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

 ^^f^ l^es: ^Sil R-S »^i- i US mmm mii. BT MBS. XSmS O. DABLIKO. The last day of the year drew to its close with a anilen sky, a bitter wind that drew " TharikDoemadalur tnta bar hw d^iriia a ahe aaw tbe strange fignre In the dporway. Shestartedtoherfeatandoame fonraid with the dignity of a dwdiess,' saidrUnole Lewis, whenne told us at home of hk visit. • Did yon want aoythiiv, sir 7' she aalced gravely. " Excose me, my dear. May I oome in and ait down to recover my hreath 7 so many its last waffing s^hs u if in mortal pain or rtairs make an old man weary,' answered the despair, while a drizzling, icy ram made the yjgitor, «N«, iadMd, Onadaa; bat aUtiiebflttHr." thii Qty of alL •* We shall love her now lor the dear aagd'ssak*. She imu a seraph, traly, wasn't she. Grandma 7" "She was, indeed, my dears. Though yonng, she 'ministered' as one of Gktd's own angels, and she has her reward." streets a terror and a snare to onwary ped eatrians. Within doors the fire seemed to bum its brightest, as if to console one for the dreariness without, and the flickering shadows danced never ao merrily on the crystal chandelier, aa if to bring out the waiting, hidden rainbowa to Span, aa with a beantUnl bridge of hope, the night'a gulf of atorm and darhneaa. The children had, one by one, gathered from book or play around tbe cheerful hearth, watching the blaze in ailence for a while. Nellie, leaning on the arm of Grandma'a chair, while blue-eyed Belle sat on her knee, deep in the mysteriea of " cat'a cradle," in which Grandma'a alender fingera were aa deftly busy aa her own chubby ones. The twins were on the rug, side by side, their curly heads on Prince'a curly body, who lay between them. Nettie and Alice neatled to- gether in papa's big chair. "Just time for a atory,. Grandma, before papa cornea," said Nellie, to which sugges- tion came a unanimous response. ' Oh, yea; good for you, Nell. Yes, Grandma dear the very time we're all ready " The dear old face brightened with a amUe. " Have you not had old stories enough this year You have had a good many. *« We shall never have enough, Grandma, so long aa there are any left that we have not heard under this snowy cap," said Nelly, smoothing the silver locks that lay so softly on the wrinkled forehead with a loving touch. " Let ua have just one more as a seal on the book of the year's stories, you know, Gramdma." •• Well, dear," said Grandma, " I am ready, if you will all enjoy it, to do the best I can. I was clearing out a drawer to- day, and came across a letter that brought to my mind what may be of interest to you, children. When I was young, an uncle of • mine devored his life to trying to seek and save the lost. He had been a clergyman, but as his health failed, he gave up preach- ing and became a sort of missionary and laboured among the poor in the city. He was especially interested in temperance 'Work, which had not then so many and so powerful advocates as it has to-day. He would often seek the saloons or shops where drink was sold, and try to help or save some poor creature, who, in the last ex- tremity, would grasp any hand stretched out in help. In passing one of those dreadful places, made bright and alluring to those drawn to evil ways, he noticed a little girl, •an old shawl drawn about her shivering form, waiting in a doorway near. Si'amp- ing her feet and rubbing her fingers to keep them from freezing, tor it was bitterly cold, she was in the same doorway an hour later when he passed on his way home. Turning back, Uncle Lewis spoke to the child. '"Why do you wait here so long, my dear It is very cold, and you must be half frozen.' " An innocent face, with childish eyes of blue, was lifted to his. Startled by being suddenly addressed by a stranger, a look of reserve spread over the pale face, and a sweet voice replied " 'I'm not very cold, thank you,' ind she turned away, aa if Uot desiring further notice, and as evidently not intending to tell why she was there. " Uncle Lewis, struck by so very unusual and unchildlike a manner, was the more at- tracted, and determined to discover the reason of her being there on so inclement a night. •*' Can I help you, my child? You are very young to be here so late, and this cold is terrible for you. Tell me can't I help you ?• " She had turned her back on him and pretended not to hear, but as he repeated liis kind words in his own sweet, warm-hearted, earnest way (it seems as if I could hear it now)," said Grandma, as she wiped away the mist that had gathered in her eyes as they thus looked back through the shadows of years, " as he again spoke, the child half turned, and with a wild sob breaking as if from a bursting heut, fled from him quicker than thought, and he did not even see which way she went. Poor Uncle Lewis 1 I know how his heart ached as he went to his own comfortable home that bitter night. To have been so near what he knew was suffering and not to have helped Ah 1 God alone knows how deep is pain sin-caused, as He alone knows its awful nature. " Again and again did Uncle Lewb watch that doorway, but not for weisks did the child appear. One nighthe had been watch- ing witn a sick friend, and had to go for the doctor between one and two o'clock in the morning. Aa he passed that doorway, he saw a child leave its shelter and run to meet a group of three or four men who just then issued from the saloon, whose green doors swung noiselessly behind them. Slipping her hand into that of one of the number, she led him on, as swiftly as possible, in his half drunken condition. Uncle Lewis saw the solution of the secret she had withheld from him, and stepping to the side ot one of the men who had just left the others, he asked " 'Can yon tell me who the man is that has just turned the comer and where he lives ' " Thatâ€" thatuoldBeelzebubâ€" Beelzebub Smart. He lives in Giles' FoUy. He's a rum 'un, he is ' answered the man, not un- civilly. •' 'Thank youâ€" and the child ' " 'Oh, the Uttle kid She's his guardian angel â€" seraph, he calls her; wingsout o' sight; but I guess they're there, ' laughed the man, throwing the words over his shoulder as he, too, turned the comer and was swallowed up in the darkness of the cold night. " The first unoccupied hour found Uncle Lewis at the old building called Giles' Folly. Up the long, dark, ricke%, stairway, through the dark entries, knocking at a door here and again, with kindly questions answered civilly, or the door skunmed in his face, as the person opening at his knock felt inclined â€" ^till, on the upper floor, a door stood ajar, at whidi hekno^ed. It opened, and in the dim light after a mo- menthesaw a childonherknees Bombbing the floor, while a younger one stood at the ddbrs looking in a frightened way at the unlock, ed-for visitor. Said the little sombber " ' It's very hard to nt these foo^rint- offâ€" seems if it wu ink. Is'powtberallbe no mnd in Heavsn Jewis, 'okom tfa» atowts are gold and glaaa, jmiiaunf." A silver tear stole down Grandma's witiur- ed cheek, and NeDie «mothered a sob aa Grandma flushed. ,^teramomeat,ahe si^: " Thank jaa, QtmaAaok that w«a a aad atory. And ia Jeaaie Meana Ae Jeoie 7 1 know ahe ia not Mra Maui' own cAild.*' " Yea, my diiu," ^touhraclid^MwADU^ •^ xoQ all loTe htac ao iinibh, Tkmw joa nm not love her tiM kM for it." "She said not a word, but set an old chair for his use, drawing her companion behind her, as if on {(uard. " Will you tell me your name, and if this is your little sister, my dear 7' " ' I would rather not, if yon please sir we don't enjoy company,' she answered de- murely. " ' Are yon alone here ' asked the puzzled visitor again. " ' No, sir God is here, and father some of the time.' " ' Who takes care of yon and Jessie when the father is away ' ' ' I take care of Jessie, and Jesus takes care of both of us, sir," she replied politely ' but she added,' 'I must go on with my cleaning, now. Good-morning, sir.' " The dignity with which she spoke was irresitible, Uncle Lefris, said and he felt himself dismissed. " He arose, and asking if he might call again, to which request he received reluct- ant consent, apparently not because the visit was desired but that her sense of politeness compelled her to assent, left the poor place^feeling as he afterwards said, as puzzled as he ever had in his life by the mystery of this mite's behaviour. " On his way down stairs. Uncle Lewis stopped at one of the doors that had been opened to him on his entrance and question- ed the womanjwho appeared at his summons. " Oh, yes, sir I know the childers. That oldest girl she's a wonder, sir. She is just the stay of 'em, sir. She keeps the house, and takes care of the old man an' the child, an' she just a child herself, sir an' she just watches the old man, an' goes every night an' waits an' brings him home from that awful placeâ€" no matter what time, an' him always drunk. What keeps 'em alive, I don't know but it's just she as does it. Ye'U see.' "And Uncle Lewis did see. He went often, and overcame by patient kindness the reserve that encompassed the little housemother, who had learned in a hard school to do and to bear all hard things in silence and apart from earthly help. "Besides keeping the small place spot- lessly neat at all times, her own and the lit- tle Jessie's poor attire scrupulously clean and mended as well as could be managed with the small conveniences she had, the child knit coarse socks for sale, and so earn- ed tbe bread they ate the little tbe old man could pick up by doing odd jobs going to appease the insatiable fiend that drew him daily to the dram-shop. "Faithful to her post, summer and winter, did the child wait for the unsteady feet, to lead them safely to the shelter of this poor home seeming to feel that all depended on her care of him at such timss. " And so the mtnths went by. Finding she could resd, Uncle Lewis had given her books and further instruction, which she much enjoyed in the little leisure time she could find. "The old, old story was not new to her for before her mother had died she had been well taught by her and in a Sunday School, but her delight was renewed with every fresh read- ing of it, and she seemed in- stinctively to receive traths that are sometimes slow in coming clear to older persons. Uncle Lewis said, ' you could literally see her groW in grace.' AIm, that a day should have dawn- ed to be stained by such a deed as was com- mitted by a parent's hand " After a quarrelsome orgy on the night of June 11, 18â€" old Bela Smart left the sal con infuriated by the jeers of the dranken crowd who had at last tired of paying his score. The child was waiting for him as usual, and, stepping up to his side, took his hand to her own to lead him home. With an awful curse he struck her down and fled. A policeman ran up and lifted the child who was unconscious. He carried her into the saloon and laid her on a seat, calling on the proprietor to help him. Silence laid a solemn hush on the rude noises that had rung through the place, for not a man there but knew the child, and one ran hastily out for a doctor. They tried to pour a little brandy between the closed lips, but the at- tempt brought life again, and with a shud- der, she turned her face aside, as if she knew but too well there could be no remedy in that for any evil. The men stood in silence, every glass untouched, while the whisper of one rang in the ears of all, It's little " Seraph." Poor little " Aneel 1" 'He did it;' some slinking away like whipped hounds, some gazing awe-strack on the little white face. • Hush Jim; hear her.' A faint, sweet voice murmured " • Poor father He didn't mean â€" come, dear I'll lead you safeâ€" yes. He'll lead me: â€" " Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Fa ther, fa-ther, I'm so tired waiting, do come home I The shadows are at the longest. See the angels wait for me They are calling, Where is Jessie? Father, Father, Jesus says " Come unto Me and I will give you rest " â€" and the pure spirit found rest in His arms who said, 'of such is the kingdom of heaven.' " The old man was never seen again in his old haunts. The little Jessie found a home in the heart of a benevolent lady, to whom Uncle Lewis related the story of Seraph I have told you. Some of the men who were in that saloon when old Smart's 'guardian angel' was, carried into it, tm that night forsook' the place, and were brought back to those Uvea of rectitude that they had long turned their backs upon â€" saved even as *branda from the burning' by the dying words of the child, as she hovered between life and death. " They laid her to rest on the afternoon of a bright, June Sabbath. A amile lay on tiie lips that had not lost their colourâ€" that a little parted seemed still to say, 'Come unto Me, and I mil give yon rest' " SlaTe-Hnntiiig in Afiica A few days ago we noticed the recent Siblicatibn of the well-known Professor enry Dmmmond on Central Africa. The following extracts om that work having special reference to the Arab slave hunters and their monstrous doings will be interest- ing to very many. Professor Dmmmond holds strongly, and to all appearance with very good reaaon, that if the Arab slave- hunter and dealer cannot bo kept down, there is nothing for the immense lake region of Central Africa but misery for the present and utter hopelessness for the future. He says â€" " The life of the native African is not indyllic. It is darkened by a tragedy wh ase terrors are unknown to any other people under Heaven. Of its mild domestic slav- ery I do not speak, nor of its revolting witchcraft, nor of its endless quarrels and frequent tribal wars. These minor evils are lost in the shadow of a great and na- tional wrong. Among these simple and unprotected tribes, Arabs â€" uninvited stran- gers of another race and nature â€" pour in from the north and east with the deliberate purpose of making this paradice a hell. It seems the awful destiny of this homeless people to spend their fives in breaking up the homes of others. Wherever they go in Vfrica the followers of Islam are the destroy- ers of peace, the breakers up of the patriar- chal life, the dissolvers of the family tie. Already they hold the whole Ooujinent under one reign of terror. They have ef- fected this in virtue of one thing â€" they possess firearms they do it for one object â€" ivory and slaves, and these two are one. The slaves are needed to buy ivory with then more slaves have to be stolen to carry it. So living man himself has become the com- mercial currency of Africa. " It is quite a mistake to imagine that slave hunting is a thing of the past. On the contra.ry, the Arabs have quite recently be- come bolder than ever. Many at home im- agine that the death-knell of slavery was struck with the events which followed the death of Livingstone. In the great ex- plorer's time we heard much of sla- very we were appealed to; the Govern- ment buised itself; somctthing was really done. But the wail is already forgotten, and England hears little now of the open sore of the world. But the tragedy I have alluded to is repeated evey year and every mouth â€" Aritness such recent atrocities as those of the Upper Congo, of the Kassai and Sankaru region described'by Wissmann, and of the Welle-Makua district referred to by Van Gele. It was but the other day that an explorer, crossing from Lake Nyassa to Lake Tanganyika, saw the whole Southern end of Tanganyika, peopled with large and prosperous villages. The next* to follow him found not a solitary human being â€" nothing but burned homes and bleeching skeletons. It was but yesterday â€" the close of 1887â€" that the Arabs at the north end of Lake Nyas sa, after destroying fourteen villages with many of their inhabitants, pursued the population of one village into a paten of tall dry graiss, set it on fire, surround- ed it, and slew with the bullet and the spear those. who crawled out from the more merci- ful flames. The Wa Nknonde tribe to which these people belonged, were, until this event, one of tue most prosperous tribes in East Central Africa. They occupied a countijr of exceptional fertility and beauty. Three rivers, which never failed in the sev- erest drought, run through their terri- tory and their crops were the richest and most varied in the country. They pos- sessed herds of cattle and goats; they fish- ed in the lake with nets th;.y wrought iron into many-patterned spear-heads with exceptional ingenuity and skill; and that even artistic taste had begun to develop among them was evident from the- orna- mental work upon their huts, whish were themselves unique in Africa for clever con- struction and beauty of design. This people, in short, by their own inherent ability and natural resources of their country were on the high road to civilization." " The plain issue," Professor Dmmmond adds, " is no w before the worloL Is the Arab or the European heaceforth to rule Africa?" If onsuchanaltemative the voioeof humanity, of religion and of civilivation decide, as 'it must do, in favor of the European, tiie fur- ther question comes as to the particular European nation to whom the work ought to be entrusted. The Nyassa region, in par ticular, has been almost won for civilization by British effort. It u now to be given up And if not, who is to do the necessary work It is to be Portugal To this Mr. Dmm- mond replies â€" " By every moral consideration the Por- tuguese have themselves forfeited the per- mission to trespass further in Equatorial Africa. They have done nothing for the people since the day they set foot in it. They have never discouraged, but rather connived at, the slave trMe Livingstone himself took the servant of the Governor of Tette red-handed at the head of a large slave gang. They have been at perpetual feud with the native tribes. T^ot have taught them to drink. Their mlwions have failed. Their colonisation is not even a name. With such a record in the past no pressure surely can be required to make the Government of England stand firm in ita repudiation of a obdm which, were it ac- knowledged, would deatroy the laat hone for East Central Africa. n not Portugal, then ProfeaKr Dmm- mond contenda that it lies with England to carry out the great work ahe haa been so long ennged in. Indeed he saya, and with troth, that En£^and ia the only Earopean nation that can grapple with this neat problem with the alighteat hope ot%ac- In Hie meantime tiie Arab aUvwa are pnaMng on ^eir work of deaolatiun and blood, deatroying the very poaailrility of legitimate trade, and fnlfilling to the letter the scriptoral description of the loonata •â€" "A fire devonntb before them; and beU^d tiiem a f|aine,biini«th; the Und isaathe Gjurden of BdenjBiore them, and bebfaid thnm a deaolaffee wflderneaa." #mr. Bay Baoae. M*Q»«e«al aoliUbwiB prefittteMi t» dinrten wSytfm ^^ An Actoi in Honolnlu. Booth told a very amusing Story when he was here last of a trip he took to Honolulu, when he was younger and knocking about California. Some actor came up from Aus- tralia who had stopped at the Sandwich Islands. He inflamed Booth on the subject of that dramatic El Dorado. He scraped together all the money he could and went to Honolulu. He had fifty dollars when he arrived. With that money he hired the theatre for five weeks at ten dollars a week. He found two or three people and made ar- rangements to give a show. It was to be "Richard Ul." The two or three people played all the parts. One man played four, and one woman two, and so on. The ques- tion of billing the town arose. He msMiaged to get some posters, but he had i ot' ng to stick cbem up with. He bought a bucke of "poi" and some starch or stuff that would help it, mixed his paste and sent a small Kanaka out to put up the bills. Ho didn't aee any when he went out, and in vestigation disclosed that the small Kanaka had eaten up all the paste and thrown the posters away. He be^;ged some of the com- pany to stick them up, but they were all too high-toned, and Booth had to go off himseU in the middle of the night and paste hto bUla np. He said he oamti back with n"y dollars, just as he started, and they had lived on bananas principally. Wanted to Vary His Bequest. " Mrs. Hasket," said a yoniu; boarder as he came down stairs with one of his pillows between his thumb and forefinger. " You have been very considerate of many of my requests." ' «X?'"'5 I always try to do my best." "When! remarked that I did not like pillow shams and asked to be relieved of them, yon very kindly refrained from put- ting them on my bed." ••Idid,Bir.» " I ahoiUd now like to vary that request." " Yet an:." "And make alao." it include aham pillows LA8gBDT0TH£1IA8T. â- â€¢w Civtala S^^r mmA Crew of tke Zovave Wei« VMUid aad Beaeaed. Thirteen men laahed to the midnmHt of a water logeed hulk, over whiohthe aeaa conatantlybroke for three daya, witii aoaroely any water vt food, two mm killed and several vessels passing, but aignala unheeded and no asaiatance rendered I Such in brief was the experience of Captain Soper and tae crew of the ship Zouave, aa related to a reporter by Mate Albert Richmond, of the Zouave, on board the ahip Lainioaâ€" wMch reacued them. The Zouave left Mobile on April 20 load- ed with pitch pine lumber for Queens- borough, England. The crew consisted of fifteen, all told. The vessel encoimtered a succession of gales soon after leaving port and scudded before them most of the time under goosewinged maintopsail. Oil was used, but it proved of littie effect in the rag- ing seas. The vessel sprang a leak, and for twenty days the men toiled at the pumps, the water constantly gaining, despite their efforts. OS BEAM ENDS. On May 22 a hurricane struck her aft on the port side and the old hrll was unable to withstand the tempest's fury. She went on her beam ends and the fore and mizzen masts went by the board. The captain had decided on abandoning her as the tempest had lulled, just before the hurricane came upon them. The steward and cabin boy at the time had gone below to secure some provisions. Thd former is supposed to have been drowned. The cabin boy escaped. A sailor who juoaped into the water went down like lead and was lost. Another was knocked off his feet imd his head cut open. He managed to regain his footing, however, and joined his mates, who were clinging desperately to the shrouds and port rigging. The vessel remained in that position, with the sea dash- ing over the men and almost washing them away from their precarious position. Then she suddenly righted. The fore and mizzen rigging had broken loose. The men climbed into the main rigging and lashed themselves to the mainmast. One of them discovered part of a porpoise tail in the crosstrees, and this on^the second day was divided among the crew and raven- ously devoured. OH, FOB WATER It rained a little on May 24, and the men managed to catch a little water in their hands which they greedily drank. But it was only sufficient to aggravate their thirst. Several vessels passed that day, but too far away to be hailed, and the men had nothing to use as a signal except a piece of blanket which Mate Richmond had secured. RESCUED AT LAST. They had practically given up hope when, at five o'clock on the morning of the 25th, the officers of the Larnica saw the signal and bore down on the wreck. Captain Soper had suffered the most from exposure, but all were able to walk and were transferred to the Larnica'ft decks in the ship's lifeboat. The seas were still running tremendously high, but the transfer was accomplished without accident. STABBED HIS SLEEPING MATE. The Lamica bad experienced, like the Zouave, gale after gale, but had passed through them in good shape. Everything moveable was washed from her decks, but her ringing and hull were unimpared. Her voyage after rescuing the Zouave's crew, however, was marked with an incident that very narrowly missed being a tragedy. On the night of June 3rd a Scotch sailor named Bandiman, stealing noiselessly to the berth of another sailor, named Wheeler, stabbed the sleeping man in seven places with a sheath knife. Wheeler's cries awoke the other sailors, who speedily secured and dis- armed the Scotchman, alubugh he struggl- e ddesperately, Bandiman was put in irons and locked in one of the staterooms of the cabin. His subsequent conduct proved to Captain Boyd that he had a lunatic sailor on his hands. Tbe man was closely watched until the snip reached her dock at Erie Basin yesterday. The wounds inflicted on Wheeler were not of a serious nature, though loss of olo'od made him very weak. Bandiman will be handed over to the English authorities. a burglar, „ aJC?«AS J"t been readingTTUj! W "» ay own slee^ rool'?^?.^' conapicious p^cTii^yiHi^tT breaks into my honl • '*S^i^ with booty as expj;?if*"2ryii aa possible and d^^'^jy!. "â€" by his voice «idW»«»V£| friffht. I don't even wâ€" '*•'»' and find them lookin of a revolver. I n' • «ie„i] "Your money oryourff..^'?« fc! upeverydoll.JK\rdr«i,^l hear that expression." â„¢*»«iii^l What Can be Done bT8ti««.B. ' Mr,.HoganandherH of them overfond of work tJ '"•'iftil fectly willing to live uZ th?"^**! thefrneighblrs. which TeViffi^J backward in solicitmij "'Viio«^l One day Mrs. HojimI fl,„,^j I Farnham's herneS°dS?!:thS!" as the family were sittmgdoS^" »l Mr, tea, 'Yourtea'sve"ryg:o^;iSj;,^«. â- â€¢ Hogan was here. H^ vm,^^?'*! .but we're very poor a7/J!l? i»^ i\ getit,it'ssoe;3r.?"^^-"»^! one.»S£ai^H just as she was gomg, a pound pSd"'" "Thank you," said Mra. TTnâ„¢ 1 glad to get the tea, but^t o)^' v"" without the mUk." " "" ' ^^AquartofmilkwaaoonBlgnedt,^, " Well," said she, "now if we kJ I sugar we should be provided " "*l ^Mrs.Jarnham procured a pound and J "Now," said Mrs. Hogan, "weshall J a chance to have a good cnpof tea ifil nothmg I relish with tea like apple pk .1 Mr. Sogan often says." 'â-  This hint was strong enough to brbi! « the article desired. ' " After all," said Mrs. Hogan, as the pie into her hands, " pie ain't pie uWl a body has cheese to eat with it If O anything I love it's cheese, ' It was impossible to resist such an tppe^l as this. An ample slice havmg been pO in her possession she paused for a momeiil as if considerint; whether there was notsoitti thing else she might call for. Failing J think of anything she was about to more if when a thought struck her. " These things are rather heavy ud 1 ain't so strong as I used to be. I dot^ kno^ as I shall be able, to get home." Mrs. Farnham volunteered toBendhernl John to carry a part of the articles, an oil fer which Mrs. HMan accepted witionttiil least hesitation. When John had hsdill his load Mrs. Hogan hinted that she y| some wood she would like to have split, intl John didn't believe in faints and left vitlw| taking it. onfS!^'^*^ ' »" ^^ y« Do Pigures Lie *Let us see â€" Two women had thirty chickens eKli,| which they took to market. They agreed I to divide equally the proceeds of their nltl One sold her chickens two'for a dollii,! getting for her thirty chickens fifteen dii!-[ lars. -* I The other sold hers three for a dollar, get-| ting for her thirty chickens ten dollars. This made twenty- five dollars realized to I the sixty chickens. I The merchant called on to divide the mil- 1 ney said â€" " You sold your thirty chickens two fori I dollar, and you sold your thirty chickeBl three for a dollar. That makes sixty M- f ens at the rate of five for two dollars. Well 1 five into sixty goes twelve- timesâ€" tww I twelve is twenty -four. That makes twenty four dollars your chickens have brought But, as shown above, the women tomsj had twenty-five in their pockets. Mp\ the merchants figures were right Do figures lie? â€" *i^ Shipload of Brides. The French Government display grat «â-  tivity in getting their colonies popB»W; They lately issued an advertisement to W foUowing effect:-" Wanted, for anisW lying in the vicinity of Na^eV^^" ^,p1ed by French emigrants, 100 y^^ women who wish to enter uto the atatto matrimony." The inducemente set oi» were that intended brides should not on^^" provided with a free P^%^£t from the Government a dot of IW^ each. In a very short tune-«^ readily supposed-the ^^^^^ young women were found, anu » r chartered by the Govemmentto ^^ them to Itheir destination. Thu ^^ shipload was composed for *« "' highly respectable gi" '"J^S thim representatives of al""" ,«^?^c3ft -teachers, dressmakers, "^^S^tle barmaids, laundresses, etc., »" ngu. list. " Promising Cimrches." At the Unitarian festival taBogJ^'^je. ister from St. Louis remarkea w;;"_^« ministers came to the "«'r;;S^toir«« in the West he was always tempwj^ ^^ them of the privations that »w»^,^ in " promising churchw -tn"" „, port that promise to pay 5'W .».' soineitf»; and do not keep their pwm^ei,Bd!«» isters have found such "P'O**^ without takiag su ch a long » The elementary stage ol^^iH make Self, and Self alone, thy •""J' world. „JSnedof the P«J«*k*L!X*»'iS On a dark night »t? *°lkrfS*«J*3 and nrooeeding to the track "^bofi^J not remained and proceeding to the^«-^^b*^ â-  E A2^ By M. ^tnsoB o» " Lady Audlet'i [cBAFTKB XXin.-(CoNTiiajED bad a good many opportunit his nater-in-law after that â- jLdy Glandore's, and everj only convinced him the mor( not well with her. St. At 'r foUowed ber like a blight ai had never seen anything i i which would justify him in i «ith her, or even in [wamii 2t*Lord St. Austell. She could 1 LJTto know her sister's friends, *Cu chaperoned by her sister ai iSl was an old friend of Major an K^k the opportunity of a tete with Valentine at the Junior Ci n^V of his married life, i^^qaite happy, Val?" he Four marriage has reahzed all fees*" PweU, yes, I suppose it has. I m very exactly what my hopes w« • know that I was desperately ii /that you were a good fellow to g J field, and are a still better fell( viving me as you have done." le stwtehed his hand across the ti he hands with his brother, with jjn„ than he was wont to exhibit. CiXune has been very good to me, " I heart-whole again, and I can th Jen as my sister, and love her as a ould be loved. I can never forge â- e is the first woman I ever cared f o P« gow about the second, Adrian ' I II There is no second yet. I will n 1 myself that I shall never love kfe means mutability, and so lonj liTes he may change. 1 can' ^D, Val, that you and Helen ' de less fashionable. I don't Ilk -nidetaohed way of living." \» My dear soul, we live as most Tlow-creatures live," answered Val htly. " I Aâ„¢ "^ot the kind, of ma 1 to any woman's apron string, (stress. To stand in doorways w ife dances; to sit out plays I am Jiile my wife looks on, or to jog Inro the Row at her side. If Hele B to hang together for the rest of o s must be free to enjoy ourselves a I ideas. She has an excelleat cb I I am letting her sow her wild oa 1 be tired of gadding about in a s po." I" And when she is tired of gaddiuj I she to sit by the fireâ€" alone " 1 " My dear Adrian, don't lecture hows By that time I may be j nocking about London, and may si [6 and smoke â€" or take to books, li I the meantime, Helen and I get riiy-" J "Yes, and she gets on capitally w pho are ever so much more attentiv lan you are â€" men who don't mind I when she dances, and don't mind and down the Row. St. Austell jmce." Valentine frowned, and then s I dioulders, • You don't suppose you can r dous?" hesaid. "I am not that on. My wife may accept aa n iration aa she likes from ^other ow her heart is mine. He smiled, recalling his slave's d( r delight at a kind word, her 1 jeasnre at a casual kiss. He for hose things belonged to his expei Vyear. He had not even not ^.wing change in his wife's mai Ampletely was he absorbed in hin ii own pleasures. " Indeed, Valentine, I have nevt Helen's afiection for you but deserves a little more of your ' i. little more of your care. Sfa poong and too beautiful to stand 'Ohdon society." "Bosh 1 A good woman alway ^ow to take care of herself. It is oes that want looking after." Adrainwas silent. He felt tha: 1 as much as he could safely say i i but there was something neant to say to Helen before he w B Devonshire. He rode in the Row the day bef o ondon, to try a saddle horse whic ought at Tattersall's on the previ( "Tn. He rode early, and was sui et his uster-iu-law coming in at "^on Gate, quite alone, as the ck â€" ingnine. "I heard you were to be at tw ut night, Helen, so I haidly ex] yon out so early," he said. "I couldn't sleep;" she answer t w«a just aa well to have my ri â- w herd came out." She had flushed suddenly as he " ler, but the colour faded as qui •*• and left her very pale. You look as if you wanted sic **n an early ride," he said, eravelj •_w waxen pallor, but still moi "'1 guilty look with which si ^j-~dhiin. I daresay I do,' she answered, ?\" We were dancing the cotill '«oA. I had no idea you rod rtgk." ^^lain only here because of my ^•Way. How do you like him *W«n. looked critically at the LS* 1 "rid Adrian, with a touch i^membering those days, wh 'bay. much. itically He looks evei i had lamented his deficiei ^.g **' " Never mind, Heler ^^^» in the autumn when yo ^5^*'y. You will come, of co «Jf*;tknow." _yH oat you must come. He ooated the raus for abont a quarter the sand that the '^a^^to^Zp d»; bear on the track *« *5*t-i_ the spot which cnEP^u ,!.«** widnr « threatened ^nm • »«•' â€" and stay with my mc Ljpttr fill of rest, and dul |9fa. There is nothing in ' *â-  peifect rest in a quiet "*^ Valmtino will have 1 Jmber'and October, an Em cab-hunting. I wi H Trednoey's to look i idHi a morning." vban^ng over ber h 'r Vitit sentle earnest B«toi. tiie Abbe :^,