i^ â- "WPifipi^nniHiP hadlMMVWTbHf tkoiforik Skfwm madhrndtti m aMtr parkmsadi albin. She took it H oradloyally and •Uy. Imt„ froqi lMr"oUldhb61' A MORAL JXIQENGT, fi Atfiv««Uoak, that icM i hamm JT ci m Mw u p » 7 M^ .S.'tL.TS •hnys I Mud ah* fire nowâ€" whm th« K«ial dniiM to wfaicli â- he had baan bom a eaii i a d • wu ro a w and • bora to har. They had aeaaad ao tc-d^. She had patiaBtty and ^ithfaUy aawed 19 little laoe bags with divan coUnradvontada, and staSad tham with oandv. She had â- tmng pop-oora, and marked the parcels which had baan ponring in ainoe daybreak from all quartan. She bad taken hw jam- minent part among tiie corpaof iadeCMig- able women alwaya p r eae nt to aaaiat on aoMi oocanona, and kept up her end of the line aa minuter'a danghter bravely. Now, how* ever, the laat of the zaaknu, chattering wo* men ahe had been woriang with l»d butled home, with a pkatant importance in every hitch of her ahawled shooldera, and would not bustle back again nntfl half -natt aiz or â- 0 and the tree, fully bedecked, stood in nnoonsoiona impressiveneaa in the parsonage parlor. Ennioe had come ap atain with the re- solution to dress herself directly for the festive occasion, and to haaten down anin to be in readiness for new exigencies. Her mother was delicate, and had kept her room all day in order to prepare hwself for the evening, her father was inefficient at such times, there was no servant, and the brant of everything came on her. But her resolution gave way ahe wrapped hvrself in an-old plaid shawl and lay down on her bed to rest a few minutes. She did not close her eyes, but lay studying idly the familiar details of the room. It was small, and one side ran in under the eaves for the ^Tsonsge waa a cottitge. There was one window, with a white cotton curtain trim med witii tasselled fringe, and looped up on an old porcelain knob witii a picture paint, -ed on it. That knob, with its tiny bright landscape, had been one of the pretty won- den of Eunice's childhood. She looked at it even now with interest, and the marvel and the beauty of it had not wholly depart- ed for her eyes. The walls of the little room had a soraggly-pattein^d piper on them. The first lustre of it had departed, for that too was one of the associates of Eunica's childhood, but in certain lishts there wa3 a satin sheen and a blue line visible. Blur roses oa a satin ground had be^ the original pattern. It had never been pretty, but Eunice had always had faith in it. Tnere waa aa ancient straw matting ou the floor, a home-made braided rug before the cottage bedstead, and one be- fore the stained pine bureau. There were a few poor attempts at adornment on the walls; a splint letter case, a motto worked in worsteds, a gay print of an eminently proper little girl hcliing a faithful little dog. This last, in its brilliant crudeness, was not a work of art, but Eanice believed in it. She was a conservative creature. Even after her year at the seminary, fo« which money had been scraped together fivie years ago, ste had the same admiring trust m all the revelations of her childhood. Her home, on her return to it, looked as fair to her as it had always done no old ugliness which familiarity had caused to pass unnoticed be- fore gave her a shock of surprise. She lay quietly, her shawl shrugged up over her lacs, so only her steady light bioirn eyes were visible. The room was drearily cold. She never had a fire one in a sleeping-room would have been sinful luxury in the poor minister's family. Even her mother's was only warmed from the sitting-room. In sunny weather Eunice's roSm was cheerful, and its look, if not actually its at- mosphere, would varm one a tittle, for the windows faced south-west. But tday all the light had come through low gray clouds, for it had been threatening snow ever since morning, and the room haid been dismal. A comfcrdess dusk was fast spreading over everything now. Eanica rose at length, thinking that she must either dress herself speedily^ or go down-stairs for a candle. She was a tall, heavily built girl, with large, well-formed feet and hands. She had a full face, and a thick, colorless skin. Her features were coarse, but their combination affected one pleacautly. It waa a staunch, honest face, with a suggestion of obstinacy in it. She looked unhappily at herself in her little square gla^s^ as she brushed out her hair, and arranged it in a smooth twist at the top of her head. It was not becoming, but it was the way she had always done it. She did rot admire the effect herself when the coiffure was complete, neither did she survey her appearance complacently when she had gotten into hex beat brown cashmere dress, with its raffle of starched lace in the neck. But it did not occur to her that any change could be made for the better. It was her best dress, and it was the 'way she did up her hair. She did not like either,^ but the simple facts of them ended the matter for her. After the same fashion she regarded her own lot in life, with a aort ol rasigce j dis- approval. On account of her mother's ill health, she had been incumbered for the laat five yean with the numberless social dutiea to whioh the wife of a poor eoontrv ministur is liable. She had been active in Sanday-ecbool pic- nics and church aooiablea, in miadon banda and neighborhood pmyer-meetinga. She waa a church member, uid a rood girl, bat the nte did not anit her. StOl ahe aoeept* ed it aa inevitable, and woold no more have tboogfat of evading it tiian die would have thought of evadmg life ahosethn. Thace waa abonthw an almoat atnUbom steadfaat- neaa of onward movement that would for- ever keep her in the aame mt, no matter boiw diaagreeaUe it mii^t be, nnkaa aooie inflneaoe ontaida of harm might move kar. When aha laentdoilii alalia ahe faaad her mother aaated baaicto th»aittiM.iooin aloTa. alao attamd in ker baMâ€" a ahi^blMk ailki Iflogin the ahoaMar aaamab the tana oit.tika deevea adorned wi%mitttad Shato qkadiyat Eonioa a faoe aha tiwaght har home^, hQMat.look ;hilM two^ Mr. aw by ten yean; be ad aUMhtar; brt ba bad eindlatly mmij haira^ baaid, ^kon^th^ wan no* qnOa ao gnqft • aom wring tta aame oast of coontaBanra He waa ae ttlBd over a na^bodagiMraBh ha ^ai • iridowar with fear yoong ohildraB hiawiia had died a year before. He had spdten to Mra. Fjirweather on his firat anbranoe, ao he ateppad direcUy to- ward Bnuoe witii eztanded hand. Hia. ministerid aSMiiiir «m ali^ti]r daabed with easbarraaamant^ and hia tiiincheeka were crimson around the roots of his sandy beard. Eonrcs ahook the proffered hand with calm coorteay, and inquinl after his children. She had not a tbenght that hia embanaamisnt betokened anything, if ih* deed she observed it at aU. Her fatiicr stool by with an air of awk- ward readineaa to proceed to action, waiting until the two should cease theinterohaaging of ooo rteaies. When the expected pAsa came he him- self placed a «bur for Mr. Wilson. "Sit down. Brother Wilsm," he sud. nervously, " and I will consult with my daughter con- cerning the matter we wen speaking of. Eunice, I would like to speak a moment with you in the study." ' Certainly, sir," said Eunic ;. She look- ed surprised, but she followed him at once into the study. " Tell me as quickly as you can what it is, father," she said, ' for it is nearly time for people to b^pn coining, and I abah have to attend to them." She had not seated herself, but stood leaning carelesdy against the study wall, questioning her father with her stoady eyes. He ftotfi in his awkward height befon her. He was plainly toembling. " Eunice," he said, in a shaking voice, "Mr. Wilson cameâ€" to say â€" he would like to marry you, my dear danghter." He cleared his throat to hide his embar- rassment. He felt a terrible constnint in speaking to Eanice of such mattera he lookod shamefaoed and distressed. Eonioe eyed him steadily. She did not change color in the least. " I think I would rather remain as I am, father," she eaid quietly. Her father roused himself then. "My dear daughter," he said, with restraihed eagerness, "don't decide this matter too hastily, without giving it all the considetra- tion it deserves. Mr, Wilson is a good mui he would make you a worthy husband and he needs a wife sadly. Think what a wide field of action would be before you with those four little motherless children- to love and care for 1 You would have a wonderful opportunity to do good." " I don't think," said Eunice, bluntly, " that I should care for that sort of an op- portunity." " Then," her father went on, " you will forgive me if I speak plainly, my dear. You â€" ara getting older yon have not bad any other vintors. You would be well provid- ed for in this way â€" " "Exoeedugly well," replied Eunice, slowly. " Ttera would be six hundred a year and a leaky parsonage f o* a man and woman and four childnn, and â€" ^nobody knows how many more." She was almost coarae in her dow indignation, and did not blush at it. "The Lord would ptOTida for His ser- vants." " I don't know whether He would or not. I don't think He srould be under any obliga- tion to if His servant deliberately incumber- ed himself with more of a famuy than he had brains to support." Her father looked so distressed that Eamce's heart smote her for her forcible words. " You don't want to get rid of me, surely, father," she said, in a changed tone. Mr. Fairweather's lipe moved uncertainly as he answerod "No, my dear danghter don't ever let such a thought enter your head. I only â€" Mr. Wilson is a good man, and a woman is best off married, and your mother and I an old. 1 have never lud up anything. Sometimes^ Maybe I don't trust the Lord enough, but I have felt anx- ious about you, if anything happened to me." Tesn were standing in his light blue eyes, which had never been so steady and keen as his daughter's. There came a loud peal of the door-bell. Eunice started. "Theral I must ga," she said. " We'll talk about this another time. Don't worry about it. father dear." " But, Eunice, what shall I say to him 7" " Must something be said to night f* " It would hardly be treating him fairly otherwise." Eunice looked hedtatingly at her father's worn, anxious faoe. " TeU him," she nid at length, " that I will give him hia answer in a week." Her father looked gntlfied. "We will take it to the Lord, my dear.*' Eunice's lip curled onriondy bat ahe said, "Yea. sir." dutifully, and haatened from the room to antnrar the door-bell. The freah beviea that wen couitantiy ar- riving after that engaged her whole atten- tion. She oonld do no more than give a hurried "Oood-avaning" to lir. Wilson when he came to take leave, after a second short confwence with her father in the study. He looked deprecatiiwly hopefuL The poor man waa naUy m • aad case. Six yean afm, when he manied, he had been romantic Jge w oald never be again. He was not thnating for love and ooaunanioa witii a kindred spirit now, b«t for a good, oapabk woman who voold take can S hia four ehunaraaa ehildNB wiOoat a aalaiy. He lefeomed to hia ahabby, dirty parson- age thatniriit, with, it aaamii to Um, qoite a fcaaoMble hope tiwt hia aflUn id^t aoon be ohangad for the bettar. Of Mane he wonld havaprafaored Oat the la^r ahoold have aaid yea dinetiy j it would both have MBorad hm. aad AortsAed Oa tine to whan hia bwdeaa ahoidd be UadManed bat ka eeaUterily tev* •mlar£7:;rhaia daimt^ nnHh. Ha iMaot naOj aae why BoBoe ahonld nteaa hn. 6ki vat Pj^^jwaa ntting oldK; it pnAabiy waa bar flnt^ and vary likely har £C«hnoe of ~* He was a nlargjiwa la oeod â- d aha waald bqI iumt^Sm alabraia, htf4 ooaAiBttioii of batthate.waaaflied No wife^lMid|»«rj doUan eaa tor tnj BSa eoonl iiWrfL ife St? «?E*i!^ Be ti^Lwd for pie n i b fareort idhidhakMjni|ot/lli« mind foat at tut modfiut. ^^ Ihe .Mty eenpaw had att ^pirt^ tba Um atood dbmantled in the parior, Md ahe waa pimaring for bad. «iA her heal fall, net of ion, bat another man. Standing bafwe her glaas oombinr oat her rather aoanty, hiatnless hair, bar fancy piotared to her, beaide her own Iwaidy, Mbar faoe, apother, a man'a, blonde anl handaome, with a gentle, almoit womaniah smOe on the faU red Itpa. and • daigeroua aoftneas in the blue eyea. Coald a third person have aeen tiie doable piotan aa she did, he would have been straok with a sense of the inoongruity, almost absurdity, of it. Eunice heraetf srith her hard, uneomprMUs- ing common-sense, took the attitude of a ^rd penon in regard to it, and blew her lig^t oat at length, aad abut it oat, with a Intter amusemant in her heart at her own foUy. Then had been preaent that evening a young man who waa oompar^tively areoent acqnidtion to the viUage aociety. Be had been in tosm about three month a. Bis father, two yean before, had purchased one of the laigeat f arma in the vioinity, moving then from an adjoining State. This son had been absent at the tune he was nport- ed to be mnnuu; a cattle ranch in one of thoee distant Tritoriea whioh aeem almost fabulous to New Engfandera. Since he had come home he had been the cynoeure of the village. Be was tiurky and a little over, but he was dngularly boyish in hia ways, and took part m all the town f roUoa with gusto. Be was popularly supposed to be engaged to Ada Harris, Sqnin Barria's daughter, as she waa often oalled. Ber father was the prominent man of the village, lived in the best hons^, and had the loudest voice in public matters. Be waa a lawyer, witii rather mon pomposity than abiuty, perhaps, bat then had alwaya been money and influence in the Harris f^ily, and these warded off all criticism. The daughter was a pretty blonde of aver- age attainments, but with kesn wits ^nd strong pasnons. She had not been prasoit at the Christmas tree, and her lover, either on that account, or really from some sudden fuicy he had taken to Eunice, had been at her elbow the whole evening. Be had a fashion of making his attentions marked he did on that occasioo. H^madeapn- tense of assisting her, but it was only a pntense, and sheknew it, though she thought it marvellous. She had met him, but had not exchanged two words with him befora. She had seen him with Ada Harris, and he had seemed almost aa much out of her life as a lover in a boo^ Young men of hit kind were unknoim quantities hentofon to this steady, homely young woman. They seemed to bdong to other girls. So his devotion to bar tlurough the even- ing, and hia asking pnrmisaion to call when he took leave, aeemed to her well-nigh in- credible. Ber head iraa not turned, in the usual aooeptation of the termâ€" it was not an easy head to turn- but it was full of Burr Maaon, and every thought, no matter how sride a starting-point ft had, lost itself at last in the thought of him. Mr. Wilson's proposd weighed upon her terribly through the next week. Her father seemed bent upon her aocepting it; so did her mother, who sighed in seont over tho prospect of her daaghter's remaining unmarrieid. Either throoffh unworldliness, or their conviction of the Mirdiility of the marriage in itself, the meagnness of the financial outiook did not seem to influence them in the least. Eanice did not ones think of Burr Maaon as any reason for her nluctance, but when the day but one befon her week oif probation was up he called, and when, the next day, he took her to drive, she decided on a re- fusal of the minister's proposal easily enough. She had snverad a little oef on. So Mr. Wilson was lelt to decide upon some other worthy'rdiable woman as a sub- ject for his ad^essas, anl Eunice kept on with her new lover. How this sober, oonsdentioas girl ooull reconcile to herself the course she was now tddng was a question. It was probable she did not make the effort; she waa so seniibls that she srould have known its futility and hjfnpocrisy bef orahan L She knew her lover had be^n engaged to Ada Harris; that ahe was enooan^tng him in crud and diahonourabla tireatment of an- other sromaa; but she kept steadily m. People even cams to bar and told her that the jilted girl was breaking her heart. She listaied,her homely faoe set in an immovable cdm. She listened quietiy to her parents' romonstrance, and kept on. Then was an odd quality in Burr Maeoa's oliaraoter. He was terribly vadllatinj, but he knew it Once he aaid Eonioe, srith the oareleaa freedom that srould have been al- moat inaoloioe in another man: 'Don't let me aee Ada Barria much, I sram yoa, dear. Imeantobetiraetoyou, but ahe baa auch a pretty faoe, and I inaont to betrae to her, but yoa haveâ€" I don't know joat what, bat atmiething ahe baa not." Eonioe kaewtiie truth of wkat he aaid perfeotly. The iaeoa^rdMinaihlenaaa of it all to her, idio wat ao aauiUe M ha diaadWMHagaa, wm the fMoinatioa ai for aadi a â€" »^ â- AfawdMaaffcarBoir Ifaaon had ^nnBi AdaHania eame to aee har. Wheal Baaioo mitt iato tta aiHiBaMOoa '«b 6mt 7m iUbik heW wTtbhif toi it himaelt!" Ada Mood before kn « tttila know Bar liaaoa, and I know Bair M aaoa. iool^oiir that it yoa' gave him ap "« J^ faaidVaee him, he would oome baok to aae. Yoaknwit." • •«Yea,Ikaowit.' _^ "Yoa kaow it yoa drtlw' " V[^^ kno#it. and jat yoa do **|^«I*J5?:T yoa, a mlniiter'adwighlBr. ^*«^toi*»j4 Kithefi*thc«ritw5.. Yi|«i.ltn«rk« waa mine, that y«m 1»* »Mi*if,.S: Yoa knew if yott dimiwa Mm •»« •» »*«* tfcat he would oomo UAto m. MM yet yoa let him come and make lovo to yea. ^on knew It. Then ia no excoa/for yoa yoa knew it It ianO better lor him. roa have enoomraged him in heing faiae. Xoa have draggedTium doim. YoayWAplunw girl than 1, and aeoberer oaie, hot ymran no better. Yoa srill not make him a. better wife. Y"ou cannot make him a good ^o after thia. It ia all for yooraelfâ€" youraelf 1' Eonioe aat atilL Then Ada flong herjalf on her kaeea at ^flU for haiQK J fcialile. baited with own .^iMtaaif WltlMehB^atathB |U _. tarriblA. Itwatpatwaatingof ^Acrpak lor that ** "iTT^t^^^ her side, and pleaded^ aa for her Ufe. "Eun- ice, oh, Euniee, give him to me. It ia k'dl- ing ma. Jfiunioa, dear Eunice, aay that yon s^" As Ennioe aat looking at the poor dis- hevelled golden head bowed over her lap, a reoollection fiaahed across her mind oddly enough, of a oertam recees at the village school they ttro had atteadsd yean ago, when she srns anoi^ the older girk,and Ada a child to her how she had played ahe waa her littie girl and held her in her lap, and that golden head hal neatied on her ooaom. " Eonioe, oh, Eonioe, he loved me firat Yon had better have atolen away my osm heart It srould not have been ao svfoked or so orael. Bow oould yoa Oh, Eanice. give him baok to me. Eanica, t0Oi»' jfouf "Na" Ada roee. staggwing, irithoat another word. She moaned a little to herself aa she orosaed the room to the door. Eonioe ao- oompanled her to the outer door, and said good-by. â- Ada did not return it. Eunice saw her steady herself by catching hold of the gate as she paased through. Then she went slowly up stairs to her osvn room, srrapped herself in a shawl, and lay dosni on her bed. aaslehad that Christmas- eve. 8)xe was very pale, and then was a strange look, almost of horror, on her face* She stared, at she lay then, at all the familiar objects in the room, but the most common and insignifi- cant of them had a strange and awful look to her. Yet the change sras in herself, not in them. The shadow that tras over her oam soul ovenhadosnd them and pervertel her virion. Bat she fdt also almost a fear of all those inanimate objeota die urai gazing at. They wen ao many reminden of a better atate srith her. for ahe had aaael at tiiem all in her nnoonioioia chUuood. She traa aicksnad srith horror at tiieir dumb aoeusa- tions. There svas the littie glass she had looked at befon she had stolen another sroman'a deareat srealthasray frcmi her. the chair ahe had aat in,- the bed she had lain in. At last Eunice Fairweather'a atrong will broke dotm befon the aoousations ot her own oonsdenoe, whioh wen ao. potent as to take upon themsdvea material ahapea. Ada Harris, in her pretty Chamber, lying sn«n out on her bed, her face buried in the pillow, atarted at a touch on her ahoalder. Some one had atdea into the room uaan- nounoed â€" ^not her mother, for ahe was srait- ing outside. Ada turned her head, and aaw Eonioe. She atruck at her srildly srith her dander hands. " 60 away 1" she ccreamsd. "Adal" ••Goawayf "Bur Mason is dowa-atairt. I came with him to call on you.** Ada sat upright, staring at her, her hand still uplifted. â- "4 am going to break my engagement with him." •* "Oh. Eunice I Eonioe! youbleaaed- Ennioe dnw the golden head down on her just as she had on that old school- day. "Love me all yon can, Ada," ahe aids. "I srantâ€" somethiug." Keep up Tear S^ts. Don't get down in the ' mouth, man I Don't lote your faith in men and rang just beeanae for a time yoa have aeemed to lose your hold. AU brokan up it may be yoa an, and inanranoe to be the beet way Emni, ourvaaia brioki tbttn atom; toirard bread-getting and paying tiie ex- peaaea of that littie family that are now honaed in a flat bat don't yoa ahow the white feather. ' Stick I Up, and at 'em again I The kmg road mnat torn, yoa Imow. Yob have been at it quite a good while, and aomahow iyoa faul to set your srork in, th^ don't aign a^lioationa yet and yon an blue. But keep at it Pioek and patience mnat srin the day, Then juat aorew your coaiago ap to tiie atioking-plaoe, and peg asrw and kmp on pegging asray and on, aad oa, and on for then ia no good in halting for an inatant li's all nonaente aboat yoit not bdng aaited to the ImaineBa. What yon laok ia jaat a little taot, mott Ukdy, and tiiat wffl oome to yoa 8060. Yon have Itigt and bi»mvwi tl«art- fonyim^aaget aioaaid an^ Se^iiMar. aaeeboMMM. Hawhig a h|«^ titaii o| it, wo^ttal Mt^ wonan have withont yoa Ttojont I*wffl^»»ywi' pMy with yoar work} IWp yoa Will of pmaotaoB iNBal aa te aUeld srhan tiie worker aad bnad Baagoae flHrthar along aiad out tf "'• «rt by Qo^ An oven fai which arf-. â- «wty aade crime to hariMaii. ^^ Ta aaa.â€" Perioaiod bleeding |, 1^ Oovenunealt. Oongnai.--Man aaaemblad h, aaeh other from domg aaythiag, JSKfimmat.â€"'Uie'n daybook. Soldier.â€" A target set up by «« for aaotiiar to ahoot at. ' ' ^^* Beyenfe.- The only debt it ii*ii,w. D:iiner,â€" The breakfaat of the bb* tiie aapper of tiie rich. "^^ Laxury.â€" The labor of the wetlHi. Patmbroker.--Ths man who holdi ooat srhile you fight ' MilMr.â€" One who makes hein may build houtes. Tobaooo.â€" One whose life is coMaaJil eatabliahing its character. "'^i Time.â€" To the aged an young a world. Poetry.â€" Thought in blossom, Ireland. â€" The Actseon of hatiou, ton J pieces by its osm dogs. ' Bachelor. â€" A wild goose that taaui envy. Family.â€" Matrimony doing penance, Marriage.â€" The only lottery not i down. Child. â€" ^The futun in the present Coat.â€" The scabbard that offers no antee for the blade it sheathes. Theatnâ€" Nature in the "Home of reotion." Ink.â€" The Black Saa on whioh Tb rides at anchor. TBACKING HIS MOTHEB'SIl] EB. A Young Palanrt«ir»e Faittaftu Watoki Fremieetlte Revenge. Fourteen years ago J,osephG3moiki,S died in Poluid, leaying a snug estiti i Joseph Comoski, Jr., his sister, andtist ohiloren's mother. The hours of had scarody pasaed when Michael i turned his eyes upon Miss Comoiki wooed and won. To possess the eitttii became bis unholy ambitiou. The stood in the sray of the sncsessfnl i plishment of his foul object. He ma and finally determined to retort toi means for the nmival of his obitacle, One morning tbe little PoUsh TiUigd excited at it bed never been before. one during the hour of sleep had murdend Widow ComoskL Saspioial once attached itself to the soni Pursued by the law aud a guilty codk he fled from the land of his birth, m the ooeau and found employment ii| mines of Pennsylvania. Here he coos himself seoun. .Joseph Comoski, Jr., though but a lin| 14 yean, swon selemoly to aT«n|ir mother's desth, even should the mo ' seek the most distant spot on earth. I punuanoe of this resclve he bade a adiea to hia betnyed aister and tailid| America. Fortune favored the brave] and after a time he discovered his mol murderer in Pattsville. He at once i knosm his discovery to the Polish Ca New York and acquainted him srith ii facts in the case. The sympathy of r offisial sras enlisted in the boy's bshilf^ he promised his assistance. The boy I a watcli over the murderer's -doingi. him from tosm to town. Finally thtt tive sras apprehended while engi^ed ii j oommisston of a robbery and sent to I Poiladelphia pmitentiary for a t«i| three yean. The consul, in the m« had written 1 3 Poland and le corrdbtnsss of the boy's story, Hal securred the extradition papers, and thil came to Mount Cirmel, where bo mujl his oountrymsn reside, to work '^S three yeari wen pasung. Hefonndf ploymeat at the Pennsylvania colliery'l ash-wheeler. By his industrioaa hin gained the good will of his bosse^ m\ fiaidly promoted foreaian, a position i he now satisfactorily fills. The young man is sorupuloasly can saving his earnings, and it was a "O* of tw, followed by an inquiry froM offioial, that led to a ncitai of the facts. The young man has snccn keeinng bis secret from his ooons and thu acwant will probably be to" startling. Ha has collected a snnRr sum by his economicd habits, and. fire in his eye, one day this sreek to oar informant that upon the of the tnurderer's term of imprisonn extradition papers would meet hiiDUl face and the rillain should swing up* i Polish gallowa if it took every centm* ed at the Pennaylvams coUiery.-' Carmd News. Wpx^Amftim btai. Trne Appredattoib The obaervation of a great writer oi j tttles of brandy "fj IS weU Ii ing halt a dozen bottles by an' anonymous admirer â€" „â- ,, «« Thia," he aaid with oomplac8nqy fame," For my part as is only n' anoe srith the rales of propo^^^ hadtobeooatantsrith muchinwv •^.mn giaMr beer, drink whlohtf veaoent no doobt^ but while » '*^, fraitnc enough. I once loit •^'^j wUoh^ had almost written "*».h Utfime^w, and went to • .pdioe oflloe for profeasionalMT" Und-bOla and rmrardi. "f.^.* narno. Sir r Inqanrad the inUOiff^ titt. (It ia bynioaUy observed tw« tea Ma alwaya oalled in tuaj^ ^a la^ j»% I of oouite g^, I â- tritimiii Taw "TheBltaUjJ hoMMUJliA^tonein which jjy»;j: Mmnr s^iM finely blenM J Aadliateokit. Thatwat hava aho bad aoni ofinoB( tta «l. vaiiou timea by iihathaagiT»"" IhoBewEngliah ji lawalMmosm mou iSwitaarlandtbere f, evan of the beat faad any mount iflf a gaide. Bi the Bigh Alf an sridely rei |T«o henobmen. t ited a new kind !«ood. Instead of I strong stripe of .^ lindaced as in the ikaet of the finger Hher gloves oovere [fljeiastrament is e [MM. Straosa and to attached to the! r. have ntumed f r " been carrying on -Jttches complemei a at Alexandria, ^toreadshortis -JBe on the ana [aediseaaenging [^ civil conrta cf own expenses, j VW lakhs rupees. /tte cost of most "jnfcea. jafla, and â- Aadamans. after '"*i to about 12 -T-" of compellinj f*a adminiat Jatioi s;r*.'»**" m^m