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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1886-7-29, Page 6Every. Day Work Great deedsaretrumpeted,, loud belle aro rung, •end men turn round to see ; The high poke echo to the pagans sung O'er some great vlotory, Andof great dee a are few, The mightiest mien; Find opportunitiee but now and then. Shall one sl idlythrough long days of ponce, Waitleg ter wlla to evade, Or Ile in eon until Bonne Golden Fleece Lures lam to fano the gam t delay Why idly then de y ]Lila work co ants meat wholabore every day. A torrent sweeps down the mountain's brow With foam and flash and roar ; Anon its strergtit is spent. -where is it now Its one ehort day be err, Butthe older stream that through the meadow flows All the long Summer ousts mission goes, Better the steady way ; the torrent's dash Soon leaves its rent Greek area • The Light we love is notthe lig .tning flash, From cut the midnight sky. But the sweet ennehine, whose unfamiliar ray From its calm throneof blue light every day. The sweetest liven are those to duty wee, Whose deeds, both g•eat and email, Are olose-knit strands of an unbroken thread, Where love ennobles all, The world may wand no trumpets, ring uo belle ; The Book of Life the shining story tells.. Retribution At Last 1 " He Woke the piotnre of misery, • and deeln't seem to have a word to spy for him self, I eau hardly believe him to be the name man as the, Cecil Graham I. met at Lady Thorieton'a last winter. He seems to have had all the spirit driven out of him Bemehow," " Well, I'm not eurpriaed, if this to Bpeolmen of his bride'e manners," said the Matron with asperity—she had intended her eldest dpnghter for the popular poet, "Au ill-bred dollish chit of a girl! The family don't 'learn to like.her :either," "No. and yet they say it's a love match. Qnite, I euppoee, a Xing Cophetna affair, Only I should have imagined Cophetua after his marriage with the beggar -maid to have bon a little more devoted." This conversation wan but an eoho of lnate,others which took place that evening in the drawing -room of the Ciifdon Howe, the popular opinion being that the girl was a pretty dairy -maid, • that Mr; Doane'a at• tentlona were very marked, and that Coif! Graham was mere of a fool than poets in general are nuppoeed to be. "That girl's oondnot is unbearable," in• dignantly exolaimed .Lavinia Graham, about a fortnight later, bursting into Madge'a boudoir, where she and Cecelia were gossip- ing with a bosom friend over a sup of tea. "I believe she's loot her sennas ; at least, ft's the moat charitable thing one can be- lieve," " You allude to Mrs. Cecil Graham 1" in. paired Ella May, thoughtfully sipping her tea. "I oonfesa I have often wondered what could have induced your brotaer, with hie exalted ideasrefined tastes, and so forth, to have married her," "' All the world wondered,'" quoted Madge rather flippantly; then, more seri- ously, "What peculiar iniquity are you be- wailing, Levinla ?" " Give me some tea, Cie dear," murmured that young lady in an exhausted tone, throwing herself upon a couch an she spoke, " then I'll tell you ; and see if you don't agree with me that she is a woman without honour or prinoiple of any sort." "I saw that plainly enough the evenirg she arrived," remarked Cecilia, as she pour- ed out the tea. ,"Poor Cecil!" said Madge in a low tone, her eyes filling with tears. "Poor, indeed 1" exclaimed Cecilia, catch- ing the murmur, " Why, he must have been an idiot, or bewitched! I deolare I am ready to ory whenever I think of it • be might have married any one." Here Ella May blushed ever no alightly. " Any one! Half the girls were wtid about him—and with his posltden, his talents, his appear- ance I" and Ceoiila groaned. "Then to go and be befooled by this—this doll, this vul- gar ruetio 1" ;marching in vain for a more withering expression, "To throw himself away, to disgrace his family—oh, dear, dear 1" and the speaker fairly brake down and hid her face in her hands. " Poor Cecil!" repeated Madge. "He is miserable. If he has been foolish, he le paying a bitter penalty for it." "Well, to be jest," said Lavinia, " I must say that I blame him partly for hie wife's misconduct. He docs not even chew her common attention, I have seen her look at him as a dog will that wants a ca- ress from its master—as if hnngorieg for a kind look ; bat Cecil is as cold as a stone, as blind and deaf as a statue," " Of course ; he's too disgusted to be any- thing else. But what made you so fierce just now, Lavinia? Anything freak 1" asked Ce- cilia, Bitting up again. "Why, you know, when luncheon was over, Nellie said she must go and write a letter, and she wished Mr. Deane good morning as she went out. After baring me for a quarter of an hour, he soddenly re- membered an appointment in the Park, and bade me au revoir until evening. Half an hour later"—with solemn impressiveness— " I went into the library for a book, and there he was, hanging over her chair, en- gaged in the most confidential of conversa- tions." "Just what I could have foretold," com- mented Cecilia, " I will not positively say that his hand was on her 'Moulder, but I think it was, The sight took away my breath." " It might have been an accidental and innocent thing enough," faltered Madge. "Acoidental—innocent 1" with bitter em- phaels. "Why, then, did both turn as c-imeon as—as—the ribbon on your dress ? Why did he start away, and she give a scream? Oh, of course they pretended it was quite accidental, but the thing was toe palpaole. However, I shall acquaint Ceotl. After this, perhaps, he will ora the neces- sity of mining himself, and looking after his wife a little," Madge sighed faintly as she went away to dress. Sud was the bonny face she saw reflected in her mirror as her maid wound U13 the ameeth cells of brown hair and CHAPTER VL—(Consmo ED,) " Heaven knows I am miserable 1" he said, Madge was infinitely dlstresaed. She had guessed he was unhappy ; but to hear him acknowledge it seemed more than she oould bear. She sank upon her knees by his side, and put her white time round his neck. '" It has beau some dreadful mistake 1" she murmured, her tears falling fast. " It has been an act of mad folly, of con- summate idiocy 1" he cried with sudden pasalon. " To think that I, who loved— her, should have tied myself for life to that —that—underbred girl 1"—pointing with a ,gesture of loathing to the roam where his bride sat disporting herself in happy ig' meranoe. " Oh, my Argent, my beautiful, my own I Even if you could not love me, I might have held myself pure for your sake 1" " Oh, Cecil 1" exclaimed his sister, aheeked at the visible despair in eyee and voice. " Did not Argent—did not she love you ?" " No," he returned, hopelessly,' " She looked into my' face with the far -oft uneee• Ing gaze she hoe—as remote from me as an angel in Heaven—and said, when I dared *,c tell her of my love, ' Do net speak so ; It hurts me I I don't know what you mean ; I do net understand,!' And when I would have taken her in my arms, trying ' But I will teach von ; only let me love you I' she shrank back moaning, ''Ne ; never, never 1 I de net leve you, 1 de not want you to love me I Go—go 1' She was as oeld ae a statue, and as pitiless. There was no sore row, no trouble in her lovely eyes ; only that far-off gaze, more hard to bear than acorn or hatred 1 And I left her, Madge— left her, full of madness, all the air like flame around me. What happened after I de not know ; but I know, to my sorrow, that I married • Nellie Mill, who loved me 1" —and an,expresalcn of intense bitterness croesed his haggard face, " I married her three days afterwards. Who knows," he went on after a panne, during which the listener's tears had fallen silently, " but that if I had wafted I might have won my darling after all ? Ay, it is this thought that stings me to the quick. Bat for my mad folly, my eenselesa rage, I might have won her ; but now the is beyond my reach for ever. Oh, Heaven, what a fool, what an utter foal I have been 1" And he groan- ed again. " Madge," cried a hard voice at this ' juncture, " Sir Horace Malcolm is asking for you ; he wants you to sing with him. Yon must oome at once ;" ane Cecilia ap• peered in the curtained archway. Madge brushed away her tears and sprang up. In a moment," she said ; then, as Caoilia departed, she stooped ever her forlorn brother and kissed him tenderly and solemn- ly. " Your awn wife is the only one who has a claim upon you now, darling. She laves you ; do not punish her fer your mis- take—' let the dead past bury ita dead.' " " Ay," murmured Cecil bitterly, when he wan left alone, " but is the past dead ? No ; it will never die ; it will sting me, it will goad me for ever ; it will make life a burden to me 1 Oh, Argent 1 Oh, my lost, lest love 1" Meanwhile, things were looking a little brighter te tho young wife. She had been Introduced to several people who smiled condescendingly on her meth) beauty. One ef these, aMr, Lewis Deane, had remained by her Elide, and was entertaining her with his instruotive conversation, when Madge came in. In appearance somewhat effamine ate and youthful, " aheeked like Apollo, with his luted voice," Lewis Deane was in reality a hardened blase man of the world, utterly selfish and unprincipled. He was the very worst triend had the known it, that Nellie could have made. In the preeent in- stance his curioalty was excited. He want- ed to find out what had fascinated the ea- geant, aesthetic poet so excessively in this country -bred girl as to induce him to marry er. "She is pretty, too," he told himself, an e lsoked with bold admiration into the ark, long -lashed eyes, noting the cluster - g curls, the rosy lips, and baby dimples, "If only she were better dressed she'd be a charming bit of Watteau, but no doubt she'll improve in that line." Such was hie taot, that he soon made the shy girl feel at ease with him. Madge was surprised when she eaoapad from the piano, and glanced towards Nellie, to Bee her an- imation, the eparkling light In her dark eyes, and the gay sallies with which she Was apparently amusing her companion, while her shrill laughter, as unaubdued at In her native wildo, excited the whispered ommenta of the guests, and nearly drove coelia Graham wild. "Do speak to your wife, Ceoil 1" she rgcd in an angry undertone. "She in not ly disgracing herself, but us 1 Can't you something to stop it 1" Bat Cecil never railed his eyes from the bum In which he wan apparently absorb - "No; Iean do nothing," he answered ally. "If you do not one for your own Bake," marked his sitter, with told contempt, as o moved away, " it seems to mo you fight think a little of the credit of your rally," "Cecil Graham moat have lost his wits new his bride to flirt an ouch a broad— aid almost say vulgar way I" observed a tly matron to her favorite gooaip, "!And th Lewis Deane too, of all men in the rid I Nota very good beginning to moo !menial felicity." ity. "I never saw a bridegroom's face leas ex - (waive of folioity-ln all my life 1' said the her omphatioally, shaking her shoulders, i°41Y ly i aobbe41 phe • little bride at las "' No—no ono carom for me, er nodosa me but latus 1 He is kind to me. I don't want to lose my only friend," " fear we have all nogleoted you," re- ed the other soothingly "I re- plied " butwill be your ttcLoad, dear—we shall all learn to love youand eoll d you of in f 1" R C 9 n think of n1 . $' cried the girl, her, eye' fissi ng, "' hates h e havelaved 130, fat a me 1 An,d,, o r,i#u!�.� him. 1 Wh, n I metrjed:• him,I` thought he loved me, and I woutd'':have given my 111e. for him, He doesn't Dare—ho never thinks of me ; he hates mei I say, and I—eh, how am I to bear it ?" And again her soh: broke forth wildly. - Madge was shocked and a little frighten- ed. She felt angry with her brother. That he should visit his misery on the innocent girl he had married seemed to her an uujuat unpardonable thing; but it was not her tusk to tell this to the weeping wit°. " Liston to me," abo acid, drawing the curly headd on to her breast. " He does not hate you ; if you showed yourself in your true light to him he would love you ; he oeuld not help it. Don't let'him learn to re- gard you at a mere flirt, a frivolous vain oreature 1 Let him see you lova him and value his approval above all things in the world. Begin afresh, Nellie, and wia his leve—will you 1" " I will—I will 1" orled the young wife' lmpuisively. " Kies me, dear Madge, -Bless you for those kind sweet worda 1" Madge went down to the drawing -room with a lighter heart and a glad hope that all would now be well. Alas, she little knew how his rej toted love had warped Cecil's kindly nature, how it had turned the health- ful currents of his life into gall and vinegar, now enclosed he was in his selfish eorrow— dead to all but vain, paaslonate longing and remorse 1 clasped a jewelled circlet round the fair neck. By the time her toilet was fin- ished she had made up her mind what oenrse to pursue. "I must do what I can for dear Cecil," she told herself. "Nellie Is but a child, after all—badly brought np perhaps, and utterly ignorant of the ways of the world. I am sure she loves Cecil. Yes, I will speak kindly and plainly to her ; I will warn her gently and try to like her better, poor girl I Cecil has made her hie wife, therefore ho ought to treat her as such—te guatd her youth, to protect her from insult and from danger," Fer the first time Madge felt a sentiment of dieapproval for her brother, who had been hitherto perfect in her eyes, CHAPTER VII. There was a large dinner -party ono even- ing at the Ciifdon House, which was to be followed 'by a soiree musicale. Nellie Gra- ham was quite the boiler es her husband was the rage. The two were as great a contrastin:rnanner and in personal appear- aneo as'ooaid poealbly be—she so small, so dark, sparkling 'with animation, naively pleased by i.the admiration she excited, charmed bythe novelty which surrounded her, and fresh and giquante as a child ; he se tall, fair, and cold, icily indifferent, palpably weary, bored by the worshippers who wonid•ewing their censers before him, bored byeverything. " ()met thinkwhat'a oome to Graham!" remarked ane of his friends, who was an se- pirant.to .the fair Csoilla'e hand. "He Won't a word to say for himself ! In my opinion ft's this oonfounded poetry -writing that's turned hie head. ' Another goad man gone wrong,' Jim, my boy 1" "Aw, aw 1" responded hla languid com- panion. "Depend upon It It's mawiage— mawlage has done it 1' When Mr. Lewis Deane found himself for the fist time repulsed, and the simple country girl, with wham he had been amus- ing himself, far from being as enthralled as be had imagined, he resolved to make her own tale power, resolved to make her care for him. Choosing to think himself in love with her, he vowed, that she ehould love him, He oould have ground his tenth when, in spite of his ntm,st fascinations, he saw her eyes wistfully tollowfng her husband's tall figure as he moved amongst the crowd, the lines of her baby mouth taking a mourn- ful droop as Cecil passed her without the slightest notice. "Little fool 1" mattered Mr. Deane. " He cares for her no more than a stone would ; she is infatuated. Bat I am not going to be mocked by a country -bred child. I'm not going to be thrown over now. Even if I hated her, I would not let her off. One thing I can't bear, and that's ridicule, By nage, If I were to lose my bet and get my conge, how the fellows would laugh 1 I should lose my prestige for ever." A"! nnooneoieue of her companion's thoughts, Nellie sat musing sadly over Cecile changed looks, longing sorrowfully for the golden days when she had dreamed he loved her, watching, while she mused, the tall figure threading the vara-oolored crowd, and finally pass through a vel- vet -shrouded window to the balcony out- side. Now was her chance—he was alone. She would folio v and speak to him, she would make an appeal to him from her very heart. Yes she would show him that she loved him and none ether. Sarely he would respond te the devoted love of his own wite ! " Excuse me, Mr. Deane," rising awk- wardly enough. "I am going to my hue• band. No, thanks. I will go alone:" Mr. Deane looked after her with a sardon- ic' grin. " Go !" he muttered. " Neveztheleas, my fair lady, you —ill name to me again, and with a difference!" On the balcony Cecil Graham stood alone. In truth, the proapeot thence was a poor one by daylight. It oontdated of a general view of smoky gardens and melancholy Ocoee with a background of reofe and tiles. Bat night concealed the dull ugly realisma of a commonplace view. A large golden half moon hung in the purple sky, edging tree and shrub with a line of myetio glory, and a faint wind stirred the heavy branohea. Sweet-acented flowers in pate thronged the spacious balcony, and one or two graceful though grimy stataea gleamed amengat them, pallid and dim in the gloom of summer night. Through the heavy velvet curtaina came none ef the heat and noise within ; but strains of music and the full liquid tones of some professional aloger stele auothingly on the oar and died in the darkness beyond, Cecil Graham stood buried in mournful reverie—dreaming, mourning over the peat, as he always did when alone. It was as though Argent Verieton had indeed thrown some eubtlo web around him, whloh he could not break. He was feat becoming a mere vlaionary, an indolent dreamer of un- profitable dreams, • Deaf and blind to all thinge around, his old ambition dead, the duties of life negieeted, ho yielded himself up a prey to useless regret, to bitter-sweet visions of what might have been, He started when hie arm was touched softly, half expecting to confront the angel of his reverie. Instead there stood by his lido a little shrinking Sgare, robed in white, the large oyes fixed half tinotdly, half dm• ploringly en hie faoe, with an expression that would have touched any heart leas self- centered than his own, "What do you want 7" he asked sternly, a frown deepening en his brow. With a desperate effort the girl eammen- ed her fleeting courage, " I am his wife, and I have a right to speak," rho told herself ; then aloud—" It Is so long since I had you to myself, dearest, and, when; I saw you oome here, I—I thought I would oome too," "Yon have taken a great deal of unneoes- eery trouble then," he Wald rudely. " I us came hero beoae I wished to be alone, as you might have guessed," But, eh, CSail "-taking hie unwilling hand between her own—" yen will not send nee away—your own wife 2' - Entering Nellie's room in answer to her " Come in," she was startled at the pretty picture which met her eyes. The young bride was dror.sod in white natdn, with pearl ornaments, and the eplendid simplicity of her attire °entreated admirably with her dark attractive style of beauty. She was paler than formerly, and she looked all the better for it—more refined and more deli- cate. She was alone, and oho had been try. Ing the (Hoot of some flowers in her hair, She flashed in an embarrassed way when she saw who was the intruder, Madge—all unused to anoh an errand—dashed at onoe into the subjeot, " Neliie," she began, taking her stater -in- law's hand, " I want to speak to you about Mr. Deane," Nellie flushed yet more, and her eyee drooped ; but she said nothing, " Yon are young, and do not know the world,' went on Nineteen -year-old Midge,' " or you would understand, dear, how very undesirable are the attentions of any man— eepeoially ouch nen as Mr. Deane—to a married woman. You would be horrified if you knew the surmise') to which gotta con - duet has given rise, Ceeaar'a wife, yon know should be above ensplolon." Nellie palled away her hand, sat down on a chair close by, and buret into passion-, ate tears, Very quietly Madge knelt by her side, " You will not talk to him any more 2" she asked gently, " You will not grieve us all Y You will not grieve Cecil 2: Don't ory, dear 1 I know you thought no harm, If I had my way "—with a burst of indigna- tion—" auoh men should be outcasts from society 1" "1 eaunob think why y here?.ime like this. 1 tell •yon, I,Want toalThera e " Aro Yea loamyloamyWithith me be , '06012" was }o reply .• "',Ie it4-•,fa; itewbeeeruneayou think • h laevo 111e,9e—ftigtleg7—rwltisf 4fr, Deane h Oh, (40011, 11,1 hap) doe? AP., it, was because 1 was so miserable,, pq `oaiely, and ht. was kind to are l bat, i>; yen Yril#.ley0rlre a little, I derehi euro if idlt the eyelid annoinee hates me 1" a • AIL he young wife's soul ` was in her a eo t y !3 �',. as she looked„tip inta.,tae; rigid inca•.enher husband of one fagnth—yearrajjng (or erre re- lanting,glanaa and kind,lheitki i hitt 'neither was,glyell•” He on nienswored; icily t mats- eivQ. " It is a matter oferfect Indifterenoe `to me, madam, whether; you flirt or not, I think we have had enough,of thin nonaeuee; " and he stood aside tie let hor•pasa;., , But witha sudden, movement. she fell at his feet, oleaping bis.knoes.withiu; bee white arms, her fade upraised, and. teare etream- ing, from her eyee. " ' "" I will a ,1 will o 1" she breatlu&d� be - 8 g e.,,. tween her 'Sobs, if Only 'tell' foe tliteab,e;ufh, Cecil! Da you 1,eve,spa 1 If. `avi}r:,do little, I oan be content --iF'man live;" anal hope -'for more. Oa, Cecil, we have only beenIiris,rried a month—say you -love me a 101;19 '1' '1 ani aomiserabl'e,-Ceoill":' ' it was so pitiful night the', o'hililleh feta and fignre,'the pleadiagtvoIop, ,thaipesp�en- ate abandon'6f the -attitude;•,,but it did•inot m move the arl's hiiriird®ai2 health, Angry and annoyed, he said, fougixiyi gitcllggpii?g her Huger„a i° Dant degrad-e yourself lik'e this If yen wilt have :Year ane vier, herethitis-I do.not love you1” : • . r err - " Bat yea loved -me onoe; Caoil-at least you loved nito onoe 11 alio cried, resisting hie will with` the tarot of ;-despalrl . • " Gat up,.`I say 1:' ,he'angwereld, enfvro- ing the Wardeiwithanilingteepagoisit-;F}.Poli know wei'l, I ds not tema, iren-I, never did. Yon know it wheal €narried:you 1' ..-� "Thou yealote,Argeut' ueristen l"; said Nellie; *tag to her 'feet;e her- faoe. whiter than her-drees, land' her- voice ae•liard' and oold; as hie own: "Yeah! ! he exclaimed, raising. his, lace to the sky in a;sorY of raptures ;.Tiaen'in:hnpe- losatones. he addedattYes, I love;her; ,Ilea- vonhelp me 1"!. , - "And may you be forgiven the wrong you have dorsa rue !" , returnedathis injured wife, her violent nature completely in the ascendant, 'ar heir 'sweet impulses .ornshed by hie eoern, Ao Cecil Graham was dawdling' ever •lain toilet late the next morning he found a small note on his dressing -table addressed to him• self in sprawling tremulous ohmmeters, which he had evidently overlooked on the previous night, It ran thus----- " Since you do not love me, sinoe yon nev- er have loved me, I leave yon. Since you are a liar and deceiver instead of the good, true, noble man I believed you, you Dean not blame me for the step I take. In heart and soul yen are more false to your mar- riage vows than I am, and all my guilt le en your head. If there is juatioe in Heaven you, whose cruelty has driven me to thin, will answer for it 1" That was all. There were no irrepressible words of outraged love, no broken-hearted plea for forgiveness. Yet these few lines were written by a broken hearted, loving woman, whore very love and pain had mad- dened her until, evil seemed to be as good, and good as evil. Alwaya weak, always passionately impulsive, goaded to frenzy by her husband's cruel soorn and loathing of her preemies, the misguided girl, in the hour of her mortal weakness, had listened to the voice of the tempter and had fled from the scenes she could no logger endure—alas, not alone Nollfe'e shaft had struck home, and the euddenlyawakened conscience would be heard. She was right ; he was false to his marriage vowa, and her guilt was on his head, Her guilt ? At the thought he started to his feet. There might yet be time to save her and to save his honor, for even now he thought moat of that. Bat no —and again he groaned ; the sin and the disgrace were irremediable ; it was too late —too late to undo the past, to alter the in- exorable present, too late to retract the cruel words which had driven hie young bride into—he shuddered to think what depths of misery and despair. For the time Cecil writhed In anguish beneath the tor- ture. Then there was a soft knock at the door, and Madge, fresh and sweet in her morning dress, came in with something in her hand. It was a telegram, Tearing it open, he read— "From Lwiwis Deane, Wynnton Hotel, Dover, Come at once; there hair been a railway accident. Your wife is dying." (TO BE CONTENDED.) YO LY NIG. FOLKS, The Bee Republic. Did you ever spend a day at a bee -hive,! In a large apiary whloh I visited not long ago I discovered Italian, Syrian and Etoly Land bene living in harmony with their Caiadiaa brothers and sisters, The Italians aro a docile race, but not as busy as the Rely Land bene, though the latter have a bad name for docility, being oaeily irritated. The Syrians wear Burnside this. here down their aides,. They are lndefa, tigable workers. The beehive is a small two-story house. The first floor is the brood chambers, and this the bees fill firat with stores for the yllytee. It is alto the royal ceeidenoe, of the queen. The upper story is for the sur- plus `honey. and the bald fill thia for the market. Hooey is the neotar of the flowers. The bees do not snake it, They simply gather 1t and plates it in the afore house. The bee -hive ie a republic in one wen+e, hut rather a oonetltuticnal monarchy like England, Although there is an imperial queen to whom great reapout 1s ahown, she aces not appear to liminess much governing authority, and resigns: the throne an anon as her funotione pease. Uncovering a hive I watched the bees ak their labor. The honey=oomb of cella was covered with the maniere. One would stop at a cell a mo- ment and then go along, then another would give a bite or two, and all seemed rather parolees of regular work ; but still there must be a regular plan of labor and a direct- ing force. Sentinels are constantly on duty at the door, but no particular bee appears to have have been asa&gned the ta.k. The wax -workers or.00mb-builders seem to change off indifferently with the honey -gatherers and the nursing bees that guard the della where the young eves are batching. The queen alone appears to have a regular task, She moves about the comb depoofting ono in the Dolls. She thus places about two or three thousand eggs a day, A colony of the insects in good form is composed of about thirty thousand bees, and their aver - ago life being only from forty to sixty days there mnat be a constant addition to keep np the population. A queen reigns from one to three yearn. The eggs seem all alike and are made to proclaim workers, or drones, or queue, se the colony nominates, The workers are imperfeot females, the drones are the males, while the queens are the perfected females and each has a cell of her own. When a queen is wanted the bees select a cell on both sides of it, and build a balloon -shaped oell about an inch long. This is; carefully guarded and the larva is fed the richest food, usually the pollen of flowers mixed with honey and water. Same of the cella are used as ma- gazines in which to stere the queen's food. The food of the young queen is called royal jelly. The geeen pelts are never disturbed ley the old queen during the swarming sea- son ; that ie, during the time when the bees have cencludod that the swarm is getting too large, and it is time to divide the family, As the new queen is about to be born, the old queen generally organizes a naw colony, and scouts having been sent out by her to find a good location, elle departs with her followers and guides to the new country. In the high oouncila of beedem, if it is ooaolud • ed that the colony can again be divided, the first new queen takes off another ool- ony. If not tuen her first act is to acing the cells of the other gzeens and put them to death. If two queens are hatched at the same time a ring is formed and they fight to the death of one of them and the other reigns. The marriage ceremony of a new queen is performed in midair, and after the wedding the drone huaband goes off and dies, and the queen lives a happy widow the scat of her life. Making a Man of Him. George Augustus Sala says : I had a schoolmaster who was a clever and excellent man, bat a little mad, and who had a oraze about making boys " hardy." He was pleased to fix upon me as a " chilly mortal," and expressed a determination to "make a man of me." The process' of manufacture demanded that when I was snuggling over the fire and a book in playtime, I should be driven forth into the bleak and hitter open "to play." Now I never could play, At this date, when I am grizzling, I inanely know a oricket bat from a stump, er a prisoner's baae from a rounder. I never could threw a ball or catch one properly ; and in childhood I was utterly unable even to " tuck in my twopenny" at leap -frog or to drive is hoop, So; while a hundred mer- ry lads around me raced and gambolled, I used to lurk in the corner of the play. ground and shiver, We had a large bath- room and (always with the benevolent idea of " making a man of me") I was put through a bastard course of hydropathy. I declare that in the midst of the most biting Winter weather I have undergone the cold douche, the cold shower -bath, and tee cold altz; that I have been packed in wet aheeta; that I have been made to put a dry pair of souks over a wet pair, ane thus accoutred have boon ordered to walk from Hammersmith is Key Bridge, before breakfast, in the dark, to make me " hardy." Unless anethor boy of the same " hardy" breed was cent with me to see that I wont through my training properly, I used to perform the journey from Hammer. smith to Key Bridge by sneaking to the widow Crump's shop at Turnbam Green— she mold fruit, toys, periodicals and meet - stuff —and sitting by the fire in her little parlor, drinking warm ginger beer and reading the lives of the pirates • and high- waymen, An it chanced, my good orazy master, did not make a man ef me, I grew up to be only a stalely, long-legged, weak-kneed youth, with premature pains in the bonne, whfoh developed in later years into chronic rheumatism and intermittent neuralgia. • " I am coming by and by, you will hear my plaintive ory, in absents mild and gen- tle so a lamb. I'm not coming on a frolic, but to give email boys the colic, sing hey 1 the small green apple that I am," Tho new queen ie fall of business. She wants everything in perfect order about the hive. She will not keep the drones over winter, but commands the workers to carry them out to die. The young bees that are hatched imperfect are immediately dragged out and put to death. If a foreign Bub - stance Is too bulky to be removed it la im. mediately Demented ever. Frequently a soont comes around the col- ony from a neighboring hive. He endea- vors to discover the strength of the colony, Watching hie chance he will pass the sen• tries undiscovered, and when he Domes again he will have an army at hia back. The only resistance is made at the eeutry gates, and very often fierce battles occur, many of the fighters being killed and injured. If the attacking party wins the battle the conquer- ed colony helps to carry its own honey home to the victors. They believe that to the victors belong the spoils, One of the moat important foots about the bee is that it asnnet sting bat onoe, and dies seen after. END QF' THE ABOBER,,GAM .. Another OutI*sw'eef ..)!!cathnit the Jung. man's Hands. Sam Aroher was hanged at Shoals, .Ind„ theother afternoon. b:e was convicted last January of eompliolty in the murder of Samuel A, Bunch •on July, 11, 1882, He pooped arrest until betrayed by John D,. lamb, one ef°the gapg: In july, 1882, Sam. Marley Pad Mart Aroher gaarrelled,,and Atelier was wounded by Marley, The older Arnhers dotorniinerl to punieh' Marlepr and. they organized a gang of rix on. inolnd n g Tom, Mat, John, and. Sam Aroher, dohit D, 'Lynob, and DaVe Crane, Mart Was ohoseh`Captain, The work of ferreting -out the hiding place of Marley bean, wan watoho constantly, Bunch e house w , as it was believed he was aiding M.erley to escape. The Archers finally resolved to kill Bunch if he refused to reveal Marley's hid- ing plane. They met on July 11, near the home of their victim, and sent Dave Crane to ' decoy Nm into the woods. Bunch ac- companied Crane to the spot deeignated, where he was seized, bound, and subsequent- ly taken to Saltpetre Cave in - Orange twenty. n . ty ve thetold the en entering the oa Before t . ceptiau if he would reveal the lifding place of M crley he ehould go free, He answered, " I do notknow where he ter" They then descended into the cave with the prisoner. They seated him on a large rook with the lantern's light ohining on his Lice. He was ordered to toll all he knew concerning Mar- ley, and it was determined if his anewero did not prove satisfactory be ehould die en the spot. He answered again that he did not .know whore Marley was. Eaoh man was ordered to fire at Bunch or suffir death himaeif, The word was'given, and al:tteen shots were fired into Bunoh's body. The victim uttered a piercing ory and fell, Mart then placed his pis• tol near Bench's head and fired the seven- teenth shot. The search that Bunch's friends made for him alarmed the gang, and on July 18 they visited the cave and put the body into a box which they placed on a brush heap seme distance, from the cave. The whole was thoroughly saturated with oil and thb torch applied. The fire was kept up for several days and nights, each one in turn standing guard and adding enfHotent fuel to keep the fire blazing. After this work was ended a tree was felled over the spot to further hide the crime. Little information concerning the fate of the missing mac could be learned until the deserted wtfe of Jahn Aroher, who had tak- en refuge in the county peer asylum, gave sufficient evidence concerning the deed to cause the arrest of the older Archers for murder. A mob threatened them, and they were taken to Davies county for safe- ty. The prisoners Boon expressed a desire to return to Shoale, and their request was granted. A party of lynohera made a successful at- tack on the jell on March 9, 1886• They marahea quietly to the j til, battered down the doors, marched the three prisoners into the courtyard, and left them swinging from the limbs of maple trees. Thos ended the career of Mart, Thomas, and John Archer, father, eon, and brother. A week 'star the last of the gang, Sam Aroher, was arrested in Fouil"tasn,.eenuty and kept in the State prison until the Jan- uary term of the court, when he was brought to Shoals under military escort of forty, who guarded him until the pentane° of death was passed upon him. Legendary Weapons. Curious and interesting particulars of the actual construction of legendary weapone are found In some of the Vedas and the com- mentaries on the ancient writings, The bows varied in length from the length of a man's arm to 4 cubits or 6 feet, of which the latter dimension was considered the best, They were made of metal, horn, er wood ; but the beat bows were oanstruoted from the bamboo out at the end of Autumn. The ar- rows also varied in length from 3 fent to 5 er 6, They wore tipped with steel points variously shaped, needle or lance pointed, semicircular, dentiform, deuble•edged or jagged like a taw, and these forms of points are today to be found on the a-rowe of many of the aboriginal tribes of India, The shafts were greased or anointed to facilitate their flight ; but they never appear to have been poisoned. Some wore altogether made of iron, and it is perhaps those to which Curtains alludes when he says that some of the Indian archers shot with arrows which were too heavy to be very manageable. One characteristic of the archery of the ancient Hindus seems to have been peculiar to them alone, which consisted In shooting a number of arrows at onoe, from four to nine at a a time. The swords were, an in later daya, of various shapes and sizes, and many locali- ties were credited- with producing the beat blades; Those of Bengal and Behar were praised as tough and capable of taking a fine edge. The sword considered in the Voda of the boat elze must have been a two• handed weapon, as it was 50 fingers long, with a hilt guarded by an iron netting, probably reeembliug the modern pats, or the long kande of the Rajput. There does not appear to have been any opeolal distribu- tion of weapono to combatants of different ranks, though bows and arrows, maces, javelino, mode, and shields aeon to haves leen the principal arms of the chiefs, Who went to battle mounted tea chariots, while their followers carried in addition spears land axes of various forme, and other mis- etlee of different kinds, .—_.- . " It in asked bow editors pass their leisure momenta: Bless your dear soul, they don't pawl them, Theynevercatchup tothe, An editor is usually from ten to forty years, behind hie leisure momenta, and he always dies.bsfora he gate within gunshot of the rearmost of them, GOLDEN NDGGETS. To begin is nothing ; It laperseverance that wins. The friendship of the artful is mere self- interest. Give neither counsel nor salt tills are asked for it, Let us not listen to those who think we ought to be angry with our enemies, and who believe this to be great and manly. Nothing is more praiseworthy, and nothing more clearly indicates a great and noble soul, than olemeney and readiness to for- give, Reputations for profound thought are sometimes gained by intellectual confi- dence men. The checks they give on'the bank of brains show big figures on their faoe, but they do not yield the coin. The profonndest thought has no dubious mean- ing. Stick to the old truths and the old paths, and learn their divineness by sick -beds and in every day work, and do not darken your mind with intellectual puzzles, which may breed diebsltef, but can never breed vital religion or practical usefalnees—Charles Kingsley. Truth does not require your painting, brother : it is itself beauty. Unfold it, and men will be captivated. Take your brush to set off the rainbow, er give a new tinge of splendor to the setting sun, but keep it away from the " Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley."—David Thomas, Labor is not, as some have erroneously Happened, e. penal clause of the original curse, There was labor, bright, healthful, unfetiguing, in unfallen Paradia°. By sin, labor became drudgery—the earth was re- strained from her spontaneous fertility, and the strong arm of the husbandman was required, not to develop, but to " subdue" it. Bat labor in itself is noble, and is necessary fer the ripe unfolding of the high- est lite.—Wm. M. Punshon, What wo now here wo reap there 1 Can it be supposed that the soul will enjoy a reward or endure a retribution for deeds of which it bas no recollection ! Is the thing portable 2 Will it enjoy the blies of Heaven, praising Christ fer ever as its great Saviour, without any remembrance of dit the sloe and sufferings from which He re- deemed and saved it t The idea is absurd; —Bishop R. 8. Foster. The wholesome and tonic influence ofa few hours of positive and unalloyed onj oy meat in a busy or burdened life is properly estimated by a very few' Multitudes would preaoh better, live better, do more work, and die ranch later, could they find come innooent recreation to which they could often give themselves up with something of the whole -hearted abandon of a child,—E, P. Roe, I have not se far left the coast of youth be travel inland, but that I oan very well remember the state of young manhood, from an experience in it of some years, and there is nothing to me in thin world Bo in- spiring as the poeaibilitiee that lie looked . • up in the head and breast of a young man. The hopes that lie before him, the groat in- spirations above him, all theme things, with the untried pathway of life opaning up its ' difficulties and dangers, Inepiro him to cour- age and force and work. --Tames A. Gar- field. A Hebrew In Peroslavl died lately at the g`von age of 117 years, The Krevlanen re- ports that he had been warming to marry for ho ninth time shortly before his death,