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Home My WebLink AboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-5-10, Page 3:W11F,R A11l1 WICKED SWAP BURIED ? "'Tell me greeehehdocl sexton," I said, "Where in Ude field are the wloked folk laid ? i have wandered the quiet old graveyard. through, ;d.nd studied the epitaphs, old and now ; But on monument. obelisk, pillar tar stone, Iread of no evil that men have done:" The old extort stood by a grave newly made, WW1 his chin on his hand, his hand on his spade, X knew by the gleam of his eloquent eye That his heart was instructing his lips to reply. "Who is to Judge—when the soul takes its flight— Who le to judge 'twixt the wrong and the right ? Which of us mortals shall dare to say That our neighbor was wicked who died to -day ? "In the journey through life, the farther we snood, The better we (earn that humanity's need Is charity's spirit, that prompts us to find Mather virtue than vice in .the lives of mankind. "So commendable deeds we record on these stones ; The evil men :lo—let it die with their bones. g have labored as sexton this many a year, But I never have buried a bad man here.'f WANTED. Wanted : ,liven, Not systems fit and wise, Not faiths with rigid eyes, Not wealth in mountain piles, Not power with gracious, smiles, Not even the potent pen ; Wanted : Men, Wanted : Deeds, Not words of winning note, Not thoughts from life remote, Not fond religious airs, Not awoetly languid prayers, Not love of scent and creeds ; Wanted : Deeds. Men and Deeds. Men that can dare and do, Not longings for the new, Not pratings Tor the old ; Good life and action bold— _ These the occasion needs ; ' Men and Deeds. THE 1IEE OF A PEER. f Laura and Lady 'Twirlington, rom the vantage point of a rise of ground overlooking the gorse, had seen the hounds break cover and stream like a ',flock of birds over the neighboring f ield, followed by a struggling mass of horsemen. After watching the run un- til they had observed the talent steal skilfully to the front, leaving the nov- ices the choice of charging a five barred gate, or of discreetly making a detour • along the line of the neighboring lane, they were driven rapidly along the road in the direction the hunt had taken,, trusting that a check of the hounds might enable them to obtain another, .glimpse of the run. Laura, catching the inspiration of the chase, plied Lady Twirlington with in- numerable questions about the sport.. .Her bright eyes sparkled and the brae- , ing autumn air brought rich ,color to ler cheeks. She Iooked eagerly for a ;few view of the flying hounds.. "I don't wonder that people like to .hunt," she said, with all the ardor and enthusiasm of youth. " It must be just ..glorious." There is an inspiring exhilaration • about the sport which even ,the specta- tor shares, and Laura longed to be able '•to ride over field and ,fence enjoying that fascinating pleasure. Lady, ,Twir- lington looked quizzically at the beau- 'tiful young woman beside her. "Lady Warrington," she said earnest- ly, " I would give ten years of my life .for one hour of your youthful spirits; I would give life itself if I could leave ;this world with your innocent heart." Laura looked into the face beside her. She had been accustomed to see her com- panion frivolous in manner, and this sudden, eeeious mood startled her. "What do you mean ?" she asked in a puzzled tone. The corners of Lady Twirlington's -mouth drooped sadly and her queer lit- tle eyes assumed a thoughtful expres- sion. "I mean, child," she said, taking Laura's hand, " that I am getting to be an old woman and that consequent- ly, I view life retrospectively. This look- ing backward is sometimes painful." "I should think it would be delightful to look upon young people with all the -superiority which comes from experi- .. ence I am sad sometimes, and ashamed, '':too, because I know so little about the `world." "Never try to probe into its secrets, Laura.: You will let me call you Laura, .won't you ? It was the name of my only child. The little thing would be about your ' age if she had lived. No, ,Laura, let the secrets of the world alone -and view it with the optomistic ardor which only youth and a blear consci- ence can give." "But haven't I my position to main- -tain?" objected Laura. "I can't re- <tmain an ignorant country girl.. I must see the world." "And when you do," Lady Twirlington continued, "you will see a nasty, sel- fish, mean little world, full of hypocrisy, 'deceit and wickedness which you will ,loathe and hate." "I can't believe it fa so bad as that," •said Laura protestingly; "There must 'be some good." "Yes there is," answered her compan- ion, " and you are having it all now, child. Enjoy it while you can." Laura thought of herconversation with Captain Langdon a flow nights before, and she wondered why both these 1people, who had seen so much of life, ,should have suddenly confided to her reflections which, in their sad, cynical tone of regret, seemed strikingly sim- ilar. "What do you really think life els like, Lady Twirlington ?' she asked " It is like the hunt we have just seen. An eager start, an exhilarating buret, a 'fall perhaps, and we rise and struggle -on, besmeared and weakened by our rule - hap, but with less confidence. The com- :petition is keen, and the strong ones win. The weak lie, disabled and ex- °•hausted, while the great, eager crowd :rushes on, pursuing the phantom happi- nees. A' few struggle proudly to the 'front, but their triumph is momentary, .for death comes and it is over. That "is life." The music of the pack broke suddenly 'from behind a .fine of hedgerow, and in a • moment their horses were startled by the 'Right of thirty or more couples of fleet lionncls not ten yards ahead. The glint of their white coats had scarcely dis ,.appeared before Master, huntsman and Surat flight leaped the hedge to lead pur- suit of the vaniehing pack. Close on ,Grenwell s heels rode Langdontaking the etedge With the easy grace of an experi- • onced hand, and then, surprisingly, well to the front, a golden ehostnut dropped '('luta the road and gathered himself neat - Ey, after the jump, while a little beyond n, roan horse taking off too goon landed • sprawling in the Mud and shot his His• eomfited rider Well into the opposite atm • ditch, eo After the eager hounds had dashed into the fshe gorse ;Madge called upon Hugh to ing take up a link ,in hen horse's curb Chain. He; dienlounted and, !midst* his :we bunting whip ander his arnn, proceeded to perform the service. Madge leaned forward alightly,, and, stroking her chest'. nut's neck, asked Hugh why he had been so surly since they left the bowie. He fidgeted a moment without replying. " I know why," she continued. ` It is be- cause you are thinking of the most beau- tiful woman in England," " Who is that 7" he asked, looking up. "The Countess of Warrington. I don't believe you half appreciate your wife, Men never do," " And you admire her 7" he asked, some- what. astonished. " I think rho is the most beautiful creature I have ever. seen, and she is as sweet as she is beautiful, I am sure, It takes one woman to judge another, and. I lost my heart to her directly, I saw her. I hope she will let me be her friend." Hugh finished adjusting the curb, and then he gave the chestnut's nose an affec- tionate rub. He was silent because he watt thinking how unlike Madge it ,was to be enthusiastically sounding the praises of another woman. It was cer- tainly gracious on her part. Perhaps she was not so designing as he had some- times thought her. stupid," you going to say« anything, youpid, she continued. You don't appreciate your wife. You don't deserve your luck." The sharp notes of a horn sounded on the clear air. Hugh swung into his sad- dle, but Madge was off before him, charging furiously toward the point where the fox had broken cover. He fol- lowed as rapidly as he could, but he was too late to give her the promised lead. Madge, who was as keen for the' sport as any man who ever wore pink, spied Langdon just ahead, She had more than once had hint for a pilot in the shires and, relying ou his judgment, followed him cleverly over the first jump. Hugh, settling himself on the gray, cleared the stile as closely after the chestnut as his tardy start would per- mit. In this order the three went over ploughed land, taking ridge and furrow slightly aslant ; jumped the second fence a field ahead of the surging crowd which was just struggling through the gate fifty yards below the place where Langdon had taken off. Hugh felt the exhilarating rush of the ,,rind against his cheeks and the inspir- ing stride of the hunter under him. Just ahead was a lithe figure in a dark blue habit, which he vowed he must pass; but in spite of his best ef- forts the golden chestnut kept his lead, speeding along always in front of him. "Madge can go and no mistake," he thought to himself, as field after field was left behind and the blue habit showed no signs of faltering. Over another fence they went and the z gray's shoes clicked on the hard pave- ment of a road. He thought he saw a carriage and a familiar form inside it, r but he was not positive, for his fair pilot 1 was off down a lane 'before he could steal another glance" in that direction. n He watched the chestnut sailing away h so easily and admired 'the consummate q skill which took the horse over his s fences so magically. Then the hounds, faltering for a mo- e went, Madge slipped the crook of her h whip deftly under a latch and, impelled c bay a backward sweep of her arm, the t gate swung open. " Have you got it ?" t she called to Hugh, and away she went t over a field of grass which sloped gently down to where a line of 'ominous wil- 1 lows and a slight silvery thread, wind- H ing serpentlike through the meadow, i caused even Madge to hesitate and sur- w vey the watery enemy. i The hounds were over and the master, e -clad safely reached the farther bank. e Langdon, too, who 'was now well" to the front, faced the water bravely, his:borne e landed safely, made a false step, took e a short stride, recovered himself and then the ex -Guardsman was' away, ready to meet the next obstruction'. Madge w saw the specks of white on the further e bank made a slight deflection to 'the m right. • " There's a bridge down by w that fence," she called, with a wave of se her whip. Hugh still following, she le led the way to a clump of willows well eve to the bottom ,of the field, where, a small t bridge of boards spanned the little stream. • « To cross it was a moment's work ; but on the other side, not many yards th from the water, was a hedge of black- c thorn cut, staked and bound to a height wof lour teadied her mount, charged fit tcareful ca, Madge refully, cleared the hedge and disappeared. Hugh followed, but to fearing a fall, chose a point well to the right. The gray took off splendidly, and with heels well under him cleared, the obstruction and landed deftly with " his forefeet on the farther bank of a ar broad ditch. For a moment he slipped, P and struggled on the clay, then he re Pe covered himself and was off again, but T Hugh, throwing his weight on the reins, de checked the hunter's flight and turned to him back. There on the bank lay a, ha motionless form, while the chestnut was di struggling helplessly in the ditch. He sprang from the saddle and ran to ha she spot where Madge was lying, Drop- jc ping on the ground beside her he raised p, her in hie arms and looked anxiously in- « to the pale face. He tore open her habit at the throat and listened attentively for ca'p a sign of life. Finding that she was eyo a breathing he left her, and, running to ea his hunter's side, he snatched his flask from the saddle bow. When he reached Madge again he lifted her gently till ca her head rested on hie arm, and then he e: placed the flask to her lips. She opened fa her eyes, looked about in a dazed sort of way„ smiled faintly and then nestled m° close to his breast. " Are you much hurt, Madge ?" he on said gently, stroking her witite fore- :: head. Her grey eyes opened again and looked ma up to his face. " No, dear," she said gl faintly, almost tenderly'. " I think I was in inlayed hunter's :lade. She laid her cheek sto nst hie warns � face and tenderly r ked hie noise. I nor ",oldie I she said sympathetically. `" No more hunt- g 1 That's what we live tor, isn't it, Goldie ? Never mind, dear, you shan't go into harness ; you shall have the best box in the stable, and we'll nurse and take care of you always." Dont take on like that, Madge," said Hugh reassuringly, feeling touch- ed by the woman's affection for the ant - Mal. "It mayn't be as bad as I say. Horses have often recovered from worse sprains and have been able to hunt again. He'll be all right, but we mast get him out of thio." "I'll stop here, then, till you find some ono to take care of Goldie," said Madge, Then I can ride your gray back." " But how do you feel yourself ?" in- quired Engle "That was a nasty faille " I am a bit seedy, that's all, It isn't the first fall I've had, and hope it won't be the last. Hurry on and don't mind me. I'll look out for Goldie." Hugh mounted the gray again and rod off in search of help. As he was opening the gate leading out of the field he heard the sound of approaching hoofs and saw a group of "second horsemen" riding leasurely toward him. Among them he spied the mount whin hhe had intended using later in the day, so call- ing to his groom, he led the way back to where Madge had remained with the chestnut. The side-saddle was quickly transferred to the gray, and Goldie being left in charge of the groom with instructions for his proper care Madge and Hugh rode slowly away. By this time Madge had recovered her spirits and glancing slyly at her companion, said, "I know you won't desert me now: I feel too sleeken up for any more sport to -day, so T am going to make you lose the rest of the run, and lunch with me quietly at the Hall." Hugh wondered what Laura would say to a luncheon alone with Madge, but finding no reasonable excuse which would not be liable to an interpreta- tion of rudeness, he acquiesced silent- ly in this arrangement, and, trotting slowly by hie companion's aide, chatted with her about the events of the day, wondering meanwhile at her cheerful manner, and admiring the pluck which had prompted her to 'treat so severe a fall with such sportsmanlike indiffer- ence; CHAPTER VIII. During the luncheon which followed their arrival at Wilton Hall a spirit of good fellowship seemed to inspire Madge Fenton's manner towards Hugh. Appear- ing to have suffered no i11 effects from her recent accident, beyond a little lame - noes, she talked familiarly about old times and assumed an air of 'intimacy and comradeship which lent'a peculiar est to her conversation and 'which at once placed Hugh in a position where friendship was so well defined that any eference on his part to their former re- ations was clearly unnecessary. He felt thankful that Madge's clever- ess had enabled her at once to place im at his ease, and by her own fre- uent allusions to the past make it pos- ible for them to converse freely about the many experiences they had had in ommon. The exercise of the morning ad enabled them to do justice to a apital Iuncheon, and as it progressed hey laughed and talked about numerous opics of mutual interest or discussed he various events of the past few years. During the temporary lull which fol - owed the retirement of the servants ugh glanced critically at his eompan- on and wondered if she were really the omen who had once caused hirh such ntense suffering. it was seven years ince she had cruelly broken their under- tanding, for' (t had navel been an en- agement.gNow he found it difficult von to recall the disappointment of his arty life. Her features had changed little. Her face was more mature, perhaps, but there as the same sparkle in the blue gray yes, the same mischievous smiler, and elodious laugh. He wondered why he as se unmoved, and yet her face pos- seed a fascination for him. A harm - ss fascination, he thought, for there as no longer shy question of love be - ween them. Madge caught his scrutinising glance. Well," she said. " I was thinking how,' he replied, and en after a moment of hesitation, he ontinned, "1 shan't tell you what I as thinking about." " Then I shall guess," she said. "You were thinking how foolish you were ever have wanted to marry me. Come, confess that was it." He blushed, but did not reply. I Silence don'blame consent," she laughed. e the best friends in The worlh. d. S P ore we had married ; you without a nny and I with my expensive tastes. wo miserable pampers who would have tested each other in a month, trying eke out a hopeless existence. I should ve flirted desperately, and you, in de - air, probably would have taken to ink. Isn't that about what would ve happened l" Hugh laughed. "Not an attractive ture," he said. But a probable one," she replied. On the other hand, I have a husband able sof gratifying my desires, and u have the most devoted wife on rth, a title, wealth and everything which makes life worth living." Then yon think; I owe _you a debt of atitude for not marrying me ? How an I pay it ?" Hugh asked. ` By being my friend," she answered miliarly, " You always were a od sort, Hugh. I like you. I don't nd confessing I almost Ioved you ee." He was amused at her frankness. Well, here's to friendship, and long y it last," he replied, raising his ala. Madge lifted her own glass, and, touch- g the wine with her lips, continued, t velli last ae long as you are not ly and sentimental. We shall be good ends together, comrades, if you like, d when one of ae is bored it shall be privilege to say so. That is the true ret of friendship," But do you think such a friendship possible ?" Of course it is, We mast use a lit- discretion, but if we are disereot, m your pretty; wife need not worry out it." e did not like this allusion to Laura. He felt a doubt as to whether he wag acting honorably. Madge noticed his hesitancy. "Don't be siIly," she said. "Don't I offer ypu the most harmlees of amusements ? A. Wade to drop in when you want it ; some one to talk to when the spirit moves you. If you are tiresome and crows I shall send you away?, ,fri I have no. in- tention of being bored." • "What will the ,world say, of ouch an arrangement ?"1 „ only stunned." cc y Hie heart gave nen involuntary start all as she spoke these words. "You'll be all right," he said, care- fri fully raising her to a sitting posture,an partly because he considered it ladle- hie Greet to hold her any longer in his arms. sec She felt her ruffled hair, brushed some nand from her habit, and burst out laugh- ":: ing. " A sorry end to a capital run, isn't ale it ? It was the clay bank that did It, (roadie never jumped better. He was well eve over,, but he slipped. I shot over his head a H and here we are. Look after the horse, ' Hugh, I'm all right," The hunter meanwhile had straggled eo his feet, and, with a foreleg through the snaffle rein, had hoppled on helplessly a few paces. • A lump of clay packed under his brow band told the story of the fall, and an empty side -bar caused Hugh to look about for a stirrup. When he. reached Goldie the eheotnut took a step er two with an ominous limp in his right forelhg. Hugh stooped and felt the leg between the hock and fetlock. The ten- don was already swollen and het, " No more hunting for Goddin to -day, Madge," he called. • "(Poor Goldie 1" she cried aympatheti'• cally ; " is he much hurt ?" Sprained tendon, replied Hugh, ex- ining the sweling. "A long rest and mo light work at the end of it, but to is tt poor chalice for any more hnnt- Madge, brgised and villa ken upthe k as h sprang to her feet and wept to the That is why I stipulated for, die- eretion, she answered, throwing • her- self back in her chair and assuming a charming attitude of careless eontent- ment, "The world is a silly etude eonie- t(mee, so it IA wise to keep her in ignor- ahce." "'$h ! io eaoiet staid than done," Tike a main, she laughed. "Afraid. of the World, 15 Is onlywe women who. suffer, but we are never afraid." "Thi. frlepdsbip moot be defined," be said earnestly. "There ;nest be uo trey, passing beyond its borders." conceited laughter filled the rirotri. "" of amen you are the worst," Shouted. love t Do you suppose T shall 1 with ou? I I Oh, We too absu Only offered yam ar little friendship sake of old tireejt. I onlywant to ,?miuee me whet; there'll othing e on, Hugh blushed angrily'. He felt b Provoked and mortified. He had me ly intended to be sincere and bone She had turned his sincerity into ri Cole, �" Madge noticed his change of hurt( Dont get angry," she said codzi ly. "Just put yourself in my: positi Do you suppose I enjoy, having you sinuate that I intended making deep ate love to you ? If you don't want friendship, say so, and there's an end it," Saying this, she left her chair, a walking toward the door, continued, miliarly ; " I am going, into" the libra now. You may smoke 'there if yon lik He sat gazing at the table a moms Then he rose from his chair, and, plan ing his hands into his pockets, follow her into the other room. He knew th Lady ,Twirlington had intended lunebi with Laura at Warrington Court. S was visiting Madge at the time, and feared his wife might possibly drive ba with her to Wilton Hall. He did n wieli Laura to find him alone wi Madge ; so he grew restless and glans frequently out of the library; window the direction of the road. "You silly boy, don't you know s can't possibly return for at least hour ?" said his companion, evidently vining his thoughts, "I can't see y fidget eo distressingly. I intend to se you home," Hugh protested faintly, b not heeding him, she reached for the be "Lord Warrington's horse," she said the servant who answered the summon " I am not going to be sent away peremptorily," he grumbled, playa carelessly with a Toledo poniard used a paper knife. " You are going to do just as I sa It fs a woman's privilege to be amuse A fidgety man bores me, so you are g ing home," "But "—he faltered, " With me there is no such word ` but.' You may light another cigar t smoke on the way if you like, but whe your horse is announced you're going Madge took a cigar from the box on th library table and, clipping off the en with a silver -mounted cutter, she han ed it to him. She struck a match an held it for him. 'Her face was dange ously near hie and in the light of th flame her eyes glowed roguishly. H took a long time to perform the task until the match had burned out. "May T look in on you to -morrow? he said. "I shall be anxious to learn you have suffered any ill effects fro your fall," She dropped the fragment of the mate into the ash tray with & faseinatin little gesture and turned her head avid daintily. " I am always at home t you," she safd, eztending her hand "fo are we not sworn friends ?" " Yes," he faltered, taking her hand " we are friends." Laura and Lady Twirlington, afte vainly endeavoring to obtain anothe glimpse of the run, had driven to War rington Court for luncheon. On th way Laura had striven to banish th slight form in the blue habit from he mind, but after many incoherent repiie to the numerous remarks addressed b Lady Twirlizlgton she turned to he companion and asked pointedly if sh and Mrs .Fenton we great friends. " We seldom have friends in society my dear. We have acquaintances an enemies." " Is Mrs. Fenton an enemy, then ? asked Laura, somewhat surprised at th answer to her question. " Oh, dear, no. I a'm too old fo her to be jealous of me, and she has mor money than I, so we get on tolerabl well." " But she has not your position," fel tered Laura, almost ashamed that sae a worldly argument should have sug Bested itself to her mind. " She has no title, but she gives de lightful partied to which everyone goes and her father's baronetcy is among th oldest in England. She is a clave woman, too, and, after all, the most that one can ask is to be amused." " But, surely, yon have some friends 7' " I have Ragsey, my terrier," Lady, Twirlington answered. bitterly. "I can trust him." The cynicism of this remark was re pellant to Laura, and for a moment she felt shocked to think that any woman's opinion of human nature could be eo poor. Her companion noticed her dis- appointment. Taking Laura's hand she said. apologetically, " Forgive me, dear. When I was your age there were many whom I called friends. I had some cruel disappointment's, but they are no excuse for me. I should be more charitable." Laura returned the pressure of 2.ady Twirlington's hand. There was much that she wanted to say, but to offer friendship to a woman whose age and experience were so mach greater than her own seemed presumptuous, while her own trouble was so vague and ill defined that she could not ask for sympathy. Soon the carriage reached the gate- way of Warrington Court, and they got out beneath the stone men-at-arms si- lently guarding the courtyard from their niches in the wall above. Passing through the great hall with its grim stands of armor and frowning ancestral portraits, they entered the smaller drawing -room, where they found Lady, Olivia and her mother waiting for them. Luncheon was announced shortly, and during that meal Laura and Lady Twirl- ington were obliged to recount the par- ticulars of the meet and run. Early in the afternoon Laura drove Lady Twirlington back to Wilton Hall; but, as Hugh on his homeward ride tpok several long cuts across field and pas- ture they did not meet him. During the drive Laura described to Lady Twirling - ton her life at Highland Glen, and this recital recalled to the elder woman's mind the days of her own courtship: It was a vague, dim picture of the past, for crusty old Sir Thomas had not of late spoken many words of love: He was now wedded to hie seat on the front op- position bunch, or his favorite corner in the Carlton Club, where, dozing behind his St. James' Gazette, he sometimes for- got that he possessed the, encumbrance known as a wife. Lady Twirlington, on her part, in'the midst of her round of garden parties, receptions and dances, sometimes forgot that she was bound tie Si* Thomas by the closest of earthly ties, The carriage rolled meanwhile pelt stately country seats and trim little vii -E loges, vino agreed cottages and stret- ehee of Wood and pasture land, traveto, ing the six miles which separated' the two properties en rapidly that long be- fore either of the friends imagined that a hall of the distance had been passed' the gray gables of 'Wilton Hall, peered through the leafless trees, They fourld Madge Fenton in the draw. ing room attlrsd an a o arming ,tea gown and comfortably bnsconed. in the.00rne$ Of iy low wlndo* meat, Her '(lead was supported by nnmbreue Cushions Of deo Beate .Mtded alike, the 'dolor's of ,Miall ' blended fatcitlately with her, Widen hafr, and herr little feet were covered With the daintiest of slipper,, $breugh. tke opda work of which tWO .e is of roseb silk p. e , dbewitchingly,sled " I fee treendoniiyeed ." she said, after she had greeted e f s1 d her friend.: I had a warty fall *hie mornings Goldie cleared a biaacktborn hedge beautifully,, but there was a drain en the other sides Somehow he slipped, and # shot over bis bead, Your husband picked me ifs; 1414 Warrington, I was itun*ed by the fall, but after a drop of spirit, I telt quits fit again: Goldie had sprained a tendon, sot was obliged to give up the run, It wail awfully aggravating, yon w, kno.s twenty minute burst without a cheek, and we had kept 011 terms with the fox from 'the start, I persuaded Lord War- rington to iitopto lunch, but I am afraid I was dreadfully dull, as he left directly we had finished, aitd seemed quite put out decease I made him Wes hie sport, He was scarcely civil to meg I am afraid you have won his heart so completely;, Lady Warrington, that any, other wo- man bores him," Laura, whose misgivings had been aroused by the first part of Madge's se - count of the day's events, felt greatly; reassured by the 'last remark. " I shall give him 'a good scolding," she said. " Don't be too'hard on the poor man," Madge replied, smiling sweetly, " I as- sure you; I was awfully, dull, so one can't blame him,you know." A servant having brought in tea, she continued : " How do yon take tea, Lady, Warrington 7 I shall ask you this time only, as I al- ways remember my friends' tastes:" " Plain, without either cream or sugar," answered Laura. Just like Lady Twirlington, isn't it, dear 7" she said, turning toward her guest: " Do all Americans take tea like that ?" I can only answer for myself," repli- ed Lady Twirlington. " I need the full strength of the tannin to draw the wrinkles out of my skin." " How absurdly like an American that remark is I Do you know, "1 adore you American, women, Lady Warrington, but don't you think you are extremely sel- fish ?'' " Selfish ? In ' what way 7" asked Laura, ingnisitivelyg " You are not content with your own possessions, but you must come to Eng- land and capture our attractive men, You have quite cut us English women oat;" " The English women should retaliate by marrying Americans," replied Laura, " They world not have tis, Fancy an American marrying one of . us stupid creatures after having his taste inspir- ed by his fascinating countrywomen(" " Perhaps you English women are over -particular and don't appreciate what you have at hand." " Oh, dear, no ; we take what we can get. I don't mind confessing that it was the ambition of my life to marry an American—they make such capital hue- bands—but you see I was doomed to disappointment." " In what does their superiority eon- sist, Madge ?" asked Lady Twirlington, "You see Lady Warrington and I can- not speak from experience." " They are all so rich, and they have a convenient way of 'stopping in Ameri- ca and sending over unlimited dollars ' for their wives to spend in England, There are Mrs. Flood -Smith, Mrs. Masa Kellar. Mrs. Van Venter, and any num: ber of other Americans who are in Lon- don constantly, but no one ever hears of their husbands. I think they are more to be envied than any, women in England." " As long as the supply of dollars 18 maintained by the patient millionaires at home," laughed Laura: "What is your opinion of hnabands ?" she asked, addressing Lady Twirlington: " There are but three kinds—the plod- ding hack, thoroughly broken to -the saddle; the ecardpering colt, the frisky and unreliable, and the vicious brute, bad tempered, fractious and unsafe: The first is a convenience, the second a peat and the third is dear at any price:" "Don't you believe in the ideal mar- riage for love ?" asked Laura, " To most of us marriage is like a mirage," said Lady Twirlington: "We see before us a ''delightful basis in the wilderness of life, but, rushing blindly on, we find in its place the burning sands of the desert." "Are not marriages more like tight stays, my dear ?" retorted Madge: "We put ourselves into them and endure the discomfort because they make us more attractive in the eyes of the world." " I think that marriage is what we make it ourselves," said Laura: "It may be an earthly heaven or hell, ac- cording as our actions merit." A moment of silence followed, broken finally by Lady Twirlington. "Each of our generalizations was probably the echo of the limited experience of each oft usbut to put a stop to this absurd moralizing; I am going to ask for an- other cup oUtea, which reminds me that to -morrow I shall be taking tea in dingy, stuffy London." "I can't let you go up to -morrow," said Madge, as she handed her a cup of the steaming beverage. (To be continued.) `RIDDLES. What three authors would you men- tion itt, at!Burnsa house on fire ?—Dickeng, How- . What is the difference between a jailer and/ a watchmaker ?—One watches cells and the other sells watches. What would a window say on being smashed by a falling tree ?—Oh' t tree, mend us (tremendous.) Why does a fly fly ?—Because a acpider `spider (spied'er.) Why is a eobbler's shop like the world ?—Because it contains both good and holy soles (scute.) iWteete is a mean not a man ?—When he's a shaving (a -shaving.) When is a hat not a hat ?-When it becomes a young lady. Why is II the merriest letter ill the alphabet 7—Because it always comes in the midst of "fun; What is the opposite of eockadoodle- doo 7-0ockadoodle-don't; Why is Westminster 'Abbey like an ash -pit ?--Because it contains 'the ashes of the great (grate,)—London Lady. A German artisan's breakfast correlate of coffee and broad ; his dinner, soup made of water, slices of bread, slices of onion and a little butter, meat once or twice a week ; his supper, soup, cheese, potatoes and bread, with sausage and been --Milling World. Maseagni,; the composer of " Cavaleri Rnsticana," is exceedingly� sn eratit1. ous: 'He carries amulets 'to protect himself from the influence of the " evil eye ;'I and when he cr erase the street he, walks on the very edge of the eroosing, if possible, believing it to be had leek to walk ae ordinary mortals do, He also dreier two watehee—one extremely valuable, and the other a eitn le silve onluoe „Whieli be P s sa ye, alwayar 'brings him' � lit 1821 'Crretrt Britain liad $,574,000 houses, whose rental Valu.ewas £20,0'00,. 004; now there are 7,100.,000 hot;aes rental Value, 01>3d•,' 00,000, Wileia'znre WO swam Ail 1nel4lent of tfne Terrible Soppy BeiAel In India. Math's Companion,) vi`, S. Burrell tells ;a story of Indisnntui)q lay when all the powers of nature seem*" leagued agabot the Brltise soldier, It, vest a time of terrible drought, and It beeanuk necessary to 1;ut a sentry at the well, and to limit smolt' person to half rations of watery Daily the situation grew mere _gloomy. Wks soldiers, began to fight for water, the ant principled gambled for ft, the cunt' schemed for it, and the weak went o MO Well. There was one lad in the e t incl a typical pity Arab h Qmoot thief „and with all sortso suef ht#wa acquainted with. all : of hgrt+ rors belonging to a sordid existence. Yea) he had plunk, and fought es bravely ae that older men. One night when quietly visiting the scala tries„ T found this young Cosi ._ on d at the well. As I came near 2 saw hin furtively put something behind a stone than lay close by. I poked with MY foot anal kicked against a tin can half full of water, stealing string attached. He had at water, one of the worst and most' selfish offences in our little garrison. W spoke to him sharply. • You seem to Le turning into a soldier,R. Why can't you try to become a gentleman,. too instead of robbing helpless women sod children ?" Perhaps it was the incongruity of the word gentleman" as applied to himself,. but at any rate a look came into his fao* which made me decide not to punish blue this time, and I walked on. The terrible clays and nights continued until one night, when I fell on nay ,bad, with a wild throbbing of steam -hammers ig my brain, I heard the Captain auc} that' apothecary talking together, afraid he'll ,"folslaowd theeotherttwo.ryl orin oda cure sunstroke without water." Ali night I lay tossing with fever:,. Through my dreams a pale, cunning, inelga nificant face seemed to appear at times ate my bedside, with a quaint look of solicitudd and awkwardness about it. So the night passed, and, the nest day, too with its sweltering heat, its alarmrfand . fell. About 11neral tso' lock I gy, and lancedain he upiiu cll: saw the apothecary again standing over met he looked helpless, and I read again on his face : "Can't save him without water.''' As away ventered' romagain,raised head upon arm and put a can of water to my lips. I suppose I looked a question, for he said" Quickly "It ain't stolen, sir!" I learned afterward that it was a present! from him and another man in the company. I must have slept for three or four hours,. when I woke to see a stealthy figure bears ing a Iimp. dark, sack -like thing spring eves; the cactus hedge and disappear from view. When) I awoke my first feeling was one of absolute recovery ; but how west I was! From the floor at my side was a curious( gurgling sound as of water flowing from e nearly empty vessel. I looked round lane guidly, and saw private Cosins calf propped againet';the bed 'where' I lay. On my pillowy was a Iarge. nearly empty leather sheep( skin the mouth of which he held against' my head. "Why, Cosins, man," said I, "what have you been doing ? Where did you get all. this water ? You saved my life, I do be -r lieve ; but I hope you didn't take the water from the well." The city. Arab rose, and slowly and pain-, fully came round to take my hand. "No, sir," said be. •'didn't steal no water this time. I got it all far and above board only don't tell the Captain, sir. I know it's agin orders." The apothecary entered. and the opening door threw a flood of light upon the room. At once we realized what had happened.. The bare stone floor round my bed was one great pool of water, across which, like veins of red in grey marble, ran the crim., son life blood of the poor lad. Still holding my hand he sank on MO knees, and) as I looked in his poor, ,meant featured face I marvelled at the nobility' of it. On the breast of his coat was a greed red stain that told where the too -sure bul-i let of a mutineer marksman had struck him when on bis second moonlit journey to the river for me. Ile was dying fast, but the instinct of a soldier seemed even now to be growing stronger in him. Again he spoke : "Don't tell the Captain, sir. I won't dial obey orders never agin. Can yer spare me a drop of that water ? I never could do without a let of water, sir. Don't tell thef Captain!" And "a knight peerless" had gone. HEROISM OF A GIRL. A correspondent of the London Dailsf News gives publicity to the following striking story : The Muddle Kurds fell on Herfev, an Armenian village, ands asked that the beautiful daughter of the priest be delivered to them. Tha girl, hearing that the villagers really intended to deliver her to them in order to get rid of their barbarities, hid her- self, and at night succeeded in making her way, with her brother, towards Rus- sian territory. When the Kurds heard of this escape they followed them, and overtook them in the mountains. The brother and sister defended themselves from behind a rock until they had fined all their cartridges but two. The sister then threw herself into the arms of herr brother, and begged him to shoot her with one of the cartridges, so that she might not fail into the hands of the Kurds, nor see the death of her brother,. and that with the second he should de- liver himself also from the hands of the ' Kurds, This was done. The sister was killed, but the brother was taken half dead and delivered to the Turkish' au- thorities, and is now 'in prison. HOOKS AND EYES. Sleep upon it, and 'you will take counsel. What is not needed is dear at a farthing. Let your trouble tarry till its own da* comes. The way to avoid great faults is to b04 ware of less. Our worst misfortunes are those that!, never befall us. Rub finger marks from furniture with a little sweet oil. Mortification): are often more painful thaai' real calamities. Th who talk onearly always meetsme and wants the man who to tired and doesn't want to talk.—Good Housekeeping. ENGLISH PATENT GRANTS. The ing the past tyear amo ber of patent ulst oied verr 26,100,or being 1,000 in excess of those applied fon during 1892. Omitting parts of one hart, dred, the figures since 1886 are as foilowte,q enocessful Year. . Applications. oppositions(,, 1886 „ 17.100 46 1887 ,...,, .., 18,000 83 84 28 36 34 16 19,100 1889 ..-, ' . 21,000 1890 ......... ..• 21,300 1891 ........ 22,800 1892 .... 24,100 1893 ... ,..... ... 28,100 GREAT VOLTIVIE OF EXIIAVST STEAK,,. During the past year the Edison lelootria Light Company pumped from a well at itrf station, on Sansom street, Nett York, 300,000,000 pounds of water, which wee evaporated Into steam, and subsequently passed off fnto the air, Each .pound of; water evaporated represented 1,000 be*' units, snaking a total of 300,000,000ou units of heat added to the atmosphere in that vicinity during the year. TEE POSTAL NOTE. ] usines8 mart will hot miss p the• osta note. It afforde'd na ,protection against'-; theft, le was a censtttnt Source df tempo tation to pastmautere, and, generally), e Boston tealcing.Globo, , kilt Was a holleat moe'kery —+ dog's tail is na teamster, but 1# orally, Hart a ,Wag -Ont