The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

KERSHAM MANOR. CHAI'TKK XXIX. iCosriNi to). ' What a fool I am !" *h* exclaimed. " A* if It mattered a aorap to me what other people did ! If the world is so miser- able for them, let us get as much pleasure oat of it a* possible for ourselves. Isn't that, the true philosophy * Where wa* I in say story ? Oh, 1 told you that my grand- mother died. I stayed on in the room which we had shared, and it was there that one day my father found me. He wat not quite a stranger to me. I bad seen him at Wood* bury now and then, but I thought that he wa* dcjd. He came in one evening when I was then alone ; he cam* In a state which I won't describe. I wonder that I escaped With my life. It wa* the beginning of an attack of delirium iremena. Well, I helped to nurse him through that ; and then we agreed to take up oar abode together. I got a theatrical engagement in Manchester For a time, and we drifted about the coun- try, first with one company and then with another, steering clear of London I hate London ' until we got stranded here. And her* ws have been for the last three yean er more. I'm four-and- twenty, and 1 dare ay I shall live for fifty yean to come." inexpressible weariness marked her words. " You mean to stay hare at present ?" 1'hillis's eye* grew sullen. " I don't k..o*. I've got good work, and I meant to ttay at long at I could. But " She mad* a long pause. " I hi pa you will ttay," said Esther. " I am living in Djuroir, and I want to see more of you." " Do you v ' the girl said, rather oddly. Ah well, it's not very likely." "Not likely that I (hall see more ot you?" Phillis fl uh- d round at her. " You have heard my history ; do you think I am a fit companion for you ?" "Why notV "I have '.old you where 1 lived and how I worked and (Carved. Yon don't half understand. It was a low, vile street, a miserable wretched house ; I met low, vile people and got used to them. 1 have aa*n all kin Is of misery and wick- edness, and you have (wen living in com- fort and luxury ; you don't know what it it to be poor. I know what being poor really means : it means being wicked." " Phillis, there it no tin in being poor. And there are plenty of other tornpws in the world ; 1 have had my share of that. And even I I am not rich," said Ksther with the glimmer of a smile. There was a moment's tilence, in which there came the sound of a single knock at the outer door. I'hillii jumped up. Ksther also rote at if to go. " Don't go," said Phillit abruptly. "I'm Just going to make a cap of tea. IJnle** you think it too dreadful to come Into the kitchen-" "I like kitchens ' " Because you've not had much to do With them, I suppose. I should like you to have a cop of tea before you go. Father's out. You need not be afraid of meeting him. 11 The single knock sounded once again " I must go to the door. Wait one minute, pleat* 1 know who it it." And I'liillis hastened away, while Ksther tat down again. Th* door WA* left open, and the could not help hearing whtt followed. "Oh, it's you, is it ?" So I'hillis addressed some person unseen, in her abrupt way. "What Lave you come for, I should like to know?" A small infantile voice made answer. "It's maist five o'clock." Then oame a funny little giggle of delighted laughter. "Hut I've got a lady here, a visitor. What will you do?" "I'll no luik at her." "But (he'll look at you." Then there was a little silence, and bother hesrd the sound of a closing door, and of several kisses. "Come in then," said I'hillis's voice, in a much softer key. What I I'm to carry you? Jump up! Ksther caught a glimpse of her as she passed the half-opened door, with a child | only with Phil, and would not b*put dawn even when Esther moved toward the door, I'hillis cime with her -the child still in her arms. "When will you come to ace me ?" Phil wa* silenl ; the shadowt deepened in her eyes. "You will come toon ?" "No." "Why not? Dear Phil, do come. I want you." I'hillis stood silent, pressing the scarred cheek of the child close to her own. SK< seemed irresolute. "I am of ten lonely," laid Either. "I have not many friendt iu Dunroat,. It will do me good if you will come sometime*." It wa* the right argument to use with Phillis. But the wa* not conquered yet. "Why," the said abruptly, "why didn't you tpeak, to me in the office, in- stead of waiting till I went into the street ?" " I did not know yon. Phil !" " You were looking at me all the time. It was that that put me into such a rage. I knew yon ; I saw yon as toon as ever you came into tii room. Yon were ashamed to speak to me." "No, no, indeed. I wat puzxled that was all. I knew your face, and could not remember whoee it was until your name wee spoken at ter war>1. Then I knew." Phil shook her head. " That wasn't it, the laid determinedly. " You knew me and you wouldn't speak. You were asham- ed." " Phil, you know you an wrong." " Would you walk down the High Street with me if I ask il you T" " Of course I would." " And if any of your flee friends spoke to you, wouldn't yon feel athamed of me ?'' with dangerous lighting of her eye*. " Not one bit. Why thould f ?" " You wouldn't explain to them after ward that I was a a poor girl, a young person that you wanted to b* kind to, not a friend of your own choice, of course Kitaar laughed, but was indignant. " Phillit, how can you be so silly ? Of course I should not." " I don't believe you," laid Phillit ; lint some day I'll try you and Me whether you speak the truth. Good-afternoon, Mis* lienisob. ' Her word* breathed suspicion and defiance but her eyes were soft a* they rested or. her visitor from behind th* shelter of poor lisVnie's spoiled, scarred face. CHAPTER XXX. There had not been a word about Jack Drunimond. It Wa* just a* well, thought Ksther. At some other time) she could get to know what Philis thought of him. she remembered with sudden shrinking he word* that Phillis had said about some on*, some man, who wanted to give her all *he wanted " if she would run away with him." Could it be Mr. l'rummnd of whom she spoke? He oame to her in her little room at th- office one day a* the sat writing, and care- fully cloeed the doer behind him. 4 So you have been to **e her ?" he be- "Yea. Did she tell you ?" Drummood nodded. " She wat pleased by your coming." " 1 should hardly hav* thought it." " Oh, it is Phil's way to be disilaintul. You won't be discouraged by tha> ' It all comes of her soreness of heart, poor child That father of hers is a heavy harden to bear. Did yon tee Beenie ?" Yet," Beenie com** from the flu below. Her mother ha* six strong, healthy boyt anil girls, who all torment and tease that little one. She creep* up to I'mllis every day for protection and petting." It i* vory difficult to understand her," aid Either, speaking of Philli*. "She is of six or seven in her arms. The little face at once w hard and so *oft hidden on her shoulder. The two went Into the kitchen, and father was left alone; bat in a few minutes Phillis returned with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of "oo'ikie*" iu theother. "I won't trouble you to come into thn kitchen," she said indifferently. "There's a wretched little brtt there who come* to warm herself at the fire sometimes, and to ask for what they call in this part of the world 'a jelly-piece.' Do you like Sot- A few trivial questions and answers fol- lowed, and then Kither thought it lie* to go. At *h* left the room, she could not but uotio* that th* kitrhen dour was wide open, and the had a good view of a fair haired little girl, who was silling on a wooden chair, with a piece of bread and jam iu her hand, swinging her bar* feet idly to and Iro. " What a pntty child 1" *aid Ksther Im- pulsively. Phillit looked at her. " Yes, from this point of view," the said dryly.. Then she laid her hand on Esther's wrist. " Com* her* for a moment, lieenie.the lady want* to say good-day to you. ' Ksther followed at desired, into th" kitchen. Reenie, looked up and smiled. Then Esth- er saw that one side of her face wa* ter- ribly disfigured teamed and scarred, and of a strangely lif idly-purple hue. Theother title, which Esther had seen first, wat deli- oat* and beautiful. "Scalded," said Phillit in an undertone. "Marked for life, and lamed too. Her methnr did it. Well, Beenie, do you want another 'piece'?" Little Beenie scrambled down from her chtirand ran to her friend. Phi His wa* euliged to ait down and let the child climb on her knee and pat her arm* round her neck. "Want some more bread?" said Phil lightly. "Na." What do you want then V A kits." I'hillis Itughed, and threw a half-thy "She is not hard," saidJack decisively. "No the it not hard. You will un l-r ttand her better by-aud-by, though I con- fess she is incomprehensible except to people who love her " Then he blushed, and gave Esther s guilty look, as if to *ee whether he had betiayed himself. He went on hurriedly. " Shall 1 tell you how I got to know her? - I wa* walking through the Norgate one day it it the lowest part of th* town when I aaw a crowd of people before me and heard the nois* of ihout* and crie*. There was a fight between two women and on* of them had a child in her arms ; fancy the child's plight ! There wat a ring of people round them, but nobody wat inter- fering ; and ef course no policeman wat in tight. 1 confeat 1 don't know whether I thuuld have interfered or not ; it it a ritky matter lo throw one's *elf between two disputants, Miss D*niton. But there was someone who did not stop to consider that point. I taw to my horror, a girl make her way retolutely through the crowd and actu- ally throw herself between those two vira- goes and tnaUih the child out of the woman 's ar-in. It wat the pluckiett thing I ever taw, and I believe it saved the .-Mid's life. She got a bad knock or two before any one ooold protect her; she wa* considerably buttled and jostled, tnd would have been more to, perliap*, if I had not pushed through the or 'Wd to her tide) but the itopneil the fight. "It was very like her,'' said Esther warmly. "Hear the end," laid .lack, laughing. " She marched off with the baby m her arms, and would not give it op to anybody. The mother purtued her with a good deal of bad language, and wanted to get the child back ; ana what do you think Mist Phil did ? ' Yon'r* not fit to touch it,' the aid, facing round upon the woman with that indignant white face of hen, 'you will kill it if you take it now . Come for it when you are sober. ' And then sho gave her aadrena and coolly walked away. I went with her, for I wa* afraid lint ihe glance at Kslher. But she was not able, j would be hurt ; the Norgate folk are rather seemingly, to resist thn clasp of those tiny rongh, yon know; but to my surprise the arms. She pressed I.er lipn to the oft ' woman seemed quite oowed, and only cheeks and kisisd it time after time. All followed humbly at a distance " the hardneis hud passed out of her face, I " An 1 did I'm! ive her the luliy ? ' aid the sa, due. n from her eyen. She laugh- j " In sn liour's time. "said .Jack, laughing td ami ]>' iyi''l with the child for a moment again. "Tl.o mother had lo wait on the or two u-iili a whimsical teasing teiiiirrnciii. staini while Misn I'hiHn f<l U,'> baby and : ::ily likethe Phil that washed it, and fell all the lirola t<> HOC, K.ther had known of old. But when the j whether they were all right MI.) kissed it tranger spoke, Beenie hid her face and ami tried over it, I believe," .lack added, i not look round. She wat at home hit face rrf'.eoing, " (.bough I could nut swear to that ; bat I extracted the othir detail from her af'rward. Then she brought the child out to it* mother 1 wat there u the stairs listening out of curiotity nd <he gave the woman the most tremendous rating you can imagine about her duty to her child." " Mies D*ni*on,if you know her you will toon learn to love her. It wa* the end of .Ian*, and the summer sunlight wa* pouring down on the stone- built town, the broad glancing river, the dittant purple hills, with a radiance which was positively exhilarating. Either found her friend behaving like a school-girl. " I am having a party," she said. " Yon mustn't Interfere with my guests." She had suddenly dropped all formality, and looked just like the nischievou* Phil with whom Ksther had played at Woodbury. " I'm Punch, I'm Punch'* wife, and the policeman and the undertaker and the dog. Will you sit down and aee me act?" And without waiting for an answer, she caught up a red table-cloth which had been serving her as a cloak, and dashed into a wild extravagant version of Mr. Punch's adventures, taking firm one character and then another, imitating the cries of various annuals, speak- ing in different voice*, singing and gesticu- lating by turns, in a way that seemed mar- vellous to Esther, and made her laugh almo*t as unrestrainedly a* the children themselves, Suddenly Phil stopped, panting. "That'* the first, act : now for the second. Follow me ! Thni way, audience." She caught up Beenie in her arms and ran out of the rr.om. Ksther found her ascending a flight of narrow steps, which led to an opening in th* roof. Half in wonder, half in alarm, she followed, leadn g the boy-visitor by the hand. Phillit had led the way to th* roof, which wat fiat and surrounded by a balustrade. The leadt were grimy; bnt Either did not mind the gr-minest; *he took little beeuie from I'hillis's arm and asked with a mile what was to be done next. "A performance on the house-tops ! Don't I act well ' ' said Phillis. "If old Macatister hail seen me just now, he would have promised to make my fortune. But I did still better the other day when 1 wen. to Miss Denison's house didn't I Beenie ? I acted the young lady ; the well behaved young lady who had never been near a music-hall nor heard of break -downs and ballet girls I Ami Mils Denison can tell you whether I acted it well or not " She had tied a red and yellow handker chief fan'.aitically about her head, and be- gan In dance as she talked. Presently she bummed a tune and twirled round ami round. Knher noticed that she was quit* visible from the n*ighborin*< houses and even from the streets, and that people wen beginning to raise their heads and ' 'o her from below. "Phillis !" she cried. '! hillis, you must Itave off dancing. This it not the proper place for a dance; people can see you " " I'm used to that," said Phil. "They see every night st the theater. I like to to looked at. I often come up here and dance, " she laughed. " But if yea don't ike it, I'll do something else." And to father* horror, she sprang up on the stone jajustrac", aod tripped round it, holding ler dress r~^c and pirouetting on her toe* at ih* went A false step and the would have fallen ji;ty feet to the granite ttonet below. Persons stopped in the street and pointed to her ; she was too far up to be recognisable, but it was plain that she was In danger. One or two made for the door of the house in which she lived. " There, that will do. said I hillit. "Have I frightened you ? Oh, what white cheeks I The people in the streit think that I am a lunatic ; isn't that fanny, Beenie ? Come, I'll carry you down the steps." She insisted on preceding Ksther. By the lime Esther hid reached the sitting- room, she found I'hillii without her fantas- tic head-dress, and with a peculiarly de- mure expression of countenance, auuring mi inquirer st the door that nobody wa* welkin; on the roof, tnd that he must be subject lo optical delusions. "Phil, dear ! you should not do these things ! " "Shouldn't 1 ? But it is such a relief to one's fte'ings to be wild sometimes. Now, yon little kiddus. you can go home. Good by. I'll give you aoookie and some sweet- ies, and put you oat at the door. Take care of each other and don't tumble down- stairs. (TO KIM\T1 M Ell) on *>r Tk An ef CeBvertatleti M* Lesupr Under i,t In snuiltok n.M-in,. Anot her thing which has gone out of fash ion is the art of conversation, aay* th* Pall Mall Gazette. It hat of late yean been so neglected that it is the rarest chance to meet with a young man who can converse at all in the real sense of the word. Among hi* own set h* can babble about mutual ac- quaintances, the new linger, the next race or the last scandal. But throw him imong stranger* and he is silent and dull, perhaps making short remarks in a jerky and con- fused manner, but certainly betraying no intelligent interest if a new discovery be mentioned, a piece of important political news told or some information given about a subject of real value. As a consequence he is not only bored, bat he show* it, beaause he has never cultivated thai polite interest in hit fellow creatures which would enable him to respond sympathetically. One of the old French noblesse wai lately beard to re- mark thai when he first went into society his father used to irapree* upon his mind that at a party he was bound to Insun it* success so far at he was individually con* ei ued. To make himself agreeable was a duty not to be neglected without a grave breach of courtesy, both to the guest* and the friendt *ho invited him. In a modern gathering no such antuiuated sentiment would find a disciple. Young people, if they do not meet some one to flirt with, will ostentatiously proclaim their boredom, and would stare in astonishment if it were suggested thai at the friend's house it was the duly toward the honless to pay atten- tion to those who seemed neglected, or f ho found thiinneKoa among strangers. To hint that old ladies and ugly girls should have a little, share of consideration would be to suljfict. one's self to the charge of being old-fashioned. A. H. Myers, of Hanover, I'a. , lost both his liand.t in an accident yni i ago. H was recently married, and s^ne.l his marriage oertifioate witn a pen held m his testh. His uonin iinhip is fine. PHANTOM OF THE PLAINS, Wdrd Ezperieno* of a Cavalry Troop on th* Staked Plains- Tke Cry as er a Lesl ad i>> lax w.uian Wklek Set Me* an* **> la ttki n^ wllk Fear- A rialeasi aket Us* Ike rarrlMy Laying a aprrter Aa ' l-i 1 Ini- lra,llfli>u ef Ike l>. <-rl *>, onil Ike Pecee salver A* we leave the Pecos river and journey northward toward the gnat sand hills ot the staked plains our Indian scouts aiid guide* look about them as if expecting to tee an enemy at any moment, and a* the summer day draws to a alosa we notice them whispering together and exhibiting signs of uneasiness. They are speaking of the phantom of the desert. Krou: the year 1888 lo that of 1873 strange tales wtre told at the frontier posts and around tlie camp- tire* regarding thai phantom. Hunters, soldiers, and Indiaus believed then, and hunters and Indians were driven away from the headwaters of the Concha river by their fear* of something they had never seen. We make oar camp amid the sands sand* so dry and deep that they would absorb the waters of the Mississippi and scarcely feel damp to Ihe touch. The cactus, the rattle- snake, the vulture, and the sands '. Noth- ing else, unless it he the bones oar hones' feet throw to the surface a* they dig for .ter to cool their tongue*. The rosy hue* dis oot of Ihe wett and evening come*. Kvening finally give* place to solemn night. It is a starlight night, bul a mitt rise* from the sands to make the stars look small and pale and far away. There are no tents, no fires. At 10 o'clock nearly all the command are asleep. The deepen are lying as I saw the dead lie when awaiting burial at Gettysburg. Each face i* uncov- ered and upturned to Ihe night, and you feel a chill as you look al them. You k.iow they sleep and yet fear they are dead a camp of dead men on desolate tad accursed ground. The men are hardly asleep before th* bone* become quiet. Some lie down to sleep and sigh ; other* remain on their feet, and weave to and fro, and arouse themselves at intervals to look abont in a dazed, queer way. Lonelineas and night and desolation affect a hone as much a* a man. He cannot sleep and for- get the situation as hi* rider can. Only the sentinels are alert now. The Indians an at peace with is, and no danger need be feared, but they have heard of th* del- art phantom and an nervous and wakeful. Eleven o'clock, and all is quiet. But for the faint oraunch of Ihe f outsteps of the sentinels it would be thettillueasof a tomb. On the plain* yon will hear an occasional cry from *ome night bird, the howl of the coyote, the ehirp of the uricKet*. Here i* blankne** darkness nilenoe so deep that you an afraid of it. Till LONG WAII. AT MID.MOHT. Midnight, and the sergeant of th* guard i* about lo arouse the relief guard and inarch them out when a (Iran ge, weird sound come* to hi* ears from the north. It is the cry of a human being of a woman such a cry a* a woman might utter at the totterod abcut and tunk down to die of hanger and thint. It is the cry of the phantom. It hat been heard a hundred time* before, and no man hat ever smiled in contempt al the sound. " The phsotom ! The phantom ! The phantom!" So whisper the three sentinels on thai side of the camp as they desert their posts and hasten in. Fools ! Cowards ' Oet back or I will report you !'' answers tlie sergeant, but they move timidly and look to the right and left. Now comes the cry from the east tide of the camp not a shriek nor a scream but a long-drawn, quavering cry, full of anguish and desolation. Was it fancy? Then why lid every hone on the ground le.ip to his feet and point his ears at the first cry? Was it the cry of some lost and confused vultun Hying heavily over camp a* it searched for the flock ? If so why did the second cry arouse every sleeping man and cause him to turn hi* face to the east men who would have slept on amid the howling of wolves? " What it it, sergeant T" " The phantom of the <le*ert, sir !" The officer had heard the legend* many times, but smiled in pity on those who re- lated them. An otfioer of the regular army a believer in phantom* ! A troop of regular cavalry, meet of the men in service tor a doxen yean, panic-stricken because of a cry from the darkness beyond ! "Sergeant, give roe the name* of ihoee men who deeerted their posts and I'll " Th* cry oame again this time from the west a cry in which t here were more anguish and desolation than before. It quavered on the night air for ten long seconds and when it ceased every man's heart was beating so he could hear the sound. Many of the horse* stamped and snorted, and th* men crowded together and reached for their carbine*. Four partie* of three men each were pushed out into the darkneis, and candles were lighted and men ordered to *bout a welcome lo the poor wanderer. Till UaflT or Tilt. riUXTOM. Afler an interval of five minute* we heard the cry again, but it wa* farther away t'lis lime and we thought it had changed, t u. There wa* a note ol anger and di*appi>m> m. oil in u. A long ten minute* paa* i away, and then we got the cry 'or the last time a wailing, petulant cry which might b* uttered by a tired and py cli Id. Men and hone* slept agin, liut wi'h a scrt of nigh. mare upon them. A hen day- light came we scoured the de<... signs and found them in plenty thr < oipviuts of naked feet all about our r i.n[i. Some aid they were those of a woman, but all wen mystified. The phantom of the deeert had rnme and gone come from uo one oouM i iv when vanished in what direc- tion i could not say. We were yet stoop- ing over the footprints when they seemed In melt away in the sand. One night a year later that wild, weird cry aroused a camp of soldier* alnnwt on the na-ne upot. The Indians had l>ecome hostile again, and thinking it thn signkl for an Attack the sentinel fired into lie da> kness. Tha cry was not repeated, but in place of it came a scream of pain and tenor. Nothing was found next morning, but n day or two later still another party came across a dead body on Ihe (and*. They did not rid* clo** enough to disturb tlie vultures. Soiii'! laid it was the body of a woman clothed in rag*, with tangled hair falling to the knees ; soot* thought it that of a daaertar who had be- come a wandering lunatic. From that tine on the phantom ot the desert ha* not been heard of. Th* soldier's bullet sent throegh the darknees had found it* life. AH All *m II YACHT. A I rrorbru.n t xprrlnrnllax With Taal rial. Yachtsmen in this country are watching with considerable interest the career of the yacht Vedeneue, built for Count Chaban- nes, and launched at St. Denis, France, on Doc. 6. The yacht is built of aluminum, and it is a matter of opinion Just now whether she will be a luco***. This is not the first aluminum yacht that ha* been built, there having been two small steam launches on l.ake Geneva now for two sea- sons, and so far these boats have bean a success. The boat, though, is a small one, and the steam launch is not likely to prove the hencriis of using alammnm for boat- building. Particular! of the Vedeneate have not reached this country yet, bat tha boat is supposed to be a small sailing craft. An idea ban been put forward that he would be too buoyant, meaning that she would be too lively in a seaway. That is ridiculous. A 40-footr built of aluminum would weigh just the same a* a 40-footer built of *(<!, only that the aluminum boat would hav* more of her weight conoen- t rated in her lad keel, and consequently would carry a larger sail plan. Another thing, Although the yacht launched in France i* the tint tailing ve**el built of aluminum, there are twu (team laiuiche* in use on tha SWUM lake* wholly constructed of that metal. Aluminum will withstand the action of the salt water as well a* Tobin bronze. Tha metal is remarkable for i:<" resistance of oxidation. Any metal that will stand ex- pueure tc damp atmosphere without dis- coloring will not corrode in water. The metal is remarkable for its lightness, and for that reason it ha* b, en thought that using it for the hall of a boat would be an immense advantage. The boat would be so light that ell the ballast would be concen- trated at one point dowu in the keel. Much more lead would have to be put there than on a boat built of wood, iron or steel, and with thit additional lead aiid all the ballast concentrated, the craft would be able t" carry a very large sail spread and, if modeled rightly, the craft should be a very fast lailer. The Vigilant is a lightly constructed boat, with her ballast low down and concentrated. She is able to carry 12,- ) feet of canvas, and everyone know* how fast she can tail Now, if a boat of her size could b* built to put on 13,000 f**t of canvas, it stands U> reason, with the additional driving power, she would go much fatter. . The trouble with aluminum, though, is, that it i* very coetly, and the metal i* very brittle. Without figuring closely, if a boat built of steel cott $80,1x11 , one of aluminum of the same size would cost 9180,000, or thr** time* a* much. Cost i* an important tern in yacht building nowaday*. Yacht- ng it becoming every year more expensive. The metal is so brittle that a sharp blow will break a plate just like plan. It would go badly with an aluminum lioat if it struck a rock or if iu collision. On account oi this brittlene** there would be danger of the plate* breaking under the strain of the spars and the pounding of th* sea. If they can cucceed in putting an allo with it that would make it tougher and mare durable, and at the same time keep it flight then it may be used extensively in yacht building. tews *>r i HIM i. H r. We forgiie just a* long at we lov*. Happiness doe* not consist in thing*, but in thought*. It is but the littleness of man that teeth no greatness in trifles. Time flies, flowers fade, the body die* character alone is immortal. On* is not sufficiently fortifie 1 against a doctrine when only acquainted with it* wtak aide*. It is not *o niich i he being exempt front fkults, a* the h>ving overcome them, that it an advantagn to us. Human nature is to constituted that all see and judge better in the attain of other men than in their own. Mark the man or woman who seeks and seat something good in everybody ; there goes a magnificent soul. The firmest friendships hare been formed in mutual advenitv, a* iron is most strong- ly united by the tiercett flame. Sorrows are often like cloud*, which though blaok when they are passing over us, when they are pact become a* if they were the garment* of God, thrown off in purple and gold along the iky. The beat way to live it to cast away trouble* and contention* which cannot b* cured by fretting. In justice to the re- quirements of the proeent, you should not look back and make yourself wretched over thing* that cannot be undone. MUfortune i* never mournful to th* s<>4 that accept* it, for such do always see that every cloud is an angel's face. Every man deem* thai he has precisely the trial* and temptations which are th* hardest of all afflictions for him to bear ; but they are *o i-iiplv because they are the very one* he iiuot nee'ls. The nvxlest deportment of those who are truly wise when contrasted with the assum- ing a r of the young and ignorant, may be .on iied to tha different appearance of whea'. which, while it* eir i* empty, hold* up iu head proudly, but at toon a* it it fill- eii with grain, bend* modestly. Mr. Felix Ceoffrion, who wat Minister of the Interior in the Mackenzie Government, it dangerously ill. An intelligent cat it a pet in th* hoti >e of Mrs. Mary lirownell, at Wilmington. Del. When the animal desires to be let out of the cellar, it riogs a bell. A colony of five huodrei Italiio grape- growers will soon settle ooar Yu ma, Arizona, ami there bu^n tlie cu'tivation of the win* fruit on a large scale. The liammrl brothers, S imuel and S.mms. of Hickory Fli 1 *. Simpson County, Ky.,aiethe heaviest twins in the United State*. Their aggregate weigbt i* 542 pouudt.