie's heart warm and human in her petrifying isolation. of to the great CllA P'l‘lCR X. Jessie was mistaken in her surmise that she was not again to see Miss silence for some moments. Sarah Lonsdalc, for the next morning the isat. at the other side of the hearth I bright plume flashed above the low near the window with some needle- garden wall, the pretty ponies stop- work and wondered, as she had woiiâ€" lletl at the Wicket, and the sitting- .deretl for the last, ten years, if Abâ€" 1'00!“ “'05 ill-Till“ brightened by the raham was coming to the. point. lady,“ l’l‘050n0(‘~ Abraham wondered on his part, as She came to see how the sketch he had wondered for the last ten was progressing, she wanted to take the auction took place, and sat thoughtfully staring at the fire in years on similar occasions, if he a hint from Miss Meade; for, fond should succeed in coming to the as she was of sketching from nature, point. At last, with a mighty ef- she had never yet been very success- fort which made his very ’bones ache, ful in it. She had ventured to he uttered the following pregnant bring a. portfolio of watercolors and words: Prints, also a book that Jessie "I reckon 1 bain't much of a one m‘ght like, ‘1 lovely b00k. ‘Vthh opened a new world to Jessie, it for marryen." "More bain’t I, Abram," retorted iSarah, promptly. He was foiled, der hmv many more years pass by before he would again be able to open a. parallel of such im- portance. The clock ticked on for some minutes, making a sort of rhythm with Sarah’s clicking needle; Abraham scratched his head and was called “The Architecture.” Before long Clara Lonsane could not walk, or sketch, or read a new book without, Jessie, and the days :in which Jessie was not commanded to the Court were blanks to the lonely girl. The Plummers saw the growing intimacy with no concern, they held it an honor 10 Jessie and Seven Lamps of and began to wonâ€" ’ would . . . . . by reflection to themselves; they moved uneasdy in his chair. til] at oonsidered her position too far be- last he came out with. “There aint Heath Miss Lonsdaleis for any .-no particular harm in matcrimony as I knoWs on. Sarow.” "’Tis well enough for some volk,” thought to enter the child's head. At Marwell Court there was more concern on Jessie's account. Even Sarah admitted guaI‘dOdIY- I 'lClV (‘ertrude was suil‘c‘e ' V H 3 I J. . 1 . .. ntl t â€" " 'lis hworte in the Bible that two ested 10 say that it Vlvas Z "Lie: is better than one,” contended Abra- while sir A'pthm- one day rel-no]: ham, after another perplexed five strated with Clara ' minutes of silence. "It is 'l ver " ” H ‘ V H ' u ' . ., y pretty head, he Sine enough, she rolllled. 1? said, "and you might find something .Sonnel' hm? two COWS than one 1! better to do then turn it for your amusement. I’ve half a mind to warn the I’lunnners." So Clara immediately found some- thing better to do. She took Jesâ€" sie in to amuse the invalid girl, Ethel Medway, one day. Ethel at once took to a face so sweet and so near her own age, and Sir Arthur, overâ€"glad to find any means of brightening his daughter‘s sad life, said no more 7 they was giv' me.’ "Lord ha mossy l” groaned Abra- ham, within himself, "I shan’t get drough with this in a. week 0’ Sunâ€" ;da3's. Who'd a thought the. ooman 'was that (lunch, and had such a power of words inside her ‘2" "I've always a said,” he contin- ued, “when I marries I shall hae a ooman by the name o’ Sarow to go long with Abram like the Bible.” “Hev ye now ? “’0” there’s a Jessit left M' i ’ ‘1 ‘ Y n . : iss Llushford s at Dl‘O‘nSfy 0f 5410“? £01119"; Easter when the Medways were ure enougi, times a many again at, Marwell, and Clara was :Sairows, but they baint all up to dairyâ€"work," continued Abraham. “1 ’lows they baint. Abram,” re- turned Sarah, with an air of grim abstraction. “Sarow Cooke now, she caint so much as skim a pan 0’ milk, no sense. Poor missus used |to hev her when I had that fever, you minds. Pretty nigh drove her crazy, Sarow did.” "1 med so well go drough with ’t, now I’ve began,” thought Abraham to himself, "but darned if I ever ,asks another ooman to marry me, lafter this yer.” He cudgelled his brains in silence for some minutes, with his hands thrust into his pock- ets, his legs stretched out straight toward the fire, and his eyes con- templating his boots, which were powdered with fine meal like all his garments. his hair, and his face, again interested in her new friend, with whom she had maintained a brisk correspondence in the interval, and with whose brief and unevent- ful history she was soon fully acâ€" quainted. The news of the final capture of Luckan by Sir Colin Campbell had been received, and though the great revolt was now virtually quelled, Philip still had sterner work than marrying cut out for him for months to come yet. In his letters he now only alluded to their union as a disâ€" tant possibility; as to Jessie’s let- ters ho seldom alluded to'~them at all. Many never reached him, those he did receive came out of their proâ€" per order and with such gaps and want of sequence that they were difficult to understand. On his part he had things of deadly inter~ est; to relate during the prolonged sieges that he confined himself to the baldest statement of facts, and this he often repeated, knowing how many chances there were that his letters would never reach their des- tination. Thus the two' young peoâ€" ple were spiritually as well as phyâ€" sically separated. The wearing, wasting pain of vainâ€" i resolute air. Sarah, a wholesome, pleasantâ€" faced woman with ruddy cheeks and black hair tinged with gray, diligently on with an im- perturbable face. “Massy me l” she thought to herâ€" self, "anybody med newst so well , _ . be made love to bv a owl. Why ly waiting for the post, of fearing Cain.t the wold dund‘erheud up and the postman’s ImOCR and yet being blankly disappointed when he brings nothing to fill up the emptiness of the weary day, such, the frequent portion of women, who weep while men work, wait while they are abâ€" sent, watch while they enjoy. was Jessie’s portion in her secluded isoâ€" say 'Will ye hue me, Sarow '2’ and ha' done wi’ ’t ‘l” "Sarow," continued Abraham, sol- emnly, "me and you's kep company together this vivtecn year.” ' "Anybody must hue somebody to walk with,” returned Sarah. as if to exculpate herself from the charge. lallon- she 310 he? 'h‘ml‘t 01113 "You baim‘, much to look at, to be while watching for Indian letters .sure." and when the rare, longâ€"expected “I’ve a hundred and vivty pound miSSiVe did arriveâ€"3nd sometimes the same mail brought twoâ€"was alâ€" ways, after the first thankfulness that Philip was still alive and well, miserably disappointed and sat down to write her answer feeling that she might as well seek counsel and comprehension of a stone wall. Yet there was only l’hilip to speak to, and Miss Lonsdale, who read the child's inmost heart as she read the last new novel, bcCause it was something new and therefore interâ€" esting to a worldâ€"worn mind. In the genial spring weather they could sketch in the open air, and in bank 3” he added, doggedly. "Hev ye 9" "Darn it all, Sarow," cried Abra- ‘ham, goaded to desperation. "Whatâ€" ever’s the. good 0' wiverin about “like this yer '2 Well ye hue me or Wunt yo?" I "Now you talk sense, Abram," reâ€" iplied Sarah, judicially. “I dunno ias I'm one fur marren, though. A imam do make such a litter stabbling labout house, smoking and wanting 'vittles all day long. I’ve kep clear [0’ the men this vive and vorty year, i-md I done well enough.” "Well, there i if you wont Ime me, made appointments to meet at solâ€"l [.Miss l’lunnner wunt hae you. I ected points of vantage, so that‘ lldunno as you're man enough fur the Clara might take hints and examples place, ater all, Sarow. Whoever from Jessie's greater skill and talâ€" Jtakes on wuld master’s mill must PM. She Said, but really for the line a man I reckon,” he added, re. companionship. iflct‘tively. “1 never was much fur How happy Jessie was in this, to her, rare and cultivated companionâ€" ship! How charming, clever, and accomplished as well as kind and materimony meself. I've tried zingleâ€" 1ness this \ivty year, and I never had no vault to vind wi't. You can friendly the woman of the world ap- peared to the simple girl! Her, grace seemed beauty, her polish courtesy, her superficial cleverness and information genius and learning her tact heartâ€"sympathy. Indian letters, Redwoods homespun, Miss; Blushiord’s fettering pettine ‘. her: own idle aimless life; all were for- gotten with Clara. One lovely forenoon they met by a _ thick grove of old oaks, descendingi i I get out o’ singleness, but once into 'materimony there you must bide.” l “Sure enough, Abram, there you [must bide,” Sarah, l thoughtfully. "Well, be ye gwine to hitch on to ,‘me or baint ye ?" growled Abraham, iwrenching himself from his chair éwith a view to taking his deparâ€" :turc. [ "Well, there!” slowly and deliber- ‘ately replied Sarah. upon whom this significant gesture was not lost. “I commented a moderate slope to a fair-sized l l "Yes, I'll let ye know, mum." I'lows 1 mod so Well bitch on, Sllcut. of water, the banks of which, > The consequence was that, one lAbr-am, Miss Piummer du.\vant me 'except that opposite the sketchers, veuing Abraham loungcd into the lbad for the dairy. She've gm, 3 lrose steep. crowned with trees. From tillbrooke Mill kitchen, just before itoligue, to be sure, but. Lord. what's this level bank the rich sward, dot- ted by clumps of fine trees, rolled away up to the terrace in front of Marwell Court, the long and impos~ ing front of which rose clear in the April sunlight and traced itself on a background of wooded upland. On one side of the fine pile a long vista of level landscape stretched away to some distant blue hills. on the other a hanging wood clothed a Steep ascent, in the foreground some deer were grouped, as if for the ex- press purpose of composing a picâ€" turc; over all was the. sweet, deep April sky of magical pale blue opal- esceucc, from the mysterious depths of which clouds seemed to issue in vague soft. outlines. which melted and mingled imperceptibly into its far lavender-blue recesses. The first swallows of the year flashed dark against that lover sky, white pig- eons and blue flew with clanging wings beneath it, lurks shot up in spires of eddying song and were lost in it. the fresh half-opened foliage of beech, elm, and larch, flushed trans- lucent on the Wood beneath it. The sunshine was tender and even fresher than the light soft uirs stirring the budded woods: one seemed to bathe health from its pure radiance, it threw a glory over everything, steeping the turf and young leafage, and calling forth such warm and acute touches of color from treeâ€" trunks, the red broken banks and tho still lake through which a stream loitered slowly, as no pencil could reproduce. Russet and gold leafage was just beginning to break forth here and there in the gray masses of oak tops over their heads. Looking back in- to the living roof you saw only silvery mazes of thickly interwoven boughs, relieved by some burst of fresh Ieafagc or some green underâ€" growth. ’I‘he pale netâ€"work made a hoary gloom about the strong low arches of those stout gray pillars: solemn, mysterious, and suggestive. All sorts of dreams rise and embody themselves in such dim woodland haze; dryads, nymphs, and fauns spring to life; fairies disport themâ€" selves about the mossy roots. And when the sunshine loses itself in those closeâ€"woven branches. or shoots through some aperture in the. oaken roof, lighting up clusters of pale, SWeet primroses, delicate lightâ€" lyâ€"swaying wind-flowers, beds of woodâ€"violets, spires of early blueâ€" bells piercing the moss and the red relics of last year's leaves, the. effect is truly magical. But if the oak coppice. behind them spoke of hoary legend and gray antiquity, all that lay before. their eyes breathed of youth and morning in its fresh and tender beauty. The still lake, of a deeper azure than the lavenderâ€"blue sky, reflected the deli- cate tints of youngest green and gave back the pensive gaze of prim- roses, most youthful and inaidenly of flowers, and mirrored the, pale golden glory of blossoming sallows, already throngcd with inoln‘iate bees. Nests were hidden down by the water where the sedge rustled drily, little dark moorâ€"liens darted out with their wild, plaintive cry; an emerald flash lighted on a sallow bough, its double in the. water heâ€" neath proclaiming it a kingfisher; pigeons murmured contentediy, the little stream gurgled musically in its rocky descent to the lake, the spring like fragrance of young lt‘tht'S filled the air. Jessie, seeing and feeling all this fresh, live beauty as she stood by the easel Lear her worshipped friend, felt depths upon depths within her. whether of pain or joy she did not rightly know; all was vague. ~and unâ€" developed, like the blind stirrings of the spring in the world around; last year's nestlings cannot tell what wonders may happen as the spring days go by with fresh miracles, so it is with young, unstirred hearts, ignorant of the ad\aucing pageant of life. " low beautiful, how very beauti- ful 2" she murmured dreainily, as she gazed before her. “Passable,” commented her coni- panion, “subdued scale of coloring." "And how pleasant to he with you, dear Miss Lonsdalc,“ continued Jessie. “I think I never quite lived before. I ‘shall timer," she added, “be happier than I am toâ€"duy." Clara looked at the young, sweet rapt fame with a~ mixture of envy and pity, SCorn and tenderness, \vou» (for and kllllllStélllC‘Ilt. “Foolish child,” she said. cai'cssingly; “how long is it since you wished to ftil'gn‘i your own existence? (‘ome and sketch in these trees for me.” She smiled at glad assrmt and bent over the cnsd. She did not know that even now the shadow of adâ€" vancing fate was falling upon her, stealing from the mysterious maze of oakâ€"boughs in the heart of the wood. and that she would never again be the sonic freshâ€"hcui'tml girl that tlittcd lightly on r the daisicd sword in that morning's sunshine. She was only conscious of the blithe woodâ€"notes warbliug in the spring air. the crackling of boughs and dead leaves beneath a firm quick step, the sound of a mellow human voice, as the smoke of a cigar over- powered tlze woodâ€"scents, and turn- ing round, she looked straight into1 the face of a young and handsome man whose eyes were alight with a fire such as she had nevi-r seen he- l‘ore and never could for-get. Her gaze grew wide and brilliant as it met and mingled for one elec- tric moment with the newâ€"comers, then fell, and she t"rned again to her work. “Unearthed you :it last. Hora," tho mellow \‘t-ici- wrs saying. "Is that 3'0”. t'la'ide‘?" (.‘lnra reâ€" plied. \vithou' turning her head. “i certainly pity you at this time of )car in the cntgiiti'g.‘»uitl1 nothing to kill " “13 'r 0" time nothing he asked, > _ oâ€"_.__‘ rrather reluctantly throwing his eigm laway. “0h, Lonsdulc tobacco." Which filled Jessie with surprise. (To be Continued.) +.__.._ VERB AND 23171... Place Many Difficulties in the For eigner‘: smoke if you like," Mist said; “no one here disliku English is said to he one of the most, dillicult languages in the. world The verb: for a foreigner to learn. and propositions are. particularly puzzling. A professor in Columbia School of Mines tells of the trouble: of a Frenchman with verb “to break." "I begin to understand your lan- guage better.” said my French friend, M. de lienuvoir, to me," but your verbs trouble lllt‘ still. You mix up so with propositions. “I saw your friend. Mrs. Berky, just now," he continues. "She say: she intends to break down her school earlier than usual. Am I right there ‘7" “Break up the school, she must have said." "Oh yes, I remember; break up school.” "Why does she do that '2" 'I asked. “Because her health is broken into.” "Broken down." . "Broken down 1‘ ()b, you ! And, in- deed, sinCti fever has broken up in her tt)“'iiâ€"â€"w~" "Brrilven out." "She thinks she. will leave it for a few wet-ks." “Will sh.- leave llt'l' house alone?" "No; she is afraid it. will be brok- en. brokenâ€"how rlo i say that?" "llrokcn into." "(‘nrtainly; it is wind i meant to say." “ls her son to “No: that. engagement ln'okcnâ€"" “Broken off,“ “Yes. brokcn oh‘." “Ah. I had not, heard that “She is very sorry about it. Her son only broki- the news to her last week. Am 1 right? [ um anxious to speak English mill." "He merely broke the preposition this time.” “It is hard to understand. That young man. her son. is a fine young fellowâ€"a breaker. .1. think." "A broker, and a line fellow. Good (lav l" “So much for the verb "break," +_..._.__. JAPAN’S “’AR TOOLS. Remarkable Appliances for Fight- ing in the Dark. be married soon?" is broken- news; no It is evident that the Japanese are making use of every modern con- trivance in existent-1- to obtain pei- fcct efficiency in their any and army. We have heard how Admiral 'f‘ogo utilized wireless iv-legrupliy on sev- eral oct‘usions. and particularly at the terrible bornburdiur‘ul, which he inflicted on Port Arthur on March 10. We now learn that the Japan- ese navy is (‘qtlipln‘rl with u remarkâ€" uble system of sound sigimliug, which has already been of immense use. "his upi‘ml‘utlis \vus furnished to them by Mr. C. 1‘). Kelvin). a naval engineer of London. who has sup- plied llll' public with the following details of the invention: The system enables: a ship to move safely on its objective through darkhess, dense fog, or blinding snow. and it has been im-Ii E-i apâ€" prout‘hing l‘ort Arthur llll‘lt‘l' all these Conditions. Any unset-u olijvt‘t «.2' imam-Y t'itll be safely reached (or avoided) in darkness; by the use of the 'lni'dhrl‘” which measures sound and indicates to the listener the distance of any .whistle, siren, heat of a screw. or ii'oll of water on a beach. besides the direction in which the sound ire. The navigator is callml m t.i.- reâ€" ceivcr by a bell, which records the receipt of sounds which. to H_.. un- aided ear, would bt- im-uzliEJn. A special watch is .w»: -~i~ Wu- ringing of the lllF-ll‘ullli‘lli, on! so iwt'nziu-s flilflllllf‘ \\';l'('ll is tifiipiu-l soon as the sound in the machine llii‘ .and the distanci- is shown without lcalculaiion. ll); this llll'nllri u» vrsâ€" sel can steal aw-ay with llQliin‘ out without giving warning. The svstmn is based on the Haloâ€" city of ‘ sound carried by the. iiert- Jinn \\':t‘~'t‘s. __ ...-+â€"~ ‘.â€"â€"â€"â€"~â€"- A Si-IltltitiS (drift-Ase: Mr. Hunks acquired a dir' 1'. irzal linuuucr in his youth. and 1' hmi grown with his 3.1mm. “In-v; m- ..twi l: ' v i i‘ll'i' ;‘[\.. n-‘zu filo: lit't‘llllli‘ v i-u :' lgl'iltllltlllj,‘ ‘i'ust-d to fother people re. 'flcultics into “lilt'll vl‘l difâ€" llihllllt‘ l'l'” ills 2.“?! 1 :, ...‘_‘lll led him. Om~ tluy ln- rl Help-d by 13:1 ifl.ll.‘ sleeve a mun who xxx-s ll'il‘:~ m; post him on the i‘ll't't". “I want ii \Mn'il ini‘l‘ Mi i\lr, Hi‘iggs." lll' “.lltl, \lv.iipl;,_ I will ldetain um oni_x .i imminent." "lllv ‘l:; .u- is H‘ (It'll xv Y.” lhave‘ ii.‘.:llt' :l J‘:.I. mite,” sol»; 1b,. illltlll. “Your n.13m- isn't tli‘igigy «.Iwi .Mr. Hanks. Mil! fll"?\ll-l'l'_f 'll.‘ st urnâ€" gcr :ind peering i .u iii: ‘u:'.- “1 [should like to know win. our " , ._.__-. V Mrs. Suiupln .\'i-'.vl.-;.'u ':l- ! .er ‘v'tlll lt) Ft‘lltl ul‘nliijti . Q‘JlluE' 'il 11' '.- fz-iight oil. (irorii‘wlli ’ Li till ,’ \li's, . ‘VZ‘li‘H [lllll“ Ne.“- lilit' '5 the mother Salli he lXt-ver lumrd of it. 'lm wellâ€"“in: l'n litiud my husband's lolwnj s burnt-d.