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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1887-2-10, Page 3RIFT \lb SPRAY; 011, LOVE AND VENGEANCE AMONG THE SMUGGLERS. TUE IVIO$T FASOINATING 00gaN ROmANCE 11'7(!E TE 4 DAYS COOPER AND MARTATT. cHAPT.ER XXIV.--CONTINUED, We left Gerald and Gree in conversation abeut their future hopes end proepects, just as Mrs. 'Wegner made her appearance before them apparently in one of lier roost Lisped- oue moods. " Come," she said to Grace, "do not be idling there ; nave some work for you to do." "1 am talking with my brother," said Grace quietly. " ThenAA will cease talking with yeur brathers Cense this way at once !" "No l'1, eaid Grace. ' "No !" ga Gerald. „r "What " you defy me, do you—you two hateful imps? You think you are getting, bah of you, old enough to have your own way, I suppose, but you will find to the contrary of that, It is you, Grace, I wish to speak to 4 and it concerns your safety so rauch that if you refuse to listen to me I don't know whet may become of you..." "1 do not refuse to listen to you," said Grace. "Say what you have to say, Mrs. Wagner." "I wish to say it to you alone." "That will do no good, as .1 should tell it at once to Gerald, be it what it may; so you may as well, Mrs. Wagner, say it here, that he may listen to it at once." "Very well. You will not obey me and I shall be forced to find one whom you must listen to; but, for you consolation, I can tell you that your Gerald that you make so much fuss with has fired on a king's ship, and so, if anything happens wrong about the Rift, he will he worse off than any one else." " That is false," said Gerald. "1 thought so, dear," said Grace. "Oh, you two wretches!" screamed Mrs. Wagner. "1 will be even with you both before I have done with you. 1 could tell you something that you would like to .hear, but I won't --no, I won't. You mieht have made friends with me and then I would have told you, but I won't now. Do you hear me ?" "Very well," said Grace. This indifference to her shouts and to her blandishments raised the ire of Mrs. Wag- ner to fever heat, and going up close to Grace she said : "1 know your father—ha 1 he ! How my ire starts now—ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, I don't mind telling you this much. Dolan is not your father.' " Not her father," said Gerald. "Then she is not my—", " Sister 1" gasped Grace. "Nor is Dolan your father, for the matter of that," added Mrs. Wagner. ; "Wey still, then, dear Grace, b brother an" " We are, Tcl. We shall ever be—in ! affection—in djar affection, if not in fact." , " Evet and ever," said Gerald I "Very good," says Mrs. Wagner; "and now when you want to know a little more, perhaps you will be civil to me, for I only I tan tell you and make my terms with you." ; Mrs. Wagner turned away, and as she ) did so she muttered something to herself . about Dolan being out of his senses and that ' it was high time she (Mrs. Wagner) looked i after herself. Grace and Gerald continued silent for 1 some time and looked, en each other's faces I by the dim light that marked the recess where theywifge,sand then Gerald took Grace's hands r. nd placed them upon his • breast as he said : " My Gracie, on board the Rift is this I young French girl whom I saved from the sea. She is very affectionate, and—and—I think—" . The color went and came in the face of Grace and she could only see Gerald through a mist of tears. ' "Von think, dear Gerald, that she loves you. I, too, love you, and so will that— that—" e i She turned her face away and Gerald felt the little hands trembling on his breast. " Yes'Gracie—yes 1" "That I hope you love her and will be so —so very happy all your life with her, and I will love her too, Gerald, for your sake-- ' I I, too, will love her." . The large tear -drops fell from the eyes of • Grace and then she made an effort to smile and to dash them from her eyes. 1 Gerald drew her gently toward him. " My Gracie—sister—you shall be loved ' with all a brother's proudest affection. If no sister, there is none other who will ever be to me what you are, my Gracie. I love you—you only—you now—you in the past, when we were both little children—you'in time to come, forever and forever 1" i Grace covered her face with both her 1 hands and some hysterical sobs came from I her. Then a light footstep sounded close to them and a voice said : " Ware spies. Master Gerald. She s corn- I ing to listen." 1 " Ah, Joseph 1" "Hush, sir! Mother Wagner s in the offing." " Oh, Joseph ! you will help us 1 We will trust you." . ! " You come to my lookout." "The first plateam" " Yes, soon." " At onee. Speak of something else, 1 Gracie dear I The sea—the weather—any- ) thing. " Anaglid the ship fire on the Rift 1" said Grace. -okr, " Fie, darts_ But the Rift ontsailed it. I The schooner could not keep up with us." t "Bah ?" said Mrs. Wagner, as she crept 1 away. "They are bad children yet. I • could make something out of him, I fancy, I but it wants cp,,tition, Dolan is mad about his ghost of a French girl in the cabin of the , Rift.' 1 Mrs. 'Wagner finding that there was no- ; thing to learn by her espial upon Grace and I Gerald, made no secret of her attempt to ' overhear them, but walked away without the least regard to secrecy in her footsteps. The first plateau which the old seaman ' Joseph bad mentioned as where he would be fonnd was that lookout on the face of the cliff where. it was, as a general Ailing, his duty to be, and where he had held several conferences with poor (4 -race, while Ger- ald was =acing that enforced voyage in the Rift. They both now sough t Joseth's post, and, hs they went, they made up their ininds thoroughly to trust him and to get hiin to colecoat with them acnne means of eaving Captain Moequet and Marie from the cabin of the Rift. The old sailor Was anxiously expecting them, and when they appeared, he said : " Corno right away, 55 fast as you can, on to the plateau, my ehildren ; 1 Amite speak to you both." "And we to you, Joseph "Well, then, I'll hear yea firetg" " No, Joseph," said Grace, " you tell us what you went to say, and then We will make every confidence with you, for you have a good heart." Thank, you, miss, for saying that, and God bless you. Well, then, wileI want te say is, that I think Captain Dolan is going to • e s p. "Lord bless me ! I mean the cavern ; arid 1 don't mean that he is merely going to desert it but I think he is going to betray the whole lot of us to the preventives. "Indeed, Joseph l" "Yes, Master Gerald: I know him pret- ty well, you see, and have had more than one voyage with hire when h'e was only a smuggler. I'm aleard, now, he's soznething "`le sInis, indeed !" "Just so, Master Gerald, and I think he knows the game is pretty well up here, and he will be off with all he can lay his hands on ; and the crew will find, before they can say Jack Robinson, that they will all be taken. "Yes, yes," said Gerald, and that was why he wised so particularly to make me go this one voyage—it being his last—in order that I should be convicted with them." "That's about it, Master Gerald." 0 Gerald I Gerald! said Cerace, "what shall we " Levant 1" said Joseph. "' What, Joseph—what is that?" "Be off, miss—you, and me, and Gerald, and one more." "Who is that ?" "Martin, sold here he is." " Well, Bo," said Martin, as at this mo- ment' he came on to the Plateau, "how is the weather ?" "West by north, mate, and puffy. Here's the two children. I've been a talking to 'em about him..' " Dolan ?" "Aye, aye :mate, and I've been a saying that you and me, and them, too, had better up anchor and sheer off, with all the canvas we can set to the wind." "1 think so, too," said Martin. "Then hear me," said Gerald. "1 can- not go without others. There are two peo- ple in the cabin of the Rift that I have promised to stay by, and sink or swim with", Martin nodded. "I thought as much. The Frenchman's little girl is there, is she not ?" " She is." "1 thought it by the poor old man's work, but how she got there I. can't think. Dolan has told Bowline that he has seen a ghost in the cabin, and that he wouldn't go into it or a thousandpeun s. He wants Bowline to go and clear out his lockers for him." "1 saved Marie MoOquet," said Gerald. "1 saved her from the wreck of the Coquette, d brought her• h • , by the help of her father, through the port." Martin whistled. "Hold hard," said Joseph. "There's wind enough." "All right, Bo. Well, Master Gerald, we will do the best we can. A Frenchman, I teeke it, is, after all, a human being." "!No doubt of it," said Joseph. "Ansi he can't help being a Frenchman." "Not a bit, mate." "Ansi this one, I will say, seems to me as if he had the feeling of a Christian. Now, Master Gerald, we will get him and his baby away somehow." "It is not a baby," said Gerald. "Oh, ain't it? Very good 1 I propose that we wait quietly till all's at rest in the sea cave, which won't be till after the cargo has been taken to the shore. That Mr. Suffies will be there to buy it, as usual; and then, when the boats come back, Dolan will go to rest and the Rift will -be left to ride out the night with only one man on board, as a night watch." "But how shall we get off?" said Gerald. "Can we get to the ravine easily from the sea cave? I only know of a way through the large cavern." " Oh ! you leave that to us," said Martin. "1 dare say, Master Gerald, that Joseph and I know a little more of the old cliff than you do." "Ansi now, mate," . said Joseph, "when we get away where are we to go to?" "Look here," said Martin, "1 think that you and I, my Bo, have had enough of this kind of life. Lotus make our way right away eastward till we come To some nice little place, and then we will buy a boat, a,nd set up respectable, and get a living for these two young ones by fishing, and what else turns up. I have more than enough money to set us afloat." • " That's,it 1" said Joseph. "Ansi do you think," said Gerald, with emotion—" God bleat( and reward you both! —do yon think that I would let myself be a burden to yon'and my dear Grace either? Oh, no—no 1 I will find something to do that will help us all." "All right, Master Gerald," said Martin. "Von make your mind easy about the Frenchman and his baby." "1 tell you again," said Gerald, "it is not a beby, but a young lady." " Why, you stupid fellow," said Joseph, "what's making babies run in your head— eh? He said as she wasn't a baby."' "It was Dolan said she was a child, and so I thought of a baby; but I won't do so again. You keep all snug, Master Gerald, and you, too, Miss Grace, till the boats come back, and then I will need 'you and Joseph here, and we will set to work." " We shall be very grateful to you," said Grace, "Don't you think of that, my dear. 'You can take care of the Frenchman's bab—Lord bless me, nnte, when once youget a baby into your mud how difficulti it s to get it out." Grace laughed and Gerald looked annoyed as he said : "1 tell you again and again that she is a very beautiful young girl, and never Was a baby—I man --that " Gait 1" said Joseph. 1' Come, clear," saitl Grace as she slid her limn within that of Gerald. " Conic, you want rest, Gerald." It was deep in the night when that same little party wero asseialed on the chalky plateau of the old cliff, eubinerges everything itt the one dominant idea. That the cottages he sought by the Sea t!eaelu were seine distance off on the coast, and lying in a hollow of the beech he had been sufficiently informed, and it at once appeared to him that the beat and the easi- est wey to reach thein was by crusing round to them in his own yacht, On beard that yacht he had likewise seve- ral men, on whom he knew he could depend in any emergency to perform for hini any ser- vice that required courage end address, and how could he tell but that those qualities might be largely called into action yet in the proceeditigs necessary to enable him to gain possession of his daughter? If he could tind that she was at one of the cottages, with what joy would he clasp her at once to his mine and despite any end all possible opposi- tion that might be offered to him earry her on board the Nautilus. in the noble little vessel that had brought hint in safely over the swelling billows of the wide Atlantic he felt that he had a friend and an ally, and itt the few brave hearts who had adventured that voyage with him he knew he had those to whom he had only. to say that heart and hand were aso;vannt.ed m the right and they were all his Thus was it, then, that Captain Morton felt much more hopeful of the recovery of his daughter, by going to the cottages by the beach in his yaeht, the Nautilus, than as if he had sought them by land and with the whole posse conaitatus of Falmouth at hie Skimming gallantly over the waves, the " A puling. Nautilus soon passed the group of cottages, Two gentlemen friends who had been in one of whichthe old dying—now dead— parted for years met in a crowded city thor- smuggler, Hutchin, had made to Captain, oughfare. The one who lived in the city Morton such important revelations. After was on his way to 'sleet a pressing business that spot was passed there were adveral engagement. After a few expressions of de - bluffs and little headlanks, and there, in a light, he said: "Well, I'm off. I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. I will look for you to -morrow at dinner. Remember, at two o'clock, sharp. I'm anxious for you to see my wife and child." "Only one child ?" asked the other. "Only one—a daughter," came the an- swer, tenderly. "She's a darling, I do as- sure you." And then they parted, the stranger in the city getting into a street•car bound for the Park, whither he desired to go. After a block or two, a group of five girls entered the car; they were all young, and evidently belonged to families of wealth and culture, that is, intellectual culture—as they conversed well. Each carried a very elabor- ately -decorated lunch -basket; each was at- tired in a very becoming spring suit. Doubt- less, they, too, were going to the Park for a YOUNG FOLKS 4 frass 0. 7/ 11)50510. I had a great, big doggie onoe, His coat was black as jet. And eurly, too, like Persian Rua, 'Twas only btraight when wet. His nameiwas Tasbo, and one .Itty Whet! !Oily bhm olne aSchool, I fell from Oa the wooden bride Into a deep, Oasis pool. Then Tessa --bravo old cog he was-- Leeped in, dived deep, and rose To drag me safely on the hank, His teeth grasping. my clothes, But I had fainted, atid he thought That I was detwl, f30 Ise Ban swiftly off unto my home, And howled so mournfully That mother came th see what ailed The dog, and then he tried To ;nuke ker know that she at once Must hasten to my side. Backwards and forwards Tasso ran Until he reached the bank, Where mother found xne, senseless atm, All wet, and cold, and dank. From that day Tasso never heard Words otherwise than mild, For he 111)4, by his thoughtful act, Rescued the little child. And when the brave old doggie died, Some bitter tears were shed ; We placed a stone upon his grave, With the -words " Tasso is dead." wildly picturesque spot, where the full force of the lend slip so long ago had been felt, be WM the group of fishermen's huts he was in search of. • A brief order brought up the Nautilus on another tack, and she beat up for the little half bay, half indentation—rugged and unequal in its dimensions as it was—on the margin of which were the cottages. I Then a touch of the helm and the Nan; tilus rode so lightly offend on the wind that she scarcely shifted her position twenty ya,rds in the water, although she carried one sail and there was nothing to hold her ti the bottom of the deep. A boat was lowered from her side an one of his men only Captain Mortoss polled for the shore. That shore presented rather a curious es- t. CHAPTER, XXV. --CAPTAIN MenTou Msf TUE TUAGE OF Ws DAnGlITER. When Captain Morton went from Admiral Clifford so abruptly for the purpose of seek- ing the women `S.Vagner, from whom now fully expected he ehould be able by fair moans or by foul, to procure the infermation he required, in order to enable hint at once to clasp to his heart his Imq-lost child, he was in thet state of iriehtal eXeitemene that The beach was low and level, just before spring pic-nic. They seemed very happy the eight or ten cottages, and looked from and amiable, until the car again stopped, the sea like very fine sand, but it was in this time letting in a pale -faced girl of about reality rather rough shingle, mingled with eleven, and a sick boy of four. These chil- the debris of the chalk cliffs. siren were shabbily dressed, and upon their Lying on the beach were various fishing face's there were looks of distress mingled nets drying; for although the men who corn- with some'expectancy. Were they, too, on posed the lawless crew of Dolan never gave their way to the Paris? The gentleman themselves to so calm and tranquil a pursuit . thought so; so did the group of girls, for as fishing, yet some of them had families and he heard one of them say, with a look of dis- the children had taken to the nets and had daia : made. a kind of pleasurable business of that "I suppose those ragamuffins are on an which in the first place their fathers had ef- excursion, too." fected to do, as a mere blind for their more I "I shouldn't want to leave my door if I nefarious and guilty pursuits. had to look like that. Would yon ?" This Frain several of the chimneys of the huts from another girl. . there curled thin wreaths of smoke and a ' "No indeed! But there is no accounting couple of boats on the beach, both en good for tastes. I think there ought to be a ape - order with the oats carefully secured in them cial line of cars for the lower classes." and the thole pins hanging by cord, testified! All this conversation went on in a low that care was taken have, at all events tone but the gentleman had heard it Had the means of readily going to sea from that the child too? He glanced at the pale face, stop') 1 and saw tears glistening in the eyes. Then The boat of Captain Morton grounded an he looked at the group .of finely -dressed the shingle and he sprang to shore. . girls, who had moved as far from the plebe - A ragged looking urchin, with his trousers i ian as the limits of the car would allow. He curled up to his knees, came into the water' was angry. He longed to tell them that to help pull upthe boat, but it was not Cap- I they were vain and heartless, as they drew tain Morton's instructions that it should be. their costly trappings closer about them, as if fearful of contact with poverty's child- ren. Just then an exclamation, "Why, there is Nettie ! wonder where she is going ?" caused him to look out upon the corner, where a sweet-faced young irl stood beck - beach ed. " No," he said, " that will do." The boy looked at him then inquiringly and said, as he touched his cap: "The spring, sir." What spring le' " Thereaway, sir. They say it's all rain oning to the car driver. When she entered that's in the water, but I never seed rain the car she was warmly greeted by the five, ther. away like sir. afore." and they made room for her beside them. A chalybeate spring gushed out of a huge , They were profuse in their exclamations and fragnsent ef the fallen rock and Captain Mor- questions. ton shook his head as he said: "'Where are you going ?" asked one. "No, I do not come for the spring—which " 0 what lovely flowers? Who are they is the cottage of Mrs. Wagner ?" for ? ' questioned another. "That one, sir." "I'm on my way to Belle Clark's. She's The boy indicated one of the cottages, sick you' know, and the flowers are for from the chimney of which came rather her." more smoke than from any of the others, She answered both questions at once, and and then he added: then glancing toward the door of the car, she saw the ale girl looking wistfully at her. She smiled at the child, a tender look beaming froxn her beautiful eyes; and then, forgetting that she, too, wore a handsome velvet skirt and costly jacket, and that her shapely hands were covered with well -fit- ting gloves, she left her seat and croseed over to the little ones, she laid one hand Dolan raey be there. caressingly on the boy's thin cheek as she Captain Morton had been walking up. the asked interestedly of the sister: shingle as he spoke to the boy at the rather "The little boy is sick, is he not? And slow pace which such such a Place hecessi- he is your brother, I am sure; he clings so tates, and as he got a few paces in front of to you." the lad he suddenly heard a very shrill It seemed hard for the girl to answer, but whistle behind him and found that it pro.- finally she said : ceeded from the boy, who produced it b "Yes, miss; he is sick. Freddy never a reed 1:te had at his lip. has been well, Yes miss, he is my brotlaer. "But I don't think she's at home, sir ; though, rnayhap, old Madge be." Who is old Madge ?" " She minds the cottage while Mrs. Wagner goes a fishing with Mr. Dolan. I'll go and see if she be there, though, for a penny, sir." "1 can do that myself. Perhaps this Mr. When the Park was reached the five girls hurried out with laughter aud merry tulk. Then the gentleman lifted. the little boy in his arms alai carried him out of the car, across the road and into the green sweet emelling Park, the sister, with heart fall of gratitude following. It was he who paid for a Dice ride for them in the goat carriage. He tile° treated them to oyster soup at the Park restaurant. .A.t two o'clock sharp the next day the two gentlereem as weed, met again. " This is Iny wife," the host mid, proud- ly introdueing a COntely lady, " and this," ati a young girl of fifteeo entered the perior, " is my daughter, Nettie." "Ah?' thought the guest, as he extended his hand in eordisl greeting, "this is the dear girl whom I met yesterday in the street -car, I don't wonder her father calls her a darling and no mistake, bless her 1" NO3312 *OTHER'S, Oreut Meg Who Owed Pinch to Tittle Mothers' Love.' In reeding the biographies of great men we are often struck by the love they had for their mothers, to whom they attributed all their greatness. Curran spoke with greet affection of his inother, aS1I, woman of strong original understanding, to whose wise coun- sel, consistent piety, and lessons of honor- able ambition, which she diligently enforced on the minds of toe children, he himself principally attributed his success in life, "The only inheritance," he used to gay, " that I could boast of from my poor father, was the very scanty one of an unattractive face or person, like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to me something more valuable than fikee or person or than, earthly wealth, it was because another and a dearer parent gave her child a portion front the treasure of her mind." De Maistre described his " sublime mother" as " an eyes, to whom God had lent a body for a brief season.' He said that her noble charac- ter made all other women venerable in his With such a mother ! Faith in woman"kiliTY he Beats with his blood, and trust In all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and -fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay," George Washingtou was only eleven years of age—the esclest of five children—when his father died. The widowed mother had her children to educate and bring up, a large household to govern a,ncl extensive estates to manage, all of which she accomplished with complete success. Her good sense, tenderness, industry and vigilance enabled her to overcome every obstacle; and, as the richest reward of her solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all her children come forward with a fair promise into life, filling the places allotted to them in a man- ner equally honorable to themselves, and to the parent who had been the only guide of their principles, conduct and habits. Mrs. Washington used daily to gather her little flock 8,round her to read to them lessons of Christian religion and morality, and her little manual in which she wrote the maxims which guided her was preserved by her son, and consulted by him as among his most I precious treasures. I A mother's love is always a sacred in- stinct but for it to become the strength and , blessing it may be to the children, the moth- ' er herself must have a strong, holy, and - well -disciplined character, like that of the' 'mother of the Wesleys. She was very beau- ! tiful, and was married at nineteen to a coon - try clergyman. She bore him nineteen Chil- dren. To the end of her long life her sons, especially. John, looked up to her and con- sulted her as the best frieod and wisest counsellor they could have. The home over which Mrs. Wesley ruled was free and hap- py, and full of healthful play as any home , in the holidays, and yet orderly and full of ' healthful work as any school. The "odious inoise" of the crying of children was not suf- , fered, u en. was no restrainton ' gleeful laughter. She had many wise rules, which she kept to steadily. One of these was to converse alone with one of her little, ones every evening, listening to their child- ish confessions, and giving counsel m their , childish perplexities. She was the patient teacher as well as the cheerful companion of her children. When some one sad to her, "Why do you tell that blockhead the same 1 thing twenty times over ?" she replied, "Be- cause if I had told him only nineteen times I I should have lost a my labor." o deep was the hold. this mother had on the hearts 'of her sons, that in his early manhood she 1 had tenderly to rebuke John, for that "fond wish of his, to (lie before she died." It was through the bias given by her to her sons' minds in religious matters that they , acquired the tendency which, even m early I years, drew to them the name of Methodists. In a letter to her son Samuel, when a scho- lar advise you as much as possible to throw I ; at Westminster, she said: " I would ' your business into a certain method, by which means you will learn to improve es ery precious moment, and find an unspeakable facility in the performance of your respec- tive duties." This "method" she went on to describe, exhorting her son, " in all things to act upon principle ;" and the so- ciety which the brothers John and Charles afterward founded at Oxford is supposed to have been in a great measure the result of her exhortations. "What do you whistle for ?" We'reigoin' to the i'ark to see if it won't' That it was for something, hosvever, was I am glad you are going," the young fully evident; for the door of Dolan's cot- girl replied in a low voice meant for no ones tage was on the moment opened, and a fe- ears except those of the child addressed. niale looked out. Then the door was closed "I feel sure it will do him good; it is lovely again, and there seemed to the attentive there, with the spring flowers all m bloom. oars of Captain Morton the sound of &sten- But where is your hunch? You ought to ing it within. The captain looked at the have a lunch after so long a drive." boy with a forced smile, as he said: I suppose, my boy, you consider that you have only done your duty ?" (TC; BE CONT/NUED) .40114.•..........saw "Nothing, sir." make ired4 better." 681Tice, Over the little girl's face came a flush. Yes, miss, mehbe we ought to, for Freddy's .sake; but you see, we didn't have any lunch to bring. Tim—he's our brother —he saved these pennies purpose so es Freddy could ride to the Park and back. I bb .F. • dd '11 f .,t b t boin The servant, man or woman, who beginsguesa hungry when he gets to thetea,utiful Park." negotiation for service by• inquirina what 'Were there tears in the lovely .girl's eyes privileges ere attached to the offera situa- as she listened ? Yes there certainly were ; tion, and whose energy is put chiefly in and very soon she asked the girl where they stipulations, reservations, and conditions to lived, and wrote the address down in a tab - "lessen the burden " of the place, will not let, which she took from a beaded bag upon be found worth the hiring. There is only her arm, one spirit thet ever achievet a great success. I After riding a few blocks the pretty girl The man who seeks only how to make him- left the ear, but she had not left the little self most umeftil, whose aim is to render ones comfortless. Half thebouquet of violets himself indispensable to bis employer, whose and hyacinths wree clasped in the sister's whole being is animated with the purpoee to hand, while the sick boy, with radiant face fill the largest possible place in the walk as- held in his hand a precious package, from signed to him, has in the exhibition of that which he helped himself now and then say - spirit the guarantee of success. The man ing to his sister in a jubilant whisper: who is afraid of doing too inueh iS near of She said we could eat 'on ail—every kin to him who seeks to do nothing. They otie—When we got to the Paris. What made ere neither of them in the remotest degree it her so sweet and good to ns? She didn't relation to the van whose willingness to ac can us ragamuffins, and wasil'efraid to have everything, possible to his touch places him her dregs touch oural and she called nie 'a at the bead of the active list. And See whispered back: ge as s 'caust tthes beautiful as well Ati Oflin itt stated to be an antidote to fun, e, on n w. as her clothee—beautiftd ineid y k o " gus-Poisonixkg• The gentleman's ears served him well. A Hamilton woman swallowed her artifi- He heard See's whisper and thought: °lel teeth, last Week; but her mouth is amid "Yes, the child is right; the lovely young te be eo big that she eould ewallow her own girl is beatitiful inside --beautiful in spirit. head if the paint On her face evoiildn't gag She ia one of the Lord'si own, developing in her. s Christian growth. Bless het!" Words in the .English Language, By actual enumeration of the words con- tained in the best dictionaries, it has been ascertained that 13,330 English words are of Saxon origin and 29,354 of classical In consequence of the popular nature of the Teutonic words in the language, the Saxon element largely preponderates in the works of our greatest writers. The pronouns, numerals, prepositions, and auxiliary verbs, the names of the elements and their changes, of the seasons, the heavenly bodies, the divi- sions of time, the features of natural scen- ery, the organs of the body, the modes of bodily action end posture,the commonest enimals, the words ui sed n earliest child- hood, the ordinery terms of traffic, the con. stanent words in proverbs, the designation of kindred, the simpler emotions of the mind, terms of pleasantry, satiire, contempt, indignation, invective, and anger are for the most part of Saxon origin. Words indica. mg is more advanced civilization and com- pleg feelings, and most of the terms employ- ed ill ert, science, mental and moral philoso- phy, are of clitesical origin. The English language, winch itt now spoken by nearly one -hundred millions of the earth's inhabit- ants, is in its vocabulary one of the most heterogeneous that ever existed, There is, perhaps, no language so full of words, evi- dently derived from the most distant sourees, as English. Every country of the globe seems to have beonglie-sotrie of its verbal manufactures to the intelleetual merket of England ; Latin, Greek, HebrewsCeltic Saxon, Danibb , rruueh, Spanish, Wuhan, German —nay, even Hindustani, Malay, and eeoritatir.ryemixed together in the English dt The Gerteans are making piatio-eases of paper. The tone iS said to be improved by the process, but diminished in volumei WeSted IteelPe$9 J osuo,es, —Two (Alps of eugar, one enp of butter, three eggS, Ono teaspoonful of soda, two teaspoenfuls of cream of tartar, water enough to diegolve the soda, and nutmeg. Cut out the e6.riie as cookies. CocoAxter CREAM CANnx, —Three cups io)filioixsugar, of clwatereaenmcog intahtrtaar,d isueole oirtietr,h 1 asatela in. utes, 'When nearly done add one cup of grated eocoenut. Beat to a oreain and spread la round cakes oxi white paper. To Cook it 'fang—Boil the ham three or four hoers, aceording to size ; then skie the whole and fit it for the table; then set in the oven fer half an hour, eover it thiekl‘y with potinded rusk or bread-crumbe, and set back for half au hour longer. F3oilecl ham is al- ways improved by eetting it in an oveo for nearly an hour, till much of the fat dries out, 8,nd it also makes it more tender. SweET POTATO Pse. —Especially nice at this time of the year when eggs are scarce. Boil potatoes soft, peal them, line a pie dish with nice must, see in potato to cover the bottom add a generous covering of sugar, a little dour, a pinch of salt, then another layer of potato, more sugar, and bite of but- ter, pour in some rich milk or cream, flavor with nutmeg, and bake rather slow. Bread and ButterFritters.—Make a, bat- ter of a half pound of flour, quarter mime of butter, two eggs, milk, and half a saltspoon- ful of salt. Cut some slices of bread. and butter, not very thick; spread half of thexn with any jam that may be preferred, and QOVer them with the other slices; slightly press them together and cut them out in square, long or round piebee. Dip them in the batter, and fry in boiling lard for about ten minutes; drain them before a fire on a piece of blotting paper or cloth. BOILED LEG OF IVITITTOX.—Sliee into a pot of boiling water, one good sized onion and it tomato, add one scant salt spoonful of red pepper, salt enough to taste, and the meat. Boil briskly fax aboutsione hour. Then place in the oven with enough of the liquid to make gravy, which should be thickened with flonr after the meat is nice 'and brown. Add to the liquid remaining in the pot one good handful of rice, let it boil twenty min- utes ansi you have an excellent soup. I would say that canned tomatoes will do when the fresh ones are not to be had. Water Ponnixo.—Tbree coffee cups of flour, one coffee cup of milk, oue coffee cup of chopped raisins, one coffee cup of suet or salt pork, chopped very fine, two- thirds cup of molasses, one teaspoonful of saleratus, half a nutmeg, grated, and one small tea- spoonful of clove. Warm the molasses and dissolve soda in it. Mix all the flour, pork and raisins, then put all together, and 'boil or steam four hours. &me. One tea- spoonful of flour, one teacupful of sugar, one-half teacupful of butter, beaten till smooth, then place over the fire and pour in rapidly three gills of boiling water. RIBBON CARE.—Three eggs, two teacups of sugar, one teacup of butter, one teacup of milk, cups of flour, three tezespoon- fuls of baking powder, or one teaspoon- ful of soda and two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar. Divide the quantity in three parts, and to one part add one teacup of raisins chopped with a few currants, two tablespoonfuls of molasses, one teaspoonful of cinnamon, one teaspoonful of vanilla, and one-fourth teaspoonful of nutmeg. Bake in shallow cake pans,a,nd put the dark bake between the others, with jelly between them. When cool enough put a pan over it and press with flat irons. Corned Beef Hash.—Take tender boiled corned beef, entirely free from fat or gris- tle ; 'chop it fine and mix with it chopped boiled potatoes in the proportion of one cup of beef to three of potatoes. Add enough salt to sea,sonthe potatoes; pepper to your taste; mix very thoroughly together, and let it stand over night. Half an hour be- fore the time to serve place it on the fire in an iron frying pan, with one tablespoonful of cold waterand a teaspoonful of butter to each cup of the mixture. Let this cook slowly on the back of the range, stirring frequently ; if it becomes too dry, add boil- ing water. Taste it, and if not sufficiently seasoned throw in some pepper and salt, but very cautiously. Serve very hot. ImitationLemon Cream.—This will be use- ful where milk or cream is not allowed, and is nourishing and delicious. Put into half a pint of boiling water the peel of two lem- ons very thinly shred, and allow it to sim- mer for a quarter of an hour; then boil a half a pound of sugar in it for ten minutes; strain it, add three eggs (the whites a,nd yolks beaten together) and the juice of the lemons. Put the mixture into a bright stewpa,n and stir until thick ; it will take about twenty minutes. Have ready a quar- ter ounce of gelatine soaked in a spoonful of cold water, and when the cream is poured into a basin put the gelatine with another spoonful of water, into the stesvpan and stir about until dissolved ; then mix thor- oughly with the cream and put it into a mold. It should stand until the next day. Citicxxs: Bssore.—An old fowl, a cupful of craker crumbs, a quarter pound of al- monds blanched and dried to crispness, a large tablespdonful of minced onion and the same of parsley, a cup of hot milk, four quarts of cold water, pepper and salt, two raw eggs beaten light. Clean and boil the fowl slowly in the water until the flesh slips from the bones; salt ancl pepper and set away in the liquor until the next day. Skim it then'and taking out the fowl, bone and mince the flesh fine, Shred the almonds into minute shavings mix with the °hopped meat, onions and parsley and put all into the broth when you have strained it into it pot. Simmer gently half an hour, taking care it does not scorch: add the cracker cruirlbs, then the beaten eggs when you have stirred them foto the hot Milk. Take from the fire arid set in boiling; water five Minutes, covered, before turning into the tureen. The irreproachable way to broil a steak— see that the fire is clear and not too much of it; open wide all dranghts, to carry off all the smite that is made during the process of broiling then see the gridiron is smooth and quite clean ; nib it well with whiting or chalk, lay on your steak. Do not pond it, nor, after itis on the fire, stick it fork into it, or the jeice will escape. Neither salt or pepper it; do that on the dieh. Throw a little ettlef on the fire mini put over the steak 1 place the gridiron close on the range for the first few minutes to carbronize the surface ; then turn it over quickly, to carbonize the other side. Now it should be exposed to a slower fire, to do which plaee two bricks on their edge ant rest the gridiron on them. The steak, should be turned repeatedly and carefully, and' when it feels rather firin to the touck it is rere, and if so lilsed it should be taken ar, laid on a hot odish,oi we1et1 bitif °nftea0fbntterimvabaen °ed1sss tilfteaspootful of salt; a pinch of Nrhite pepper and one teaspoonftil of thopped par- sley well mixed; lay the steak on one side, ancethen oit the other. Serve immediately. One of the queer things of life iethat the man who knows it all seldom call tell any of it to anybody's satisfaction.