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The Exeter Times, 1888-4-12, Page 3NUTTIE'S FATIIER, BY CEARLOI Id. ee0110E, CHAPTER XXIV.—(ConnInuann So Mark rode home, more glad che't the decision was actually mede than at the course it had taken. Ilk father was disap- pointed, but oould not but allow that it was the more prudent arrangement; and Mn. Egreniont showed all the annoyance a a inan whose good offer has been rejected, • na 'Tis that little gigging Scotch girl 1" he said. " Well, we are quit of her, anyway, a pity that Mark entangled hirnselt with her, and a mother-in-law into the bargain 1 I was a fool to. expeot to get any good out on him 1" This was said to his daughter, with whom siwas left alone; for Miss Heanworth couldnot bear to accept his hosmitality a rnouent longer than needful, and besides had been ins much shaken in nerves as to suspect that an illness was coming on, and hurried home to be nursed by Mary Nugent Canon Egremont was obliged bo go back to Redcestle to finish his residence, and his wife, who had been absent nearly a month from her fairsily, thought it really wieeerto let the father and daughter be thrown upon one another at once, so that Ursula might have the benefit of her father's softened mood. There could be no doubt then he was soft- ened, and that he had derived some im- provement from the year and a half that his wife had been with him. It might not have lifted him up a step, but it had arrested him in his downward course. Selfish and indolent he was as ever, but] t here had been a restraint • on his amusements, and a withdrawal from bis worst associates, such as the state of his health might continues above anl if Gregorio could be dispensed with. The inan himself -had become aware of the combination against him, and, though reckoning on his master's inertness and dependence upon 'him, knew that a fresh offence might Qom - pieta his overthrow, and. therefbre took care to be on his good 13ehavior. Thtun Nuttie s task might be somewhat smoothed; but the poor girl felt unspeak- ably desolate as she ate her breakfast all alone with a dull post -bag, and still more so when, having seen the housekeeper, who, happily for her, was a good and oapable woman, and very sorry for her, the had to bethink herself what to do in that dreary sitting -room during the hour when she had always been most sure of her sister -mother's dear company. How often she had grumbled • at being called en to practise duets for her father's evening lullaloy 1 Sne supposed she ought to get something up, .and she proceed-. ed to turn over and arrange the musierith a isort of sick loathing for Whatever was con- nected with those days of impatient mur- murs, which she would so gladly have re- called. Everything had fallen into disorder, as Blanche and May had left it the last time theynhad played there; and the over -looking it, and putting aside the pieces which she could never use alone occupied her till Gregorio, very meek and polite, came with a message that Mr. Egremont would be glad if she would come to his room. In some dread, some distaste, and yet some pf.tet and some honest reisolution, she made p way thither. There he sat, in dressing -gown, smoking - cap, and blue spectacles with the glittering February !sunshine carefully excluded. He looked worse and more haggard than when she had seen him at dinner in the evening, • made up for company, and her coinpa,sskn increased, especially as he not only held out his hend, but seemed to expect her to kiss him, a thing she had never done since their ' first recognition. It was not pleasant in itself, but ib betokened full forgiveness, and indeed he had never spoken to her in his sneering, exasperating voice since her mournful return home. "Have you seen the boy ?' he asked. " Yes ; they are walking him up and down under the south wall," said Nuttie, thank- ful that she ha n peeped under the many wraps as he was carried across the hall. " l3:ere 1 I want you to read this letter to me. A man ought to be indicted for writing such a hand 1" It was really distinct penmanship, though minute; but, as Nuttie found, her father did not like to avow how little available were his eyes. He could write better than he could read, but he kept her over his cor- • respondence for the rest of the morning, an- swering some of the letters of condolence for him in her own name, writing those of bust - nine and folding and adressing what he himself contrived to write. Her native quickness stood her in good stead, and,. be- ing rather nervous, she took great pains, and seldom stiunbled ; indeed, she only once in curred an exclamation of impatience at her stupidity and slowness. She guessed rightly that this forbearance was owing to tender persuasions of her mother, anti did not guess that a certain fear • of herself was mingled with other motives. Her father had grown used to • woman's ministrations; he needed them for • his precious little heir, and he knew his • daughter moreover for a severe judge, and did not want to alienate her and lose her services; so they got on fairly well togeth- er, and she shared his luncheon, during wkich a massage came up about the carriage; and as there had been an application for some nursery needment, and moreover black - edged envelopes had nun short, there was just purpose enough for a drive to the little town. Then Nuttie read her father to sleep with the newspaper ; rushed round the garden in the twilight to stretch her young limbs; tried to read a little, dressed, dined with her father; finished what he had missed in the paper, then offered him musk, and was • told "if she plemsed," and as she played she mused whether this was to be her life. It looked very dull and desolate, and what was the good of it all? But there • were her mother's words, "Love him P' B.w., fulfil them? She could pity him now, • bintPoh 1 how could she love One from whom heir whole nature recoiled, when she thought Olney, mothern ruined life? Mr. Dutton too had held her new duties up to her as capable of being ennobled: Noble 1 To read aloud a eporting paper she did not want to iinderetand, to be ready to play at • cards or billiards, to take that dawdling drive day by day, to devote herself to the selfish exactions of burnt-out disaipation. Was this noble? Her mother had done all this and never even felt it a °roast because of her great love. It must be Istattien cross if it was her ditty ; but could the love and honour possibly come though she tried to pray in faith ? CHAPTER 2iXV.—THE GIGGLING &Mewl ' Gime "For every Lamp that trembled here, And faded in the night, Behold a Star serene And elem. Smiles on me from the height."--B.M, Nitttie Was not mistaken iisupposingthat this fret day Would be a fair sample of her life, though, of course, after the first weeks of moureing there were variations ; and the . return of the Rectory party made a good deal of brightening, and relieved her from the neeessity of anding companionship and eonversetion for her father on more than half her afternoons and evenings. Ho required her, however, almost every foreneon, and depended on her i acreasinglY, so that all her arrangments had to be made with reforenee to him. It was a bondage, but not so galling •in the fact as she would have expected if it had been predicted to her so few months previously. In the filet place, Kr. Egmont never demanded of her what was actually egeinet her conscience, engept occasionally giving up a Sunday evensong to read the paper to him, and that only when be NYCO more unwell than, usual. He was, after all, an English gentleman and didnot aek his young daughter to read him the books which her mother had loathed. Moreover, Gregorio was on his good behaviour, per- fectly aware that there was a family com- bination against him, and having oven re- ceived a sort of warning from his master, but by no means intending to take it, and therefore abetaining from any kind of offence that could furnish a fresh handle against him; and thus for the present, Or. -Ham- mood's regimen was well observed, and Mr. Egremont was his better self in consequ- ence, for, under his wife's guarclianehip, the perilous habit had sufficiently lest strength to prevent temper and spirits from manifest- ly suffering from abstinence. The first time Nuttio found herself obliged to make any very real eacrifiee to her father's will was on the occasion of Mark's marriage en Easter. Things had arranged themselves very conveniently for him at Mioklethwayte, though it seemed to Nubble that she only heard of affairs there in a sort of distant dream, while such events were taking place as once would have been to her the greatest possible revolutions. Aunt Ureel reached home safely, but her expectations of illness were realised. She took to her bed on arriving, and though she rose from it, there was reason to think the had had a slight stroke, for her activity of mind and body were greatly dectayed, and she was wholly dependent on Mary Nugent for care and comfort. Mary, remembering the consequences of the former alarm, made the best of the old lady's condition; and Nuttie, ashamed of having once cried " wolf," did not realise the true state of the case, nor indeed could she or would she have been spared to go to Mioklethwayte. • The next news told that Gerard Godfrey, at the end of the year required by Mr. Dutton, had resigned his situation, and at the close of his quarter's notice was going to prepare for Holy Orders under the train- ing of a clergyman who would employ him in his parish, and assist him in reading up to the requirements for admission to a theo- logical college. Poor dear old Gerard 1 It gave Nuttie a sort of pang of self-reproach to own how good and devoted he was, and yet so narrow and stupid that she could never have been happy with him. Was he too good, or wan he too dull for her? Had she forsaken him for the world's sake, or was it a sound instinct that had extinguished her fancy for him! No one could tell, least of all the parties cencerned. He might be far above her in spiritual matters, but he was below her in intellectual ones, and though they would always feel for one another that peculiar tenderness left by the possibilities of a first love, no doubt the quarrel over the blue ribbon had been no real misfortune to either. The next tidings were still more surpris- ing. Mr. Dutton was leaving the firm. Though his father had died insolvent, and he had had to struggle for himself in early life, he was connected with wealthy people, and change and death among these had brought him a fair share of riches. An uncle who had emigrated to Australia at the time of the great break up had died without other heirs, leaving him what was the more welcome to him that Micklethwayte could never be to him what it had been in its golden age. He had realised enough to enable him to be bountiful, and his part- ing gift to St. Ambrose's would com- plete the church; but he himself was winding up the partnerehip, and with- drawing his means from Greenleaf and Co. in order to go °lit to Australia to decide what to do with his new possessions. Mark Egremont purchased a number of the shares, though, to gratify the family, the shelter of the Greenleaf veiled his name under the "Co.," and another, al- ready in the firm, possessed of v. business- like appellation, gave designation to the firm as Greenleaf, Goodenough, and Co. Mr. Dutton's well -kept house, with the little conservatory and the magnolia, was judged sufficient for present needs, an the ease was taken off his hands, so that all was in order for the marriage of Mark and Annaple immediately after Easter. Ledy Delmar hed resigned herself to the inevitable, and the wedding was to take place at Lescombe. Nettie, whose thief relaxation was in hearing all the pros and cons from May and Blanche, was asked to be one of the bridesmaids by Annaple, who had come over to the Rectory in a droll in- scrutable state of rniechief, declaring that she had exasperated Janet to the verge of insanity by declaring that she should have little umbrellas like those in the Persian in- scriptions on her cards, and that Mark was to present all the briclesnudds with neat parasols. If crinolines had nob been gone out t'ney could all have been dressed appropriate- ly. Now they must wear them closely furl- ed. All this banter was hardlyliked by May and Blanche, whose little sisters were laughed at again for needing the assurance that they were really to wear white and rowan leaves and berries—the Ronniaglen badge. Nuttie who had drawn much nearer to May, refrained from relating this part of the story at home, but was much disappoint- ed when, on telling her father of the request, she was a•ns wered at once: "Hein 1 The 24th? You'll be in Lon- don, and a very good thing too." "Are we to go so soon ?" " Yes. Didn't I tell you to take that house in Berkshire Road from the 20th? "1 did not think we were to start so soon. Is there any particular reason ?" "Yea, That Scotch girl ought to have i known better than to ask you n your deep mourning, I thought women made a gneat point of such things." "Aunt Jane did not seem to think it wrong," mid Nuttie, for sUe really wished much for conesent Not only had she grown fond of Mark and An- naple, but she had never been a bridesmaid, and she knew that not only the Kiraldys bat,"r. Dutton had been ievited ; she had emni ventured an offering to lodge some of the overflowing poets of the Rectory. "Their heads are all turned by that pov- erteastrithen Scotch peerage," returned Mr, Egremont; "or the Cationese should have Some sense of respect." Nuttits a wishes were ao strong that she made ono More attempt, "1 need not be a bridesmakt They would not mind if I wore my black." "1 shofild, then 1" mad her father curtly. "11 they don't understand the proprieties of life, I do. 1 weal have you hone any- thing to do with it If you are so set upon gaiety , you'll have enough of weddinga at fitter tiznes 1" /is was the old sneering tone. Nuttie felt partly confounded, partly indignant, and terribly dieeppointed. She dicicare for the eight of vhe wediing—her youthful opiate rallied enough for that, but far more now she grieved at missing the sight of Mr. Dutton, when, he was goivg away, she knew not where, and might perhaps come on pur- pose to pee her; and it also made her sore grieved. at lesing accused of disregard to her mother. She was "silenoed, howevcr, and presently her father (Mewed, in the same unpleasant tone, "Well, if you've digested your diamPneintment, peahaps you'll conde- %lend to write to the agent, theft I expect the house to be ready on the 2ist.” • Nuttio got through her naornieg's work she hardly knew how, though her father was dry and fault-finding all the time. Iler eyes were so full of tears when she was released that she hardly saw where she was going, and nearly ran against her aunt, who had just walked into the hall. Mrs. Egre- mont was too prudent a woman to let her burst mit there, with her grievance, but made her come into the tent -room before she exolahned, 'He is going to take me away to London • he won't let me go to the wedding." "I am sorry for you* disappaintment," said her aunt quietly, " but I am old.fash- ioned enough to be glad that such strong respect and feelingshouldbe shown for your deer mother, I wish Annaple had spoken to me before asking you, and I would have felt the way." " I'm sure it is not want of feeling," said Nuttie as her tears broke forth. "I did not say ib was," returned her aunt, "bub different generations have different notions of the mode of showing it; and the • present certainly errs on the side of neglect of suoh tokens of mourning, If I did not think that Annaple and her mother are really uncomfortable at Lescombe, I should •lieve told Mark that it was better taste to wait till the au -Miner." "If I might only have stayed at home— even if I did not go to the wedding," sighed Nuttie, who had only half listened to the Canoness's wisdom. "Since you do not go, it is much better that you should be out of the way," said Mrs. Egremont. "Is your father ready to see me ?" . So Nubtie had to submit, though she pout. ed to herself, feeling grievouslymisjudged, i first as if she had been wanting n regard to the memory of her mother, who had been so fond of Mark, and so rejoiced in his happi- ness ; and then that her vexation was treat- ed as mere love of gaiety, whereas it really was disappointment at not seeing Mr. Dat. ton, that good, grave, preoise old friend, who i could not Ie named n the same breath with vanity. Moreover, she .could not help sus- pecting that respect to her mother was after all only it cloak to resentment against 1VIark and his marriage. However, she bethought herself that leer mother had often been disappointed and had borne it cheerfully, and after having done what Aunt Ursel would have called "griz- zling" in her room for an hour, she wrote her note to Miss Ruthven and endeavoured to be as usual, feeling keenly that there was no mother now to perceive and gratefully commend one of her only too rare efforts for good humour. On other grounds she was very sorry to leave Bridgefield. May had, in her trouble, thawed to her, and they were becoming really affectionate and in- timate companions, by force of propinquity and relationship, as well as of the views that May had imbibed from Hugh Conda- mine. Moreover Nuttie felt her aunt's watch over the baby a great assistance to her own ignorance. However the Canoness had resign- ed to the poor little heir the per- fect and truetworthy nurse, whom Ba- sil had outgrown, and who consented to the transfer on condition of having her nursery establishment entirely apart from she rest of the household. Her reasons were known though unspoken, namely, that the rejection of one or two valets highly recom- mended had made it plain that there had been no dislodgment of Gregorio. The strong silent objection to him of all good female servants was one of the points that told much against him. Martin and the house- keeper just endured him, and stayed on for the present chiefly because their dear lady had actually begged them not to desert her daughter if they could help it, at least not at first. Nuttie bound over her cousins to give her it full account of the wedding, and both of them wrote to her. Blanche's letter record. ed sundry scattered particulars,—as to how well the rowan -trimmed tulle dresses looked —how every one was packed into the car- riages for the long drive—how there had been it triumphal arch erected over the Bluepost Bridge itself, anO Annaple nearly ohoked with laughing at the appropriate. nest—how, to her delight, a shower began, and the procession out of the church actual- • ly cried out for umbrellas—how papa, when performing the ceremony, could not recol. leet that the bride's proper name was Anna- belle, and would dictate it as Anna -Maria, Sir John correcting him each tim e sotto voce —how Basil and little Hilda Delmar walked together and "looked like a couple of Owlets," whieh, it was to be hoped, was to be taken metaphorically—how dreadfully hard the ice en the wedding -cake was, so that when Annaple tried to cut it the knife slipped and a little white dove flew away and hit May, which every one said was it grand omen that she should be the next bride bride, while of course Annaple was perfect- ly helpness with mirth. Every one said it was the merriest wedding ever seen, for the bride s only tears were those of laughter. What Nuttun really oared for most came just at the end, and not much of that. "Your Mr. Dutton is just gone. He got on famously with Hugh Candiunine, and I for- got to tell you that he has given Mark such a jolly present, a lovely silver coffeepot, just the one thing they wanted, and Lady Delmar said he didn't look near so like a tradesman as she expeoted. I gee May is writing too, but I don't know what you will get out of her, as Hugh Condamine came for the day." ',Tuttle, however, had more hopes from May. Her letter certainly was fuller of in. terest, if shorter. "My man Nueria—Blanche has no doubt told you all the extertals. I suppose there never was a brighter wending, tor as An- nttple keeps her mother with her, there was no real rending asunder of ties. indeed I almost wish her excitement did not always show itself in laughing, for it prevents peo- ple from understanding how much there is in her. (Plainly Hugh Condamine had been rather scandalised by the " giggling Scotch girl.") "Dear old Lady Reninisglen was delight., tut If there were any team they were here, and Lady Delmar was very cordial and affectionate, Of course Hugh end Mr. Det ton missed mizeh that one Would have liked in a wedding. I drove back with them alterwarde, and it wart very interesting to listen to their eonvereation about; chtiroh matters. Augh is very muoh struck with your friend ; he had heard it good deal about Micklethevayte beton), and say e that ouch a lay worker is perfectly invalu- able. It id it great' pity that he is not going on in the firm, it would make it so much nicer for Mark; but he says he has duties towards hie new property. I think he was sorry not to find you at home, but he pleinly never thought it pos- able you sneuld be at the wedding, I don't knew whether I ought to tell you this, but I think you Ought to know it. There is a lovely new wreath of el ucheziet lilies and maiden hair at dear Aunt Atiee's grave, close againet the rails at the feet ; and Hugh kin me that he looked out of hie window very early yesterday morning and saw Mr. Dutton standing there leaning on the rail, with his bare head lowed between his hands. You can't think how it impreeeed Hugh. Ile said he Nib reverent towards him all through that day,:and he was quite angry with Rosalind and Adela for jesting because, when the shower began as we were coming out of church, Mr. Dutton rushed up with an umbrella, being the only person there who had one, I believe. Hugh says you may be proud of such a friend. I wish you could have seen Hugh,—Your affection- ate cousin, MARGARET Eonmuosm. (To BE CONTINUED.) Children would rather eat bread and honey than bread and butter. One pound of honey will go as far as two potluck of butter, and also has the advantage of being far more healthy and pleasant tasted, and always remains good, while butter soon be- comes rancid and often produces creme in the atomeoh, eructations, sourness and diarrhcea. Pure honey should alwayrs be freely used in every ..family. Honey eaten upon wheat bread. is very beneficial to health, The use of honey instead of sugar in almost every kind of cooking is pleasant for the pelate as it is healthy for the stomach. In preparing blackberry, rasp- berry of strawberry (shortcake, it is infinite- ly superior. • It xs it commonexpression that honey is a luxury, having nothing to do with the life- giving principle. This hi an error; honey is food in one of its most concentrated forms. True, it does not add so much to the growth of muscle as does beefsteak, but it does im- part other properties no less necessary to health and vigorous physical and intellec- tual action. It gives warmth to the system, arouses nervous energy and gives vigor to all the vital functions. To the laborer it gives strength, to the business man mental force, It effects are not like ordinary stimu- lants, such as spirits, etc., but produce a healthy action, the results of which are pleasing and permanent—a sweet disposi- tion and a bright intellect. • Gipsy Shrewdness. It is impossible not to De struck by the originality and cleverness of the pe,nish gipsies even in their vices. A gipsy man was at confession one day, and wh.lst he was confessing he spied in the pooket of the monk's habit a silver snuff box and stole "Father," he said immediately, al accuse myself of having stolen a silver snuff box." "Then, my son, you must certainly re- store it." "Will you have it yourself, my father?" "1 1 Certainly not," answered the con- fessor. "The fact is," proceeded the gipsy, "that I have offered it to its owner and he has re- fused it. " Then. you can keep it with a good con.. science," answered the father. The Oldest Living Monarch. By the death of Emperor William of Ger- many, William III., King of the Nether- lands, will become the doyen of reigning monarchs. He was born February, 1817, Dom Pedro of Brazil has been the longest on the throne, having succeeded his father, who abdicated in April, 1831. Alfonso, King of Spain, is the youngest of the list of rulers - 27. Y. World. Henceforth, ib it seems? British ships of war will, instead of returning to Bri lam every Orel years for repairs, all go to the western terminus of the Canada Pacific Railway. In order to this large graving docks, etc., will be erected larger than at Hong Kong or Malta. In fact, Esquiinault will become a great naval station. $o far so well. The movement among English agricultur- ists against special army purchases of Cana- dian remounts continues. A writer in the Live Stock Journal asserts that theelife of a government that in any way assists British imports of Canadian horses will not be worth a month's purchase. This is undoubtedly highly overdrawn. Opposition agricultural circles may induce the Government to aban- don the advice of their military advisers, but the Salisbury Ministry have recently shown a desire to consider rather the best interests of the services than the mere jealousness of any special industry. •A great many cures for poverty have been suggested but somehow none of them seem to work se all or, at least, to any great ex- tent. Whatever may be the effective cure, 18 18 certain that sweet charity is not. To think of curing poverty in that way would be like a man tryingto stop the leaks in the roof of his house by mopping up the puddles which gather on the floor. What are really the causes of poverty ? Who shall say? Ignorance how to save money is to blame in a good many oases. Beggars are to be found in countries where a man by working three hours a day could make his board and clothes. They have no idea of economy ; when they have they have, and when they want they want, and that is the whole of their philosophy. If the moat of rich mon had not at one time of their lives practised the most careful wonomy they would never have been rich. Perhaps it is true that there would be beggars if $20 gold pieces were sown broadcast every morning, and there certainly would in that case be little or no industry, for who would work when they could get gold for the lifting? The sale and use of liquor are evidently chief factors in beggar making and, perhaps as bad as any, the great lack of manual training. Men are cursed by not being taeght to labour skillfully. Many can do nothing et all and more can eo nothing Well. Imperfect workmen in these days of drive very naturally go to the wall and end in beggary. Let /nen but take a pride in their work and be bound to clo well whatever they attempt. Let' them avoid drinking and dreaming, let them save all they can and lead honest, sober, self- denying livee, and Titurei will guatantee that it is e. thousand chanees to one against their eve t eating the bread of dimity or even fillinie a pauper's grave. What is the use of railing againet those who are better off and who, it seems, hese had a "better chance.", Had the tithe rand energies spent in swill Useless repinings been ehergetically given to souse honed indt Stry, thoe Would net have been cinch a difference in the condi- doh �f the grumbler and those whom he continually envies and &Wails. MEN, DON'T 13E SELFISH. Alone walk With Ullebende. How often we hear the remark that good boys grow into good sten and bad boys into bad men. t do not suppose there is it man living, who in hie boyhood heti any xnoral training, that did not have the maxim pre, seated to him in some form every day of his lite, and did not have mom other boy point- ed out as a shining example wlaieh he ought to imitate in order to be good and happy. And to it certain extent it is true that the pattern boy becomes it pattern man, for as the twig is bent the tree le inclined. Acorns grow into oaks, if they grow at all, and the down from the thistle top becomes in time another thistle. But there are exceptions to all rules. The acorn may become an oak, but it very gnarled and unsightly one, and the man who has grown from the typical good boy may have in him qualities which make him anything but a saint at Wine, where it is sometimes good, pious work for his wife to live and bear with him. . I know of such an instance where the boy, who Wass held up as a rule for other boys to follow, when grown to manhood, broge the heart of the woman he had naade his wife. Ruth- lessly trampling upon all the tutored ties of paternal and wedded love, he left her and his child, without a sign that he was going, and for many a year never lcoked upon their faces. Intemperance was, in a measure, the cause of this but not altogether forl under- lying all the man's good qualities, and he had many, was one glaring fault, a fault that ,is otten found even in the pattern boy, especially if he has come up alone, with no brothers to squabble with over his knife arid ball and string—no sisters to " take hint down," as the saying is, and show him him- self as others see him, demanding from him a portion of his time toasi attention, and teaching him that there is some one in the world besides himself, Sel- fishness wrecked, the life of the young Dean whose boyhood promised so much, and next to intemperance and Some of the more glaring vices, it has, I think, made more uncomfortable said unhappy homes than any other questionable tram, of character. The boy who has never been taught to give up his pleasure or comfort for another's, who has everything his own way, and who, while seerning to submit cheerfully to what- ever his parents think best for him, only does so because they Arab ascertain what his wishes are and then adopt them as their own, seldom makes as good a husband as the boy who fights his way through with half a dozen or more children, giving up some• times, and again getting his own way, but giving up the oftener, even when justice is on his side. Selfish men seldom become good husbands, and when they do 18 18 after many a hard foughtbattle in which the wife comes off victor, and he wakes up to find that the world was not all made for him. And for this reason, if for no other, [approve of early marriages, before habits have be. COnie so fixed that only a domestic cyclone can uproot them. I have seen a man who stood high in the world's esteem because he was so honorable and upright in all his deal- ings and seemingly so kind and devoted to his wife—a sensitive, delicate woman, with more nerve than phyaical strength, and more unselfishness in her little finger than her husband had in his whole body. He always called her wife, with it peculiar ten. derness in the tone of his voice, for he w.as very fond of her, but fonder of himself, to whom she was a slave—coming and going at his bidding, ministering to his wants, hu- moring his whims, which were so many, making all his wiehes paramount to her own. The easiest cloak and warmest spot and cosiest nook, were for him, whom sae served as if he had been her king. If she wished to go out in the evening, as she often did, for she was socially inclined, and he wished to stay at home, she staid at home' and gave no signed her disappointment, butsmiled as sweetly and waited upon him as carefully as if she had no wish except to do his will. But the brave heart failed at last, and the husba.ncl lived to see the willing feet and tired hands which had worn themselves out in his ervice laid away to rest, leaving him strand- ed and alone, and, thank heaven, he is alone still, for no other woman has taken her place, a•nd I trust she never will. • A roan to be a thoroughly good husband must be an unselfish one, exacting no more from his wife than he is willing to render in return, reniembering always that if be has his cares arid worries she also has hers, and often-times in larger proportion than his own. At first thought it would seem that a man bears the greatest burden, inasmuch as the maintenance of the family usually devolves upon him, but in many cases, where the parties are not wealthy, the wife's lot is the harder, and her oarea.a good deal more wearing because of their multiplicity and long continuance. The man leaves his at his counting house, or cffiee, or work- shop and goes home to his cigar and his slippers and his evening paper, while the woman's never ends until the last restlees child is in bed and the last little.garment is mended. And even then her maid is on the next morning's breakfast, which she superintends if she does not prepare it her- self. Her husband knows nothing of it until it is ready, and he swallows it rapidly and hurries off, often without a word, or the good -by kiss, which would keep her happy all Otty long and lighten every duty. lien too often omit the little tillage, which, small as they are, naalee up the sum of a woman'a MITI/nests. It is the little fox which spoile the vmes, and the little sliver in the thumb which makes one forgot all the health of the body until the sliver is out. And it is the little attentions and efforts to shield from care and trouble, the kind words of sympa- thy or commendation a,nd the tender °areas which tell that love has not died out,and which keep the fire upon the altar bright. I never like to see a man leave or enter his home without a word' of greeting or fare- welli for hie wife. But this s often done, al- though were a stranger present this courteey to him would not be omitted. Then why not treat your wife as politely as you do a strang. or? You are ready enough to open or shut the oar window for the pretty girl opposite you, while your wife beside you 'night break her back trying to open her window before you knew that she wanted it open. Thie she sees and results, for she likes attention' now as well as elle did before she was mar- ried, and why not give it to her? And when you go home at night arid find her jaded arid worn, think of some way in which to help her, instead of finding fault with your sur- roundings and hurling harsh words at her, if yond� not sometimes break the third coin mandment, in your zeal to be emphatic. She is just as tired as you are and hart worked as many hours'alhome, battling with thelchildren and servants, or, when there are none of the latter, battling with the monotonous house. workt doing the same things to.day which she did yesterday and knows ehe will have to do tomorrow, until It is not strange that she becomes disheartened and titbits her life is " one eternal grind,' like poor Man- tihni, who, however, utsed a stronger adjee- five than I have done. And While she has been so busy, With scarcely a thought be yotil. the kitnhen ana the cook stove, you have been out into the world and heard what it was doing and felt its pulse beating agaioseyoUr own., and mingled evith you, 3eincf., and in one sense you go home much feeder than yeur wife, to whom you can at least give a loving word, which hid more import. twee than yen thiuk for, You lietle dream how hungry she gets for some sign that love is not dead, although it may be eo crusted oyez' with thoughtlessness and sell that ia seldom seen. Kind words cost nothing, and if they Were Mere frequent love and happiness would lioger longer by the hearthstone, where now there are bitter repinings for the past, and hard, reeentini feelings as the wife bears her burden alone„ uneheered, unhelped, and, as she believes?, uncared for by her huaband. Many J. Holmes. Sympathy from Our Queen to Miss Gordon, A, curious collection of letters from Gen- eral Gordon to his sister heat been published in Lendon. The volume is dedicated by spa - 0151 permiesion to the Queen and also con- tains two letters written after the Gel:mains death to MiS8 Gordon by Her Majesty, which express the royal views on the sub- ject with a great deall, of plainness :— OSBORNE, 17 Feb., 1885. Deem 1VIess Gonnorr, How shall I write to you, or how shall I abtempt to express whet ./ feel I To think of your dear, noble, heroic Brother, who served. his Country and his Qaeen so truly, se heroically, with self-sacrifice so edifying to, the World, not having been rescued. That, the proznises of support were not fulfileel— which 180 frequently 8.nd constantly pressed on those who asked him to go—is to me grief inexpressibie ! Indeed, it has made me ill My heart bleeds ler you, his Sister, who have gone through so many arxieties on his account, and who loved the dear Brother as he deserved to be. You are all so good, and trustful, and have such strong faith, that you will be suefained even now, when real absolute evidence of your dear Brother's death does not exist—but 1 fear there can- not be much doubt of it Some day [hope so see you again, to tell yeu all I cannot ex- press.. My daughter Beatrice, who has felt • quite as I do, wishea me to express her deepest sympathy with you. 1 hear so, meny expressions of sorrow and syrnpath from. abroad ; from my eldest daughter, the Crown Pei case, and from my Cousin, the King of the Belgians—the very warmest. Would you express to your other Sisters and your elder brother any true sympathy, and what I do so keenly feel, the 8t0i5 left, upon England for your dear Brother's cruel,. though heroic, fate! Ever, Dear Mime Gordon, Yours sincerely and sympathizingly, • WINDSOR CASTLE, March 16, 1885. DEAR MISS GORDON': It IS most kind and good of you to give me this precious Bible, -4 - and I only hope that you are not depriving yourself and family of such a treasure, if you, have no other. May I ask you during how many years your dear heroic Brother had it,' with him? I shall have a case made for it with an inscription, and place it in the Lib- rary here, with your letter and the touching' extract from his last to you. I have order- ed, as you know, a Maxie' e Bust of your dear Brother to be olaced in the Corridor here,. where so many Busts and Pictures of our greatest Generals and Statesmen are, mid, hope that you 'will see it before it is finished, to give your opinion as to the likeness. Be. lieve me always, yours very sincerely, VICTORIA R. X. *The Bible here referred to was one used' by my Brother for many years, and was hiss constant companion when at Gravesend Galatz, and during his first sojourn in the Soudan; it was then so wore out that he gave it to me. Hearing that the Queen would like to see it I forwarded it to Wind- sor Castle and subsequently offered it to, her Majesty, who was graciously pleased to - accept it. The Bible is now placed in the Seuth Corrider in the private apartments,. inclosed in an enamel and crystal case, call -- the "Sr. George Casket," where ie open on a while satin cushion, with a mar- ble bust of Gen. Gordon on a pedestal beside it. Are Good -Natured People Uninteresting? As a general thing original pecple, people with wins and opinions—m other words, in- teresting people,—are not,I am inclined to ' believe of a very easy-going temper. The man who has a mind of his own usually wishes to have his own way, and is therefore. not likely to be regarded as in any conspicu. ons degree. pleasant. • When it is said of a, clergyman, "Oh, he is a very good mark,"' all church. going persons at once get an ides of very dry serinons, (For the conveying of such a conaplioaent as this all the vowels and consonants together are not equal to one lefthanded inflection.) The most intereetin character in Milton's Paradise Lost is un- questionably the arch -fiend himself; and in tha modern newspaper—epic poems being long out of date—no Mass of persons, un- less it be political candidates, out a greater figure than the criminals. There is no doubt et it, good nature and even a good. charm>. ter—which things, 1 comforb myself with hoping are not exactly the sa.me—do tend to grow somewhat monotonous and tire- some. Human nature is like an apple—al, the more palatable for being a trifl 3 tart' No husband and wife ever lived together in greater mutual affection than did Elia, and his cousin Bridget, concerning whom we read nevertheless, "We agree pretty well in our tads and habits --yet so as 'with a difference.' We are generally in harmony, with occasional bickerings, as it should be among near relations. Oar sym- pathies are rather understood than ex - premed; and once upon my, dissembling a• tone in my voice more kind than ordinary my cousin barab into tears and complained that I was altered. A little flavor of iedividualitg and self- will is excellent fez- preventing insipidity. Thus I theorize. And why not? If a man is fond of his owneway, always" notional,l'' often out of sorts and never very amiable, - why should he not shape his theory to fib the facts ? All this while, however, I am eOnEloiOnS - that I could find much to say on the other side. There used to be a funeral hymn (it may have gone out of vogne ere this) be- ginning, "Sister, thou west mild and love- ly," the word lovely " being employed r, take it in the old-fashioned dictionary sense of loveable, not in the new-fangled, board- ing.eohool gene° of beautiful; and I cannot help feeling that mildness, gentleness of spirit, is one of the traits which most people .1 like to attribute to their friends at least after they are dead. It would sound rather' odd and incongruons—would it not ?—to sing about the coffin, " Sister, thou wast iraseible and intereeting." And even in the case of the living, I Must confess to it preference for an equable and obliging dispesitiont ere pecially in a woman. I may be whimsical, but I have never seen many who affected me ea uncomfortably sweet -tempered. ohs—. The man who makee it great deal of you. often expeots to make a good deal out of you. Matthew Atnold earl that the American, funny men" are a national taiatnity,