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The Exeter Times, 1886-10-14, Page 6RIFT AND SPRAY; OR, LOVE AND VENGEANCE AMONG THE SMUGGLERS. TUE, FAsOrNATIN'O OetlAtz RoalA,NoK St11014: Tne, 1)4n OF COOrEA AD MAXXAM', CHAPTER I. Tne. RUT saws itInt =ETU AN o MUMS. It was geaven's artillery, or man s meek - ng ordnanee, that awakened the ethoes tIn Lizard Poiut, on the Kentish coast of old Englaud, on the night of a drew No - amber (ley in the year of Grace, Ina, With a adieu boom came the dull sound over the surging sea and then with, a sharp, rattliug eeho, the commission would die away from face to face of the rugged cliff, until re. Dewed by a following report that again agit. ated the murky air. With a hissing roar, too, upon the pebbly beach, cache the lmge rollers from the *term. tossed channel and deeper and deeper still settled the dense mist a that wintry eve over sea and laud, folding up in its murky and dark embrace cliff and beach, and rock and sea and lighthouse top aud rocking buoy —confounding, earth and ocean in otie seeth- ing mass of white vapor, through which glis- tened the saline particles that floated above the surface of the sea. Boom ! came the sullen -sound again; and then there followed a sharp, rattling sound, which, to a practiced ear, might sin,„egest the report of smell arms, although where the seeming contest could be going on—whether on the actual ooast or to the left, bending to the Northean Ocean, or to the right, where the waters of the chanuel washed the most fertile shores of England, it was difficult to say, for, owing to the many different densi- ties of the atniosphere the sounds were de- flected iu variousdirectious most capriciously. But there were two persons on the shore who seemed—either from accurate forknow- ledge, or instinctively from the interest they felt in a something, that these sounds sug- gested danger—to guess their import. In a little hollow formed by a dip of the rievel of the beetling; cliffs on either side of it • and which little hollow led by an irregular • cutting right down a jagged, slippery and perieous pathway to the stortn-lashed. beach, were these two persons. The mist of the November eve was about them in pulsating ' masses. The damp exhalations settled heavily on their clothing; but for a time they - leered not and spoke not—all other senses ,ra.emed absorbed in the one of intense listen- ing. Then it was with startling earnestness that one of those persons spoke, and by the start that the other gave aud his sudden ex- clamation of surprise it was essident that up to that moment he did. not know of the pre- sence of his companion, and that compan- ion's voice, although there was distress in its tones, was sweet and gentle and lingered like soft music on the murky air. " Gerald ! Gerald ! dear Gerald ! they will kill him, and who will love me then? He did not want to go; he clung to me—to me, so poor and so weak ! Gerald! Gerald ! they will kill him !" An agony of tears followed these few words and from the tones andfrom the tears the rough man who was on that pinnacle of cliff knew who it was that stood by him, or rather crouched by hfin—although he could but see sufficient of her form to make her look like some fair splint of the mist that was about them. "Why, Miss Grace," he said, "who of all the world would suppose you to be here? You had better go back, miss; there's a gale a -blowing seaward and it will blow great guns through the old gorge when it does come. Go back, miss; you really had much better." And the young girl—the child we may call her ; for scarcely fourteen years had passed over that gentle head—still wept, and in heart -breaking accents she pronounced the name of Gerald ! no use, miss," said the mau ; "he's away on his first voyage, though much of a voyage it is not; but on his first venture, one may call it, and Captain Dolan will take good care of him. Hem !" The man coughed, as if he found it neces- siiry to himself to mark the equivocal sort of Care that was to be taken of the person in kuestiou. "He will be killed," sighed the young girl. "He will be killed 1—gentle, good, kind, dear Gerald ! There ! You hear that? You hear, Joseph ?" Doom ! boom ! came the rapid reports of cannon. " Oh ! my poor, dear brother, my poor Gerald ! It was so cruel, so very cruel to take him ! I will not live here; I will go far away; I shall cry allthe days and nights that are to come. He did love me—no one ever loved me but Gerald—dear' dear Gerald ! I will go to the town; I wintell all—all I know ; I will save Gerald ! There, again !--the cruel guns! They are killing him ! killing him! I know he does not love him—I know he does not. He does not love me, and I will not love him—never ! never! I .told him I would not • I will not have him for my father—he not; not be poor Gerald's father; he is not good to us, and now he has taken dear Gerald to kill him! I know he has, and there will be nobody to love me—nobody to say kind words to,mes-nobody, nobody, nobody! • I will die—I wish I could die now ! ' "Don't you go on so, miss. Ah !" This exclamation from the man w,ho was then on the cliffs, as a sort of sentinel, was occasioned by rather a curious phenomenon. That there was an agitation in the air that his practiced eyes saw betokened wind was manifest by the matinee in which the mist had become parted on the surface of the sea. In some strange way the wind had commen- ced its operations considerably above the surface of the channel, and at about a couple of hundred feet over the surging water, there was a tolerably clear night atmosphere, all below being a dense, moving maw of vapor, which hid all things. The phenomenon we have alluded to was the sudden projection from out of this misty ocean right up into the clear air, of, a rocket, the blue tints of: which scattered themselves for a, moment in a shower of sparkling spray, that fell ex- ' tingttished into the mist balms's.' • The exclamation of the scout an the cliff had attraoted the attention of Grace.; sad she removed her hands from over her eyes and face, where she had clasped them, and looked Op. "What is that?" "Nothing, Miss Grace—nothing. " I eee 1 A.thower of blue lights from the sky !" She had seen the last of the rocket, and hi another moment all was darkness again. " it a broken star ?" she said. "Perhaps so, miss ; but indeed, miss, you must not stay here 1" I will stay here'!" "Rut I—teeny, inisa—When is Mrs. Wagner ?" "1 don't know, Joseph. I don't want to know. You are not so—so unkind as the rest, and yoitwill let me stay 2" " " Spikee and bolts 1" muttered the trian to himself. "t can't help it ; 1 caret Make her go. The signel mast show and there'e an end of it 1" Grace had net been able to see what he 1 was about, lint in reality, from tike,moment that he had seen the rocket emerge from the misty sea, he had been busy ; for it was a spemel duty he was placed there to perform. 1 From a small case that looked as if it might ' judos° a fishing -rod, he took a pieee of iron rod, about four feet in height, one end of which was spiked and sharpeued, amd by that means he stnek it up in the scant loam that covered the chalk :AM This iron rod. was hollow, and in the tipper end of it he inserted what looked like an iron saucer, with a projection at its midst side, to tit into the hollow of the tube. Into that saucer then he broke what looked like a cartridge. Another moment and he had lit a nusteh, which lie protected in the hollow of his hand. He pieced the match in the saucer among the contents or the seeming cartridge. There was a slight evolution of smoke and then a beautifel blue flame shot upward and cast its radiance upon the old cliff and streamed out upon the mist and the sea. The man had at the moment ot ighting this beacon flung himself fiat in the hollow, but the young girl had risen from her crouch- ing position to her feet and the beautiful flame shone on her fair face and clustering ringlets, making her look like something more than mortal in her wondrous beauty and for a moment or two so Diming the eyes of Joseph that he was unable until he had gazed upon the lovely vision for some time to recollect that he ought to remove her from proximity to the light even as he had removed himself, and then he cried : "01, Miss Grace—Miss Grace—don't stand there. The captain will see you with his ui,g,ht glass, and you kuow what he is when he has his fits of rage upon him. Don't stay there." " Oh, how beautiful !" With a whirling rush, hi a moment more, the mist disappeared from the face of the sea ; it was encountered by a fresh breeze from the southeast, which crumpled it up like a scroll in the fire, and in an instant chased it away thousands of miles to far-off oceans, or, decomposing it, caused it to fall into the huge Atlantic in millions of spark- ling particles. Bright, beautiful and state- ly to them appeared the broad disk of a full moon in the east, and in an instant every wave was crested with the glow of molten silver. The huge cliffs reflected back the brightness:and earth, air and water became each moment more suffused with the gentle lustre of the glorious satellite. "Beautiful, oh, beautiful !" again cried Grace, as she clasped her hands and stepped yet closer to the verge of the beetling cliff. The scout had flung a heavy piece of tarpaulin over the blue -light and extinguish. ed it.. "Spikes and bolts !" were the only words he had uttered—the expression being a favorite one in the way of exclamation, and ineaming,less in aU other respects. "The Rift—the Rift!" cried Grace, now as she stood still nearer to the verge of the cliff and her luxuriant fair hair, being now caught by the night breeze, was scattered in wild and beautiful confusion about her neck and shoulders. "The Rift! I see it now; and Gerald will come back—he will not go again. Dear Ger- ald; I do love him !" The tears again started to her eyes and took the place to her of the nust that had I been upon the sea, for theyobscured her vi- sion for a few seconds, during which she sob- bed bitterly; for a dread that Gerald, of whom she spoke in such terms of fond affec- I tion, might be hurt or killed, lay heavily at her young heart. the in motion of his hand toward the / "Yes, the Rift!" said Joseph. Fro sea and from the direction of his gaze, it was evident that, by this name Rift, he indicated a cutter -rigged vessel, which was apparently beating up before the wind for the deep bay that was at that part of the coast and which the foreland so well sheltered. Why or wherefore the Rift was making for this bay, we shall soon perceive; but, by the aspect of affairs at sea, it would appear to be a sun cidal act—considering that, not two miles distant, she was evidently pursued by a schooner, which was carrying such a press of sail to endeavor to overtake her agile enemy, that she at times appeared to careen almost to the waters edge, and but that the breeze was unusually steady, would have run great risk. "That is the Rift ?" said Grace, in an in- terrogative tone. "X es, miss." "And that ?" She indicated the other vessel. "The Spray." "Spray—Spray?" Oh, that is the name of the ship. "His Majesty's revenue schooner, Miss Grace—the Spray—in chase of the Rift, smuggling cutter, Captain Dolan owner and captam. There, Miss Grace, now you have heardit all—if you did not know it before.'! "1 did know it. He told me," "Your father ?" "He." "She won't call him father," muttered Joseph to himself. "She said she wouldn't since the day he struck her on the beach, when the Norweg.ian wreck drifted in." "He told me," added Grace, speaking,in , a Musing tone: "He told nie that, to get .money, the people who had the, powerto do so made Wicked laws, for the love of money, and that they said people should not bring from one country te another he things that each producedfor the good of all ; that, when he tried to do so, they pursued him, and called it wrong, and wicked, and smuggl- ing." "That's it, miss." "1 don't know; but he should not take Gerald—poor, dear Gerald? Heaven help him !" There was a hind streak of cloud into which the rapidly rising ration new swept, and a gloom oame over the sea, and the shore. The vvind seemed to blow with keener fury; and but dimly could be seen the Rift, as she scudded directly for the deep bay. The scene that now took place, at a dia. twice of not more than three-quarters of a nule from the shore, was deeply interesting, and as seen by the scout and by Grace from the cliff•top, bed a strange aspect of near- ness, and yet disconnection with them, that imputed ' to it n curious and mysterious character. Still tearing aleng through the water, with every inch of moves she could carry, dame the king's ehip, and it was quite evi dent that she decreased the distance btwcon her and the cutter at e rate that was'or that should have been, very alarming tothe latter. Rut to the surprise of all on board the Spray, doubtless, 18 was evident that the Rift Was shortening sail-‘-sliotteiting sail , . just as she might have .dorie had she beau quietly beating in to gene friendly port, with no enemy, intent npetl, her destreetion, at tier heels, That a contest had taken place between the ta"0 tittle vessels was evicient from the. condition of some ef the top -hamper of the schooner and a white jagged streak, that looked splinter -like, on timaide,of the Rift, seemed to indicate that a shot or more had struck her, still this shortening sail—this cool embaying herself with her implacable • foe rashiug on the wings of the wind behind her mid now As she—that is the enders -Was cot off from some of the breeze by the pro- jecting headland, thst foe made three feet to oue iu progress of its chese—what oould it mewl? Bang! bang! went the two etero gens, of the schoouer and the dense smoke then broke over the king's ship and for a few moments wrapped it up in that cloud of its awn meat - hie Then what the cutter meant to do seemed to be apparent—ridiculously upper - eat, eongratulatingly apparent—to all an board the king's ship—madly apparent. To fight! Yes, surely the cutter Rift meant to fight, to have a ship -to -ship set-to with the Spray —to engage a vessel double its size, With four times its force—a king's ship, well man- ed, heavily armed and with nothing to fear; that miserable little cutter—fleet as a bird, but only over finding ,safety 18 flight. That cutter, with its ten men and four guns ! Fight yes that must surely be it and it lcd chosen the more still waters of the bay for the contest. It can mean nothing else. it is in a trap. The tall cliffs are on her bow —the Spray on her track—the headland to starboard and a long line of 'beetling cliffs well to port. Shut in—caught—sacrificed 1 A wild ringing aheer came over the water; it arose from the crew of the Spray, who for fourteen weary months had done nothing but chase cruise and lose the Rift, It was a special chase, of the Spray to capture, sink, blow to atoms and burn the Rift, and now they had hea—now, now "Hurrah, hurrah !" How that ringing cheer came upon the night wind ; how it echoed from the bold face of the old cliffs and aurged back again to the sea. " Hurrah, hurrah 1" And no sound from the Rift. On—on still it took its light, sparkling way—beautiful in the now very faint beams of that still glorious, though partially obscured, moon. Shot after shot from the Spray tore over the surface of the bay, and Grace on the cliff top swooned in dismay as she seemed to see each of those deadly missiles winging through the dear heart of her Gerald, whom she loved so well—her own dear brother, who was all the world to her. "They will kill hiln—oh, they are killing him uow ! Gerald—Gerald—Gerald !" She sank down close to the face of the cliff and wrung, her hands in agony. ,. " We have no mother—none, none—no father. He is no father to us; and now Gerald will be killed. Oh, Joseph ! Joseph! is it not wicked—very wicked ?" "Hush, Miss Grace! Hush! Look again. Spikes and bolts ! it is a close brush to- night." The crew of the Spray cheered and fired at the Rift for some ten minutes, and the cutter still sailed on, taking no sort of no- tice. Right into the centre of the bay, shortening sail still as she went, one by one, the canvas wings fluttered for a moment, and then collapsed and were furled—still her headway was great and she was right before the wind. The Spray was hidden in the smoke from her own guns, but a couple of boats were manning and arming from her quarters to take possession of the Rift. Then with sharp, precise reports, the Rift's small guns opened fire. Dense smoke fell into the face of the wind, and was thrown back again over the cutter, and still through it could be seen the bright flash of her guns as -they were served with rapidity. There was all the appearance of a fight, and Lieu- tenant Royle, of the Spray, roared and swore, and stamped on his quarter-deck, for the boats to put off' and board the Rift. " She has ceased firing, sir," said the gunner of the Spray. "Has she struck ?" " Can't see, sir, for the smoke." " Cease firing." Bang! went the last gun on board the Spray, even as the order came from the speaking -trumpet of the lieutenant, and then an awful silence seemed to succeed to the sharp reports and the smoke from both of the vessels gradually began to curl rip and dissipate. As the wind set, the vapor caused by the firing from the king's ship rolled over in huge masses toward the cliffs and the Rift, while that in which the smuggling cutter had enveloped itself hung about it and oc- cupied very much of the space lying between it and the shore, as there was scarcely any escape for it in that direction. All this produced an obscurity in the hay ahnost as great as had been the case some hours before, when the mist was on the wa- ters before the rising of the moon. But this was a state of things which did 'not last long. The narrow clouds which had swept between the moon and the south- west on their course—the upper current that had brought them from the far West, carried them away, ' and With a fuller flood of glory than before, the moonbeams 'danced upon She waves.. •, : The.'smoke frani the .cannonade rolled up the faces of the dila' and toppled over, and was whirled away by the breeze inland. Sea and beach,and tiff sl n 9learly out the silvery light, and there.Was the Spray beat. mg . g off ao the offing., , There were her two boatain theim'cldle of the bay. . But where was the Rift ? Gone I utterly gone, and left not a vestige behind, vanished, rewind into the elements. Deep in the 1 f the vasty deep," or whirled off in some wild tornado th un- known seas -gone 1 gone 1 There were the White, tall cliffs a there the high tide that roared and lashed their bases;there the headland there' the !and -locked bay and there the surging sea, , But the Rift ? Gone ! gone ! CHAPTER IL TUE MATE Snout:HT TO DV A WY. It Was early dawn on the morning et that sanie day, the evening of which had seemed to close so disastrously for the smuggling cutter Rift, that, looking like a sea bird in the Wintry mist that hung upon the water, she Slowly fought her way againet almost head -wind within a few miles of the French Coast Dim and indistinct, With only here and there a headland that rose into a more prorhinent relief tigAinst the leadened color- ed sky, appeared the coast hills, A baffinig wind at times threw the Rift a point or two Out of her course, and a peculiar wash of the seasonee ot twiee nearly broached her to. " Keep her easy 1" roared Captain Dolan, as he suddenly emerged from his cabin, with an inflamed countenance and every appear- ance of having indulged in early potations. "Keep her easy 1 Is it headway or leeway that the lubber is making Where's the Co, itette 9" " Why, 1 take it," growled Ben Bowline, the mate of She outtor„.•—q I take it that she is rounding titeheadland, thereaway," " Ah !" • " Captain Dolan sprang on to the earriage OT „ one el the two 4iins the the Rift, when out at sea, 'got up front her hold and prepared for service, lie took A 101%104.! in the direetion of the Froneh coast and ran his eye from bay to headland, and along the narrow, bright bit of sand that marked a portion of it, and then ponsing in his watch he said z "1 see her. As lubberly as 144 about lihe a dead' whale. Keep oil' a point, ../itrtin. That will do. Let her come ont with her cergo. I won't hug the shore for any 4y,y,sinanyFareaeitu that livae" • he coin's° of the Rift was slightly altered pottit to the north and the light eenyas she carried strained more easily to the wind. The foam rippled past her with a fregiening noise, and she evidently made more headway then he had done, Captain Dolan looked from one th the other of his orew with A Scowling bron,, and then, waving his hand impevatively, he cried; "Alt aft here ! All aft 1" The smugglers emerged from all parts of the cutter and gathered in a disorderly throng a little aft Of midship, when Delon, in a hoarse, harsh voice, addressed them: "It's share and share alike, shipmates, in all our ventures, except two for the captain and one for the Rift, It's share and share alike of all danger; but I know there are some of you who think, because I said this should be the last year of the Rift With ihe as her owner and Captain, that I meant to play you false; and, like old Morgan of the Wisp that you have all heard of, Sell cutter and crew to the Philistines, as the last good speculation of eaptain and owner." A growling kind of murmur passed among the crew, which it would have been difficult th take for either assent or dissent with any certainty. Captain Dolan paid no heed to it, but proceeded, while a flash pf indescribable canning and malignity came from his eyea. "But," he roared, "bet I am going to prove to you all that I can't and Won't- be- tray you. To smuggle is one thing—to fire on a king's ship is another: one is fine and imprisonment -,the other is death 1" A look of deepening interest came over the faces of the crew, and the man at the wheel leaned heavily on the lion spokes, as he bent forward to catch all that passed. "You hear that, all of you," added Dolan, in a high, cracked voice. "My son—my own boy, Gerald--Sixteeo years of age. Rai he ! hal You see, I laugh. My Own flesh and blood—I don't mean to say that his mother would be pleased, but his father is. What you all stand committed th so stands he, too. He is my hostage. Do you trust me now?" The crew looked in each others' faces and then one was about to speak, when, with a rush up the companion -way from the chief cabin, there came a youth whose singular beauty and intelligent aspect were in strik- ing contrast th the gloomy and morose faces of the major portion of the crew of the cut- ter. Dark, waving hair blew out on the breeze in clustering masses from the fair brow and the deep hazel. eyes flashed with a light that few conscious of iniquity would care to meet. no 1" said the youth, "1 wii not. I deny it. I heard you, Captain Dolan. You speak loud, but not truly. I am no hostage of yours. I will not be what you would make me. By force I am here—by force I am here a prisoner—not a prate !" "Pirate 1" cried Dolan—" you hear, of all you?" A groan of anger burst from the crowd. "Ho calls youpirates ! Away with him ! And you,Martin, is this your care of your own particular charge . "1 locked him in the aft cabin." "And I broke my way out," added the boy, as he held up a short -handled hatchet that had hitherto escaped observation. "1 heard you, and I made my way here to deny year words and th defy your power. I will not be a pirate; I will not be a smuggler. I cannot, and I will not, father ! Father! I call you by that name now, which has not passed my lips for many a day. I call you father now, and I beg of you not to care for me—not to be good to me—not th take any heed of me ; but I ask you to dessert me, th cast me from you, th send me where you will, so that you let me leave this vessel. I can- not and I will not join in them. Father, father! have some pity upon me." The boy, with tears gushing from his eyes, flung himself on his knees atthe feetof Dolan, 0 who regarded him with an expression that 1 even the mostbrutal of the crew shrank from. There was a quivering, malignant flash about the eyes of Dolan, and a compression of the lips, that spoke of rage, exultation and con- templated cruelty. " Wretch !" he saki, "is this your duty th your own father, who has—ha! ha !—who has brought you up so tenderly and who would yet make a man of you—aud such a man, too, as your father—ha ! ha—never was before you—such a man that he would fail to know you—such a man that he would see you gibbeted for pirecy,. and yet only at the last moment, when the roar and the execra- tions of the multitude that came to see the execution—ord.y:at that moment would he know you, and not then unless some one whispered or shrieked in his ears the truth. YOUNG FOLKS. Selling Timothy Titus. " Dear me,' said mamma " I ean't think at havag four eatsin the house ail winter 1" "1 liTiould. say you couldut 1" langlietipa- pa. "You'll have to give them away." . But there was the old kittypepts himself (Mutant think of giviegher Away. She lied been in the house ever since it was built, and there wasat a better maser anYWhere- 80erri n pity to part thmm e, amma could bat adlll'ille i t itiotiiileerresewite.re Toots and Jingle ; 15 did They were Week and white and so near alike that you ceuldn't tell them apart un- less you looked at their noses. Toot's itose was black itud Jingle's WaS white. And then there was Timothy Titus. He was vioiite blitkatt sildtiltaeo, ,ktoo ; but a good deal nor " He is an odd one," laughed =num., " We might give hint away &at." But Ave Made a grieved lip, and caught up Timothy Titus. " 0 -oh 1" said she, cuddling him close to her neck, "he's so sweet and cunning, inam- ma, I can't bear to part with him 1" By-and-by, when the three kittens were takiog their afteralinner nap by the fire, Mr, Davis came in. Mr. Davis lived on the other side of the river, aad peddled apples. He looked down at the little furry heap, aud laughed. " Seem's to me you've got more than your share of cats," wild, ho. • " We haven't got any." ' "Ava may give you one of ours," said mamma. Ava looked down at her shoes. Mr. Davis enuld tell vthich way the wind blew. "What say we make a trade ?" he said th , Ava. "I'll give you a peck of sweet apples for this one,' and he picked up Timothy Titus. Asa looked up. A peck of sweet apples didn't grow on every bush. Besides, maybe four oats were too many. " I—I will, if mammal' let me not give away Toots end Jingle," said she. Mamma laughed; she didn't like to promise. "We'll see about it," said she. "Three cats are less than four, anyway." So Mr. Davis measured out a peck of sweet apples and gave them th Ave. And Ave hugged and kissed and cried over Thhothy Titus, and gave him to Mr. Davis, . who put him inc basket and tied a bag Over him. . "1 ' guess he'll be all right," said Mr. Davis. "Good -day," and away rumbled the apple -cart. But as soon as Timothy Titus was fairly out of the way, Ave began to mourn. She stood at thewmdow with a very doleful face, looking across the river at Mr. Davis's big white house. IThe sky had all at once grown Cloudy, and the wind begau to blow. And, as if to make a had matter worse, Toots woke up and flew around the room in a fit. I "It's all 'cause he knows Timothy Titus is gone," sobbed Ave running to hide her face in mamma's lap. "Rowed I feel if Teddy was ga,ved away, where I'd never see 1 him any more. And the apples are bitterish; too, and I don't like 'em. 101, dear 1" I Mamma, smiled in her sleeve, but she couldn't help offering Ave a Crumb of com- fort. She Said maybe Timothy Titus would come home again, though she didn't really 1 beheve he would, herself. • i . " Pxe heard ot such things," said she; aildtheo she told Alta a story about a cat that travelled forty miles back to her add home. 1 "But I don't believe Timothy Titus can," sighed Ava, lmaghtemng up a littic, all the i same ; "'cause he's over the river, and there isn't any bridge only the ferry -boat, mar - ma. I most know he can't." , " Oh ! stranger things have happened," said mamma, hopefully. But she was as sm-prised as Ava was next morning, though I won't venture to say she was as much delighted. When the kitchen door was opened—what do you guess? In walked Timothy Titus, as large as life. 1 "Hello 1" cried, papa. "Well ! well 1' said mamma. " Why, Timothy Titus 1" Just at that minute Ave came running out in her nightie, She gave one look. She snatched Timothy Titus up in her arms. i " 01 1 oh 1 oh 1" she screamed, too full of joy to do anything else for a minute. "01, you darling! 1 h, you darling ! How did he get here, mamma ?" , "I'm sure I can't tell," said mamma. Neither could anybody else, unless it was the ferry -man, who, when papa questioned him, believed he did remember thinking he saw a little black -and -white cat somewhere, the night before. But he wasn't sure of it, and so Ave couldn't be. "Any way, Timothy Titus has come back," said she. "And he's going to stay, can't he, manuna ? And I'm going to give Mr. Davis back his apples." But Ma. DaNiS said a trade was a trade, and he wouldn't take back the apples. And Timothy Titus stayed. The Old House Near The Orchard. It was a queer little* place where I was Back ! bath ! I say: imp of evil. Avoid born and where my childish years were pass- ! B k saY I 1" , • myvengeance! "Not a word.' Why do I not kill you? Since when have yon thought proper to call me father ? I thought, by some freak of hate, you had left that off." "1 did leave it off when you struck Grace and she left it off. We agree—" "Oh, you agreed, did you ? Rank mutiny." "You struCk the dear child and the blood • was upon her sweet face. I sew you, and from that moment--" • " Well ? and from that momenti" "1 will not say it. You do not love either Of us. Let us both 'go and We will seek our own bread, if it harem door th door; and in the time 'th come, father, we will yet pray for you and we will try not to think harshly of you. It may be that we shall not be able to love you, but we will never forgot -never —never, that we are your thilclren and we will not hate you; oh, no—no--no ! But you know that Grace is so yoeng and So gentle, and you know that we love each other very, very dearly. It may be, father, that you think sod 'believe that you are acting kindly by me hi bringing me here. It may be that you Mean kindly and think this the Only mode of life for Inc within your power ; but, oh 1 think otherwise I will be no' burden to you not will Grace, Let us both go—let us both go hand in hand into the world to- gether, Ileaven will leok down upon no and keep us, and if you let 1.1S go with only one kind word, that word shall be written in tears of grateful sympathy in both stir hearts. We will yet try to love you, father —father 1" [To BE coNTTNuEo,] Gleichen, N. W, T., has a public reading - room well supplied With books, papers, and Magazines. One Of President Clevelarid's carriage drives in the Adirmulacks lasted thtee days the distance being ninety-four miles. ed, 'tin was old enough to send away to school. There were saw mills and car shops and piles of boards and lumber,, and great masts, which always seemed so grand to me, for they were designed for the vessels, the ships that went over the blue sea and brought back all our stores. But I will tell about the ships another time. Theywere dear th me, and th this day nothing thrils me more than the sight of a ship under full sail. There were but few farms near us and the school house was built olose to the one that . had the old house and theorchard. My seat in school commanded a view of both and it was indeedapleasant picture to look upon. Thehouse, with its gray roof and pretty chimneys half hidden by the great spreading apple trees, the long stretch of green held between it and the road winding away, for,. aught I Shen knew, to the farthest boundsof the universe. It never lost its charm for me, though I Often went through both orchard and house. One day I Went with my mother. The mistress met no at the door. She look- ecl careworn and distressed, I wondered how she could feel so in a place so Pleasant, with She glad sunshine all around ; the orchard laden with youfig apples dancing in the light breeze, and the room she took us into (the hest room, thanks to "Prue Pahnleaf " for Whining it to my mind) so bright and cheer - Jul and SQ serupnlbusly neat, with its un- painterl floor stubbed 5111 15 resembled white velvet and no carpet ever looked so fine to me as the many hued braided mat that cov- ered the centre of that room. There was a painted dresser with brass handles en the (drawers and cupboard doors, whose shelves 1 contained the best dishee 1 a tea set of white china with little sprigs of pink scattered over them ; a set of larger cupeand saucers, tea color and white, pitchers the upper and low. ,er parts of some shining subetance and mid - f tile of sontethiug that looked like granite. I think the knowledge of their make mist be among the lost arta, fot I have looked in 1 vain 1or their like for the last ten years, But tuest bit yon why the lady of the hoelse Was. so sad. Her dangh ter Irene 'waa '50 be Marriecl ited go away to Ontario to liva, g you wish I will tell you more of Irene at some fature time. for size was a lovely meld - en, the P'icle Evae loY of the old home near the orehard. ' WINGS OP noiniEB GARDNTA, Giu a man oredit if you want to start him on de road to de pee house. As it am de roegimess of de grindstun which sharpens de ax, so it am de troublee of life which alp up de lunnao mind, Gray ha'rs am entitled to reaps* only when the owners of gray heads respeek dew - selves. It cloan' do any good to light a candle ar- ter. you have bin 'satin' wormy apples in de 118 dark. pusson who judges of de speed of a mule by his bray musn't compla,. if ebery- body. passes him on de road. De 'mason who am nebber frmpteti de- serves no particular credit fur °bassi& de De less advice you gin widout pay de mo' credit you will receive fur helix' chuok-full o' wisdom. Men who expect to be treated jist esyou treat dean will neither slander norabuseyou. Between readin' a man's character by his bumps or pin' on a piande wid him, take de picnic. What sve calkerlate on doin' fur to-medder wont pay de grocer fur 'taters nor de butch- er fur soup -bone. PQ man who aims to elevate his . fellow- man can't be too keorful to prevent de nay - burs from obeehearin' his fanely riots. Doan be too hard on human natur'. De man who kin sot down an' an' tell you exact- ly what dis kentry needs to make her great an' glorious may have no idea what' his ilex' heel of flour am coznin' from. A religion which can't stand befo' de sight of a circus purceshun or de sound of de fiddle am not worf luggin' aroun' de kentry. People who expect a man to kick his own dog in case of a light have got a good sur- prise laid up for 'em. When you flatter yourself dat de majori- ty of people doan' know de difference be- tween de roar of is lion an' de bray of au ass von have struck a banana -peel which will bring ye down kerfiop. Lots ot men who would establish an or- f un asylum if dey had de money will beet a wood -sawyer down 30 per cent. below the pin' price. On His Holidays. " Very interesting scenery, sir," observed a dapper, loudlyalressed Cockney tourist to a hard -featured, grinnlooking Scot on hoard the Loch Katrine steamer, "Izn pleased ye think sae," answered Sawney. "Replete with 'istorical hassociations." " Maybe, but I dinna ken on thing aboot them." "What !" exclaimed the Englishman, "sure- ly, sir, you 'ave read the works of your great countryman, Sir Walter Scott, theft Wizard of the North' you know." " Vever eveu heard o' him. Wha was he ?" "Sir, that is -perfectly hincredible ; you a Scotchman, and never 'eard of the man who wrote the Waverly Novels, Marmion, the Lady of the Lake, and all that sort of thing ?" "Never in my life." The disgusted Cockney turned away with a muttered expression of cots - tempt at such atrocious ignorauce, and an individual who overheard the colloquy, blushed for his uninformed compatriot, and took an opporttunity of asking whether his confession was actually true. "Toot, man," was the testy reply. " I duke want to hear any o' that English idiot's keptimental bletherin'. Heard o' Watty 1 For the last twelve months I've had enough of Sir Walter Scott, and his novels too. I'm a printer's reader, and oor firm have been printin' a new edition o' his works. I'm on my holiday*, man, and canna be bothered speakin' aboot shop l" Ignorance. Probably there is no quality more efficient in dispelling ignorance than the courage whith dares to confess it. The child learne fast, chiefly because he has no self-conscious fear of being thought uninformed. He oaks all manner of questions without any qualm of misgiving, and exposes his own deficien- cies without any feeling (ahem or distress. It is by his free and eager inquiries that 14 improves so rapidly. Were he afraict to show his ignorance, no one could help him out of it. The enforced school -lessons would comprise nearly the whole of his education, and even they could not be adapted to • his individual mental needs. As it is, every genial and kind-hearted person with whom he comes in contact is interested in adding th his stock of knowledge. The same priv- ilege might be enjoyed by the adult did not a feeling of shame prevent him from seeking knowledge in the same natural and simple way. But, as the years pass, he collies to feel that the confession of ignorance will ex- pose him th ridicule, or contempt, or ceu- sure, and he therefore hides it under what- ever pretext he can find. The Bringing Up of Daughters. There are few greater mistakes than the prevailing (imposition among people m mid- dle-olass life to bring up their, daughters as .fine ladies, neglecting useful knowledge for ahow,y accomplishments. The notions, it has been justly observed which ginis `Ints educated acquire tifthcar own importance is in an inverse ratio to their true value. With just enough of fashionable refinement to .dis- qualify them for the duties of their proper station and render them ridiculous in a lu er sphere what are such fine ladies Nothing, but to be kept like •wa.x-fighres in a glass'case. , Woe to the man who is linked .th mie of them ! If half the time and money wasted oil music, dancing, and embroidery were employed in teaching , daughters the useful arta of snaking shirts and 'mending stockings and managing household affairs, their real qualifications as coming wives and mothers would be increased fourfold. •• Youth. „We ought, in justice to youth, to lead it to expect pleasure in the actual performance of its labours, to taste the delights of excel- lence, to revel in the exercise of climbing, to feel enthusiasm in conquering diffictilties. Youth is especially alive to thee° influenees, and nzight easily be led to welcome them ; but, when we coldly ignore them, and urge industry and effort only for the sake of what may afterwards accrue, when we :assume that work is hard ttiid uninteresting, and ex- hort its performance IS is painfid duty or it dire necessity, , we cannot wonder if they take us at our word and avoid as inuels of it as possible. As the happy couple were leaving the church, the husband said to the partner of Isis wedded 1ifa: " Marriage must seem a dreadful thing to you. Why, you weed all of it taiimble and one eould hardly hear yon say, " " I shall have more cour- age and say it next time," returizel the blushing bride.