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SIR GUY'S WARD, A THRILLING BTOKY OF LOVE AND ADVENT CUE. I l>y lameness from going ' or " e ' nt ' r loved ramble*, finds intinile sal if*. lion in the 'li I CHAITF.K XXL ( OVTINI-ED.) It is rather a long march to eommence, with | thought lht even were she quite well, it a young woman, however HeMSC. in oue' j wou ij ^ impossible f or her lo stir out of do.irs. According to her mode of arguing, amw Kirat cornel the corridor which ii of goo.lly length, and after it ths endless iilc- tun-- gallery. Almost as they enter the lat- ter, a little nail half hidilrn in the doorway cauhes in Lilian'l gcwn, and, dragging it roughly, somehow liui'.s her foot. The pain (be sutlers cautei her to give way to sharp cry, whereupon (iuy stops ihort, full of anxiety. " You are in pain?" he says, gazing eag- erly into the face to cloae to hn own. "My foot," ihe answer*, her eyei wet with lean: "something dragged it: oh, how it hurts ! And you promised me to be so careful, and now but 1 dare say you are 'jla>l I am punished," she winds up, vehemently, and then bursts out crying, partly through pain, partly through nerv ousneas and a good deal of self-torturing thought lon< auppresseU, and hide* her face childishly against his sleeve because she has nowhere else to hide it. " Lay me down," he (ays, faintly. There is a lounging chair close to the fire that always burns brightly in the long gal- lery : placing her in it, he stands a little aloof, curling his own ill luck, and wonder- ing wht lie has done to make her hate him somtterly. Her tear* madden him. Kvcry fresh sob tear* his heart. At last, unable to bear the (rental agony any longer, he kneels down beaide her, and, with an aspect of the deepest respect, takes one of her hands in his. " I am very unfortunate," he aays, hum- bly. " li it hurting you very much " "It is better now, (he whisper*; bnt for all that she sobs on very successfully be* hind her handkerchief. " You are not the only one in pain," speaking gently but earnestly : " every sob of yours cause* me absolute torture." This speech has no effect eicept to make her cry again harder thau ever. It is so sweet U> a woman to know a man is suffer- ing tortures for her sake. A little soft lock of her hair has shaken itself loose, and has wandered across her forehead. Almost unconsciously, but very lovingly, he moves it back into its proper place " What have I done Lilian, that you should so soon have learned to hate me ? he whisper* : " wenaed to lie good fnenda." " No long ago" in stifled tone from be- hind the handkerchief "that 1 have al- most forgotten it." " Not so very Ion;; . A few weeks at the utmost, before your cousin came." " Yes, ' with a sigh, " before your com in came." " That is only idle recrimination. I know I once erred deeply, but surely I have re- pented, and fell me why you hate me." " I cannot." "Why?" " Hecause I don't know myself " " What ! you eonfesa you hate me with- out causa?" " That is not it.' " W hat then ?" " How >'an I tell you," she says impatient- y, "when 1 know I don't hate you nl all '" " Lilian, is that true ?" taking away the tandkcrchief gently but forcibly that he nay see her face, which after all is not near- ly to tear-stained as it should be, consider- ing all the heart-rending sobs to which he baa been listening. " Are you sure ? am I not really distasteful to you " I'erhapseven," with an accession of hope, seeing she does not turn from him " you like me a little, still?" " What you are good," with an airy laugh and a slight pout "I do a little. Yes, "seeing him glance longing'y at her hand," you may kiss it, and then we shall be friends again, for to-night at least. Now lo take me down, Sir (iuy : if we stay here much longer I shall be seeing liogiei in all the corners. Already your ancestors seem to l>e frowning at me, and a more dark and bloodthirsty set of relatives 1 never saw. I hope you won't turn out as bad to look at in your old age. " " It all depends. When we are happy we are generally virtuous. Misery creates vice " What a sententious speech V He ha* taken up hi* fair burden again, and they this is one day not lost. About two o'clock Archibald returns, in time for luncheon, and to resume his care of Lilian, win. gives him a gentle scolding for his i!esertion of her in her need. He is full of information about town and their nintnal friends there, and imparts it freely. Kverything is as melancholy up there ss it can lie," he says, " and very few men to be seen the clubs are dmerte I ; all hooting or hunting, no doubt. The rain was falling in torrents all the day." " I'oor Archie, you have been having a had time of it, I fear." " In spite of the weather and her ruddy locks, Lady Itnlle Damascene has secured the prize of the aeason, out of season. She is engaged to Lord W yntermcre : it is not yet publicly announced, but I called to see her mother for five minutes, and so great was her exultation she could not refraia from whispering the delightful intelligence into my ear. Lady Hello is staying with his people now in Sussex." "Certainly, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder.' She u painfully ugly," say* Miss Beauchamp. "Such feet, such hands, and such a shocking complexion ! ' "She is very kind-hearted and amiable," says Cyril. " That is what is always aaid of a plain woman." retorts Florence. " When you hear a girl is amiable, always conclude that she is hideo-is. When one'* trumpeter is in despair, he says tint. " "I am sure Lord Wyntermere must ' e a yoiinir man of sound good sense,' says Lilian, who never agrees with Florence. If she has a kind heart lie will never be "And you believe Trant capable of so far abusing the rights of friendship as to ask you you to supply the house in the rfmo'e spot?" "Unfortunately, I must." "You are speaking of your friend," wit 1 ' a bitter sneer, "snd you can coldly accuse him of committing so blackguardly an action ?" "'f all I have heard be true (ai:d I have no reason to doubt it), he is no longer any friend of mine," aays Cuy, haughtily. " I shall settle with him later on when I have clearer evidence ; in the mean time it almost drives me mad to think he should have dared to bring down here, so close to my mother, hi* -- " "What?" cries Cyril, fi rcely, thrnstu g hs broth- r fr m him w '.h pasiima'.e vi en.e. "Wh.t is it y(U would ssy ? Take care, Guy ; 'a'te c re, y, u have goi e too fa- ir ady. From whom, pray, have you leir. ed you infa noui stcry ?" "1 beg y ur pa don," < : >tytays. gei , you repeat such v le slanders." n e'.ess to argue with you." Guy ily, extreme n gnt visible in hit counts a- re "I thouM nut have spoken so, uud< r the circumstances. It was nrt from i Be alon*, but fr, m eeve al. 1 have hear I what I now tell you, though I mutt aga n r.nun I you tint no naniei were mentioned: sti I, I coull n .t h-lp drawing my iwj cone u- tio s " "Th y lied !" retur. s Cyril, pa s onately losing hit leou ; "you msy t I them so fr me. An I you," naif choking, "you lie too wheu " "It is n e'.ess to arg (ays coldly, the blood mount ug hotly to his forehea i at Cyril'* i suiting w rds, while his eipreas on grows (tern and im- ps suable : "I waste t me. Yet this lavt word I w 11 ray : lio down to the Cottage tow tb : s moment a id convince yourself of the truth of what I have aaid " He turns angrily away; while Cyril, half ma (with in iignation a d unacknowl- edged fear, follows t u ti al pie e of advice, and almost unconsciously leaving the house, takes the wonted direction, and hardly draws breath until the trim hedges and pretty rustic gate* of the Cottage are in view. The day U showery, threatening since eart lie will never l>e I inuy w nuwcrjr, > - HUK n disappointed in her. And. after all, there Ldawn, and now the ram is falling thickly, is no such great advantage to be derived | though lie heeds it not at all. from boauty. an now (very slowly, I must say) descend- ! other minute's ing the stairs. " > ow here come* a curve, she aays, with a return of aU her old sane inees : " please do not drop me. " " I have half a mind to," laughing. " Suppose, now, I let you fall cleverly over these banisters on the stone flooring beneath, I thould save niytelf from m%ny a llout nnd many a scornful speech, and ml myself for- ever of a troublesome little ward. Leaning her head rather backwards, shi looks up into his face and smiles one of her sweetest, tenderrst smiles. " I am not afraid of you now, (iuardy," ahe murmurs, softly ; whereat his foolish hsart beau madly. The old friendly appel- lation, coming so unexpectedly from her, touches him deeply : it is with dithculty he keeps himself from straining her to his heart ' lull ard-rnom. and pressing his liiw upon the beautiful Quy follows him. childish mouth upheld to him. He has had ' his lesson, however, and refiains. He is still regarding her with unmistak- able admiration, wl.en Mis Beauchamp'* \ -i.n-e from the landing above startles thnm lioth, and makes them feel, though why When people are married lor four or live years, I dare say they quite forget whether the partner of their joys ana sorrows was originally lovely or the re- I verse : custom deadens perception." I "It is better to be good than beautiful," ays Lady Chetwoode, who abhors ugly women : " you know what Carew says, 'Kill -.m ><>tli and it cad f ant mind. Uenllo IhoiiKhUand cnlm dcidre*, lleitrl" with equal love combined. Kindle never dying tire* ; "Vhcre theM are not. 1 dospl** l/ovely check* or Up* or eje> "Well done, Madrs," aays Cynl. " You are coming out. I bad no idea you were so gifted. S uur delivery is perfect." " An I what are you all talking about," continues Lady Chetwoode : "I tbi-k Belle I>amsacene very seet to look al. In spite of her red hair, and a good many freckles, and -and a rather short nose, her ex ores sion is very lovable ; when she smiles I al- ways feel inclined to kiss her. She ii like her mother, who is one of the best women I know." " If you ei cnuragi my n other she will end by telling you Lady Belle is a beauty and a reigning toast," says (iuy, sotto voice. Lady Chetwoode I. ugh*, and Lilian ssys, "What is every one wearing now, Archie?" "Tiers is nobody to wear anything. For the eat, they had al on >oms soft, shiny stuff like the dress you wore the night be- fore last. " " What an acurate memory yon have !" lays Florence, letting her eyes rest on Uuy's for a moment, though addressing Chesney. "Satin," translates Lilian, unmoved. "And their bonnets?" " Oh, ye* ! they all wore bonne U or hats, I don't know which," vaguely. "Naturally; mantillas are not yet in vogue. You are better than 'Le Follet,' Archie ; your answers ar so satisfactory. Did you meet any one we know?" "Hardly any oue. By the by," turning curiously to Sir Guy, " was Trant here to- day ?" "No, 1 surprised: "why do you ask?" "Because 1 met him at Truston this morning. He got out of the train by which I went on, it seems he has been staying with the Bnlstrodes, and I fancied he wa* coming on here, but hail not time toquea- tion him, as I barely caught the train ; an- delay and I should have been late." Archibald rambles on about his near es- cape of being late for the train, while hi* last words sink deep into the minds of (iuy and Cyril The former grows singularly silent ; a depressed expression gains upon his face. Cyril, jn the contrary, becomes feverishly gay, and with his mail observa- tions make merry Lilian laugh heartily. Rut when luncheon is over and they all disperse, a gloom falls upon him : hia features contract ; doubt ami a terrible su-p c.on, .- ugmented by slanderous tiles thai forever aeem to be poured into his e rs, make havoc of the naturally kind expres- sion that characterir.es hi* lace, and with a titled sigh he turm and walks towards the As with laggard steps he draws still near- er the abode of her he love* yet doe* not wholly trust, the sound of voice* smites upon hu ear. He is standing upon the very spot somewhat elevated that overlooks the arbor wbe* so long ago Miss Beau- champ stood and learned hi* acquaintance with Mrs. Arlington. Here now he too stays hi* steps, and faxes spell-bound upon what he *ee* before him. In tht arbor, with hi* back turned to Cyril, is n man, tall, elderly, with an iron- gray moustache. Though not atr'.cily handsome, he ha* a fine and very military bearing, and a figure quite unmistakable to one who know* him . with a sickly chill at his heart. Cyril acknowledges him to be Colonel Trant. Cecilia is beside him. Sb* i* weep- iog bitterly, but quietly, an I with one hand conceal* her face with her ban ikerchief. The other is fast imprisoned in both of Tranl's. A film settle* upon Cyril's eye* a dull hade replaces the gay tinting of her cheeks, " what has happened ? How oddly you look! You, you are in trouble ?" "I am," in a changed harsh tone she scarce ly realizes to be hi*, moving back with a ges- ture of contempt from the extended hands that would s<> gladly have elas|HHl his. "In so far you speak the truth : I have discov- ered all. One lover, it appears, was not suili -lent for you, you should dupe another for your amusement. It i* an old story, but none the less bitter. No, it is useless your spi aking, ' staying her with a passion- ate movement : " I tell you I know all." " All what'" she asks. She has not re- moved from hu her lustrous eyes, though her lips have turned very whit " Your perfidy." "Cyril, explain yourself," she says, in a low, agonized tone, her pallor changing to deep crimson. And to Cyril hateful certain- ty appear" if possible more certain by reason of this luckiest blush. "Ay, you may well change countenance, " he says, with suppressed fury in which keen agony is blended : " have you yt the grace to blush ? As to explanation, I scarcely think you can require it ; yet, as you de- mand it, you shall have it. For weeks I have been hearing of you tale* in ulncn your name and Tram's were always mingl- ed ; but I disregarded them ; I madly abut my ears and was deaf to them ; I would not believe, until it was too late, . until I saw and heard beyond dispute the folly of my faith. I was her* last Friday even- ing '" " Yes ?" calmly, though in her soft eye* a deep well of bitterness has sprung. " Well, you were there, in that arbor" pointing to it" where >'" with a scorn- ful laugh "so often sat ; but then you had a more congenial companion. Trant was I with you. He held your hand, he caressed ; it ; he called you hi* 'darling,' and you al- lowed it, though indeed why should yon not ? doubtless it is a customary word from him to you : And then you wept as though your heart, your h'art "contemptuously ! "would break. Were you confessing to him your coquetry with mi? and perhaps ob- taining an easy forgiveness ?" " No, I was not, quietly though theie i* immeasureable scorn in her tone. "No?" slightingly. " For what, then, were you crying?" " Sir," with the first outward sign of indignation," I refuse to tell you. By yon. My servant tells me it is ** ing of the deepest importance. " " 80 it is. In a'l the world there i* nothing so important to me. ('e.ct*.a," coming a little nearer to her, " it is that I want your forgiveness : I ask your pardon very humbly, and I throw myself upon your mercy. You must forgive me !" " Forgiveness seems easy to yon, who cannot feel," replies she, haughtily, turning as though to leave the room ; but Cyril in- tercepts her, and places hia back against the door. " I cannot let you go until you are friends with me again," he says, in diap agitation. " Friends !" (TO BE CONTINUED. ) TsfB Ml * Oil KFIMVf lr.rrl|.ll..n ef llarallns n.-..r ike *j*st - n Nature. Then at last comes the inundation. "Per- haps there is not in nature a more exhilarat ing sight, or one more strongly exciting to confidence in (iod, than the rue of the Nile. Day by day and night by night its turbid tide sweeps onward majestically over th* parched lands of the waste, howling wilder- ness. Almost hourly, as we slowly ascended it before the Etesian wind, we heard the thundering fall of some mud-band and saw by the rush of all animated nature to th* spot that the Nile had overleapt another obstruction, and that it* bounding wators were diffusing life and joy through another desert. There are few impressions I ever received upon the remembrance of which I dwell with more pleasure than that of seeing the first burst of the Nil* into one of the great channel* of it* annual overflow. All nature shouts for joy. The men, the children, the buffaloes, gambol in its re- freshing waters, the broad waves sparkle with shuals of fish, and fowl of every wing flutter over them in clouds. Nor is this jubilee of nature confined to the higher orders of creation. The moment the sand becomes moistened by the approach of th* ferlili/.iog water* it i* literally alive with insects innumerable. It is impossible to stand by tho aide of one of these noble streams, to see it every moment sweeping away some obstruction to its majestic course and widening as it (lows, without feeling the heart to expand with love and joy and felt myself bound to answer .ny inquiry of your, but no now. e tie between us. a , frail one as it seems to me is broken ; r , engagement i, at an end : I shall not answer '"Because you dare not." retort, he. fi*r~ the inundation, as Oabora hows in another place," exhibit themselves in a ictne of fertility and beauty such as will scarcely be fouu s satisfy your curiosity. But recollect, sir, these are indeed the final words that shall paas between us. " A year ago Colonel Trant no far great- ly honored me as to ask me to marry him ; for many reason* I then refused. Twice famines* overpowers him, involuntarily h* , jnc . , c i, n . ^ chetwoode he ha* been to _i ._ i 1 _.... k_ ir...k nf . ..* I . they scarcely know, partners in guilt. There is a metallic ring in it that strikes upon the ear, and suggests all sorts of lady- hk>- disgust and condemnation. " 1 AIII sure, i iiiy, if Lilian's foot be a* bail as she says it is, she would feel more triable lying on a sofa. Ars you going to pose there all the evening for the benefit of Ihe servants? I think it is hardly good taate of you to keep her in your arms upon ttiu public staircase, whatever you may do in uuvale." The last wmiii are uttered in a rather lowered tone, but are still distinctly and- il>)< Lilian blushes a slow and painful red, and Mir Guy, giving way to a naughty word that ia also distinctly audible, carries her down instantly to the dining-rom. ( IIAPIKK VXII. '<*! Uiinx- turn sourest tif ilicir !- . ijlieoii .'nail far wonte thn weeds. lUl, .SIIAKKMrKAHK. 1 nc next day is dark and lowering, lo Lilio'i i great joy, who. now she U prevented Chetwood*!" Cyril enter* th* door-way, he enters too, and, closing the door toftly, lays his hand upon h a snoul der. " Yo-i heard Cyril?" he say*, with ex- ceeding gentleness. H'ard w at?" turning someirhat savagely upon him. " My d ar fellow,' affectionate, entreaty in his tone, " do not be offended with me. Will you not li*len,Cyril ? It i* very pain- ful for me t > *pe >k, but how can I ee my l.r (her so so sham-dully taken in, without uttering a word of warning." " If you were less tragic and a little mire explicit it might help matters," replies Cyril, with n sneer and a short unpleasant laugh. " Do speak plainly." " I will, then," desperately, " Since you desire it. There is more between Trant and Mrs. Arlington than we know of. I do not up ak wilho.it knowledge. From several different source* I have heard tin same story, of hi* infatuation f<> some woman, and of his having taken a house for her in some remote spot. N names were mentioned, mind ; but, from what I have unwillingly lisinued to, it impossible m>t i" mined these evil whisper that ar* afloat with him and her. Wh; does he come so often to the nuighhorhooi mid yet never dare to present himself a places one hand upon the trunk of a near elm to steady himself; yet through the semi larknesi, the strange, unreal feeling that possess*, him, the voions still reach him cruelly distinct. "l)o not grieve so terribly : it breaks my )eartlo*ee you, darling, darling," says Trant, in alow, impassioned tons, and ra s- ing the hand he holds, pr*srs his lips to it tenderly. The slender wh te fingers tremble perceptibly under the care**, and then Cecilia eayi, in a voice hardly audible through her tears, "1 am so unhappy ' it u all my fault: knowing you loved me, I should have told you before of " I'.ut her voice breaks the spell : Cyril, as it mcet.< his ear*, rouses himself with a tart. Not once a. *in doe* he even gls nee in her direction, but with a matte e I curse at his own folly, tur s and goes sw flly homewards . A very frenty of despair and disappoint- ment rages within him : to havs so loved, to be so foully betrayed ! Her tear*, her sorrow (connected noclonbt with* me early passages between her and Trent) because of lieir very poignancy only render him the more furious. On reaching Chetwoode he shut* himself nto his own room, and leijrmng an excuse, ;e*ps hin.self apart from ths rest of the ousehold all the remainder of the evening nd ths night. Knowing you loved me, ' the words ring in his ears. Ay, she knew t who should know It better ? but had carefully kept back all mention of the fact when pressed hy him. Cyril, upon the sub- eel. All the world knew what he, poor . had been the last to discover. And what was it her tender conscience was ac- using her of not having told Trant before ? of her flirtation, as no doubi she mildly ermed all the tender looks and speeches, and clinging kisses, and loving protestations ... freely bestowed upon Cyril, of her lirtation, no doubt. The next morning, after a slecpleas night, le starts for London, and there spends three recklea* miserable days that leave him wan and aged through reason of the oomlict B is waging wi.h himself. After liich a mad doeire to see again the cause of all hi* misery, to openly accuse ier of her treachery, to declare to her all the irreparable mischief she has done, the utter ruin she has made of his life, seis.es bold upon him, and leaving ths great oity, and reaching Trusto- he goes straight from the station to the cuiisge once so dear. In her garden Cecilia is tan<'<(> all alone. The wind is sighing plaint iv-, ">ugh the trees that arch above her head, . . thousand lying leaves are fluttering to her feet. There is a sense of decay and melancholy in all around that harmoni/.es exquisitely v. ,1 th* dejection of her whole manner. Her at- titude i* sad and drooping, h*r air depress- ed; there are learn, am! an anxious expectant look in her gray eyes. rming for her lover, no doubt," says Cyril, between his teeth (:n which supposi tion he i* right); and then he opens the gate and goes quickly up to her. A* she hears the well known click of th* latch ahe turns, and, seeing him, lets fall unheeded to the ground the basket she ia holding, and runs to him with aye* alight, and soft cheeks tinged with a lovely gener- ous pink, and holds out her hands to him with a little low glad cry. " At last, truant I" she exolaims, joy- fully ; " after three whole long, long days ; and what ha* kept you from me ? W hy, L'j-ril, Cyril I" recoiling, while a dull ashen posal I tol me, once to bring me law papers of tome importance, and last Friday to again aak me to be his wife. Again I refused. I wept then, beca<ise, unworthy as I am, I knew I was giving pain to the truest and, as I now know," with a faint trembling in her voice, quickly nubdued " the only friend I have ' When declining this pro- ,1, I gave him my reason for doing so ' told him 1 loved another ! That other was you !" Casting this terrible revenge in his teeth, sho turns, aud, walking majelaically into the house, close* the door witli significant haste behind her. This is the one solitary instance of in- hospitality shown by Cecilia in all her life. Never until now was she known to shut her door in the face of trouble. And surely Cyril's trouble at this moment i* sore and needy. To disbelieve Cecilia when face to face with her is impossible. Hsr eye* are truth itself. Her whole manner, so replete with dignity aud offended pride, declare* her iniic c-nt. Cyril stands just where she had left him, in slunned silence, for at least a quarter of an hour repelling lo himself tait- erably all thai she had said, and reminding himself with ..old-blooded cruelty of all he has said to her. At the end of ihe*e awful fifteen minutes, he bethinks himself his hair must now, if ever, be turned gray ; and then, a happier aud more resolute thought striking him, he takes his|coorago in his two hands, and walk- ing boldly up to the hall door, knocks and demands admittance with really admirable composure. Abominable composure ! think* Cecilia, who, in ipite of her stern determi- nation never to know him again, has been watching him covertly from behind a hand- kerchief and a bedroom curtain all this time, and is now stationed at the top of the stair ase, with dim eye*, but very acute ear*. " Y*a," Kate tell* him, " her mistress" is t home" and forthwith shows him into the bijou drj wing room. After which she de ;>arts lo tell her mistress of hi* arrival. Three minutes, that to Cyril'* excited fancy lengthen themselves into twenty, pass away slowly, and then Kate returns. the stronger to the land of Ham. There is considerable sameness in them, it is true, for he would obeerv* little rariety in th* tree* and plants, whether he first entered Egypt l>y the garden* of Alexandria or the plain ef Assouan. Yet it is the same every- where only because it would be impossible to make any addition to the sweetness of the odors, the brilliancy of the colors, or ths exquisite beauty of the many forms of vegetable lit*, in the midst of which h* wander*. It is monotonous, but it i* th* monotony of Paradise The flood reaches ( 'airo on a day closely approximating to that of the summer solstice. It attains it* great- est height and begins to decline near the autumnal equinox. By th* winter solstice the Nile has sgain subsided within it* banks and resumed it* blue color. Seed-time ha* occurred in this interval. The year in Kgypt divide* itself into three seasons four months of sowing and growth, corre- sponding nearly with our November, De- cember, January and February, four months 01 harvest, from March to June, the four months of the inundation completing the cycle." rire Leeaea. Som* interesting information regarding <* losses appears in th* provincial report W insurance. The figures given ar* for M'H. They show that during that year there were I.-J'.IH fires in Ontario, and that the total loas to the insurance companies was *.'IS.'>, 17" Lightning was the most prolific 1 cause of fires, and gave rise to -J6M. Next in order oomes incendisrism, which caused ninety-eight. Defective chimneys and chimuey sparks started respectively seventy- six and sixty-live tires. The business done by the insurance companies in Toronto must have yielded a profitable return, for the losses in thiscity aggregated S'JJ.STB, where- a* Hamilton experienced losses to tho ex- tent of <!'.>,. M4. Magdalen College, Otford, has its maga- zine. It is called the Spirit Lamp. Lord Douglas edits it.sud amongst its recent oon- tribulor* occur th* names of Oscar Wilde and John Addington Symonda. An adjustable thimble company has re- cently been registered. By a very simple crew contrivance the thimble can be alter- ed in size to adapt it to the sewer'* tin- Sea- fowls' eggs have one remarkable pecul- .._ , larity they are nearly conical in form; Her mistress's compliments, and sh* hits bro*d at the base and sharp at the point, a terrible headache, and will Mr. Chstwoode so that they will only roll in a circle. Th-y are sometimes lsi.1 on the bare edges of high rocks, from which they would al* so kind as to excuse her ?" Mr. Chetwoodo on this occasion i* not kind. " He is sorry," he stammers, "but if Mis. Arlington could let him tee her for Bve minutes, he would not detain her long- er. He has something of the utmost im- portance to say to her. ' His manner is no earnest, so pleading, that Kate, who scents at least a death in the itir, retire* full of compassion for the " pore gentleman. " And then another three minutes, that now to the agitated listener appear like forty, drag them- selves into the past. suspense is growing intolerable, when a well-known step m the hall outside makes his h*brt beat almost to suffocation. The door is opened slowly and Mrs. Arlington comes in. " You have something to say to me ?" the asks, curtly, unkindly, standing just inside the door, and betraying an evident deter- mination not to lit down for any considera- tion upon earth. Her manner is uncnm- promising and forbidding, but her eyes are very red. There is rich consolation in tint discovery. " I have," replies Cyril, openly confused now it has come to tho point. " Say it, then. I am heru to listen to most surely roll off save for this happy pro- vision of Nature. There M probably not a ten-year-old child in the world who has not more or less acquaintance with the song, "The Man in the Moon is Looking," and who has not a hazy idea that there is actually some kind of a man with a bundle of sticks on his hack gazing down on him from the world's satellite. But there are few indeed who imagine that the man up aloft has a partner. If a correspondent who signs him- self " Amateur " ia to be believed this, how- ever, is th* case. That gentleman writes : " I may state that a decidely handsome feminine face appears on our satellite nine or ten days after new moon. The face Ivoks east* ani and can be readily detected with tho aid of an opera glasa. It is formed by the mountains and valleys occupying the western portion of the moon's duo. The illuminated peaks of some of the . Juar mountain* can be seen at the sane time standing out distinctly on the elg of th* dark surface, th* whole presenting a be tuti- fill and interesting spectacle. This la.-'.y ia tho moon has long been observed by as- tronom*r*. "