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SIR GUY'S_WARD. A THKILLINtt STORY OF LOVK AND ADVENTUIlB. ( HAITKK XVI. (CuNTiM n>.) " I suppose he went then to my father, ami they planned it all between them, be- cause at thin time he that i, my father began to tell me he wa* in debt, hopelessly, Irretrievably in debt. Among other* he mentioned certain debts of (so-called) honor, which, if not paid within a gi\eu lime, would leave liiui not only a beggar, but a disgraced one upon the face of the cart I) ; and I believed him. -He worked upon my feelings day by day, with pretend- eu tears, with vowi of amendment. I don't know,' bitterly, "what hia xhare of the bargain wat to be, but I do know he toiled for it conscientiously. I was young, minim- ally so for my age, without companions, romantic impressionable. It seemed tome a grand thing to sacrifice myself and there- by save my father ; and if I would only con- sent to marry Mr. Arlington he had prom- : ised not only to avoid dice, but to give up his habits of intemperance. It is an i old story, is it not No doubt you know it by heart. Crafty age and foolish youth, -what chance had 1? One day I gave in, I said I would marry Mr. I Arlington, and he sold me to him three ' weeks later. We were man IK), Here her voice fails her again, and a little j moan of Rgoni/.ed recollection escapes lu-r. Cyril, clasping her still closer to him, press- es a kiss upon her brow. At the sweet con- tact of his lips she sighs, and two large tears gathering ia her ayes roll slowly down her cheek*. "A week after my wretched marriage," she goes on, "1 discovered accidentally that my father had lied to me and tricked me. His circumstances were not so bad as he had represented to me, and it was on the condition that he was to hk.-e a certain in- come fiom Mi. Arlington yearly that he l:ad persuaded me to marry him. He did not long enjoy it. He died," slowly, "two months afterwards. Of my life with iny husband I shall not tell you ; the recital would only revolt you. Only to think of it now mokes me feel ile idly ill ; and often from my drctmu, as I live M all over again, I start, cold with horror and divgust. It ili.l not last Ion);, which was merciful : six months after our marriage he eloped ith an actrras and went to Vienna." "The blackguard! the scoundrel !" says Cyril, between his teeth, dt awing tin brra'.h sharply. I " 1 never saw him a^ain. In a little while 1 received tidings of Ins death : he had been stabbed in a brawl in some ilrinking-h'use, and bad only lived a few hours after it. And ' I was occe more fret.' She pauses, and involuntarily stretches forth both her hinds into the twilight, us one might w ho Img indarkurts, being thrust into the full light of day, seeks to grasp and retain It. " When I beard of his death," she says, tin ii'i.g to I \ nl, and npeaking in a clear in- tense tone, " I laughed ' Kur the rim tune, lor many month', I laughed aloud ' I de- clared my thankfulness in n distinct \m e. Mv heart Iwat with honest, undisguised do- light when 1 knew I should nevei see rrm again, should never in all the years to come shiver and trrmble in his hated pmccnce. ll> was dead, and I was heartily glad of it." She atniis, in terrible agitation. An angry fire gleams in her large gray eyes. She soems for the uiorncnt to have utterly forgotten Cyril's nearness, as in memory she lives over again all the detested past. Cyril lays his hand lightly upon her ahoiildcr. her eyes meet Ins, and then the anger dies from llirni. She sigh* heavily, ami then goes on: "After that I don't know wlmt happen- ed fora IOIIK lime, because I got bruin-fever, and, but for one friondj who all through h.i.l don bis heat for me, I should have died. (In ami his Mrler nursed me through It, and brought me bark to litu again ; hut," mournfully, " they could not restore to me my * rinheil yoi'.lh, in y i uined tailh, my girlish hopes. A few months had changed me from a mere child into a cold, unloving noman." " Don't say that," snyn Cyril, gently. " I MI I now," returns she, looking ai 1,1111 with eyes full of the moat intense af (< lion ; "now all is different." "Beloved, how you have suffered !" lie says, pressing her head down again u|.n his brrast, and caressing with loving linger* In i 1 1 h hair. "Hut it ia all over, and. if I can make you so, you shall lie happy in the future. And your one friend? Who waa ho V She hesitates perceplilily, and a blush i ici pniK up dyes her pale (ace crimson. " Perhaps 1 know," ays Cyril, an unac- . omiUl'lii misgiving at his heart. " Was it Colonel Ti ant Do not answer me if you do not wish il," <eiy gently. V**, it was lie. There is no reason why I should not aniwer you." Vo ' "No." " He asked tmy to let xmi have the cot "Cecilia, 1 am afraid you liked that fal- low oni.-e. Come, confess it." " No, indeed, not in the way you mean : but in every other way more than I can tell you. I should be the most ungrateful wretch alive if it were otherwise. As a Hue friend. I love him. " " How dare you use such a word to any one but me?" say* Cyril, bending to smile into her eyes. " I warn you not to do it again, or I shall be dangerously and out rageounly jealous. Tears in your eyes still, my sweet? Let me kiss them away : poor eyes ! surely they have wept enough in their time to permit of their only smiling in the future." When they have declared over and over again lin different languages every time, of course) the everlasting avectiou each feels (or the other, Cecilia says, " How late it grows ! and you are in Smr evening dress, and without a hat. ave you dined V " Not yet ; but I don't want any din- ner." (By this one remark, it reader, you may gueas the depth and sincerity of his love.) " We generally dine at half -past seven, but to-nu'ht we are to starve until eight to oblige Florence, who has lei> spending the uay somewhere. 80 I dressed early and came down to see you." " At eight," says Cecilia, alarmed : " it is almost that now. You must go, or Lady Chetwoode will be angry with me and I don't want any one belonging to you to think bad thought! of me." " There is plenty of time : it can't be nearly eight yet. Why, it is only half an hour since I came." " It is a quarter to eight," says Cecilia, solemnly. " Do go, and come afstfi as early as you can to-morrow. ' " You will be gla i lo see me f* " Yes, il you come very early." " And you arc sure, my own darling, that yon really love me ?" " i.'uite, unite sure," tenderly. " What * bore it is having to go home this lovely evening !" discontentedly. " Cer- tainly ' 'fime was made for slaves.' Well," with a sigh " good-night. I suppose I must go. I shall run down directly after breakfast. (lood-night, my own, my dear- est." "Cood night, Cyril." " What a cold farewell ! I shan't go away at nil if you don't say something kinder." Standing on tiptoe, Cecilia lays her arms around his neck. " (iood night, my darling," she whispers, irnnulously ; and with a last lingering caress they part as though yean were about lo roll by licfore they can meet again. clI.VI'TKIl XVII. "Am!, though -ho l>e but little. -I ' Oh, my lov like* ui.-lo.ljr That's ^weetlr played In tune." reads Archie, and then itops. " It is pretty," he lays, agreeably ; " but if you had heard that last word persistent- ly called ' chune,' I think it would have taken the edge off your fancy for it. I bad an uncle who adored that little poem, but he would call the word 'chime,' and it rather spoiled the effect. He's dead," ay M r. I hesney, laying down his book, " but I think I see him now." "In the pride of youth snd beaut jr, With a garland on bin brow," quote* Lilian mischievously. " Well, not quite. Rather in an ex- ceedingly rusty suit of evening clothe* at the Optra. I took him there in a weak mo- ment to hear the ' Kte, lamented Titiens siug her choicest emg in II 'Irovatore,' you kuow it ? well, when it waa over and the whole house was in a perfect uproar of applause, I turned and asked him what lie thought of it, and he instantly said ho thought it was 'a very pretty "chune" ! Fancy Ti liens singing a 'chune'! I gave him up sfler that, ami carefully avoided bis society. Poor oil chap, he didn't bear malice, however, ai he died a year later and left me all hia money." " More than you deserved," says Lilian. Here Cyril and Taffy appearing on the scene cause a diversion. They both sim- ultaneously fling themselves upon the grass at Lilian's feet, and declare themselves completely used up. " Let us have tea out here," says Lilian, gayly, "and enjoy our summer to the end. " Springing lo her feel, she lurns towarda the balcony, careless of the (act that she has destroyed the lovely picture she made sitting on the greensward surrounded by her attendant swaina. " Florence, come down here, sod let us have lea on the gross," she calls out pleasantly to Miss Btiuchamp. Do, Florence,'' says Archibald, en- treatingly ; and " Miss Ite.uichamp, you reaJly must," from Taffy, decides the point. Florence, feeling it will look ungracious to refuse, rises with reluctance, and sails down upon the quartette below, followed by .Sir <!ny. " What an awful time we shall be having at Mr*. Boileau's this hour to-morrow night," says Cyril, plaintively, after a long 1 1 shudder when I silence on his part. lie \ Orange can imagine think of it. No one who has never spent an at the liranue can imagine the W : I had wearied o( every thing, and : hough by some chain e 1 had e-ime in for all Mr. Ailiiigti>ii!i pmp< ity, 1 only caroil logo away and hide myself somewlnie where I should tunl (|im>t ami |>cuc.. 1 tried several places, but 1 was always restless until I came heir. ' She smiles fainlh. ( 'j i il, after a pause, says, hesitatingly, " Ccciliu, did you ever care lor for Traut " " Never ; did you imagine that " I never i-aiod for ,in\ one but you ; 1 never shall /Ham. And you, Cynl," the tears rushing iln.-kly to her eye*, " du you still think you can lovo ms, the daughti i nt one id man. the wile of another? loan hardly iljink myself a* good us other women when 1 remember all I he hateful scones I have passed t'n migh. ' " 1 hhall treat you to a crowning scene it \'..i . MI dare say that again," sayilMil, whose spirits ars riling now she has denied h.iMiigauy affection for 'I'rant. " And if very relation you ever had was as bad NI bad could Ins I should adore you all tho sense. 1 can't lay any more." You iH'iilii't," U'liiuii she, laughing* luilc. "Oh, f'jril, how swet it la Imli.ved, to me especially, who never yet (unli' now) had any love ottered mo ; at least.'' norieiiiinf, heisell hastily, "any I i.rr.l ii, ., " Hut you had a lover V *ki he, o.. " 1'inii ai'Mii' 1,-iiini; his teeth close s .. !.: under lip. " Hene. MinYrloM-! A Roml epilhel ! I do love, indeed, for 1 love taeeaaiauul m> will.' - M.t-h .(/.! .tliiiut .VirfAl'flff. It is a glorious evening towar 1s the close of September. The heal is intense, deli- cious, or productive of happy languor as though it was still th* very Heart of sum- mer. Uutsi.l* upon the gross sits Lilian, idly threading daisies into chains, her riotous golden looks waving upon her fair forehead beneath the influence of the wind. At bar feet, full length, lie* Archibald, a book con laiuing selections from the woiks of favor- ite poet* M his hand. He i* reading alsSMJ such passage* a* please him and serve to illustrate the passion that day hydsy j in growing deeper for Im pretty cousin. VI ready hi* infatuation for her ha* becomo a fuel so palpable thai nol only has he ceased lo deny il to himself, but every one iu the house is fully aware of it, from Lady diet- woode down Iu the lowest housemaid. S.>met lines, \\hen the poem in an old favorile, he recites it, keeping his dark eyes fixed the whil* upon ihe fair coquellish face just above him. Upon ihe balcony looking down upon them sits Florence, working at theeverlasl- ing pariol, with liny beside her, utterly miserable, his whole attention concenlrated upon his ward. For the past week he has he. 'ii wretched as a man c in be who sees a rival HI II ic.eived before IIIH eyos day after day. Miss llesuchamp's soft speeches and tender glances, although many and pro- nounced, fail to console him, though to others 1m appear* to accept them willingly enough, and to make a generous return, spending how he hardly knows, ihough perhaps she does a good deal of time in her society. He must indeed Iw devoid of observation if now I." cannot pas* a strict examination of the hues of that crewel Ln 1 (this is not a joke), for wherever he may lie, there Miss liesiictiainp insure to show a few minutes later, always with her wools. Noting all tnis, >.e .me Lilian draws from 11 lur own conclusions. As each clear silvery laugh reaches him from below, (iiiy frowns, and wince* at every fond poetical sentiment, Unit, floated upwards h) thu wind, falls upon his ears. -cc llic inolinlalll- kl-- htuh heaven. An. I the \va\ cs rl.i i IT linwor wt'iilil he furutven If II llisilillm-.l II- 1. 1. .III. i Ami the sunlight clasp, ilu- earth, Anil the moonbeam* kU- thosaa: What are ill the-.' kt--lMK^ \\orth, If i him k.- not me C The winds recited by Mr. Ckesney with much iii/ii; %< mi at sour upward* aud gain (uy's ear ; Archibald is pointing his quota- tion with many impassioned glanoea ami inu Ii tender emphasis; all of which ia lather thi own away upon Lilian, who i noi in the least sentimental. " Keail something livelier, Archie," she says, regarding her growing chain with un limited admiration. " There i* rather much honey alum! that. "If you can nnub Shelley, I'm sura I don't know what il is you do like," returns he, somewhat disgusted. A rlinht panse ensue', lilled up l.\ I lie I \'n> u.usfl of the leaven of Chesney 'a volume us he turns them paliunlly. " ' (Hi, my Luve's like a red, rod, rot*,'" he begins, bravely, but Lilian instantly suppresses him. " I'nii'i,' she ays ' that's worst. I al- ways think what ah'Tinl MUM'' sho must have been. Fancy a girl wit:i . clu like that rose over tiieie ! Farcy writing a sonnet toa milk maul ' i.omi. II..M. th* other lines are i .thei |.ietty." evening agony of it." " I vow I would rather be broken on the wheel than undergo it," say* Archibald. " It wasdowright mean of Lady Chetwoode to lei us all in for it. And yet no doubt tiiingi might have been worse ; we ought to { feel devoutly thankful old Boileau is well j under the tod." " What was the matter with him ?" asks Lilian " Don't name him," says Cyril : "he was pant all human endurance ; my blood run* cold when I remember I once diUknow him. I rejoice to say he is no more. His name was Dcniamin : and as he waa small aud t'lin, and she was large and fat, she uhat 11. Mm. lloileau) was always called ' Ben- jamiii'i portion.' Tnal's a joke, do you nee U ?'' " I do : so vou don't take any bob* off my wagrs." retorts Miss Chesney, promptly, with a distinct imitation of Kate Saiitley. " And yet 1 caLiiot see how all lhi made the poor man odious. " " No, not exactly that, though I don't think a well-brought-up man should let himself go lo skin and hone. He waa in- lolerahle in other ways. One memurtlile Christmas day i.uy and 1 dined with him, and he got beastly drunk on the sauce for the plum pudding. We were young at tho lime, ami il made a lastirg impression upon un. Indeed, ho was hardly the person lo nit next at a prolonged dinner-party, firm because he wa* unmiitakahly dirty, and " "Oh, Cyril !' "Well, and why not? It is uot impos- sible. Kven Topes, it now appears, can be iiidill'ereiit to the advantage* to be derived From soap and walrr." "Really, Cyril, I Ihink you migh*, choose a pleaanter subject upon which in con- verse," says Florence, with a disgusted curl of her short upuer lip. "1 beg pardon all round, I'm sure," re- turns Cyril, meekly "But Lilian should be blamed : she "/./ investigate the mat- ter ; and I'm nothing, if uot strictly truth- ful. He wo* a very dirty old man, 1 assure you, my dear Florence. " Mrs. Koileau, however objectionable, seems to have been rather the best 01 the two: why did she marry him?'' asks Lilian. "Haven't the remotest idea, and, even if 1 had, I should be afraid to answer an\ more of your pertinent queitioni," with an expressive nod in the direction o' Florence. " I can only say it was a veiy feeble pro cev.ling on thu part of such a capable person as Mrs. ll.nleau.' ".lust 'another good woman gone Hi.'iig,'" suggests Taffy, mildly. " (,'uite so," sayi Archibald, "though she adored him, she sail). Yot he died, some said of fever, others of Mrs. Boileau; no attention was ever paid to the others. \\ lien h '/nl droop and die sho planted all sort* of lovely In tie flower* over hi* grave, and watered them with her tears for ever so long, t'.'uld affection go farther ?" " Horrible woman !" say* \iiss Chesney : " it only wanted that '.o Uniali my dislike to her. I hope when I am dead no one vull plant Mowers on my grave; the bare idea would nial.e nu- tuin in it " "Then we won't do it," says TatTy, con solingly. "1 wish we had a few Indian custom* in this country,' says Cyril, langiiulU "The Suttee waa a cipital iusti'ution Think what a lot of objectionable widows > -lioulil hitv* got rid of by this time ; Mrs. Itoileau, for inst;> "And Mrs. Arlington," puts in Florence, imetly. An nun. ui'Ulilo silence follow* tni* speech. No ouo can exactly explain why, lint eveiy one 1. .lows something awk W*rd has been laid. Cyril outwardly is perhaps the least concerned of them all : a* he bites laugui.lly a little rda<lo of green gross, a faint smile flicker* at ths cvc. -r* of nix lip*. Lilian is distinctly angry. " Poor Mrs. l'.i!i>au; all this U rather ill- na'urcd, is it not '.' ' asks Florence, gently, rising a* though a dislike t< the goaaip go- ing on around her compel* hu ' return to the house. In reality it is a dislike lo damp qian that un;s her l (light. 11 I s '"i >>! a chair, Florence? "ask* Cj i .!. "Hi iew hat in. ' . -uitly as it seem*. l'i tc Km i I. MM c-. \lin Heauchamp," "If ym, nil) stay on we will swear not to make any more ill-natured re- marks about any one." "Then I expect silence will reign su- preme, and that the remainder of our ema'.K'ii: will be of the deadly-lively order," 'ays Archibald : and, Cyril at this moment arriving with the offered chair. Mis* Beau- champ U kindly pleased to remain. As the evening decline*, the midges muster in great force. ( y ril and Taffy, be- ing in the nunior for smoking, snd having cheroots, are comparatively (peaking happy : the other* grow more nd more secretly irritated every moment. Florence is making ladylike dabs at her forehead every two teconds with her cambric hand- kerchief, aad i* regretting keenly her folly in not retiring in-uoor* long ago. Midges sting her and raise uninteresting little marks upon her face, thereby doing irreme- diable damage for the time being. The very inought of such a catastrophe tills her with horror. Her fair, plump hands are getting spoiled by these bloodthirsty little miscre- ants ; this she notices with dismay, but is ignorant of the facl that a far worse mis- fortune is happening higher up. A tasteless midge ha* taken fancy to her nose, and ha* inflicted on it a serious bite ; it U swelling visibly, and a swelled note is uot becoming, especially when it i* set as nearly as nature will permit in the centre ot a pale, high- bred, but expressionless fare. Ignorant, I say. of this crowning mishap, she goes on dabbing her brow gently, while all the others lie around her dabbiug like- wise. At last Lilian loses all patience. "Oh! hang these midges!" the lay*, naturally certainly, but rather too forcibly for the time* we live in. Th petulance of ihe soft lone, the expression used, makes ihem all laugh, except Miss Beauchamp, who, true to her iraming, maintains a demeanor of frigid disapproval, which has the pleasing effect of rendering the swelled nose more ludicrous than it was before. " Have I (aid anything very bizarre *'" de- mands Lilian, opening >r eyes wide at their laughter. " Oh !' recollecting, "did I say ' hang them '' It is all Taffy's fault, he will use tchooUboy dang. Tally you ought to be ashamed of yourself : don't yr.i sen how yon have shocked Florence?" " And no wonder," says Archibald, grave- ly ; " you know we swore to her not to abuse anything for the remainder of this evening, not even these little winged tor- ments, ' viciaucly st|Uv/iiig half a Jo/en to death a* he speak*. "How are we going to the (iranio to- morrow evening '" asks Taffy, presently. The others have broken up and separated ; Cyiil and Archibald, at a lit tic distance, are apparently convulsed with laughter over some shady slory just being related by the former. " I suppose," goe* on Taffy, "a* Lad Chelwoode won'l come, we shall take the open traps, and not ir.ind the carriage, the evenings are tine. Who is to drive who, i* the question. Nu ; who is to drive pnnr lillle I, is the Florence wisely makes no reply. Shi- would have borne the tortures of like rack rather than exhibit any vehement tcir.pcr before Uuy ; so *h* contents herself with casting a withering glance np.j> Lilian, who receive* it viin the most .;/*<. K', and, putting her handkerchief up to t*4 wounded member, sweep* into the he use full of righteous indignation. (TO BE I'ONTIXfaMl. ) mi i i TI -i i o M>\ *TBEET nn-i , Those who walk London street* most often notice vcndois of cheap toys bus : ly plying their trade, in spite of the law and the police. These "Cheap Johns, ' on a small scale, are tolerated, although not countenanced by the authorities ; for there naturally pre- vail* a disinclination to interfere with an avocation that assumes the character oi fair aud open dealing, just as the sal* of orange* or the business of any interact huckster, may be deemed ; and the mere dupocitivu to prefer that line to a downright dishonest one is of itself a plea for toleration, if not encouragement. The consequence is, * regular business in the way of street-dealing, and some of its branches are amusing a* they are question- able. The barefaced trickery b longing to some of the " dodgs" resorted to by these petty hawkers i* almost past belief, beca-jse they are so stale. Gullibility seem* a part of human nature. There is one man who appear* Lever M abandon the old deception of selling " plain gold wedding-rings" a peony each. This be tells his audieucs he ha* to do " for a bet. ' The well-known ntory of "sovereigns a penny apiece " is still before the public, A nan with unblushing effrontery assures his aui''*nr .uat he is commissioned to sell one hundred sovereigns for one hundred pence, to decide a wager, and he fears that he (hall fall. He is not permitted, of coutse, to al- low one of the coins to be examined : the* must be token from hi* hand a* '.l.ry are, and the lie* roll out of his mouth wit* a volubility which nothing but long practice and utter unscrupulousness could bring about. Then there ar* sellers who give you a mar- vellous number of articles for your mt/ney. The only wonder is how they can do so, until you get hotre and discover the utter worthlewness of the pretending trash you have bought. Occasionally, however because the pro- duction of a great number oi one de*cr:p- article enal let the manufacturers to dispose of them at an exceedingly low price you see some |>arlicular luy such as a hron/e and pistol shaped pop-gun, sold n.- marksbly cheap. But these are nol, strictly S|>eaking, one of the "dodges " of the day. Perhaps the smartest in the Utter line i* now before the public, in the shape of a little, Mack, naked figure, which is offered to us for a halfpenny. It is amusing to question. Sir Guy. will you'" asks Lilian, ; ,ee now hundreds, nay thousands, of "tnese plaintively, prompted by some curious im pulse, seeninK him silent, handsome, moody ugly little dolls are disposed of. Daily, in severs! of the principal City in the background. A moment later she i itmt , mjy be seen one man if not two cuul.l have filled hersel! for pulling the offering for sale these elfigie* of nilgai babies, seemingly composed of queslion to him. " tJuy always drives me," say* Florence, calmly: "I never go with any on* else, ex- cept in the carriage with Aunt Ann*. I am nervous, and should be miserable with any -me 1 could not quite trust. Careless driving terrifies me. Hut tJuy is never careless.' turn ng upon Chetwoodo a face she fondly hopes is full of feeling, but which unfortunately il suggestive of uoth- ing but a midge's bite. The noj i* still the prmc pal feature in it. Placed in thi* awkward dilemma, liny can only curse his fate ami be silent. II. .w can he t-ll Florence he does not care for her i society, how explain to Lilian ins wild desire for hers? He bites his moustache, and, with hia eyts tixcd gloomily upon the ground, maintains a disgusted silence. Truly luck is dead sgaiiist him. "Oh, that indeed:" say* Lilian, and, being a thorough woutau, of course makes no allowance for hia unhappy position. Kvidenlly, accoiilmg to her view of Ihe case, from hia silent aqtiies.'ence in Miss Keauchamp's plan, he like* it. No doubt it was all arranged between ihem early this in .ruing ; and she, to have so far forgotten herself a* ID ask him to dme her ! Oh ! it is intolerable ! " Vou are quiU right." she says sweetly lo Florence, even producing a smile for ihe occasion, as women will when their hearts are sorest. '* There is nothing so depressing OK nervousness when driving. Perhaps Ar -iiihald will taks pity upon me. Archie :" calling out to bun, "come here. I want you to do me a great favor," with au en- ch*nt iug mule " Would it be pulling you nut dreadfully il I aske.i you lo drive me to Mrs. lioileau sto inorroweveiiing: ' another smile still more enchanting. " V'i really mean if" asks Archibald, delighted, his dark face lighting, while l!uy, h-oking on helpWs'y. almost groans aloud. ' Vou know how glad I shall be : I had no idea when I got up thi* inurmng suc'i luck was in store for me. Dear Mr*. Boileau ! if she could only guess how eager 1 am to start for her charming linng* !'' He says this iu a laughing tone, but Chelwoodo fully understands that, like ihe famous well, it hu truth at the bottom of it. " U grows late, doe* it not?" Florence) says, rising gracefully. " I think we had better go in-doors. We have left Auut Anne too long alone." " Auutie is lying down. Her head u lial," says Lilian: "I was with her just before I came out, and she said she wished to IK) alone." "Yet; she c.in i bear noise," remark* Florence, calmly but meaningly. " I muM go and see how she is. " There is the faint- ret suspicion of an emphasis upon the |>er- sonal pronoun. "That will be very kind of you, deal, '' say* Mil* Cheitney, luavely. "Aud r'lor- euoe would you like anything to tub lo your poor nose ? cold cream or glycerine or that ; nurse has all those sort.s of things, I'm sure." This is a small revenge of Lilian's, impossible to forego; while enjoying it she puts on the lendereat aii of syuipatnttic concern, and carefully regards Mi** B**.uchamp'i nose with raised brows of solicitude. "My nose?" repeats Florence, reddening. " Vos, dear. '>ne of these unkind litlla insect* has bitten it sham* fully, acd now it i* all pink and swollen. 1'i.ln t you know it ' 1 have been feeling so sorry for you for the last ton minute*. It is too bad, i* it not 1 hardly think it will be well before dinner, and il is so ilistigui ing. " All thi* she utter* in tones of the deepest miserauon. HSJBJ composed of vulcanised India rui>oer we say seemingly, because the vendor pulls their limb* aboul remorseless- ly, and their contortions do uot injure their form in the least. There is something funny in all this, and for one halfpenny, too, but this i> uot all. That which makes them really interest- ing, and the spectator desirous ot possessing them, is the sound which they appear to emit whenever the leg, arm, head, or boc'y of either of them is pulled or distorted. Kloogating Ihe arm of the lull* "niguer ' the exhibitor says, "See how it hurl* him," aud you bear n squeak. He pulls the leg, and there is another squeak iu a different tone. Again he puts the head be'.ween the legs, aud giving it a merciless thump, you near another thrill cry, and th* audience laugh louder and louder when the vendor hang* th* supposed squeaker against the face of the nearest boy, when the cry is shriller than ever. Vou may feel oshame 1 to makes purchase in the street, but you cannot help wishing to do so. If you have sufficient moral cour- age, you take a coppsr from the corner of your pocket, and reaching over the heads of admiring juvenile*, present it tojthe ingenious " professor," for he is no common lecturer. It is a penuy, and you cannot refuse t* " take a couple. " But what have you got? I'pon examining your bargain you discov- er it to be nothing more than a hideous and unsavoury morsel of black glue, all sticky aud voiceless, for no pulling, squeezing, or doubling up. will induce it to utter th* feeblest sound. Those "squeals" that so amused you came, not from tho toy, but from the mouth or sleeve of the operator, and you are " done " for a penny ' " Love your neighbor as yourself " is a command terribly dilhcult to apply to prac- tical business or politi.-s. The receni effort of some conspicuously pious men to sex* for their owu country'* bemirll a country which belongs to another race, point* th* moral of Herbert Spencer'* assertion that what men believe they helievo i* very dif- ferent from what they really do be. The action* of Americans in regard to Hawaii render these vords of Spencer pe- culiarly interesting : " A society in which the most exalted principle* of self-sacritice for the benefit of neighbors are em. iciaieJ ,n i> be a society iu which unsciupulous sacrifice of alien fellow creature* is not only tolerated but applauded. Along witu professed anxiety to ipread these exalted principle* among heathen* ihor* may go the deliberate fastening of a quarrel upon them wilh a view to annexing their territory. Men who every Sunday have listened ap- oro.ingly to injunction* carrying the re- gard for other people to an impracticable txteut may yet linu ihennelves out to sUy, at the word of command, any people in my part of the world, utterly indifferent to tho right or wrong of ihe matter fought, about." New* ha* been received of th death of veruor Hugh Nelson, of rtrilish Colum- bia, iu Lon, Ion, r'.ngland Sir Oliver Mowat and Mr. A. Vi. Moss, who wa* formerly Provincial Treasurer of Ontario, and Mr. L. 0. Tallinn. 1'ioniisr of ^ue\>ec. were MI OlUwa on Saiurday 10 ..n fer irit'i "MI John Thompson on th* approach- ing arbitration lo seltle lh* UP- a vounls between the Dominion aaj th* proviucei of Ontario and