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"Well," he said. “just name your low- est figure.” “I have named it.” "Do you always stand out, for a price Iike this?" "I always say what. I mean." I "Then you’re a fool. and you won't do. Get. out Go to the devil. Beggars aren’t ghooaers yet. Be of." ' The Jew screwed up 'his face craftily and tapped his nose with his finger. "Look here,” he said, "call it a shilling a day. and I’ll ive you a. start.” “I'll come for alf-a-crown,” said I. "Half-a-crown! Man alive, do you think wevwant a manager?” I turned to go. 3 "Here," he called out. slapping his fat hands together. “I’ll meet you half-way. Call it. one-and-three.” “What are the hours?" I asked. “Hours? Oh. no reg’lar hours. Just be about when wantedâ€"making yourself use- ful. It’s light work. One-and-three a‘ day and sixpence pension’s eleven shillings a week. You ought to save money. Then itjs _a. bragain? The Jew stood in the centre of the room frowning thoughtfully. “Wait a bit," he said. “It I should think fit to give you a chance. I s’pose, as you’re a. cripple, you‘d take a nominal wage?” “I will take what I‘ can live on,” said I. The Jew laughed. “Well, that’s cool,” he answered. "Do you think you’re likely to get any more!I Have you a. pension?” “I have Sixpence a day for a year,” I replied. “Hm! that’s better. Then you’ll really not want much wages, only for pocket money. as you don’t drink." “I Hod? Watntflifificfiu‘v‘vzges." I said. ‘bgp it} work I must live.” He considered, then said, “Nâ€"o;‘you won’t suit. We dp‘n’t' wgnt gripples._" “x7-.._ Â¥Au n ~_,, _ _ ......., vnAyy:vfi “Véry wiellf’. sai'd_ 1, “good morning.” mug-g aggin I magieAfor ithe door. When I told him I had just. left, the army, he said, “011! had enough of it. I s’pose?" “No,” I replied. “I was wounded and discharged." “What for?” “My left. arm is injured. I am unfit for aervwe.” “Then you’re unfit for work.” “No. My arm is stiff, but quite strong. I am active and able.” I looked at him with a. grim smile, and felt tempted to convince him of this in a practical man- ner. My age, my native place, why I left it. did I drink, did I smoke. could I find references. did I know London well, how long had I been out of work, what. was my" previous _ gcgupacipd? "Well," he said’, "we don’t want, any- body; and if we did there’s lots out of collar that's known to us.” I repeated my thanks, and was goinrr‘ when he came down from his perch. read my name and address, eyed me over cri- tically, and began to ask me a. strin» of qggstlons. "It is work you want; or wages?" he asked me, when I stated my business. I said I wanted both. “Ah,” he croaked, “we don’t. want any- body, really. I've just sacked one lazy loafer, because I’d no work for him. No, you won’t do. It's only a plaoe for a. boy.” and he turned to his desk. d1 said, “Thank you." and walked to the car. "You see, he resumed, sliding round on his stool. “we have to be very parti- lcular. People’s such rogues. Besides, we've had forty-seven applications al- ready; and we don’t want anyone. But you can leave your name.” JI said I would, and began to write it. n In the ofiice I found a huge, pasty-faced, black-bearded, bloated Jew, perched upon a high stool, writing. He was in his shirt sleeves. His shirt had not recently come from the laundry. His skin suggested the absence of a lavatory from the pre- mises, ‘and he had evidently mislaid his hair-brush. The post in question was that of a messenger at the shirt factory of Solo- mon Brothers, in Shoredi-tch. I secured the address, and called before nine on thug. follllgwing __mog‘n_in_g. The “factory” of Solomon Brothers con- sisted of the second and third floors of a. dingy dwelling-house in a back street. On the second floor a. small bedroom had been converted into an office, and a large bed- room into a. warehouse. The third floor, a._big_ attig, segved as a. workroom. The loneliness was the worst, and the long nights. The long nights when I wandered about the great city looking wistfully for a crumb of human sympa- thy, and finding none. During my first short stay in London this alienage embm tered me. I was wiser now. and knew that the coldness and the caution of those I met were often but the armor without which they were not safe in the streets of the Christian capital. Indeed, -I wore this mail myself. and kept my visor down. For, though I knew that there were kind. hearts behind rude and stern fronts, I had also learned that one may smile and be a. villain; and it was only at intervals, when the sense of lone- liness became unendurable, when the thirst for human intercourse under which I suffered in the midst of the great hu- man sea was past bearing, that I forced my company upon some constable or shoeblack, some prowling tramp or ooster in_‘his cups. ‘ unau.’ yumuvuuu. nwugnAuuu um Adah. We had been comparing notes, and I had told my companion that I was out of work, when he said. in a. thick voice, and with many winks and mysterious zrimaces, that if his tongue were loosen- ed by another pot of por-ter, he, 8am Sanders, might. be able to “put. me on aimark.” I paid for the drink, and was informed that a pal of Mr. Sam Sanders’ was about. leaving his employment. and that by ap- plying before the post, was advertised I should be sure to “cop,” if so be I wasn’t too stiff in the matter of “brass and ime-tie." It, was from a recontre of the latter kind, a rambling conversation with a. boozy hawker in an East End tavern, that I got. the clue which led me out of the drgvars: Babylonian labyrinth at last. In ninety cases out of a hundred when I asked for work I was snubbed or in- sulted; in every case I was refused. A countryman, a discharged soldier, a lab- orer with a crippled arm, London 'need- ed no such chattels; London, was con- ducted on strict business lines; Londqn’s warfare was of the commercial kind, wherein there is no quarter given and none to care for the wounded. I aocepted the conditions calmly, and took the snubs and sneers without a frown. ‘Life was not so precious to me that, I need care to keep it. If I could net work, sol If notâ€"so! There was the river. I went back to London; went. back ore lonely, more sorrowful, more silent, ut less bitter than when I left it; went back to spend some weary weeks of days in the vain search \for work. and of nights in the vaiuer search for friendship. By night and by day the result. was the same. London did not want me ; Len- don was sublimely indifferent to my ex- istence; London rated me at a. value be- low the broken cab hack, for he could be_ sold in the knacker’p yayrd. _ THE WHITE LADY; CHAPTER. XX. OR, WHAT THE furnished room for the two girls, ‘ dying a week’s rent in advance. I 1121 still above ten pounds left of the money I had saved in the Crimea. and I had a. no- tion that before it was expended I (mum find a friend for Carrie and her sister. (To be continued.) "Carrie," I said in a low voice, "do you know me?" She pressed my arm gently and said "Yes," and we spoke no more until we left the omnibus. Then I said, "Now. do just as I tell you. Here is a sovereign. Get a little wine and some light food, take a cab home, let your sister have something to support her, wrap her up and bring her to Ialinghon. I will wait for you at the Angel.” Carrie hurried away at, once, and I went to Islington and engaged a, decent furnished room for the two girls. ‘mwim! In the street I found poor Currie wait- ing. I hurried her into an omnibus, and we got away. I had no fear of Mr. Solo- mon. He would not be able to start a hug and gr! foggspmetime. 1 baffle;“fiéiéei'ré‘ofi”: 1113333563; they crept back hastily to their seats, for fe3r 9f the wrath to come. ",7 V V. .....,.. m, «um new uucu. Thean threw him into the fender and left him. A crowd of work-girls from the turret above were on the stairs. and great yaLs Eheif delight whey ~g:}1ey_heg:;1‘d that “Now‘,” said I, turning to the Jew. "I'll not waste words by telling you what you are, for you know it. Put up your hands.” He retreated, threatening and cursing, towards his desk. I sprang at him, knocked all the breath out of his body with one lunge, struck him several heavy blows in the face, seized him by the col- lar. dragged him into the centre of the floor, and thrashed him with his own walking-stick unti} my Aarm_ wajs gired. mLh_ v n . I stepped forward. The Jew looked at, me, and his jaw fell. “What do you want?” he demanded, edging away. I laid my hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “Go.” I said; “wait for me in the street. Inlsnow ypu,_ and I’_11 he1p_yop.f’ -..,_ v"... _.. “v... .yvu- .‘ Sfiévfiiveiit out weeping, and without look- lmz at me. "You know what I told you," he said; "if you want. work you can have it~ on those terms." “Never,” said the girl. vehementiy. “Then go and get it where you can. Go and get it on the streets.” he snarled; "gou’ve giggled your market ” “Mr. Solomon," pleaded the poor girl, “I can't help cryin’. Do give me & chance, for God’s sake. If I don’t. at some money before night my sister wil die. She will. OLIL do,_d_o give me some work" “'Now," lfiokrhere,” said Solomon, “just you get out of this office. How dare you $333 snivelling here? How dare you? "Please, Mr. Solomon, just a. few dozen. I wouldn’t worry you only for Nan. My little sister, she’s almost dyin’, poor child, and not a bit 0‘ bread in the room. Do give me a chance. I’ll take any price, 81$: _ any _pri_ce.:' I opened the oflice door and went in. The Jew was lounging before the empty firegrate, with a sneer on his foul, fat. face and a reeking cigar in his dirty, mt fingers. Facing him, with her back to me. was a young girl, thin and poorly clad, but very clean and tidy. She. was cryiig, apgbeggiqg fqr_work. ' “Mr. Solomon, you might give me a. chance. I’ve been hung up for a. week. Just a. few dozens, Mr. Solomon; only a. few, to get a bite of bread." "I tell you, no. . You must wait. -Now cu_t itâ€"get out!” 7 In the sequel I was glad I waited. One afternoon I had been with a parcel to the railway station, and on returning to the factory I heard the familiar sound of a. girl’s voice pleading with the ogre in his en. - On these latter occasions I often look- ed up from my work at the great hulking slave-driver. and hesitated as to whefiher or not. I should thrash him without fur- ther parley; but for a long time I kept my hands ofl’ him, and put out. my hatred at interest. as I had done in the case of Black Jack. The girls understood the system. Some- times they would go away and starve out. their period of probation. Sometimes they Would come to the point at once by asking the terms. Sometimes. but very rarely, they would weep and beg for mgrcyi and_get cursed for t1_1eir_ paiqs. The place was a slave-hole. The girls, who worked on the premises were kept continually under the lash; the lush of the Jewish robber’s cowardly, brutal tongue. They were insulted, taunted, bullied, and brow-beaten without mercy; cheated out of their hard-earned wages; forced by the sheer pressure of starva- tion to aocept terms and endure infamies which it made my blood boil to think about. Yet their condition was less mis- erable than that of the outside hands. .The instrument which crushed the out- side bands was called, by Mr. Solomon, “the hang,” and consisted in the denial of work up to the threshold of star“:- tion. By this means the unhappy Women and girls were reduced to a, state of ab- ject dependence on the whims and the greed of the worst rufilarn in all London. “Ah, my dear,” the Jew would say, with a devilish grin. to some poor girl, "work’s very slack to-day. we’re only making to stockâ€"just to keep you on. But if you’ll look round in a day or two I may be able to find you a. little at a. low price, jug; to_k_eep tile pot _boiling.” In the second place, Mr. Solomon Solo- mon was such an utter scoundx'el that I could not leave without kicking him, and was obliged to Wait for an opportunity. The opportunity came, but not until I had been a silent spectator of my em- ployer's knavery and blackguardism for ten horrible weeks. I went away without answering, and had got. to the corner of the street, when a. slatternly, miserable girl overtook me. and said, “Mr. Solomon wants you.” On the following Monday I began work. As Mr. Solomon said, there were “no reg- lar hours”; but. eighteen a day were about the average. as I seldom got clear of the business before midnight. The du- ties also were vaguely defined, and in- cluded such tasks as packing boxes, load- ing carts, counting shirts and handker- chiefs, running errands, addressing let- ters. cleaning the oflice. and lying to the hands and the customers. “There’s one comfort," I thought, as I came away from my new employer, “1 need not stop if I don’t like the place, and I can always give the brute a hiding “he needs it.” Indeed, the work was so hard and so disagreeable that I should not. have en- dured it beyond the end of the first week bgt fqr two veg-y diffeg‘enja cqnsidgrqtipns. In the first place. I had taken lodgings at the house of a poor widow, a laundress, with seven small children, a. big rent, and a. bed-ridden mother, and the money I paid this poor creature was so sorely needed that I had not the heart to with- dgaw _it. as I 1_nus_t if I__left_1}1y work“ THRUSH SAID. I went back, and after an hour’s hag- gling was engaged at twelve shillings a week; to go at six in the morning, and stay as long as I was wanted. CHAPTER XXI. Beside the deaf and dumb there are many people, notably of Latin and Semitic races, who talk with- bheir hands. The wedding ring is placed upon the third finger of the woman’s hand to show that after the Trinity, man’s love, honor and dumy are given‘to his Wife. A bishop gives his blessing with the thumb and first and second fin- gers. In this the thumb rcpresents God the Father, the first finger is the emblem of God the Son, and the second finger stands for God the Holy Ghost, the three together sym- bolizing the Holy Trinity. In the consecration of bishops, priests and demons and also in con- firmation the laying of hands is the essence of the smramental rite.‘ When an oath is taken it is done by raising the right hand or laying it 31pm; a, Bible. When a man kisses the hands of a. woman he expresses his submis- sion. This is also the idea when kissing the hands of kings. By th‘s act} their superiority is acknow- ledged. Among savage tribes when a man holds up his hands it is a sign of peace, an evidence that. he is un- armed or does nod: intend to use weapons. An outlaw says “Hold up your hands!” meaning thereby to make his victim powerless to re- sist attack. A man who holds his thumb tight- ly within his hand has weak will power. Strong willed persons hold their thumbs outside when shutting their hands. Shaking hands when greeting was originally an evidence that each person was unarmed. Signs of Weakness and Strengthâ€"â€" When a Man Is Lying. When a. man is not telling the truth he is apt to clench his hand/.5, as few men can lie with their hands open. A man should never-"settle down " *“ E? has settled up. The sailor was very gratful for the kindness hexhad received and he offered to speak for the serpent. be- fore King Pharaoh and to return with a ship full of trgasures fit for such a, friend of men Cast away in a, far off land. But the serpent said no, they would not meet again, for the magical island‘would disappear and meld; away when he was gone. The serpent then told him to be of good cheer for he would be resâ€" cued by a ship from his own land in three months. Our Egyptian Sindâ€" bad spent much of his time watch- ing for the ship from the' top of a. tall tree. At last it arrived, and the first thing he did was to run to the king serpent to tell him. His surprise was great, when he found that the «serpent‘knew all about it, and had some gifts 'ready for him to take away. On parting the ser- pent said: "Farewell; go to thy home and see thy little children once more; let thy name be good in thy town.” Being satisfied with the answer, the king of the serpents, for it was no less ’a. personage, carried the sailor in his mouth to a. place where there was a tribe of seventy-five other serpents. The serpent kingi said: “If thou hast come to me it i-s God who has let you live. It ié He who has brought you to this Isle of the Blest, where nothing is lack- ing and which is filled with all good things.” Immediately the marvels began, and it is clear that the good char- acter of the hero saved him from destruction, for the next thing he saw was a. huge serpent of terrible aspect, his body overlaid with gold and his color a bright blue. How- ever, the serpent did him no harm, but politely asked |haw he had reached the island. Every one perished but the hero, who was washed ashore on a. piece of wood. He found himself strandâ€" ed upon an island, but, it was no desent. There were fruits and good.- ly herbs and many other fine things. The sailor had been piously brought up, for after enjoying a good -meal he made an offering to the gods. The hero, 3 very ancient mariner, begins by saying that he was one of a mi of 150 fearless adventurers, “w ose hearts were stronger than lions, and who had seen heaven and earth.” They were on their way to the Mines of Pharaoh in a. ship of 150 cubidxs, but; ill fate awaited them, for presently the wind rose and threw up mighty waves and the ship was wrecked. His Story Told in Ancient Papyrus ‘ 5,000 Years Old. In the hermitage Museum of St. Petersburgthere is a. very ancient papyrus, nearly 5,000 years old, which contains ‘a. atory reminding one, says a. writer in the Raja, Yoga, Messenger, of the adventures of the famous Sindbad in the “Arabian Nights.” HANDLORE AND SYMBOLISM. AN EGYPTIAN SINDBAD. The first thing that is to be done would be to amend the laws to pre- vent the" railroads and express com: panies shipping veal under four weeks of age. The amount .of im- mature stuff that goes to market every day is appalling, and we beâ€" lieve that 75 per cent. of it is un~ fit for food. 'How it gets past the The fact is, the public, to a large extent, is so prejudiced against veal, having read gruesome tales about bob veal being too often marâ€" keted, that thousands are afraid to buy veal of any kind. If a bet- ter system of feeding calves were adopted, and the business systema- tized, we would have in a few years a line of choice meat; that would sell readin at very high prices. There is no reason Why our dairy- men should not increase their proâ€" fits materially by feeding calves; and it has always been a. source of wonder to us why they so neglect this part of their business. The European farmers make good money out of the right calves. The youngster is carefully fed from the day he is born, being confined in dark stalls. He is fed liberally on oatmeal, Whole milk at the start and skim milk later, with some roots, and when he goes to market he is about as toothsome a morsel as can be found anywhere. Eng- lishmen are very fond of this kind of meat, and price cuts no figure with them. Many calves are sold when a week old at three to four cents per pound, when if fed until they weighed 25 pounds, would bring double the money, but dairymen have not yet learned how to feed calves in order to make good veal. Well fatted calves, weighing from 120 to 150_ pounds, always brings high prices, no matter what the condition of the cattle market may be. City people eat a great deal of veal and would consume much more if they could get what they want, but the stuff seen on the market is for the most part stringy, unfinished and not all satisfactory. The high price of mutton during the last few years has encouraged, particularly dairymen, to pay more attention to making good veal, but there is a, woeful lack of this kind of meat now on the market. Most dairymen Will not take the trouble to fatten calves, but send them to market just as soon as they amelpast the age limit, and the result is entirely unsatisfactory, both to the seller and the custo- mer. ' WE are now contracting for iall and Winter milk. If you are producing two or more cans of milk per day and have good stables, milkhouse, etc., and a train service to Toronto before I o’clock, Write us. WE take all you produceâ€"furnish sufficient cans, and pay on the 10th of each month. ‘m‘mw CITY DAIRY COMPANY, LIMITED, TORONTO, ONT. (cm “1' 4,2 W'WW 04mg zfi‘afiwifirx. On the Farm MAKE BETTER VEAL. FARMERS :7 MILK ! “I of}ka I could, o'untio, if: stood on my head.” . “Do you think you could eat an- other piece of cake, Tommy?” America, is becoming a great mut'n ton-eating nation, and if the farm- ers will improve their flocks and their methods of feeding there is no reason why the native lamb mar- ket should not prove more profit- able than that controlled by the range district. As a, rule, sheep-raising on the average farm is merely a. side issue and little attention is given to it. The remedy of the present condi- tion of the native lamb market lies entirely with the men who produce the lambs. Whenever the farmers are engaged in the producing of prime lambs for market at any sea- son of the year, the business has proven highly profitable. Of course the best markets are just before Christmas and in the early spring; at this period the prices are always _high. This is one of the reasons Why the western range lambs find great favor in the big markets. They are more uniform in size as they are fed in large flocks and go to market practically in the same condition. Only a small portion of the native lambs that are sold on the eastern markets can be called prime, and this fact is entirely the fault of the farmer. ‘ The farmer who will pay close attention to his breeding stock and raise native lambs of uniform size and breed, feed‘them intelligently and market them at the right time can make more profit from his flock than from any other farm invest- ment. As a rule the native lambs sent to the markets are so badly mixed, both as to breed and feed- ing that they are a torment to the buyer and of little profit to the own- er. inspectors is something no man cahx find out. ' NOT TO BE BEATEN. LAMB RAISING.