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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1889-1-31, Page 7NIAGUIt'S Tile Stony Or. a,' Faithful 11040— Peace at Tint. "When I'm a man you shall have a proper hers°, and not a thing like this," be ea,id grandly, , "Perhaps we shan't play together then though," she answered. " "Oh, yes, we shall," he said thoughtfully. " You know," he added patronizingly, ":L may marry you—that im if you are pretty, and can !spin a peg -top, and don't funk niPTP, lag a ditch, or do ettipid thing e that ar of no nee at all. Perhaps It shan't want you to marry me," , she replied Kornfully. "I should like to marry e soldier." "1 shall be a soldier, and you are sure to want me to marry you," he said with deal, sion'and she believed. him, and from that day forth she considered the matter settled, And when many a yer later he told her, • laughingly, that he was only a poor soldier, and must marry an heirese or remain on foreigniservice all his life, she was not very uneasy, for oho felt sure that then he was only joking. They had many a talk and walk together • ere thefirst opell of foreign service came. .Alic Granger's uncle lived next door to Maggie Duelop's parents, and as her father was an inm lid, and her mother was wholly engrossed in attending upon him, the goings -out and cominomin of that young • lady were not subject to amount of at • tendon they raighe otherwise have received. The consequence was that when Alio Granger came (as he did at every mailable opportunity) to Porlock to visit his remark. obly well-off uncle, lie beguiled his time 4eay 'ay talking with pretty Maggie Dun- - fop, until he (deo beguiled. her heart away. have got some news for you, Maggie,' he said, one day, about eighteen, months after he had gained his commission. "Guess what it is." They were walking along the .green lanes of Porlock, listening to the coaseleee murmur of the sea, as at intervals they had walked and listened ever since they • could remember, at any retie, for she was six years yourger than her former playfellow. "You are going to be promoted," she said. "Promoted, you little goose I No one ever gets promoted in the British army. Guess again." "You are going to marry an heiress ;" there was a lump in her throat as she said it. "Wrong again; no inestimable young personwitte green eyes, a turn -up nose, sus. ceptj.ble heart, and fifty thousand a year has a...teethed up yet But it's something nearly as good. I'm ordered to China." "Oh, AIM khe gasped and burst into tears. It was very foolish of her, but then she et as only sixteen, and had not yet acquin ed the praiseworthy art of concealing her feelings. "Why, whatever are you crying for ?" he asked, and kissed away her tears. He'd kissed her ever since she was five, and thought no more of it than if she hai. been his meter, or the oat, excepting perhaps that it was nicer— which it was, no doubt. "1 shall be away only five years at most, and when I come back I'll bring you a pigtail and an ivory toothpick, and a, whole Lot of thengs, and-" "Yee 2" she said, listening attentively. "But then you'll be a wounggwoman—I forgot— and out,' and /all that sort of thing, and won't condescend to speak to a poor lieutenant ; you will have all the squires and fox hunters about the place at your d feet." "Oh, no, indeed, I shan t, Alio," she said eagerly. "But I tell you, you will. I believe you are a born little flirt, and I shall come back and find you—" But she burst into tears again. end put up her pretty little hands as if to atop his teasing, which she could not bear just then. It seemed ect cruel of him to laugh and joke when he was going away for five years-. He did not seem to care a bit, and she could have broken her heart on the spot, and would have gladly • done so, and thrown the pieces away so as never to be bothered vvith it again. Then, seeingher mournful blue eyea, he was mem " 'believe I hall come back, and find you just as great a, little darling as you are -how, and if we have got any money we'll get married and live happy ever after, and if we haven't we'll get married and starve • ever after—unless, of course, the heiress turns up." "Oh, I hope she won't 1" said Maggie, like a truthful little idiot. " Shall you ever write to me. Alia ?" " es, of course I shall, and I shall ex- pect you to writeback six pages crossed and all that sort of thing, you know. Poor Mag- pie, it'll ruin you in postage'stamps ; it's a bob to China." "1 don't'care," the answered recklessly, for Maggie was a fearful little pauper, whose fathei had ruined himself long ago, and just kept up a patched•up sort of appearance, • and didn't know what would become of them all if it ever seriously occurred. to his credit ors to pounce down upon them. • Maggie was twenty years old when her • father died, and the creditors did pounce down, and she and her mother were sold up, and all Porlock and ten miles round talked about them for Porlock and ten miles round loved her scandal as much as the rest of the vvorTel, and though it griev- • ed over the misfortunes of others, it still ap- preciated the subject for discussion they afforded. Mrs. Dunlop was offered a home in London by a sister who was well off and bad•tempered, and it was thankfully accept- • ed. Maggie was informed that she must get her own living, which being precisely Maggie's own opinion, as well as intention, she advertised for a situation as governess. Now Maggie had a very modest idea of her merits, and therefore only asked for twenty- five pun& a year and a comfoytable home, so no leSS than five answers came to her announcement that ehe could' teach English, French, music, and the rudiments of draw- ing. One of 'these answers was from Wool- wich, and stated that Mrs. Marshall required a gonernees for her three little girls. Maggie thought she ahould like to live in a garrison place ; she might even tome day gee Atte there, notthat she would condescend to speak to him after his nog - lent, of courier, and not that she oared—oh, dear, no Only, out of cutioeity, she should like to gee what the Miner wife he had no ditubb picked up was like ; so to Woolwich • she went. Mre. Marthall was a stiff-necked sort of woman, and stared ab poor little iViaggie (who looked ahnosb ati childlike and twice as aerate, as ever) through dotible gold glasees. Col. Martha% he husbands Was a nice old man With a bald head: and an iron -gray motistaehe ; and thee Wap a grown,up daughter, te MSS Patteredn, Mire. Marehell's daughter by leen' first hothailda Whe was •tea* the, naietre,139 Of te establith, ments for Maria Patteremi , had a Strong 'will, arid she Was an hareem ." A very nasty heieeses too,°' pear Maggie thought, and She wee eittbto for Uaria •Watt shinny % ;and teventy.five 0 she Waii a day, and. thought hereelfielareastio and Addling at an emerald in evhioh Maggie always said nthsty things ter peoe who (lid bad never • noticed on •her finger before. not daredsay them back again. But IViaggie "Of coureseaMmeGtaiager is so very, very tued, not much to do with any of the family intimate here, that sAre should never Tineen. but her three little pupils, and wag; quite deratand anything he dicl—" the . euddenly oontented with leer sohoolmoom, and hked dropped the ring and proceeded to look for to read quietly of an eveniug, and eeldom it; it had rolled to Maggie' i feet and the went into the dimming -room afteridinner, as picked it up and handed it back. "Thank she was invited to do; and M.aria was glad you," the heiress field ; don't) know what of this, for there were after) mush) in the Mt. Granger would say if I told him I'd drawing -room who wonlel have admired the tried to loth it already.", Maggie's heart) pretty governess more than would have been stood still. Then he had given her that agreeable to the heiress. ring 1 " a,rimgoing out with him this So Alio Granger went to China, and raoruing," eh e added, and with a gramious amile that froze,poer Maggie, she dieapear, Then Maggiennent into her owu little room, the one place the had in the world entirely to herself, bird cried till her eyes were red and her heed ached, The Imam did not progress that mornireg. Maggie was thinking of Ali; who was no doubt strolling about the common, lieteuing to the band and making love to the heirees, The chileiren were more than usuall§ratripiel, too; and all the world seemed upside down, and all its waye turned crooked, Suddenly, at about twelve o'clock, just vvhen, Maggie was in the middle of expounding as besb ehe could the eccentricitiee of the French gram- mar, there was a knock at the school -room door. "Gonia in," she said. The door opened, and there stood before her astonish- ed eyes the form of Alio Granger, and be- hind him was a man, evidently his servant, with a box on his shoulders. "All right, Tim, put it down; that's right; now be off. There, I've brought the curiosities round, Maggie; I thought you'd like to see them." "Oh, what will Mrs. Marshall and Miss Patterson say ?" said 1Vlaggie in consterna- tion. "Nothing to you for the next half.hour or so, for I have just seen them safely on their way to Woolwich, and thought ohould just gob a quiet chat with you. My dears," he said, turning to Maggie's wide- eyed, open-rnouthed pupils, "I'm sure you'd like to be let off your lessons, so I'll let you off for half -am hour ; run along, my little dears," and he opened the door for them and shut it after them. " Oh Alio 1" she said in ear and trem- bling. "Oh, Maggie!" he answered mimicking. "IA hat did you mean by going away from Porlook, and not leaving any address ?" "1 couldn't help it, and you never wrote," she answered helplessly. "No, I never write letters; don't know how to spell enough. But I have been hunt- ing for you all over the place, and never dreamt of finding you here. Now we'll unpack the box ; I had it opened before I came, so it's only fastened by a leek." "But, Alio, they'll never forgive me." " Never mind, it doesn't matter, because if yeu are good I'll take you away next week. Besides, they'll forgive me anything. I saved the colonel's life when he was in Hong Kong—at least, so he says. There, now, what do you think of thew for fighting with? Got them at Java on purrose for you, and he held up a pair of heathenish looking clubs and brandished them over her head, and then proceeded to pull out the rest of the contents of the box and to &oar - ate the schoolroom with them. "There's Mr. Buddha, and there's—why, what's the matter, Maggie ?" " Nothing • only you will get me into dreadful trouble—you will indeed. Miss Patterson came in this morning and scolded me for talking to you last night." "Never mind, she was only sealous," he laughed. "Now tell me how soon you ca,n leave here." " What for ?" she asked innocently. " Why, you haven't forgotten that we agreed to get married when I came back, have you, you little coquette ?" And he put his arm round her waist just as of old, and was nottreproved. It was so very comtort, able, she thought. " No, but you are engaged, are you not? "Yes, of course 1 am—to you." bum Alic—" " Oh ! but, Maagie—" and then he ll/faggie waited. hopefully enough for a letter, but six months peered and none mune. " Perhaps it takes longer for e letter to get here from Chine," she thouglen knowing about tee little about the means of traneit and, the timo it took as if the Celestial city had been in the moon. But a year pentied and no letter came. "Perhaps he's ill, or We miscarried," she said tearfully, half wondering if it could be possible that a Chinene heirees had turned up, and that was the real reason of Alic's silence. Poor little Maggie! She was very miserable about him, for a girl frets and fumes and worriee heraelf about her first sweetheart more than about twenty after ones all put together, even though she may not really love hire half so well as any of them. And she could not eatisfy herself by making inquiries of the well-off uncle next door'tor he had let his house and the pad- dock, and betaken hinagelf to Cannes in order to live the longer. At Wit the brilli- ant thOught struck her that she'd write to Alic, and she did, and then—for Maggie was getting older—pride stepped in and would not let her mend her letter. Two yeare passed, and never a word. " Hs too bad," she said bitterly, and wondered rue- fully if he really had married a wife with a Aud the dims and the months went by, and Maggie journeyed on into woman- hood, but no word or sign came from Alia Granger, and at last she gave him up alto- gether. One evening, when Maggie had been about ayearat Woolwich, and she was sitting alone in her school -roam, as usual, for her pupils had just said good -night and been delivered up so the tender mercies of their nurse, Miss Patterson walked in, very much dressed, and rather flushed. and excited. "Miss Dunlop," she said, "we shallhave a few friends this evening, and I know one or two of them like an impromptu dance; will you be ready to come into the drawing -room and play if we should want you?" "I fear I can not play dance music very well; 1 never keep time," said Magegie. "Yes, I feared so, and thought I would come and tell you, so that you might prac- tice for an hour or two till after dinner," and the sailed out of the room evi- dently colasiderieg the matter settled; and Maggie, after relieving her feelings by making a few elegant grimaces after her retreating form meekly proceeded to practice the "Mabel Walz" and the "Flick and Flock Gallop." Then she put on her shabby black evening gown, and stuck a spray of whits flowers into her golden hair, and waited patiently for a summons, hoping she would wait in vair. It very soon came, and with a roll of music under her arm, a flash on her innocent, frightened face, and a scared, almost hunted expreesion in her eyes, she descended and timidly opened the draw- ing room door, and then stored still for a moment staring in astonishment at the scene before her. There sat the heiress'wibh an eager, pleased expression on her face, and leaning over her, talking and laughing, and more handsome than ever, and sunburnt and soldier -looking, was Alio Granger. There was no mistaking him. The color ruehed to Maggie's face, as if to say a hurried good- bye and then left it altogether. She recov ered her self-possession, ho wever, and walked with what she flattered herself was great dignity towards the piano. She felt rather than saw him raise his head and look at her, a,nd the next moment he was by her aide. " Maggie, my dear Maggie ! Why, fancy stooped and kissed her, and nothing more you being here ; where did you come from ? could be said, for the door opened, and I have been trying to find you out for there stood the colonel, and there stood Mrs. Marshall, and there stood Maria Pat- terson. • "Mise Dunlop I" screamed Maria, horror- struck. "Mr. Granger 1" said Mrs. Marshall, in astonishment. " hoity-toity 1" exclaimed. the colonel "What does all this mean ?" "She must leave the house at once," said the heiress. "01 course she must," Mrs. Marshall said. "1 never heard of such a thing in my life.' "No more did I," put in Alia, •who was always irrepressible. "To deliberately send the children out of the way, and have Mr. Granger up into the schoolroom ; and what is all this rubbish ?" —pointing to the curiosities. My dear Mrs. Marshall," said Alio, looking as if he were beginning a speech, "it is all my fault. You told me and so did the colonel, to consider your house my home, and I have done so. 'Wise Dunlop here was a playfellow of mine once and when I went away we were engaged, but somehow we lost sight of each other when there were a few thousand miles between us, and it was the happiest moment of my life to meet her again last night; and so I took the liberty of calling on her thie morning, and we were just arranging to get married next week when you interrupted us." "Quito right, quite right, my dear Granger," said the old colonel heartily, "you shall be married from here—" Oh 1 please let me go to mamma—do let me go at once," pleaded Maggie, finding her little tongue at last. months. • "1 thought you—" And then she did nob know how to go on; she added almost piteously, "1 am the governess here." "Aro you? Oh, I see, then, that is the reason I have not seen you before, I sup- poee.' " Do you really anew Miss Dunlop 2" the heiress asked, coming up, and speaking. in her coldest manner. Maggie wished sincerely she could sink .nto her shoes and bury hereelf. "Why, of course I do; we have been playfellows ever since we were born—haven't we Maggie?" And Maggie, feeling she was backed up, answered bravely, "Yes." "Oh, indeed 1 how interesting 1"—then, turning to Maggie, "Will you be so good as to begin a waltz, Miss Dunlop V—this was to be our dance, I think," to Alio, and she sail- ed off with him triumphantly And Maggie's fingers pattered valiantly over the key -board, but her poor little heart felt a terrible load within het. Alic had always told her he must marry an heiress, and the whole thing was plain. Oh, she was so miserable! That was why ho was evidently on such intimate terms with the family. She didn't care— she had got over her foolish feeling for him long ago, but she would give the world to be et the bottom of the sea or a thrusand miles sway. Be came up to her directly the dance wee over. "I went down to Porlock to try and find out where you had gone to," he said, "but nobody knew." "It didn'e matter," she said huskily, lee - ting her fingers wander) vaguely over the keys to make believe she wasn't very inter- ested in what he said. "Yes, it did—it mattered a great deal. Why, Pee got a box full of curiosities for you—clubs to fight with, and a little heathen god or two, and a statue of Buddha, and all sorts ofthings. I told. you I !should bring you them laome. Do you live here— ' mean in the house?" he said these last words under his breath, for the heiress came up, and the mild minute he was carried off to dance with Mre. Somebody at the other end of the room, but not before Maggie had nodded a reply to hina. Soon after this Miss Petteeeon tame tip to the piano' and saying she wished to play heraelf, andthat Maggie looked tired, dismissed her without her being able to get even enother look at The next mornings to Maggie's very great eurprise, 1Vlise • Patterson mune into the schoolroom before the children had assem- bled. "Mise Dunlop," she said stiffly, "I should like to know where you say you met Mr. Granger." "At Porlock, Hh uncle lived next door to my mother. He is a very old friend n, deed—.—" "Thank you. I Merely Wished to ingoire, because, of course, you must be aware that (tie not wan) for anyone in your poeition to :make bees& temarkeble by having long confidential talks iv4th any gentleman who may visit the house. _ "I don't know what you mean, ';/1.1ss Pat. tenon 1" Maggie said indignantly. only speak out of kinclfiese,", she said, very graciously when she found she was vi ;1.1 The Ladder of St. Augustine. log to marry Well the following week. It is Saint Auguatine! well haat then said, That of ear WOO we clan frame A ladder, if we will but treed Beneaaila our feet eaele deed of 'shame 1 too old for such violent exercise. All common tillage, eaett day's events, "Pray, miss, what are you laughing to That with the hour begin and end, Our plethouree and our discontents, Are rounds by whith we may mend The low desire, the bone design, That makes another's virtues less; The revel of the reddy wine, And all occasions of excess; The loragieg for ignoble things; The strife for triumph more than truth ; The hardening of the heern that brings Irreverence for the dreams of youth; All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds, That have their root in thoughts of ill; Whatever hinders or impeclea The action of the nobler will ;— All then, must first be trampled down Beneath our feet, if we would gain, In the bright fields of fair renown, The right of eminent domain. We have not wings we cannot soar; But we have feet to scale and climb, ley slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy aurninits of our time. The mighty pyremids of stone That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 'When nearer eeen, and netter known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs. The distant mountains, that eprear Their solid bastions to the skies, Are °reseed by pethwaye, that appear As we to higher levels rise. The heights by great men reached and kept Were notattained by midden flight, Bat they, while their companions slept). Were toiling upward in the night. Standing on what too long we bore, With shoulders bent and dowse:taut eyes, We may descern—unseen before—. A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly weetecl, wholly vain, If, ruing on its wreck; at last To eomething nobler we attain, —LONCVELLOW. amazing bow fend people are of mole rela, tithe, even though the riches concern them little pereonelly. As for prier IVIre. Dunlop, she timid neve jumped for joy, otly she etas yourself About?" Asked Alio the dey before their wedding day, " Nothiag, Alio, only when you were away I used to think eornetimes that perfume InO'rriea n C.hieeee heiress witb. rail. e "The sort of thing .you would thiale,' he said, grandly; "aa et is, you see, I am going to marry a little girl without a pmemil ; and f shivery happy, uty darling—are you ?" "Very, very,' the said; and she was. "I think it would be much more satisfactory if Miss Dunlop went back to her relations," said the heiress sourly. So they all finally agreed, and that very afternoon Maggie picked up her modest be- longings and all the curiosities, and went to the well off and bad-tempered aunt. "But, Alio," she asked in the railway carriage—for he escorted her to London, of course--" why did you give Miss Patterson a ring? I thought you where going to marry "Did you, Mies Goose?" Well, you see, Miss Patterson ies a channieg girI, no doubt, but somehow the men don't see it, and in *He of her money and best endeevors tihe has not got off yet—not that I suppose she would have had me." 4' But about the ring ?" "Don't know anything about a ring, eat, °opting that I had one mended for her; 1 broke it in showing the colonel a conjuring - trick. Any more questions ?" • " Well, only don't you think you really had, better marry an heiress 2" " Don't you think you had better mind your own business? However, 1 don't inind telling you that poor Uncle Tom died at Cannes last year, and left me all he had to yeti see 1 eau afford to have you, Mesta and 1 hope, you feel much obliged." "Yee, Alia dear, I do," she said tenth. fulttyl " The Raisin Craze in California. Our fourth crop of alfalfa has just been harvested (Nov. let) and the fields are now starting up green and luxuriant for the win- ter pasture,w. There heti been no frost yet, or rain. The sun shines brightly, and the temperature is delightful. Toe raisin pack. ers are etill busily at work, and long -Maine, carrying nothing bus rattans, are sent out weekly from this San Joaquin valley to East- ern markets. It is estimated that the vine- yards of California will have put in market before the close of the present year 1,500,- 000 boxes of raisins at $2 a box, $3,000,000 ; 40 000 tons of table grapes at po a ton $1,200000; 50,000,000 gallons of wine at 20 cents, $10,000 000 ; 1,500,000 ;alone of brandy at 81.40, $2,100,000—aggregating $16,300,000, an income of over $100 per acre for the estimated 150,009 acres of vines now under cultivation. There will be many hundred acres Bet; to raisin grapes about) Hanford the coming winter and spring, in addition to the large vine yards put out last spring and those already in bearing. There is nothing more pleasing to the eye than a twenty, or forty, or eighty -acre vineyard, with its straight and seemingly endless rows of verdant growth, from which are peeping the mon- strous clusters of ripening Muscets. F. H. Jewett, our leading raisin -packer, tells me it is a poor vineyard that will not yield thirty pounds of Muscats to the vine'and that the yield is oftener forty pounds end frequently fifty. Thus it will be seen that an acre of 400 -or more vines will yield from 12,000 to 20,000 pounds to the acre of green fruit, A shrinkage of two-thirds is allowed in drying, making the raisin yield per acre from 4,000 to 6,000 pounds and over per acre. Every one is after land, and every one, when he gets land, is after raisins. Minis- ters, bankers and all—no one is exempt from the land and raisin craze. Rev. Mr. Motherall, pastor of thePresbyterian church here, has a raisin vineyard four years from setting, and was offered $120 an acre last Aug last for the grapes upon the vine before being picked,—which he refused. After they were made into raisins he was offered five cents a pound, the estimated crop being 4030 pounds per acre, which offer he also refused. If he pecks them, he expects to receive ten cents a pound, which will yield him the very satisfactory sum of $400 per acre. Nothing delighted. him more the past season than to take callers through his vineyard, lifting up the vines and pointing out the huge olusters. He thinks some of them were fully as large as the famous "grapes of Eschol." S. E. Biddle, &banker, tells me he refused an offer of $300 an acre for the raisins from his five, year old vineyard, and expects by packing or selling, direct to the packers, to realize much more. Of course the margin between the prices obtained for grapes on the ViD09 and the packed product is not clear profit. There are the pickers to pay, and trays and boxes to buy,ail of which aggregates consid- erably. Yet every owner of a large vineyard will do well to make his own raisins and by careful and honest assorting and peeking he will soon build up an enviable reputation and a paying market for his individual pro- duct. Ib is claimed that ten acres of California orchard and vineyard will afford is family of five persons a living, and a, neat margin at the end of every year. A gentleman not far from where I live has eleven acres, mainly in apricots, peaches, nectarines and% raisin - grapes. Through the winter and' early spring he prunes hie trees and vines, plows the ground and puts everything in " apple- pie " order; in May he cuts and dries his apricots in June'July and Augusb the early and late peaches and nectarines ; in September he picks his first crop of grapes and dries then: into raisins ; in October his second crop, and in November finishes pack- ing and marketing the whole, thus pleasent- ly and profitably rounding out the year with a saving of $1,200 to $1,500 above expenses. E. H. BARBER, Tular Co., Cal. The Result of a Dream. There was once a mechanic in Bristol, England, whose name was aVatts. He was by trade shotmaker. Watts had to take great bars of hied and pound them out into sheets of thickness about egteal to the diameter of the shot he desired to melee. Then he cub tho sheets into little cubes, which he rolled in a revolving barrel until the corners were worn off from the `cousbant friction. The Chicago Mail thus relates the rest of the story:— Watts, after an evening spent with some jolly companione at the alehouse, went home and turned into bed, He dreamed that he was out again with the "boys." They were all trying to find their way home when it began to rain shot. Beautiful globules of lead, polished and shiningofell at his feet. In the morning when Watts arose he remembered his dream, and wondered whet shape molten lead would take in falling a distance through the air. At last he carried a ladle full of the hot metal up into the steeple of the Church of St. Mary of Red- cliffe, and dropped it into the moat below, Descending he took from the bather). of the shallow pool several handfuls of perfect shore far superior to any he had ever seen. Wet* fortune was made, for he had conceived the idea of the shot -tower, whieh has ever since been the only means employed in the manufacture of the little missiles so much used in war and sport. Gooa Reasons for Non -Resistance+ Preedwoman Lizzie, a good servant, was married to an unworthy husband, and made complaint of his unkindhees. One of the yming ladies of the Atoerioan family in which the served, desirous of knowing hove she heppetted to be so married, asked her about the leve -making and courtship. "Lizzie, What on earth did Watb say to you to make you marry him?" " Law', Miss Sallie," answered .Liezie, "you know I couldn't make ix) answer to Watt when he Moe °thin' of me, 'meth Watt's edicated And he got thine on his words out de eogoly and some out de dieshimary. And po'se you know, Miss couldn't make no 'sig. tance to Watt." Emperor William has bact.teriipered aunt received her nice° friendly letter to the Czar titteli A very Mystery. BY JOHN IMR1E, TORONTO. Oh, Life ! thou art a roystely ! Rech living oul a history Of hopes and than), Of joys and tears,— An ever-present mystery Oh, death 1 thou art a mystery 1 Who knows thy after -history ? From heaven or hell Nora come to tell The living of thy nee stery 1 HATS AND BAIDN4130 AgAIIC . ewolsousidou OL1PHthII 'ToXiiot The bomb orevearing warm °overly& on the head he not of recent dategthe atipiee ef Eurepe, for inatance, rto inconsicleralele „. number of men, with heads close eropp,d, • nave.worn for a longperiod WeTteeT Bild heavier headgear than th'e modern dwellers in (440, without the mum tendency of bald - nese, says W, 0. Gouinlook in the Builder, Nor are the heavy fur coverings of northern Taces ineompatible with luxuriant hair. It, is also difficult to understend white injury can remit from clime cutting e'er se The growth is in the hair follicle, and in it alone; there is no vital connection between the hair outside the koelp and within ; ite is usually cut oloeest at the back of the head and neck, where baldneee never occurs. Would nob cloth cutting rather stimulate the growth by expothre of the scalp? Such at least is the popular belief. So, too, with indoor life. Women, who ought to how it most, whether in the home or in the feetory, are never bald. as men are ;on the contrary, - it is most common with men in good cir- cumstances, as Mr. Drama's statistics show, men spend a larger proportion of their daytime in the open air thell the indoor vr, believe th,e common forni of baldness is due entirely to the kind of hat thee is worn, principally to the high hat and the hard felb hat but also to any other head covering that constricts the blood vessels which nourish the hair bulbs. To have a clearer under- etanding of this, we mustremember that the scalp is supplied with blood by arteries. at the back, sides and front of, and lying close to, the skull, which diminish in size by fre- quent branching as they converge toward the top of the head. They are in a mod favorable positioo to he compressed, lying on unyielding bone and covered by thin tis, sue. Consider what effect mustbe ptoduced by a close -fitting, heavy rigid hat ; its pres- sure must lessen to a certain extent, the flow of arterial blood, and obstruct to v. greater extent the return of the venous; the resulb being a sluggish circulation in the cap- illaries around the hair folliolea and, bulbs, a consequent impairment of nutrition, and final atrophy. This pressure is pot trivial or imaginary, as any one will ,admit who has no' -iced the red band of congestion on the forehead wheo a hard hat is removed steer moderate exercise. DAZED BY THE LIGHT Bow Birds aiagehathaoreureess2troyed. nyetie i The attraction of lighthouses tor birds is la very curious phenomenon. It is said that j just before the Charleston earthequalter all the lighthouses along the coast as far nortie - as Cape May were enveloped by clouds 40 agitated birds. Many wonderfid scenes are witnessed at the lighthouses on some pants of the British coasts during the seasons, of ' migration. Sometimes when the n eon is suddenly hidden by a bank of clouds the lan- terns of thelighthouses are thetpoint to -which ' the stream of migrants hasten, ana where, in a confused, fluttering throng, they beat Oh, Life beyond I Oh, mystery 1 against the glum like moths arolind a. candle, We yet shall know thy history,— and fly to and fro, utterly bewildered and So live each day That come what may completely lost. They seem to hameeno idea of their true course, and. flyainfiessly 'about, Our souls shall fear no mystery I many killing thetnseIves againet the glees, others felling into the waxer below. The ,Ob, God 1 Thou art) a mystery Thy love a world's history,— In wonder we Shall worship Thee And Thou shalt solve all mystery I Inseparable. EARNEST E. REMIT, TORONTO. The bee may fly from the flower, The leaf may fall from the tree; But nothing in sanshine or show'r, Can sever my heart from thee The harp may forget its music, The fountain may lose Me spray, The star may wander erratic; But never from thee I'll stray ! The our' may droop on the forehead, The light may forsake the eye; The blooming cheek may grow pallid, But affection cannot die! My heare (rennet leave its treasure; • Send the kody if fate will; O'er mountain, valley and river," We are undivided still 1 The Coming of His Feet. In the crimson of the morning, in the white- ness of the noon, In the amber glory of the day's retreat, In the midnight, robed in darkness, or the gleaming of the moon, I listen for the coming of Nis feet. light -men are alert on these occaeions, and capture numbers of the poor lost travellers with hand nets. Many of the birds are too tired or too dazed to move, and allow them- selves to be taken by the hand as they sit on the balcony. • Let the reader represent to - himself a lighthouse on one of tbese migra- tion nights. The tide of migration is at its ° height. The night is dark, and the lanterns are the central point of attraction for the couneless hosts of birds that were crossing the sea when the sky became over -cast. Birds of many different species are flying to- gether or are attracted from all parts of the compass by the brilliant light. Ducks and geeee are traveling with gold crests, and swallows, starlings and finches are flying side by side with gulls and waders. Warblers and herons scatter scientific claseification to the winds and fraternize with swans and goat -suckers and larks. Falcons and owls appear to lose all propensity fax preying on their companions in misfortune. As soon as the we'enher clears and the moon shinea forth once more the birds appear te get on their track again, and the feathered hosts are gone as suddenly as they came. These migratory movements lend bird -life its greatest charms in Autumn. A Plan That Works Well. " Brown, 1 don't see how it is that your girls all marry oft as they get old enough, while none of mine can marry." "Oh, ehat's simple enough. marry my girls off on the buckwheat straw principle." "Bat what is that principle ? I never heard I heard His weary footsteps on the sands of of it before," "Wail, I used to melee a. good deal of buck - On the temple's marble pavement, on the wheat, and it puzzled me to know how to get street, rid of the straw. Nothing would eat it and Worn with weight of sorrow, faltering up it was a. great bother to me. Ablest I thought the slopes of Calvaryof a plan. I stacked my buckwheat. straw The sorrow of the coming of his feet:7 nicely and butlt a high rail fence around ib. My cattle, of course, concluded that it was something good, and at once tore down the fence and began to eat the strew. 1 dogged them away and put up the fence a few times, but the more I drove them, away tlae more anxious they became to eat the straw. After this had been repeated afew times the cattle determined to eat the straw, and eat it they did, every bit of it. As I said, I marry my girls off on the same principle. When a young man that 1 don't like begins callieg on my girls I encourage him in every way I can. tell him to come often and stay as late as he pleases' and I take pain e to tell the girls that I thinkthey'd better sot thoirmaps for him. It works first-rate. He don't ineko many calls, for the girls treat him as coolly as they can. But when a young fellow that I like comes around, a man that) I think would auit me for a eon -in-law, I don't let him make many calls before I give hirn to understand that he isn't wanted around my house. I tell the girls,too, that they shall not have any- thing to do with him, and give them modem never to speak to him again. The pleaa alwaye evorke firstrete. The young folks begin to pity each other, and the none thing 1 know' they are engaged to be merried. When I see that they are deterrnined bo marry I always give in and pretend to make the beet of it. That's the way to manage it,"—Ellifasee. Down the minster-aisles of splendor, from betwixt the cherubim, Through the wondering taxon& with mo- tion strong and fleet, Soundsellis victor tread, approaching with ft musio far and dim— The music of the coming of His feet. Sandaled not with shoon of silver, girdled not with woven gold, Weighted not with shimmering gems and odors sweet But white -winged and shod with glory in the Tabor -light et old— The glory of the coming of His feet. He is coming, 0 my spirit I with His ever. lasting peace, With His blessedness immortal and com- plete . He is coming, 0 erty spirit 1 and His corning brings release, I listen for the coming of Hie feet. Petticoat government in the municipality of Oskaloosa, Kansas, seems to have turued out a great success. After an experience of six months under the benign and impartial sway of the new regime the citizens, it is said, fired reason to congratulate themselves on the step they took withfear end trembling wheu they elected to the Council a women mayor and five Women councillors. Until the ladies made their appearance at the Council Board Oskalooesh had been a sin piney disorderly andimmoral place. Now everything but churches, drug stores and hotels have to be closed from Saturday night till Monday morning, and the laws and ordinances are administered with strict irn. partiality. contraetors' rings ha Ve been de. inorelized, and 'broken up, " dead -heads " banished, and the illegel tale of liquor stamp. ea clot. Kansas is now, willing to enter its petticoat goverment for a pr.iss, and back it for Money against any nitimeipal gOVera 'MOM in the world. lr,a4 The problem of aerial navigation hat been golved to the extent that prOgrees ceait be made by Itertard & Krebei machine against a fotirteen mile letiseze. This was effected by a motor of 1400 pounds weight atta ten horse power., Commandant Renard has now perfeeted a motor of the same weight devei. oping fifty horse power, and with this he expects to produce ti speed of 62 logos an hour, la two months the whOle appettette will be complete and a trial will he mad from the workshop at Calais, If ib is sue eessful there will be another inVaido panic in England, the reaction from *hie ,ought to oeorooine the opposition te tb Chattel tunnel seheme.