OatM of the City. A pilgrim ouc«iku rtinit&u ancient t&lo), Old, woru aud upeiit. crept duwu a »hadowtH3 vftle , Ou eitbur hand roflf mouiiUimt l>]eak and bi^h , Chill Willi tlif Kusi> ttir, and dark the sky . The |>»th wan rii^t»<l and bin fwt wtrL- hart* : Hia fad*>d cheek waa Heamml by pain and care ; Hi8 haavy eyHH upon the ^uuuil were caat. And every ntep tteouied fwbler than the laut. The valley ended where a naktnl rock HuM^ ahiH'r from earth to heaven. a« i/ to mock Th« pilgrmi who had crept that toilsome way . Mut while his dim and weary eye»4 osBay To fl nd an outlet m the mountain aide. A pouderuUB Houlptur*Ml brazen door he spiad. And tutteruiK toward it with faat failing ureath Above the portal reaJ, ' TheUatv of Death. He could not stay his feet that led thereto , It yieldtMl to his touch, and paiuing throuffb, He came into a world all bright and fair. Hlue were the heaventt. and bal:uy waa the ait ; And. lo ! the blood ot vouth was in hid veins, And he wan clad in robea thai bold nu Htauiti Oi hx» Uiun piigrima^e. Amazed, he turutMJ ; HehoM ! a ijolden door behind him burned In that fair Hunlight, and his wondering eyes. Now lutit4frfiil and clear ail thoae new akien. Free from the miiitdof age, of care and strife. Above the portal read, " The Gate of Xjfe. Lov* or Laada. " I bring not houaea, lands or gold. To give, Bweetfaeart, to thee ; No richer than I waa of old Am I to-day," quoth he. In auotb he Itmked hid poverty. If ever »< did one. In rags and tattent clad waa he. Hare-beaded to the »un ! It waa her love of long ago Whe took her outatretUied hauda. " If you are he I u'ed to know. I aeek not gold or landu . If vou but love iiie utill. dweetheart, 1 aiu content, ' cried ahe. " Aod I will share your lowly part. Kor I your bride will be !" • Then, by my troth, my heut ia thine •" Ouoth be at her reply ; " Tbough ragii and t*tler« may Iw mine, So beggar now am I, I'm richer than withguld and lands The pruuderit uionarrhs l>e. With thee for mine, and Ufttm two handit To work, swt'otheart, for tUt-e *" ~Chambert Juunial f(.iT Manh W Ml A NOVEL. 1. It Vlork It w«9 very evi.leiil to iJorothy, who was always strictly practica!. tl-it to ke<-p Kva anil Kriiest in tile same towu was to IjoM dry tow to a lighted match over a barrel of ({unpowder. tine only ho|>«d that he nii^lit come back now without haviuK put hiH foot into It. " Oh, what toola men are I" she said to herwslf . with a stamp ; " a pretty face and a pair of bright eyes, and they count the world Weil lost for them. Uah ! if it had been a plain woman who played Kriiest that trick, would lie be found dani{liii|; about after her now ? Not he. liut with her, Hhe has onlv to say a soft word or two, and he will be at her fe<-t. I'll be bound I am ashamed of them lioth." Meanwhile she was puttinK on her bonnet, which was a very favorite lime witli her for meditation, having already maile up her mind as to li«r cour.*e of ai-tion. Kriiest had authori/oud her to make arranijeineiits for an interview with the oculist. She procendeil to make those arrangements by leloi;ram, writing to a c«lebrate<l surgeon to know if he loulJniftkc an «p|>oiiitmeiit for the followiiijj sfter- iKHin. Then xho took a walk l>\ hersi If to lliink tliiii|{>t over. In an I'our she returned, to find Krnesl in the sittiny n.ci.i lt)i,kint! extremely shaki'ii and .lepresstnl. " Vou liave l>e'.'ii t<> see ICva," Hhe said. " Yes," lu! aiiMWerwl, .lust then there wan a knork »t the ami the servant hroui;lit in a teli'i^rsi was from the oculist, lie would bi to see Kir Kriiest Kershaw at fuur o on the followiii|{ afternoon. ' I have iimde an n|inoiiitiiient for vou with an eye-doctor, Krnest, at four o'clock tomorrow." • Tomorrow I" he said. â- ' Yes. The scMiner you «et your eyes Uxiked to the better." Ho siKhixl. " What is the jjood ? How evi-r. I will ko." And so next iiioniinK they all took the express, anil at the appointetl time liriieHt found himself in the skillful hands of the oculist. Hut thonxli an oculist can mend the sif;ht, he can not make it. " I can do nothing for you. Sir Kniest, he said, after an exhaustive examination. " Your eyes will remsiii as they are, hut ynu muHt always he blind." Krnest took the news with camposiire. " I thought as much," he said ; lint l)orothy put her handkeichief to her face and wept secretly. Next morning he went with Jeremy to see MesHis. I'aisley ,V I'aisley, ami told theni to try and let Archdale Hall, and to lock up the numerous and valuable heir- looms, as unfortuiiatidy he was unable to see them. Then they went on home to Dum's Ness, and that night Krnest lay awake in the room where he had slept for so many years in the boyhood which now seemed so dim and remote, and listened to the stormy wind raving round the house, and thought with an acliing heart of Kva, but was thankful that he had bid her fare- well, and wondered if he could And the strength to keep away from her. And Kva, his lost love, she too lay by the sea, and listened to the wind, and thought on him. There she lay in her Iwiauty, seek- ing the sleep that would not settle round her. Hlie could not sleep ; sweet sleep doei not come readily to such as her. For her and those like her are vain regret.i and an empty love and longing, and the wreath of thorns that crowns the brow whera sorrow sitt enthroned. Yet, Kva, lift up that fevered head, and turn tliime streaming eyes to heaven. Hee, through the casement, high above the tiiiiiult of the storm, there gleams a star. For you, too, there gleams a star colled Hope, but it is set in no earthly sky. Have patienoe, wayward heart, there is but a space of trouble. As you suffer, so have millions suffered, and behold I they are at l>eace ; so shall millions suffer : ' While thou that imoo didst make the place tbou Htooiliit in lovely, xhalt lie still, Thy form departed, and tliy face rumembered not ill good or ill For of this we may be sure if suffering be not the widest gate of heaven, then heaven has no gates. Yes, unhappy woman, â- tretoh out thoae iiarfect arms in gupplioa- tion to the Ood of sorrows for strength to bear your load, for here it shall not be linhten^. Tba bardans which Providence straps on our backs Providence will aome- timea lessen, but those which our own folly fastens remain till death deliver us. 80, Eva, dry your tears, for they can avail you naught, and go get you to your daily taskâ€" go, tend your children and smile that sweet, sad smile on all alike and wait. CHAPTER XLI. UOUE AOAIN. It was very peaceful, that life at Keater- wick, after all the fierce racket and excite- ment of the past years. Indeed, as day succeeded day, and brought nothing to dis- turb his darkness, but the sound of Dorothy's gentle voice, and the scent of the dowers on the marshes when the wind blew toward the ocean, and the sharp, strong odor of the sea when it set upon the land, Kiliest could almost fancy that the past was nothing but a dream more or less ugly, and that this was a dream more or less pleasant, from which he should presently wake up and find himself a boy again Knghsh villages change but little. Now and again a person dies, and pretty froquontly gome one is born ; but, on the whole, the tide of time creeps on very imperceptibly, and though in ttm course of nature the entire population is changed every sixty years or so, nobody seems to realize that it ia changing. 'There is so little in such places to mark the change by. The same church-tower makes a landmark to the eye as it did centuries ago to the eyes of our ancestors, and the same clouds sweep across the same blue apace above it. There are the same old houses, the same streams, and. above all, the same roads and lanes. If you could put one of our Saxon forefathers down in the neighborhood of, most of our country towns, he would have little difilculty in finding his way about. It is the men who change, not the places. Htill there were some few changes at Kesterwick. Here and there the sea had taken another bite out of the cliff, notably on the north side of lium's Ness, out of which a large slice had gone, thus bringing the water considerably iieearer to the houiw. Here and there too, a tree had been cut down, or a cottage built, or a family changed its residence. For instance, Mis.s Florence Cesviick had suddenly shut up the Cottage, where she had remained, see- ing nothing of her sister or her sister's huabsnd, ever since E'a's marriage, and had gone abroadâ€" i>eople said to Uome, to study art. For Florence had suddenly electrified the Kesterwick neighborhood by api>earing as hii artist of trajjic force and grewsome imagination. A large picture by her hand had been exhibited in the Uoyal Academy of the previous year, and, though the coloring was somewhat crude, made a great and deserved sensation, and finally sold for a considerable sum. It represented a promontory of land run- ning out far into a stormy ocean. The sky above the sea was of an inky blackness, except where a fierce ray of light from a setting sun pierced it, and impinged upon the boiling waters which surged round the low cliff of the promoiitorv. On the extreme etige of the cliff stoo.l a tall and lovely »iimaii. The wind caught the white robe she wore and pressed it against her, revealing the extraordinary beauty of her form, and lilting her long, fair locks, tossed them in wild confusion. She was bending forward, pointing with her right hand at the water with such a look ot ghastly agony upon her lioautiful face into the great gray eyes, that |>eople of inipres.|ioiiable teni|H>raiiient were wont to declare that it haunted their sleep fur Weeks. I 'ow 11 IwIdh her. jiisl where the liiMce ray lit up the heaving waters, gleaineil a naked (orpse. It was that of a young man. and was slowly sinking into the iiiifatliomablu darkness of the depths, turiiiii;^ roiiiiil and round as it sank. The eyes and mouth were wide (I|h'Ii, and the stare of the former appeared to he fixed upon tho.se of the woman on the clilt. I.SHtlv, ovi-r the corpse, in the storm wreaths above their heads, there hovered unsteady wings a dim female ligiire, with Its arm thrnwn across theface as though to hide it. The picture was called in the catalogue •• The Lost Lover," but sfiecula tioii was rife as to what it meant. Uoiiithy heard of it, and went to I.omlon to see it. The first thing that struck her almiil the work waa the extraordinary con- trast it presented to the comnninplace Ciiivases of rea|»Ts, little girls frisking with baa-lambs, and nude young women miiaiiig profouiiilly on the edge of i>ools, as though they were trying to solve the great piestion to wash or not to wash by which it was surrounded. Hut presently the weird horror of the iiictiiro laiil hold ii|ion her, and smined to fascinate her as it had BO many others. Then she Iwcaine aware that the faces were familiar to her, and siiildenly it broke upon her mind that the sinking corpse was Krnest, and the agoni/ed woman Kva. Hhe examined the faces more attentively. There was no doubt shout It. Florence had with oon suinniate art changed the coloring of the hair and features, and even to a great extent alterwl the features themselves, but she hail (H-rfcctly preserved the likeness both ti|Hiii the dead face of the nuirdered man, and in the horror-inspired eyes of his lover. The picture made her sick with fear, she could not tell why, and she hurried from liurlington House full of dread of the terrible mind that had con- ceived it. There had been no intercourse between the two women since Kva's marriage. Florence lived quite alone at the ('ottage, and never went out anywhere, and if they met by any chance they passed with a bow. Hut for all that it was a relief to l>orothy to hear that she was not for some long time to see that stern face with its piercing brown eyes In I'liin'a Ness itself there appeared to be 111) change at all. Kxcept that Mr. (tardus had built a new nrahidhouse at the back, for as he grew older his mania for orchids increased rather than diminished, the place was exactly the same. Kven the arrange- ment of the sitting-room was unchanged, and on its familiar bracket rested the case which ileremy had made containing the witch's head. The (leople in the house had to all an|>earance changed as little as the house itself. .leremy confided to Krnest that Doll had grown rather "tubby," which was his elegant way of indicating that she had develi>i>ed a very pretty little figure, and that Orice (the old housekeeper) was as skinny as a flayed weasel, and had eyes like the point of a knife. Krnest maliciously repeated these sayings to the two ladies oonoerned with the result that they were both furious. Then he retreated and left them to settle it with Jeremy, Old Atterleigh too was almost exactly the same, except that of late years big intellect seemed to have brightened a little. It was, however, difficult to make him understand that Ernest was blind, because the latter's eyes looked all right. He retained some recollection of him, and brought him big notched stick, to show him that, according to his (hard-riding Atterleigh's) calculation, big time of service with the devil, other- wise Mr. Cardus, would expire in a few monthg. Dorothy read what the old man wrote upon hig slate, and repeated it to Krnest, for he being practically dumb, and Ernest being blind, that waa the only way in which they could communicate. " And what will you do then ?' asked Ernest ; " you will be wretched without any writs to fill up. Who will look after the logt souls, I should like to know ?" The old man at once wrote vigorously on hig slate : " I shall go out hunting on the big black horge you brought with you ; he will carry my weight." " I should advise you not to try," gaid Eniest, laughing; " be does not like strange riders." But the old man at the mere thought of hunting was striding up and down the room, clanking his spurs and waving his hunting-crop with his uninjured arm- " Is your grandfather ag much afraid of my uncle ag ever, Doll .' " "Oh, yes, I think so ; and do you know, Ernest, I don't quite like the way he looks at him sometimes ?" Ernest laughed. " I should think that the old boy ia harmless enough," he said. " I hope so," said Dorothy. When first they got back to Dum's Ness. Jeremy was at a great loss to know what to do with himself, and waa haunted by the idea that Mr. Cardus would want him to resume that stool in his office whicii years before he had quitted to go in search of Ernest. A week or so after his arrival, however, his fears were very pleasantly set at rest. After breakfast, Mr. Cardus sent for him to come into his office. • Well, Jeremy," he said, letting his soft, black eyes wander round that young gentle- man's gigantic form, for it was by now painfully large, not so much in height, for he was not six foot three, as in its great width, whicli made big men look like children beside liim, and even dwarfed his old grandfather's enormous frame â€" " well, Jeremy, and what do you think of doing ? You are too big for a lawyer : all your clients would be afraid of you." 1 don't know about being too big," gaid Jeremy, solemnly, " but I know that I am too great an asg. Beoides, 1 can't a£ford to spend se%-eral years in being articled at my time of life." " Quite so. Then what do you propose doing?" •' I don't know from Adam." " Well, how would you like to turn your sword to a plowshare and become a farmer ? " " I think that would suit me first-rate. I have a little capital laid by, Ernest and I made a little money out there." " No, I would not advise you to take a farm in that way ; these are bad times. Hut I want a practical man to look after my land around here, salary tloO. What do you say .' You are icry kind ; but I doubt if I can boss that coach ; I don't know any- thing of the work. " (^h, you will very soon learn ; there isa capital bailil!. Stamp you remember him lie will siioii put ynu to the ropes. 80 we will consider that settled." riiiis It was that our friend Jeremy entered on a new walk in life, and one which Hiiitcl him very well. In less than a year's time he grew aggressively agricul tural, and one never met him but what he had a handfiii of oats or a maiigel-wuri^el in his I oat tail pocket, which he was ready swear were aamples of th:' finest oats, manyflwiu/el, or whatever the particular agriiultiiral product might be. that ever 1 been or were ever likely to he grown. CHAPTER XLIl. HUW IT Al.l. CAMKIH T. How did it all conieabout? Ket ua try and discover. Dorothy and Krnest were tovjether all day long. They only separated when Ma/ook came to lead the former otf to bed. .\t breakfast time he led him back again and handed him over to Dorothy for the day. Not that our Zulu friend liked this ; he did not like it at all. It was, he considered, his business to lead his master about, and not that of the " Hosebud," who was, as he discovered, after all luithing but a girl connected with his master neither by birth or marriage. And on this point there finally arose a dif- ference of opinion between the Rosebud and Ma/ouku. The latter was leading Ernest for his morning walk, when I >orothy perceiving it, and being very jealous of what she con- sidered her rights, sallied out and took his hand from tiie great Xuhi's. Then did Mazooku's long - jient indignation break forth. " (J Hosebud, sweet and small Rose- bud!" he coinmencod, addressing her 111 Zulu, of which, needless to say, she under- stood not one word, " why do you come and take my father's hand out of my hand? Is not my father blind, and am I not his dog, his old dog to lead him in his blindness? Why do you take his bone from a dog ?" "What ia the man saying?" asked Dorothy. " He is offended because you come (o lead me ; he says that he is my dog, and that you snatch Ins bone from him. A pretty sort of a bone indeed !" he adiled. " Tell him, " said Dorothy, "that here in this country I hold your hand. What does ho want.' Is he not alwavs with you? does he not sleep acrosa your door ? What more doea he want ?" Krnest tranclated her reply. " C)w !" said the Zulu, with a grunt of disaatisfactiiin. " He ia a faithful fellow, Doll, aud has stood by me for many yearg ; you mugt not vex him." But Dorothy after the manner of loving women, was tenacious as to what she con- sidered her rights. " Tell him that he can walk in front,", she said, putting on an obatinate little look, ' and she could look obatinate when ahe I liked. I Krnest translated again (for promise. Thug for a while the difference was patched up. Sometimes Dorothy andEmeet would go out riding together, for, blind as he was, Ernest could not be persuaded to give up his riding. It was a pretty sight to see them ; Ernest mounted on his towering black stallion " The Devil." which in his hands waa as gentle as a lamb, but with everybody else fully justified his appella- tion, and Dorothy on a cream -colored cob Mr. Cardus had given her, holding in her right hand a steel guiding-rein linked to the Devil's bit. In this way they would wonder all over the country-side, and some- times, when a good piece of turf presented itgelf, even venture on a sharp canter. Behind them ag groom rode Mazooku, mounted on a stout pony, with his feet stuck, Zulu Tatli^oa, well out at right angles at his animal's aide. Ttiey were a gtrange trio. And go from week'g end to week'g end Dorothy wag ever by Ernest's side, reading to him, writing for him, walking and riding with him, weaving herself into the sub- stance of hig life. And at lagt there came one sonny August day, when they were sitting together in the shade of the chancel of Titheburgh Abbey. It was a favorite spot of theirs, for the gray old walls sheltered them from the glare of the sun and the breath of the winda. It was a spot, too, rich in memories of the dead past, and a pleasant place to sit. Through the gaping window-places came the murmur of the ocean and the warmth of the harvest sunshine ; and gazing out by the chancel doorway, Dorothy could see the long lights of the afternoon dance and sparkle on the emerald waves. She had been reading to him, and the book lay idle on her knees as she gazed dreamily at those lights and shadows, a sweet picture of tensive womanhood. He too had relapsed into silence, and was evidently thinking deeply. Presently she rouseti herself. " Well, Krnest," she said, " vi-liat are you thinking about ? Y'ou are as dull as as the dullest thing in the world, whatever that may be. What is the dullest thing in the v*-orld ?" " I don't know," he answered, awaken- ing. â- â- Yes, I think I do ; an American novel." " Yes, that is a good definition. You are as dull as an American novel." " It IS Hr:l:ind of you to say so, Doll, my dear. I was thinking of goi'nething, Doll." She made a iittle face, which of coarse, he could not see, and answered quickly : " You generally are thinking af some- thing. You generally are thinking ofâ€" Eva. except when you are asleep, and then you are dreaming of her." Finest colored up. '• Yes," he said, "it ia true, she is often more er leas in my mind. It is my misfor- tune, Doll, not my fault. Y'ou see, 1 do not do things by halves." Dorothy bit her lip. ' iine should be justly flattered, I am sure. Few women can' boast of haviiii; inspired such affectien in a man. I sup- pose it ia because she treated you so badly. Dogs love the hand that whips them. You are a curious character, Krnest Not many men would give so much to one who has returned so little." " So niucli the better for them. If I had a son, I think that I should teach him to make love to all womeu, and to use their attection as a means of amusement and self-advancement, but to fall in love with none." •• That ia one of your bitter remarks, for which 1 suppose we must thank Kva. You are always making them now. Let me tell you that there are goixl women in the world ; yes, and honest, faithful women, who, when they have given their heart are true to their choice, and would not do it violence to be made Queen of England. Hut you men do not go the right way lo find them. You think of nothing but b amy, and never take the trouble to learn the hearts of the sweet girls who grow like daisies in the grass all around you, but who di> not happen to have great eyes or a splendid bust. Y'ou tread them underfoot, and if tliey were not so humble they would he crushetl, as you rush off and try to pick the rose; and then you prick your fingers, and cry out, and tell all the daisies how shamefully the rose has treated you." Krnest laughed and Dorothy went on : " Yes, it is an unjust world. Leta woinaii but lie beautiful and everything is at her feet, for you men are despicable creatures, and care for little except what is pleasant to the senses. On the other hand, let her he plain, or only ordinary-looking for the fate of most of us is juat to esco|)e Iwiiig ugly aid you pay as much regard to her as you do the chairs you sit on. And yet, strange as it may seem to you probably, she has her fitliiigs, and her capacities for high affectinn, and her iiiiaginative |Hiwer, all working vigorously l)ehind her plain little face. Probably, loo, she is In-tter than your beauty. Nature does not give everything ; when she endows a woman with i>erfect loveliness, she robs her either of her heart or her brains. But you ineii don't see that, because you won't look, so in course of time all the fine iwssibilities in Miss I'laiiiface wither up, and she becomes a disappointed old maid, while my Lady lleaiity pursues her cjiieer of selfish- ness and mischief making, till at last she withers up too ; that's one comfort." Krnest had been liatening with great amusement to Dorothy's views. He had no idea that she took such matters into her shrewd consideration. I heard a girl say i'i>- other day that, on the whole, most women preferred to becouie old maidri," heaaid. Then she toM fibs; they don't. It isn't natural that they should, that is, if thev are for anybody . Juat think, there are more than ten hundred thousand of our charming 8i9terluH)d in these islands, and more women being born every day ! Ten hundred thousand restless, unoccupied, dis- gusted, loveless women ! It ia simply awful to think of. I wonder they don't breed a revolution. If they were beautiful they would." He laughed again. " Do you know what remedy Mazooku would apply to this atate of affairs '' " "No.'' â- The instant adoption of polygamy. There are no unmarried women amimg the Natal Zulug, and they as a class are extremely happy." Dorothy shiwk her he»d. " It wouldn't do here ; it would be too young to consider yourself an old maid. Do you want to become one ?" " Yes," ohe said, gharply. •• Then yon don't care for anybody, eh ?" She blushed up furiously. '• What busiuesg is that of yoare, I ahould like to know?" she answered. " Well, Doll, not much. But will you be angry with me if I say something ?" " I suppose you can say what you like." " Yes ; but will you listen ?" " If you speak I cannot help hearing." " Well then, Dollâ€" now don't be angry, dear." " Ernest, how you aggravate ma ! Cant you get it out uod have done with it ? ' " All right, Doll, I'll steam gt«aigkt ahead this time. It is this. I have some- times been vain enough to think that you cared a little about me, DoU, although 1 am aa blind aa a bat. I want t<v aa£ you if it is true. You must tell nui ^Uu, OoU, because I cannot see your eyes to laarn the truth from them." She turned quite pale at his worda, and her eyes rested upon his blind orba with a look of unutMi'able tenderneaa. So it had came at last. " Why do you oak me that quaation, Ernest ? Whether or no I care for you I am very sure you do not care for me." " You are not quite right there, DoU, bat I will tell you why I ask it ; it is not oat of mere cariosity. â- ' Y'ou know all the history of my life, Doll, or at least most of it. You know how I ioved Eva, and gave her all that a foolish youngster can give to a weak woman â€" gave it in such a way that I can never have it back again. Weil, ahe deserted me ; I have lost her. The best happinegg of my life has been wrecked beyond redemption ; that is a fact that must be accepted aa well aa the fact of my blindness. I am physically and morally crippled, and certainly in no fit state to ask a woman to marry uie on the ground of my personal advantages. But if, my dear Doll, you should, as I have sometimes thought, happen to care about anything so wortbleaa then, you see, the affair assumes a di9erent asjwct." (To iM eoatioaad.) A Tbieves' Supp«r. A select company of 1-JO thieves sat down to supper in Ulaagow the other night. Each guest was provided with a ticket with the inscription : ADMIT BEAREK to A SUPPEK Ot Hevt Steak Pie and Plum Puddiag, Sl'Kfl.^LLV FOK THIEVES, Ou Tlnu-Hday KveuUig, ITth February, a* 6M u cluck, in TollxMCb Hall, 10 High street. This aupper it ouly (or oieu who have baea oon- victad of theft. -NED WKIGHT (KromLoadOQi, Wlio was himself a Convicted Hurglar and Prir.a FiKbter. will uioke aome iatereaclng statemeDts, and. It is hoped, will be able ro [loiric out a variety oi ways ot eecape. which have already provud to be a great blessing to others. As the number ia limited to ISO, come early and secure your seat. On the reverse of the card wag the follow- ing intimation : Should any wish to euter the hall without be- iiiK observed tbev may do so by the bock door, eiileriiii; b) Old Eichauge court, a few doom nearer th« CroOK. The convictsâ€" real and would-be â€" had to pass under Ned Wright's review, and not a few of them were rejected aa impoators. The features of the evening were the want of liquor, the want of speeches, and a per- formance by Ned Wright's daughter on a violin once belonging to the notorious Charles Peace. The guests aeeui to have behaved themselves satisfactorily, and had proiier respect for the knives, forks and spoons, as one of the onlookers remarked at the end of the feast that " a better ordered congregation could not have been found in a West Knd church." â€" St. Jiimea' Gazette. Uuw He S«ttted theUuttrrel. John Ciroat ia said to have come from Hiilland to Caithness, Scotland, in 143'J ; with him came his broth.ers. They owned land in the Caithness, and increased and multiplied until there were eight families. Once a year they all met in the first house they had built. At one meeting the question of precedence was raised, and there was almost a fight. John O'Groats, aa the Scotch calleti liini, who seema to have had the moat level head of tl'.em all, aettled the matter teniporardy then, and said that next year he would settle,it finally. When the time for the next meeting came John O'Oroats had built an eight-sided house with eight doors and windows; in the middle of the house he put a round table. Hy this means all strui;glea for precedence were avoided. â€" ,VfU' York .Su«. KvKurrmtloit ot the Hlllltmi. ('apt. Conder, of the Palestine Explora tioii Kxfiedition, after the labor of four years, has succeeded in deciphering aud translating the Hittite inscriptions, which have hitherto excited and tormented the inquisitiveiiess of Orientalists. Tenprinci pal te.xts are known , and he hag iuterpre- tated theni all. They have been found chiefiy atCarchemish, Hamathand Alep{)o, though .\sia Minor at large has traces of the class scattered about it. It is a fresh and grand stage in the astoniahing recent process of resurrection of a dead and for gotten people. â€"Lo«i/ii« Truth. again (for the Zulu expensive, vowed he could never understand Dorathy's .. i gay, Doll, you gpoka just now of our English), and Mazooku accepted the com- -charming sisterhood'; vou are rather Friendly Cynielsiu, Treat yourfriendsaa you treat your corns. When troublesome, cut 'em. Friends are like files. If you have a bald place they settle on it. Never offer to post a tetter for a .friend. The accidental dropping of a letter may change friend into fiend. The dog ia called the friend of man. This is because he can't eat man, and man won't eat him. Florist Leander Brown, of Madison, N.J., is the proud parent of tripletsâ€" two boys and a girl. They were christened Orover, ('leveland, and Frances. Talmage says that men who ging and whistle cannot have much evil in their hearts. Bet him a new hat that the warden of any state prison will give him statistics to knock him out on his assertion. â€" Oetroit Free Preit. The gold brick swindlers are beginning to find victims even in the land of gold. Two of them recently did a Los Angelea real estate agent out of tl,70C by the threadbare schema.