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 mB^ Iks' • LIKE AND UNLIKE. By M. B. BRADDON, AtJTKOB OF " Ladt Audi^t's Secbet," " Wtllabd's Wehid," Etc, Etc. B ' f CHAPTER XXVII.â€" An Unfinished Lettek. Mr. Belfield aat brooding dnring the rest of the joamey to King's Cross, and bu thoughts grew darker with the darkening night. Yes, St. Austell had haunted his wife's footsteps all through the season that was past. He had heard of them riding in the Bow, it was St. Austell who had chosen Helen's horse at Tattersall's, and who had been officiously obliging in attending the sale and getting the animal for a price that seemed rtimost ridiculously at yariance with its quality. He ccnld recall the whole transaction how in St. Austell's presence one evening, after alittle dinner in Mrs. Bikddeley's rooms, Helen had entreated him to buy her a horse, urging that it was odious to ride hired animals, smelling of the livery stables, and suggestive of a riding master in butcher boots how he had declared he couldn't afford to buy and how St. Austell had told him that it would be a more economical arrangement than hiring, and had suggested that a good horse might be got for a very little money now that the hunting was all- over. "What do you call a little money " Valentine had asked, annoyed at hia wife's persistence, and at St. Austell's inter- ference. " Well, I suppose you might pick up a good Park hack for ninety or a hundred." ' Nearly twice as much as I should like to give," answered Valentine, curtly. *• How much would you give it there were an opportunity I am at Tattersall's nearly every day, and I would be on the look out if I knew what you wanted." " I don't want anything. There are plenty of horses in Devonshire that my wife and I can ride when we're there." • •• But Devonshire isn't the Park, Val," pleaded Helen. " I want a horse for the Park, awfully," whereupon Mr. Belfield shrugged his shoulders, and said he would give fifty or sixty guineas for a hack, rather than be bothered and with this ungracious permission his wife was fain to be content. Three days after this conversation, Valen- tine found Lord St. Austell's groom waiting in front of VVilkie Mansions with a thor- oughbred bay horse, which he was gently leading up and elown the road. " His Lordship's complimente, and this is the horse ha has bought for you, sir," said the man. " Ravioli, grandson to Maca- roni." Valentine looked the animal over ciiti calJy. "Is he sound?' he asked. " Yes, sir. His Lordship's vet. looked at him before the sale." " Well, he is very handsome and if his manners are as good as his looks, his Lord- ship has made a good purchase. " Valentine met St. Austell at his club next day, and gave him a cheque for fifty-seven guineas, at which sum the horse had been knocked down to him at Tattersall's. At such a price, the animal, if sound, was an unquestionable bargain. Valentine bad ridden him round the Row, and had found his paces admirable, although he was obvi- ously over-weighted by anything above twelve stone. For a light weight like Helen the horse^was perfection " The yard must have been asleep when you brought him," said Valentine. " Oh, I knew how to bide my time and watch my opportunity," answered St. Aus- tell, lightly. " I am very glad you're satis- fied with my choice." " More than satisfied, my dear fellow." So the matter had ended. Mr. Belfield, full of his own schemes, pleasures, and ex- citements, had tfaoughthio more of the horse, except to remember that he had made a a sacrifice to hia wife in buying, him, and that she ought to be very grateful. To-night, looking back at the past in the new light of awakened doubts, he shrewdly suspected that St. Austell had fooled him, and that, under the pret^ce of tret ting a bargain at Tattersall's, he had presented the woman he admired with a horse that had cost three times as much as her hus- band was willing to pay. And she had known the secret of the transaction, no doubt, and they had laughed together at the husband's meanness, and at the ease with which he had been hoodwinked. Valentine Belfield almost choked with rage at the idea of his own blindness. " To think that I should be deceived by any woman â€" above all by my wife â€" â€" the wife I won as easily as a pair of gloves â€" and by heaven, I thought she was as much my own as my srloves or my hat â€" as faithful to me as my favourite dog." Yet remembering how easily she had been won, how quickly she had wavered in her fidelity to iidrian, he could scarceh- wonder that she had faltered in her truth to him. St. Austell was faacinating, a man of em- inently seductive manners, deeply read In that modem literature which women appre- ciate, distinctly a man to please women â€" while he, Valentine, was a sportsman, car ing very little for women's society, and making no sacrifices to please them, despis- ing them rather as a lower order of beings whose nature it was to be suppliants and adorers of the master spirit, man. He had never thought of hia wife's love for him as a measurable quantity, wliich he might ex haust. " She has been a fool, and ahe has bem a coquette," he aaid to himaelf, aa the train ateamed past the shabby streeta and gaalit windows of northern London, " but I don't believe che has been anything worse. It will be my bnsinesa to drive her with a tishter rein in future. Yon have been allowed to go toojfree, my pet. It most be enrb instead of snaffls, henceforward." He had bosinesa in London wfaicli mnat oeeda be done before he ooqU look aiter hia wife. Fostcud'a defeat raaant loaaea «hioh unonnted uiaumt to fiBaaeial mia. Monay would have to be ntiaad, and at a aacrifioe. He oonld not brio^ hlmaelf to aftpeal to hia mother for hdp m a tuf difBcoity firotly beeanae ahe had been Yary geaeroiiB to him already, and aecon^y beoMiae there wer« other cQfficnltiea, other debta imminent, for which he woold be oUifled to aak her ance. Undar flwf drcamatanoaa he went to a Jaw moaqr-land«r» and InvolTed himaelf da^Iy in order to ralae money a^pdnat tling day. From the money-lender's office he went to Tattersall's where he was almoat as well-known aa Lord St. Austell. He saw one of the chief clerks, a man with whom he had been on familiar terms ever since he had been a frequenter of the famous auction yard. " There was a horse sold here last April," he said, " a thorough-bred bay, grandson of MacoronL I want very much to know at what figure th»t horse was knocked down. I've got a bet upon it." " What's your bet, Mr. Belfield, if its not an impertinent question " asked the man easily. " If it was, I wouldn't mind it from you, Jones," answered Valentine. "I've laid two to one that Ravioli fetched over two hundred." " I think you're pretty safe, sir. I remem- ber the horse. He was one of Captain Pop- ?ingay's lot, and they were all good 'uns. '11 turn up the catalogue in a minute. April 7th, 10th, l-lth, yes, here they are, hunters, park hacks, team of coach horses." He ran his finger down the pages of a cata- logue, his practised eye following the figures with amazing rapidity. The prices realized by the horses were written in the margin beside the lot numbers, and the names of the purchasers on the other side of the page. " Ravioli, five years' old, thorough-bred, has been hunted with the Pytchley, carries a lady," he read. " Your money's safe, Mr. Belfield. Two hundred and seventy-eight guineas. Lord St. Austell bought him." " That's your ticket," answered Valentine lightly, " I thought I was pretty safe. Good- night, a thousand thanks." He had just time to catch an afternoon train for the W^est of England, a train which left Waterloo late in the afternoon, and which was due at Chadford-road Sta- tion a little before midnight. It w«s a slow train, and one by which he would only have travelled in an emergency. He had telegraphed no announcement of his coming, eisher to his mother or his wife. It was a part of his plan to take Helen by surprise, and he was willing to hazard the difficulty of getting into a house in which all the siervants might have gone to bed be- fore he could arrive. The chances were that Adrian would be in tho library, where it was his usual habit to sit reading long after midnight. Chadford road Station was nearly five miles from the Abbey, and Mr. Belfield was in no humour for a long walk. The Station Hotel, a decent inn, which could provide a one-horae fly upon occasions, and which called itself a posting-house, was open, so he went in, ordered a brandy and soda, and a trap to take him to the Abbey. The ostler and the flyman were lazy and slow, and Mr. Balfield had to wait a quarter of an hour while the fly was being got ready. He stood in the bar, drinking his brandy and soda, and talking to the landlady, a large and blooming matron of the Devonshire dumpling order of beauty, whom he had known from his childhood. " I never thought to have the pleasure cf waiting upon you to-night, Mr. Belfield," she said. " But I always wait up for this train and send the girls to bed. And yet I'm always the first up of a morning. I've been expecting yon down at the Abbey, too, for I saw Mrs. Belfield driving with her ladyship the other day, as pretty aa ever, but looking rather pale and out of sorts, I thought. " Yes, she is not over well. She is down here for her health. "Xo be sure, sir. The London season does take a deal out of a lady," replied the inkeeper's wife, shaking her head, and with an air of knowing town dissipations by heart. "There's been one of your friends stoppmg at Chadford for the last few days, Mr. Belfidd but he hasn't brought any horses this time, and not even so much as a body servant. He came into the place as quiet as any commercial." "Indeed I Who'B that?" " Lord St. Austell. My master saw him yesterday evening sauntering by the river, just outside the Lamb gardens, and he heard afterwards that his lordship had been stop- ping at the Lamb for the last three days, which, considering that there's no sport except salmon fishing at this time of year, and that th 3 cooking at the Lamb is about aa bad as it can be, puzzled me and my husband as to what attraction a gentleman like Lord St. Austell could find here." "Oh, there is always sport for a true sportsman," answered Valentine, lightly. " Well, aa you say, sir, it may be the sal- mon, and that would account for his not bringing any horses." "Ah, there's the fly; good-night, Mrs, Crump," and Valentine jumped into the lumbering old landau, and was jolted along the road to Chadford. He looked up at the Lamb aa he passed. Yea, there were lighta in the windows of the aitting room facing the bridge, the rooma that St. Austell and Beeching had occupied three years ago. His wife's lover waa there. Her lover He had no doubt as to their guilty love, now. That revelation about the horse was danminc proof of St. Austell's perfidy, even if it left Helen'a con- duct atill doubtfuL To Valentine it aeemed that they were leagued against him, and that they had laughed at bis blindnesa, at him, the man who prided himaelf upon bia knowledge of horse fleah, and who had been fooled and duped ao easily. Nor waa thia alL_ He looked back and remembered many incidents, looks, words, arrivals and de- partures, meetings that had aeemed acci- dental, oircnmatancea of all kinda, trifling enough in tbemaelvea, yet signs and tokens of aecret guilt. He bad been ao certain of hia wife'a all^iance, ao secure, aa to have been the very Uat to obaerve those indlcationa which had been obvloua to all the reat of the world. " If I had known that all women were. â€" Bat no, there ia one good woman in the vwld, my mother and I have grown np in tiie belief Oat all w»U1ired women were like her. I thonght tlAt it waa in the nature of a w^-bora cirl to be ohaate and tme. I oogbt- to tliaT«kiiow differently. God know* I have lieard atoriea enough bat I thonght that then waa a line of demaroation, a gnU.between the aheep and thegoata." Hegnwnd hiataiitkin an agony wrage, not more. iaf|iriatedat,the idea of hia wife^ Ma«Aood fliaa rt^iHMr StPvght of his own blind confidence. The hard worked old horae waa rattling along the road at a good pace, eager to get his business done and go back to his stable, but to Valentine's im^ patienM it aeemed aa if he were crawling. At last the fly atopped ahorti and the driver got down to open the gates leading into the avenue. The gatea were rarely locked at night. The lodge windows were dark. Before they were half way down the avenue, Valentine called to the man to atop, and got out while he was pulling up hia horae. " I'll walk the reat of the way," he aaid, giving the man a ehilling out of the loose silver in his pocket. " Goad-night."' " Good night, air, and thank'ee," and the horae-of-all-werk turned and cantered gaily homeward, while the driver thought what a pleasant man Mr. Belfield was, and what a cheery voice and manner he had. Mr. Belfield waa walking down the avenue at a pace that was almost a run. He wanted to be face to face with his false wifeâ€" to surprise her by the anddenneaa of his com- ing, to atand before her without a moments' warning strong In his knowledge of her guilt. That was the one passionate craving of hia mind, the one hope for which he ex- isted at this moment. After that,^ there would be another meeting, between him and St. Austell, a meeting which must end in blood. Y^es, straight before him in the near distance he saw inevitable bloodshed. No modem vengeance beaten out inch by inch, thin aa good leaf under the gold-beater's hammer; no thirty day scandal in the law courts with all its pettiness of foul details and lying and counter lying of hirelings not for him the modern husEMud'a mode o) retribution, but swift sharp vengeance, such as one reads of in old Italian chronicles. Vengeance as speedy and sudden, if not as secret, as those dealings between man and man which made the glory of Venice in the good old days of the Council of Ten, when every seducer went with hia life in his hand, and knew not whether the sun that rose upon his guilty pleasure might not set upon his untimely grave in the Canal yonder, and when every false wife had a daily expecta tion of poison in the domestic wine cup, or a dagger under the matrimonial pillow. Valentine Belfield had no uncertainty of mind as to his manner of dealing with St. Aastell. They two would have to atand face toface upon some quiet, easily aoceesible spot in France or Belgium, where a brace of pistols would settle all scores. How he was to aeal with his wife was a more com- plex question, but for the moment his •'esire was only to confront her and to wring the acknowledgment of ber guilt from those false lips.- Thc house was dark foir the most pa.rt, as he had expected to find it, but there were lights in the library windows, and in the windows of his wife's room, above the library. She was not at rest then, late as it was. Her guilty conscience would not let her rest, perhaps. He knocked at the glass door in the lobby next the library, a door which stood open all day in fine weather, and by which his brother went in and out of the garden twenty times a day, loving the old world garden .almost as he lovod his books. He heard the library door open, and Adrian's footsteps approaching, and then the shutter was taken doivn and the door opened cautiously a little way. " Who is there " "Valentine." "Valentine 1" cried Adrian, throwing open the door, and holding out both his hands to his brother, " this is indeed a sur- prise. Why didn't you telegraph 1 Helen went to bed nearly three hours ago." " Her candles are still burning, anyhow," answered Valentine, gloomily. " I take it I shall find her awake, late aa it is. Good night. We'll reaerve all our talk tUl the morning." " Won't you come into the library for ten minutes or so All the aervanta are in bed, no doubt, but I might get you aomething, perhaps â€" ^wine, or brandy and water." " Not a thing. Good night." His strange manner mystified Adrian, and impressed him with a foreboding of trouble. Never had he seen ao dreadful an expression in his brother's free â€" the con- tracted brows, the rigid, bloodleaa lips, the fixed look of the haggard eyea, ataring forward, as if intent upon some hideona viaion. Adrian watehed him aa he went np the little private staircase which led only to that one suite of rooms in the library wing. Watehed, and felt inclined to follow him 9nd yet held back, not liking to pry into his brother's secrete. Wht could that trouble be which had wrought such an evil influence upon Valentine. Money troubles, perhaps^turf losses. Adrian had heard enough while he was in London to know that his brother was the associate of racing men, and it waa easy enough to guesa that he had involved himself In turi transactions. Yet there waa that in hia face which in- dicated stronger passions than money troubles should cause In any reasonable be- ing. But then, Valentine was apt to give way to unreasonable wrath against anything that came between him and his wishes. " It is nothing of amy moment, perhaps," thought Adrain. "He will be in better temper to-morrow morning." He told himaelf thia yet so intense was hia sympathy with his brother, that he went back to the library trcubled and agitated, with his heart beating violently. He tried to eo on with the book he had been reading when Valentine knocked at the door, but his thonghte were with hia brother and hia brother'a wife in the room above him. He found himaelf llatening for their footsteps, for the sound of their voices, which reached him now and then, faintly audible in the stillnoM of the night. The casement was open in the mnllloned window yonder, and there may have been an open window in the room alwve. (to be contintied) The Work of a So-CaUed "Trust." There was a flsnrishing cotton seed oil mill operation in the town of Amontown. lor, his Ala., which gave employment to idle labor and enabled the fanner to dispose of his' se^ The phflanthropio Trost oame alons and purchased the ^ant and shnt it np. a^ u^ ^•*"' saMHon. Alex, a Davidson. ;JT?^ ""**•" â- *«*^ *â- â€¢ •oglne. wnion stands as a monoment al the ladc thrift of the people, and yet in reaUtr it amonnnMnt of the raaoaHty of a ooi^iiaZ which robe and swindles the people soaHo ""^J^,jwn to the exttetSf erjudnj of Thonght u the wind Jcnowledoe the aafi. and mankind the TesssL â€"-«, AN OG£AJr-GOINa BALLOOH. Capt JoTlB To Cross ftmn America to EnJope In the Air The French Aeronautic Society, under the direction of Capt. Jovia, one of the moat daring aeronanto, will aoon undertake an expedition deatined to cast In the ahade all thoae previonsly attempted â€" an expedi- tion to cost $40,000. The higher atmoa- pheric currents (trade winds) are to be util- ized for the passage of a balloon from America to Europe. A few daya ago I heard.Monsieur H. Faye, a member of the Inaitate, give his opinion with reference to the result of tiie proposed voyage. Said the eminent scientist " Trne there are higher atmospheric currento, whose direc- tion is from America to Earope, but it is also true that in these curieate are found the tempests. Starting, for.instance, from Car- acas, Venezuela, 10 degrees north latitude, and ascending very high, a balloon has always a chance of encountering one of these ciirrente, but In this latitude they tra- vel very slowly â€" alow enough to make a voyage last from ten to twelve days. Be- sides, these currents do not immediately take a course that will lead them to the KOBTHEKN PORTION OF EUBOPE their first direction is west and north until 30 degrees or 85 degrees, then north, then' east and finally northeast. A current above Car- acas will travel fi rst toward s the Gulf of Mex Ico then enter the United States by Texas, then leave the continent by some point be- tween|PhiladelpblaandNewfoundland,cros8 the Atlantic in an oblique direction and at last reach the coast of Ireland, Sweden, or Norway. It must not be forgotten that in these lugher currente ot the atmosphere are found the cyclones and I beg those who contemplate making the voyage to think of the terrible risks to which they expose themselves. Certainly, it would be grand to describe the course of these winds that play an imporant role in science and navigation but if, as has been said, tht fate of Bulgaria is not worthjthe bones of a Pomeranian gren- adier, a hundred times more true is the fact that the lives of three enterprising Frenchmen are worth more than a scienti- fic conquest." M. Faye is discouraging, and for that reason I called on Capt. Jovis and asked what he thought of the opinions of his scientific friend. " He is right, only we have never had any intention to start from South America. New York is the point of departure, decided upon ten years ago, when our project was but a dream. Now that our hopes are almost realized we are in communication with the United States Signal Service, and intend to make our ascension at the moment when a slight barometrical depression, well studied in advance, shall pass tbove our station. Oar departure may be cabled to all the European coasts, and preparations can thus be made to receive us." "And for this voyage you have a new balloon?" "Yes. Here is the model of L'Atlantique, the largest balloon ever constructed. It will contain 25,000 cubic metres (a metre is 39 inches), be 36 metres in diameter and 112 metres in circumference. The balloon will be niade of a stuff manufactured especially for the purpose. This stuff will be coated with a varnish, my invention. This varnish will render the stuff absolutely impermeable, at the same time augmenting its dynamo- metric force. So light is the varnish the bal- loon will not weigh more than two tons and will be furnished with a valve superior to any ever before used." It will be rcniembered that Capt. Jovis was illustrating his explanations, and at last he showed me the car. "This," said he, " is conatmcted and managed in a ape- clal ^manner. Naturally {I could not under- take anch a voyage with an ordinary car, and my aole object in the coiutr notion of thia one waa to prepare aomething for our safety in case the balloon iteelf "trom one cause or another, should fall Into the ocean. The car is of osier and measures only four metera by three metera ana a half. On each aide are two cork bladdera covered with impermeable cloth to keep it afloat, aa we MIGHT BE DROWNED IN THE WATER that would fill the car. I have made a double bridge, to that only onr feet would be under water. The apace between the bottom cf the car and the bridge will serve aa a atorage room for the ballaat thia ia to be small shot instead of sand. On one side are two cabina provided with mattressea that may serve for lifepieservers. Suspend- ed btaide these cabins ia a life-boat, thoro- ughly equipped. Besides there will be cordage, scientific instrnmente, and, aa. the voyage will last for more than three days, some thought must be expended upon food. A stove surrounded by metallic platea like the Davy lamp, will be of aervice in our gaatronomical arrangements " "How will the balloon be inflated?" "By hydrogen, because thia gas has an ascenaional force of 1,150 grammea a cubic metre. Thna we could ascend with 54,000 pounds weight, but as oar balloon-car, travellers, etc will weigh altogether not more than 20,000 pounds, we are able to carry 34,000 pounds of ballatt. " "How much ballast will be needed?" "That we have carefully calculated. The balloon will lose daily 1,000 metres, a loss produced by the dilation of gas. We are to travel sixty miles an hour, and shall in all probability be eighty-five hoars en route, consequently about 8,000 pounds of ballast wiU be utilized." " What do yon think of the dangers to which yon and year two aides, Lieut. Mal- let and Paul Arene, expose your lives " " I have made no mistoke in my cal- cnlatlons. in the past ten years I have made 220 ascensions and fallen in the water twenty-nine times, twice against my will, but twenty-aeven times for the purpose of perfecting my experimente. Oncel remained seven hours before aid reached me, and then my car was an ordinary one, not like that of 'L' Atlantiqne.' We have been asked by the managers of ths Ezpoaition of 1889 to postpone onr crossing until next spring, ud make a sensation at the Champ de Mars by appearing in the nddst of the spectators ffttiiered therefor the inaagoration of the •WoridY '^*' ^^ ow pwpiMatfons wiU beoompleted, I hope, for the ooming an- tnmn. In October onr material will be trans- portsd to New York. At some point ohoeen we^iaU inflate the balloon aacTwait for a favooraUe atmoaialierioal distortMuuso, tiien wrt for Enrope and land ^I know not on tniat •â-  " EyiotejjQj^ theactoaloSde^?'««; Too mat refinement is false delicaoy. and tvuddUoay is saiidMwmaiA^[Eo^oa- X uo not wish to do it '"•PlaB, pandanus tree near ».'***• t2? thiso pair of S *?;«'• At first I offered nn l^^ the task was fiSsw" ""'Jli;' hi3 energies--arou8ed V*"'*«tW Pg-Mdenly de^Sedy ?Vh1 therefore occupied^hU le£ dit^ I Jj««»Kwithhi.stron,fctSd tree's life I expostJS »*«* he would desist from J^ ""A ft, J with mock gravity Ifc^*^!! finuhed would dig ontaf l**' plant and throw it down t^^Pi*.*! Then I gave myservantlS f bhe nest froai the S °[^""J was done, and the servant rem!fr while I was visited by th^""*^" displeasure. "" Owt Whenever I ventured im^ .^ that crow.wouldsSutr- in an instant, from twSv^^"â„¢^, would flock about Z 1^- %«^ unpleasantremaS """"« H If I even showed mvaelt â„¢ u I veranda, that offended bSwLH fly to its balustrade. aTd Sli hu neck, would accuse me of evSd able enormity in sucli deep SSl tones as went far toward JkiTg f J This rancorous hatred was dumJ for a long time, till, finding t2| was not again moleated, hisCS' appeased, and I was once more »t to walk in the garden. Thinks Stanley is all Eigit, Writing concerning the variomn, afloat about the expedition of Henry mI ley, the London CDrrespondent of the] York Sun notes that the famous enlnrl Samuel Baker, says thai it would beil feature in Central African travelling 2f ley's party of nearly 4:0 men could pn at a fi xed rate per diemoveruntroddaijt and arrive at Albert Nyanzaatanyjii mate period. The greater the numbd party the greater would be the dffiai nis advance, as it would be impcesiUtl tain necessary supplies and carrier transport troubles would beexcesjivei to the swampy valleys, every i ing a deep morass. When Baker'hii covered the Albert Nyanza in iSGlhiii consisted of only 13 men, and witli| small number they were starving for{ months, and incapable of movuig fioij locality, as carriers had disappeared. Of second expedition Sir Samuel was in j mand of the Khedive of Egypt's forces, i were two years and five mouths «it any communication whatever with thtl side world. As now, all kinds oil were circulated in Earope, and all we Sir Samuel is therefore unable to tn] gloomy views should predominatereipi Stanley's situation. He will have ni suffer, as all thoae have who ventniel the imknown, but he has good cfficenj can be trusted with good men, and, i all, a good supply of ammunitioii. i well experienoed in African trtnl| thoroughly capable of extricating from any diflioulty. Probably lomeij hostility in his rear has rendered it r siUe to send messengers from hli body. Meanwhile he is donbtlen i journeying his way, with wearying i through bogs and enormous gnaj mountains and in dense foreati, to a at some future time upon Albertlij| relieved of the heavier portion oi I plies that were intended for Emin Pn m Musical Sands. There are many banks of sandi 4 world which are known for the »â-  sounds they produce when thewina* other cause puts the sands in motioiijU these, in Arabia, has been dejenw Lieutenant Newbold and anottitf, ghanistan, is described byCohnMW as follows Ar " It is a very steep bankof wnM up a mountain to the height of bom I hundred yards. The wn^" «S I and :s supposed to be ^^^f^^'^J hole of any depth whatever be d^'y the ijourse of a few hours all « """n level again. „.i(uriil "Onthe pUin below anannualfur'J when many persons perform the wi cending to the top, which is oy t easy from its steepness »?« »',a nature of the sand, int» which^'^1 to the calf, the foot slipowU â- ** I """ThesanddispUceibythecItal?! rustiing down, and c^^**" »5i«,i distant dash ofw»ve8onthe«2"ti;i when a multitude ascend «« J blowa strongly ««"'»* *3?J^bl» 1 resembles the loud cMh of cgnj* J ever sand may be displsc^tw"" always blown back »g"ng^ winds which eddy round «^ 1^1 •• Taking off oar bootai my « ,J Istmggledup. T^«STo«»H hour?ixertion, "^^^^^fi-i^^J accustomed to it «»» dojt «" ^^^ A rocks beyond are lj°«S* farther H angular surface forbade oar ^^J :;Shbare feet. We^eJ^;^ down. One accoD.plu.hed tB» thirty seconds. Af ter Je ton ^^ the aJnsation o jaimwg doJJ^, " A petty chief of our P»r^' j,^ ' ing do^. pitohed ior^^iZi^n aunk deep m the «and, «« ^a, ed up in the air for » «"gj, o«» J| up in the airiw -- gj, o«», moat ludicrous nwnnen^^t,,,-' were convulsed witn i»^ were oonTuww â€" „ aervedhiagood-hnmon^ ..BUly.oldboy,y««'2%gk««1 morning. What's b5P»«^«*!J "Tomi5y.oldf..«»f^tfl accepted me. "" ""'" T wood, "'"•irii Mra. Belva ,I^i2S«y*2« nominated for the ri^i^ a^ of the Equal B«htjJ^VSj. official report, 68 J^^e *^tw] ed law and was »"â„¢^ she was 43. Terrible Bevenge. .u of Montmayeur, at the foot •^\«s connected with a terrible '^ii-Ifif teenth century. If j udges jJirme decisions at the present 'SSTVummarUy treated, their *• Mbe dangerous mdeed. The • ^^ • CouncMontmayeur owned •^ but part of them were claim- i •*S!!.'mi. aad a suit was begun. l»'"^of the suit reached Mont- W V tastantiy rode down to the pf» with a bag fall of title-deeds fSS'how, Mid. whether by logic • "^Jead^ his cause so well that ^of the Tribunal, one Sieur de "Sked his life on the Count's w- 1%e verdict, nevertheless, was r t Jt hint, and Montmayeur vowed P*??^- but time went on, and the L'!2r5'carried oat. t^ morning Fess^ny was surprised KIT from tiie defeated count, and BnTorised by his courteous and â- ^^LiSor. Montmayeur waa weary, Ti^ family atrife, and, having r de neace with hia victorious kins- P?bidden him, with other friends L'i^nM to a banquet. Might he not rta"So favored with the President's If itoiy hemmed and haw'd. butfinally IKe invitation, and on the appoint- I^LieUpto the gates of Clairvaux. ETMSsed no one on the road, the Linked grim and deserted, there lnod«M of festivity to be seen, and r««ment he felt strongly inclined to laBd^Uop back down the steep des- It the chief toin, all smiles and affability I «itiDg to -welcome him under the i«r thanks for his kind punctuality. Lthtt sueste had not yet appeared; the rbecame fidgety, astonished, annoyed, paently ordered the repast to be served imttbem. -.. 1 L President's suspicions were quite al- h hv this time. The dishes were ex(iai- hhe wmes of the choicest growth. tJe kdeep so did the count their tongues »ad fit followed jest, and the host was ieiwllent company. Their merriment lat its height, when suddenly Mont- jenr's manner changed, and he said, m iemntone j r^. • |R ear de Fessigny, are you a good Chris- I** Vhatdp you mean?" askei the aston- b^nquiry was repeated with increased puis. •• b President laughed, and, raising his I answered, lightly lyou are very kic-i, my daar count. It concern may you have in the state of »nl!" 1 round and you will see!" thundered Itmayeur. ... leFessigny turned and sprang to his feet. [arras behind him had been drawn a^ide. law a fttueral bier at the end of the hall [a dozen monks ranged round it began LtiDgaLitany for the dead. A masked fig [dresied in red, stood, axe in hand, be- lablock. jeFessigny's eyes opened, his glass drop- Land the blood red wine ran along the pen floor, and stained the stones by the Ibrough you I lost lands and gold!" 1 the count. "Your head is fcrfeit. skly make peace with heaven, for you t to die?" me scared President tried to laugh. This is a sorroy jest, my lord count," Hammered, with trembling lips. hlis ho jest. Make thy p«ace with 1 " ben the betrayed man fell upon his es, appealing to the laws of hospitality, bog mercy for wife and child's sake, tin vain! At a sign from their chief, two W feigned monks dragged the victirn to Iblock, and in an insr^nt the execution- (vork was done. jrly the next morning the count moant- M« horse, and â€" again with a leather bag jia saddlebow â€" rode down to the Senate. PHere is a fresh document connected with ]e«»e," he said, laying his bag on the snd, hastily saluting the assembly, at I quitted the hall and rode away. With ' ebw was the head of De Fessigny. ber this act of violence the count found l^iedient to leave Savoy, and, flying IMS the mountains, long defied j ustice in lUBpiegnable castle of Montmayeur. ' Save Him a Piece of the Kew Crop. were about to be engaged. They lorifted into it, don't you know. It ' oi happened. He was lonely and he ' T»ng out to the house and making ' u agreeable as possible until he had '(omething. He hadn't asked her for ttagln the way for a keepsake. He Jâ„¢ the very early Platonic days, when ^dher she waa a kind of a sister to him, 'â- â€¢an account ol hia previous love la_ -l*t is, some of them. The ending I*** wss all plansible and creditable to • 'JJ* of coarse, ahe didn't ask the other *rS â- '"•" would have been different. J" he aaid, " I have only one sou- • Uttle lock of hair. Miesâ€" gave ^^*"» see it." !j â- ? J*onght it up and showed it. .*•«»* myaelf off her pale white brow. »Sl *fed a great deal for me ^•tt we quarreled, for she let me keep .S*»«wr aakod it back." L_*sara easily explained," said the young ;^*y*Mdr. The hairdresser kept my ijy^yn she cut it off, and she told *^!J*«rds she had made a lovely f roni I* ^?|*"'*ve. He had presence of mind, ^2?*» ** "Md, "I knew there wa! l2L'?f§p***o '^ot that lock of hair *- li^' wt me give you a piece of the new • •?• r« the Tear 1886 /•â- â€¢Intion can be made than t ?^ M»y of the substitutes offeree Sw' as the great only aure-po] "Bomb's Painless Corn Extrac "^^Qa to eive satisfaction. Be flesh eating substitutes. "V^irkbridge. writes :â€" " I hav 1^ of Dr. Thomas' Khctn ^qntlde, sore throat, croup wt imj afiiaotion of th vkm n^iie. It is a sur â€" aad brniaea." !;i.-:i^^..-_