HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1895-11-29, Page 2Tart a U f.EL8 POST, 14formiingl z►, laps
PITRWLT CANADIAN IRO
HE VICAR'S GOVERNESS.
"It iswarm-ver y," she says calm- above her, She hats n1) friende,
ne
mother, n1) sister, 1)o love and sympa-
ly� but in WC. 'et," returns thize" with hoz:'
"' O I caallll it-wtorry My dear Arthur, 110W you Glc agon-
lie, making his quotation as genially lee Yourself 1' says
Dori comfortableu.SSSest
MI though she understood it,. and, biee fa het, and
as I know of:'
placking a little rose -bud fmm a tree "'She reminds me of same lowly way-
near him, proceeds to adorn his coat side flower, goes on the old mon, mus -
with it,
in ly, "heedless of the brilliant inter -
It eosins a long time since T have , a e, raising its line thatao re¬
seen you,e he goes on, presently ; and Iorokerg wAi'letdg0yyand flit Bodge that
thing in her face touches some chord own species grow and Flourish in wild
in his careless kindly nature. l u 1 1)e Her life can sca 1Y be
" How pale you are l" he says abrupt-
ly, Am I9 The heat, no doubt; "--with
a faint smile, And,
"But thin, too, are you not?
'-and-" he pauses. " Anything wrong
with you, Ruth'? "
" Wrong/ No l; How should there
be 9" retorted she, in a curious tope,
in which fear and annoyance fight for
mastery. Then the storm dies away,
and the startled look fades from her
pretty face.
Why should you think me unhappy
because I am a little pale?" she asks
sullenly.
Branscombe looks surprised.
" You . altogether mistake me," he
says, gently. "I never associated. You
my mind with unhappiness. 1 mere-
.,, meant, bad you a'headaohe, or .anY
of those small ills that female flesh
is heir tot I beg your pardon, I'm
sure, if S have offended you."
He has jumped off the wall, and is
now standing before her, with only the
little gate between them. Her face is
,as
hespeaks,
his ogee seek hers Senn"! bounds her garden she can watch her
ux x an
called happy., There must always be
a want,, a craving for what can never
be obtained. Surely tee one that could
bring sorrowto that pure heart, or
tears to those gentle eyes, should be—
' Asphyxiated," put in Dorian, idly,
Ho yawns languidly and mane the head
off a tall dandelion, that adorns the
wayside, in a somewhat desultory fash-
ion. The color in the older man's
cheeks grows a shade deeper, and a
geture, as full of impatience as of dis-
pleasure, escapes him.
with calm severity, " that it would be
well to place beyond the reach of ridi-
oule,"
Am I one of them ? " says Dorian,.
lightly. Then, glancing at his uncle's
face, he checks himself, and goes on
guiokly. I beg your pardon, I'm sure,
1 have been saymg something unlucky,
as usual. Of course I agree with you
on all points, Arthur, and think the.
man who could wilfully bring a blush
to Ruth Annersley's cheek neither more
nor less than a blaokguard our et sim-
ple. By the by,. that last little home-
ly phrase comes in badly there, doesn't
it? Rather out of keeping with the
vituperative noun, eh 1 "
Rather;' returns Sartoris, shortly.
He drops his nephew's arm, and walks
on in silence. As 'a rule, Dorian's care-
less humor suits him : it amuses and
adds a piquancy to a, life that with-
still colorless, and she is gazing up at out it (nowthat Dorian's society has
'im with parted lips, as though she become indispensable to him) would
"fl t talo and unprofitable"
would' fain say something difficult to
form into satisfactory speech. At this
moment, Lord Sartoris, coming sudden-
ly round the angle of the road, sees
them.
Ruth lowers her eyes and some
slight transient color creeps into her
cheeks. Sartoris, comes quickly up to
them, makes some conventional speech
to her, and then turns to his nephew.
" Where are you going?" he asks
coldly. •
' I was going to Hythe." returned
the young man, easity. " Just as well
I didn't, eh? Should have foundyou
out." repeats his
Found me out, -yes,"
uncle, looking .at him strangely. How
long -how long it takes to find out
some people, on whom our veryhearts
'
are set. ' 1 am going to the village.
Then so am 1," says Branscombe,
" Though I should think it would run
the original deserted' one close on
such a day as this. Good -by, Ruth."
He holds out his hand.; and the girl,.
silently returning his warm pressure,
makes a faint courtesy to Lord Sar-
toris. There is no servility, butsome
nervousness, in the slight salutation.
How is your father, Ruth?" asks
Lt
But to -day, he hardly knows whwy,h or,
perhaps, hardly dares to know y,
his nephew's easy light-heartedness jars
upon him, vexing him sorely.
As they turn the corner of the road
and go down the hill, they meet Hor-
ace, coming toward them at a rapid.
pace. As be sees them, he slackens
his speed and approaches more slowly.
' Just as well I mat you," be says,
with an airy laugh, ;'as my thoughts
were running away with me, and Phoe-
bus Apollo is in the ascendant: verit-
ably he rules the roost.' This uphill
work is trying on the lungs."
"Where have you been?" asks Dor-
ian, just because he bas nothing else
to say, and it is such a bore to think..
At Gowran."
" Ahl I'm going there now. you'saw
Clarrisa, than 9" says Sartoris, quickly
"When do you return to town, Hor-
ace 9"
To -morrow I think, -I hope says
Horace; and, with a little nod. on both
sides, they part. But when the bend
in the road again hides him fromview
it would occur to a casual on -looker that
Horace Branscombe's thoughts must
once more have taken bis physical pow-
ers into captivity, as his pace quickens,
until It grows even swifter than it was
Olarisse would not have me, and in the
next, I don't want to marry at all, A
wife would bore me to death; couldn't
fancy a greater nuisance, I like WOmtn
very much, 10 fact, I May eery, I am de-
cidedly fond of a geed many of them.
but to have one elways looking after
me (as .you style it) and showing ell of
Of
dohnquenoies would drivo me eat
my mind. Don't look so disgusted! I
feel I'M a miserable einem!! bet really
can't help it. I expect there is seine-
thing redioally wropg with me,"
"Do you mean to tell me' "-with
some natural indignation -"that up to
this you have never, ,during all your
wanderings, both at home and abroad,
seen any woman you could sincerely
admire?"
"Numbers, my dear Arthur afY
amount, but not one I ehou1d Dare to
if-
rereace, You
remember once before last
eeaeon you spoke to mo in this strain,
and, simply to oblige you, I thought I
would make up my mind to try matri-
mony. So I went in heavily, heart and
soul, for LadyFanny Hazlett. You
have seen Lady Fanny?"
Yes, a good deal of her,
"Then you know how really pretty,
she is. Well, I spent three weeks at
it ; regular bard work the entire time,
You know, no breathing -space allowed,
as she never refuses an invitation,
thnight, inks and nothining sisted of on threemy balls,
dancining oneat-
tendance on her everywhere. I never
suffered so much in, my fife ; and when
at last I gave in from sheer exhaustion,
I 'found my clothes no longer fitted me.
I was worn to a skeleton from loss of
sleep, the heavy strain on my mental
powers, and the meek endurance of ber.
ladyship's ill tempers."
Lady Fanny is ono woman, Clarissa
Peytonis quite another. How could
you fail to be happy with Clarissa?
Her sweetness, her grace of mind and
body, her beauty, would keep you cap-
tive even against your will.'
Dorian pauses for a moment or two.
and then says, very gently, as though
sorry to spoil the old man's cherished
plan;-
Sartoris is silent. A vague suspicion
of what now appears a certainty bas for
some time oppressed and haunted him.
At this moment he is sadly realizing the
emptiness of all his dreaming. Present-
ly, he says slowly, -
"Are you ,quite sure of this?"
" As certain as I ean be without ex-
actly hearing it from her own lips."
Is it Horace ?"
qui
"Yesetly, ; it is Horace," says Branscombe,
he, debaining her by a quick movement before.
of the hand. Sartoris goes leisurely down the hill,
Quite well, thank you, my lord." with Dorian beside him, whistling
Some timidity is discernible in her "Nancy Lee," in a manner highly satis-
factory to himself, to himself, no doubt,
roof and sternness m his. but slightly out of tune, When Sartor-
is can bear this musical treat no longer,
i am glad to hear it. There is no he breaks hurriedly, into speech' of a
worthier man in all the parish than description that squires an answer.
Sohn Annersley. I hope nothing `will What a pretty girl Clarissa Peyton
ever occur to grieve or sadden that is 1 Don't you think so?'
good old man." When Dorian has brought Miss Lae
I hope not, my lord,': returns she, to a triumphant finish, with a flourish
steadily, although his voice has mean- that would have raised murderous long -
ins in it. In another moment she was ings in the breast of Stephen Adams,
gone. he says, without undue enthusiasm:
How does your farming go on, Do-
ran?"
o- yes, she is about the beat -looking
Tian 9 " asks Lord Sartoris, presently, woman I know."
rousing himself from a puzzling re- eAnd as unaffected as she is beautiful.
vorie. That is her principal charm. So thor-
Quite in the model line," says Do- oughly bred, too, in every thought and
pian, cheerfully. That Sawyer is an action. I never met so lovable a area -
invaluable fellow. Does all the work, tura 1"
you know, -which is most satisfactory. What. a pity she can't hear you I"
Looks after the men, pa s their Wages, says Branscombe. "Though perhaps it
and takes all trouble oft my shoulders. is as well she can't. Adulation has a
Never could understand what a perfect bad effect on some people."
treasure is till I got him. Every one „She is too earnest, too thorough,
says I am moat fortunate in my choice to be upset by flattery. I tome
of a steward."
" I dare say.. It is amazing the
amount of information people possess
about other people's servants. But
you look after things yourself, of
course? However faithful and trust-
worthy one's hirelings may be, one's
own eyes should also be in the matter.
"Oh, of course, acquiesces Dorian,
cheerfully. Nothing like personal au-
pervision, and so on. Every now and
then, you know, I do look over the ac-
counts, and ask a few questions, and
show myself very learned in drainage.
and so forth. But I don't see that I
gain much by it. Horrid stupid work,
too," -with a yawn. Luckily, Saw-
yer is one of the most knowingfellows
m the world, or I suppose I sould go
to smash. He is up to everything,
and talks like a book. Quite a Plea-
sure, I give you my word, -almost a
privilege, -to bear him converse 011
short -horns and some eccentric root
they pall mangels."
" It is possible to be knowing," says
his uncle, depreciatingly.
Eh ? oh, no : Sawyeris not that sort
of person. He is quite straight all
throegh. And ho never worries me
more than he can help. He looks after
everything, and whatever he touches
(metaphorically speaking) turns to gold.
Pro. sure anything like those pheasants
" Yes, yes, I daresay. But pheasants
are not everything."
" Well, no ; there are a few other
things," says Dorian, amicably, -'not-
ably grouse Why this undyin hatred
times
wonder if there are any like her in the
world."
Very few, I think," says Dorian,
genially.
Another pause somewhat longer than
the last, and then Sartoris says, with
some hesitation, "Do you never think
of marrying, Dorian 9"
" Often," says Branscombe, with an
amused smile.
Yet how seldom you touch . on the
matter 1 Why, when I was your age,.
I bad seen at least twenty women . I
should have married, had they shown an
answering regard for me."
'What a blessing they didn't 1"says
Branscombe. Fancy, twenty of
them! You'd have found it awkward
m the long run, wouldn't you? And I
don't think they'd have liked it, you
know, in this illiberal country. So.
glad you thought better of it."
I wish I could once see you as hon-
estly "-with a slight, almost ancon"
scious, stress on the word -"in love as
I have been scores of times."
" What a melancholy time you must
have put in! When a follow is in love
he goes to skin and bone, doesn't he?
slights his dinner, and refuses to find
solace in the best cigar. It must be
trying, -very ; especially to one's
friends. I doubt you were a suscept-
ible youth, Arthur. I'm not."
Then you ought to be" says Sar-
toris, with some anger. '"All young
men should feel their hearts beat, and,
their pulses quicken, at the sight of a
g
pretsby woman.'
to Sawyer, my dear Arthur? In what My dear fellow," says Branscombe,
has he been found wanting? severely, removing his glass from his
' I think him a low, underhand right to, his left eye, as though to scan
sneaking fellow," says Sartoris, unhosi- more carefully his uncle's countenance,
tatingly. I should not keep him in "there is something the matter with you
raY employ half an hour. However," this morning, isn't there? You're not
relentingly, and somewhat sadly, "ono well, you know. You have taken some -
cannot always judge by ap earancos.' thing very badly, and it has gone to your
They have reached the village by this morals ; they aro all wrong, -very un -
time, and are walking leisurely through, sound indeed. Have you carefully eon-
' it. Almost as they reach the hotel sidered the nature of the advice you are
they meet Mr. Redmond, the rector, ' Baying me? Why, if I were to let my
looking as hearty and kindly as usual.; heart beat every time I meet all, the
Lord. Sartoris, who had come down on pretty women I know, I should be m a
purpose to meet him, having asked his :lunatic asylum in a month."
question and received his answer, turns Seriously, though, I wish you would
again and walks slowly homeward, Do- • give the matter -some thought, says
Tian still beside him. Lord Sartoris, earnestly ; "you are
As they again catch eight of the twenty -eight, -old enough to make a
old mill, Sartoris says,, quietly, with a sensible choice,"
lendable attempt at unconcern that Branscombe sighs.
would not have deceived the veriest in- And I see nothing to prevent your
a is quite suenessful with Do- . doing so. You want a wife to look attar
tent, , but
roan whose thoughts are far away,- You, -a woman you could respect, as Well
" What a nice girl that little' Ruth as love,—a thoughtful, beautiful -
lies grown!" man, to make your home dearer to you
" Awfully pretty girl," returns Do- "than all the amusements town life can
rias carelessly. afford. She would make you happy,
Bios, ,- ravely,—" very pretty. ; and and induce you to look more carefully
d
1 th
P a h ldp h ret seams to be a Yoe mean You would like me to
if 1
CHAPTER VI.
" Triad softly ; bow the head, -
In reverent silence bow,
No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul
Is passing now."
sun --tor, was it, Did the old man
ever forgive --i" He le andering dreaming his h death -
gilded hours of youth,
.She girl presses Ilia band to roes) him,
dream of happler hays, sing bok{t1)v p
asinks i to over astln sleep, o the
" Th nk of me Pew,! she entreats,
despairingly; "it will Only bo for a lit -
tie while,--sueh it little wlile,-^and then
you will be with her forever. Oh, papal
MY , dear, my dear ; smile at, me t
again. Think of .me happily ; let Me feel
wlxen you are gone that your last hours
With me were peaceful,"'
Hie eyes meet hers, and he smiles ten-
derly. Gently she slips ber arms
round him,' and, laying her golden head
upon the pillow, eloso to him, presses her,
lips to bis, -the soft warm lips, that con"
treat 84 painfully with those pais cold
other ones they tough. So she remains
for a long time, kissing, him softly every
now and again, and thinking hopelessly
Ise the end.
She neither sigbs, , nor weeps, nor
makes any outward sign of anguish, Un-
like most people, she has realized to its
fullest the awfulness of this thing that
is about to befall her, And the know-
ledge has 'paralyzed 'her senses, render-
ing ber dull with misery, and tearless,
4iesently the white lids, weary with
nights of watching, • droop. I3•er breath
comes more evenly. Her head sluice
more heavily against the, pillow, and,
like a child worn out with grief and
pain, she sleeps.
When next she wakes, gray dawn is
everywhere. The wind still moans un-
ceasingly. Still the rain -drops patter
against the panes. She raises her head
atfrigbtedly, and, springing to her feet,
bends with bated breath above the quiet
form lying on the bed.
Alas 1 alas! what change is bare ? He
has not moved; no faintest alteration
can bo traced in the calm pose of the
figure that lies just as she last saw it,
when sleep o'ercame her, The eyes are
closed; the tender smile -the last fond
smile -still lingers on bis. lips ; yet, he
is dead I
The poor child stands gazing down
upon him with parted lips and clasped
hands, and a face almost as ashen as
that marble one to which her eyes grow
with horror unspeakable. He looks so
peaceful -so much as though he merely
sleeps -that for one mad moment she
tries not to believe the truth. Yet she
knows it is death, unmistakable and re-
lentless, upon which for the first time
she looks.
He is gone, forever 1 without another
kiss, or smile, or farewell word beyond
those last uttered. Ho had set out upon
his journey alone, had passed into the
other happier land, in the cold silence of
the night, even: while she slept, -bad
been torn from. her, whilst yet her fond
arms encircled him.
Impelled by some indefinable' desire,
she lays her fingers softly on the hand
that lies outside the coverlet. The aw-
ful chill that meets her touch seems to
reach even to her heart. Throwing
her arms above her head, with a wild
passionate' cry, she falls forward, and
lies senseless across the lifeless body.
-Caroline Southey.
A little room, scantily but neatly fur-
nished. A low bed. A dying man. A
kneeling girl, -half child, half woman
-with a lovely, miserable facer and.
pretty yellow hair.
It is almost dusk, and the sound of
bhe moaning sea evithout, rising higher
and hoarser as the tide rushes in, comes
like a wail of passionate agony into the
silent room.
Tho rain patters dismally against the
window -panes. The wind -that all day
long has been sullen and subdued -is
breaking forth into a fury long sup-
pressed, and, dashing through the little
town, on its way to the angry sea, makes
the casements rattle noisily and the tall
trees sway and bend beneath its touch.
Above, in the darkening heavens, gray
clouds are scurrying madly, to and fro.
"Georgie," whispers a faint voice from
out the gathering gloom, "are you still
there$"
" Yes, dear, I am here, quite' near to
you. What fs it 9"
Sit whore. I can see you, child, -
where I can catch your face. I have
something to say to you. I cannot die
with this weight upon my heart."
' What weight, papas
"The uncertainty about your future,"
says the dying man, with some excite-
ment. "How can I leave you, my little
one, to fight this cruel world alone?"
"Do not think of me," says the girl,
in a voice so unnaturally calm as to be-
tray the fact that she xs making a su-
preme effort to steel herself against the
betrayal of emotion of any kind. By
and by, will there not be long years in
which to make her moan, and weep, and
lament, and give herself whole up to
that grim giant Despair? "Put nye
out of your thoughts altogether. I shall
do very, very well. I shall manage to
live as others have lived before me."
"Your Aunt Elizabeth will take you
in for a little while, and then --then
PERSONAL PAINTERS,
Sue Greet
Stem* Of?nxerpst Ahonl dclne or t4 rya
Poles or she World,
TO Pope has granted the Ifreuoh a. -
thor. Boyer d'Agen, permission towrite
his biography, and for this purpose Ilse
given him awes to the family archives
of the Count Pecei, in Carpinete,
Sir William Arrol, the builder of
Forth Bridge, is desoribed as a tall,
pleasant -faced map, frank, honest and
good-humored, Ho has supported
himself since he, was nine yoarsold,
when he began life in a cotton mill.
"I shall go out as a governess. I shall
get into some kind,. pleasant family, and
every one will be very good to me," says
the girl, still in a resolutely cheerful
tone. "It will just suit me. -1 shall
like it. Do you understand me papa 9
I shall like it better than anything,
because children are always fond of me,
The father's face grows sadder, even
grayer, as she speaks. He sighs in a
troubled fashion and strokes feebly the
little fragile hand that clings so" des-
perately to his, while the damps of death
lie thick upon his brow.
"A governess," he murmurs with some
difficulty, "While you are only a
child yourself. What a hard, hard
fate I Is there no friend to help and
comfort you ?"
I have a friend," replies she,stead-
ily, "You have often Beard me men-
tion her. You remember the name,
now, -Clarissa Peyyten? She was my
best friend at soeoal, and I know she
will do what she can for me. She will
be able to find me some nice children,
and--"
friendship," -interrupts he, bitterly,
-"it is a breath, a name. It will fad
you when you most need it."
Clarissa will not fail me," replies
she, slowly, though with a feeling of
deadly sickness at her heart. "And
besides, you must not think of me as a
governess always, papa. I shall,, per-
haps, marry somebody, some day.
Ile dyingman's eyes grow a shade
brighter; iis a more flicker, but it
lasts for a moment, long enough to eon,
vino her she has indeed given some
poor hope to cheer his last hones.
'Yes; to marry somebody,' he re
partes, wistfully, 'that will . be best, -
to get some good man, some kindly, lov-
ing heart to protect you and make a safe
shelter for you. There is comfort in
the thought. But'I hope it will besoon;
my darling, before your spirit is broken
and your youth' dulled,"
"I shall merry as soon as ever I can,"
says Georgie, making a, last , terrible
eftorb to appear hopeful and resigned.
"1 :ball meet someoneverysoon, no
doubt, -very soon : so do not fret about
me any more, Why should I pat, in-
deed? I am very pretty, am isnot,
papa?"' In spit) of the lightness of her
words, a heavy choking gob _escapes her
as she finishos her little set speech. She
buries her faoe in, the bad -cloth) ,io
stifle her rising grief, but her father
almost too far one to Rodeo it,.
Yee, -so like your mother,"he mu -
• • • • •
Two Frenchmen named Assassin,
finding their name troublesome, had ib
changed bo Berge, wbioh seems inno-
cent enough. Unluckily it turns put
to be the name of the assistant execu-
tioner, who will probably succeed M,
Deibler.
A valuable arm chair is in the pos-
session of the Earl of Radnor. It
originally oust , $50,000, and was pre-
sented by the oibyy of Augsburg tq llm-
peror Rudolph 11, of Germany, about
the year 1576. It is of etoel, and took
the artist about thirty years to make.
Miss Mary H. Kingsley, a niece of
Canon Kingsley, has penetrated to
some maddens of the Cameroone Moun-
tain where no white explorer has ever
been before, Her onlycompanions aro
a party of native Aficans, furnished
from the nearest military station of
the German government,
Among , the members of the Social
Democratic party' in Germany is a
slim fair lady, of about 40, who wears
a blood -red silk blouse, blank dress
and dark Tyrolese, hat. She is tee
Duchess Pauline Maathilde Ida, of
Wurtemburg, a sister of Duke William,
who now stands so near to the throne.
Autograph collecting is Sol Smith
Russell's fad, His weakness 19 a be-
lief in superstitious fanoies. He gives
an odd turn to the latter, calling thir-
teen his lucky number, and prefers to
begin his annual tours on Friday. The
old, dilapidated hat which he wore in
"A Poor Relation," he has had for 20
years.
Mr. Labouohere, with all his attempts
to play the cynic, is really one of the
few men who are perfectly at home
in any sooieby, high, or low. He has
friends with all politics and creeds, and
some friends with none ; an inexhaus-
tible stock of anecdotes is one of his
properties," as popular as his cigar-
ette case.
Mrs. Eunice Russ Davis, the only
surviving member of the Women's
Antislavery Board of Boston, and the
oldest woman abolitionist in the United
States, observed her ninety-fifth birth-
day anniversary ab their dome in Den-
ham, Mass., last week. Her father was
a white man and her mother a full
blooded Narragansett Indian,
Abdur Rahnian, the Ameer of Af-
ghanistan, has unusual architectural
skill, and is said to design bis own
palaces. Stone and marble, both of
which are to be found in.considerable
quantities near (abut, enter largely in-
to their construction, and they contain
many things -specially manufactured
in Europe for the Afghan court, in-
cluding electric lights, pianos. and the
phonograph.
The most interesting schoolboy In
San Francisco in all probability is the
little grandson of the late Kin Greig
of Fanning and Washington islands.
King Greig was a merry monarch,
though his subjects numbered hardly
more than a hundred persons. He used
to make frequent visits to San Fran-
cisco and Honolulu. But on his island
home, which was his by right of dis-
covery, he spent his life manufacturing
copra. His son, George B. Greig, 1.9
the present ruler.
Misery hurts, but it rarely kills ; and
broken hearts are out of fashion. All
this unhappiness came to Georgie
Broughton about a year ago, andbhough
brain -fever followed upon ib, attacking
her with vicious force, and almost hand-
ing her over as a victim to the greedy
grave, yet she bad survived, and over-
come death, and returned 'from the land
of shadows, weakened, indeed, but with
life before her.
Months passed before she could sum-
mon up sufficient energy to plan or
think about a possible future. 411 this
time her aunt Elizabeth' had clothed and
fed and sheltered her, but unwillingly.
Indeed, so grudgingly bad she dealt out
ber measure' of "brotherly love " ed
the girl writhed beneath it, an p
with a passionate longing, for the day
that sbould see her freed from. a depend-
ence that had become unspeakably bit-
ter to her.
To -day, sitting in her little room,-
an
oom,
an apartment high up' in Aunt Eliza-
beth's house,—she tells herself she will
hesitate no longer, that she is strong
now, quite strong, and able to face the
world. She holds up her delicate little
hand between ber eyes and the window,
as a test of her returning strength,
only ,to find that she can almost see
the light through it,—so thin, so frag-
ile, has it grown. But she will not be
dishearbened: and, drawing pen and
paper toward ber, she tries. to write.
But it is a difficult task, and her head.
is strangely heavy, and her words will
not come to her. A vague feeling,
too, that her letter will be unsuccessful,
that her friend will fail her, distresses
and damps her power to explain her
position clearly.
Who can say if Clarissa Peybon will
be the same at heart as when last they
parted, with many words of good will
and affection, and eyes dark with tears?
Grief and misery, and too much of
Aunt Elizabeth, have already embit-
tered and generated distrust in her
young bosom. She is tired, too. All
day she has toiled, bas worked.relig-
iously, and gone through wearying
bousebbld labor, tryingto repay in some
faint wise the reluctant hospitality ex-
tended to her. At this moment a sense
of utter desolation overpowers her, and
with a brain on. fire, and a heart half -
broken, she pushes from her the partly -
written letter, and, burying her face in
her arms, breaks into low, but heavy
weeping.
Papa 1 papal" she sobs, miserably.
It is the common refrain of all her
sorrowful dirges, -the sadder that no re-
sponse ever comes to the lonely cry.
Of our dead, if we would believe them
happy we must also believe that they
have think on )our blben eeding hearelse how ts)hac ld
they keeptheir blisssoperfect ?
Mournfully as Mariana in her moated
grange, ,the poor,child laments, while
sobs shake her slender frame. And the
day dies, and the sun goes down, and
happily some noise in the house—a step,
a voice—arouses liar, and, ' starting as
though from some ugly. dream, she takes
up her pen again, and writes eagerly,
and without premeditabion, to the one
friend in wbom she still puts faith.
(To be ,Conbinued.)
Discovered the First Diamond,
INTERESTING' ITEMS ABOUT Oni'R
OWN COUNTRY, .
Cntllpree rerun various swinte (roes OW
Animism to the l'aelnp
The population of Ottawa is 49,500,
Wallaceburg has a rack-tineeliegger,
Lindsay is to have a "Boys' Brigade,"
There is an ice famine at Nor e y
There is a scarcity of water in Delhi.
There are 442 coloured citizens in
Hamilton,
The Darbyites aro holding meetings et
Lefroy,
An orchestra bas been organized at
H4llsburg,
The Seneca Indians near Caledonia
.iliave the measles, :
The population of Berlin is 8,994, an
increase of 610,
Kingston's assessable property has de-
creased $70,000.
Lambeen has decided to erect a conn-
ty House of Refuge.
A fine school house is being built at
Jarret 8 Corners,
Canadian nail makers have combined
and run up prices,
A cab at Jarret's Corners eats two
cobs of corn daily,
The Sarnia merchants want the early
closing by-law repealed.
The Berlin Public Library is spending
$800 for German books..
Typhoid fever prevails at St, George
and diphtheria at Guelph.
A new iron bridge is being put over
the Thames in Sbrabford.
The Vanessa cheese factory bas been
burned, at a loss of $1,000.
A five-foot Canadian lynx was caught
at Chetwynd the other day.
A Lindsay dog, 18 years old, is out -
of teeth.
Last month 2,878 care of live stock
passed through St. Thomas.
The old Horton tavern stand at
Gainsborough is to be remodeled.
The old • Sarnia immigrant sheds are
converted into e, brick yard.
It is said that 1,250,000 square miles
of the Dominion' are. unexplored.
Mr. Hugh Graham, Monbreal, carries
9150,000 insurance on his life.
There is an increase of $23,000 in
Galt's real estate assessment this year.
Five wooden bridges have been erect-
ed in Middlesex county last summer.
A 47 -nomad watermelon was grown in
a Leamington garden this season.
Next year Simcoe will have a first-
class bicycle track and athletic grounds.
Kingston is bidding for the _G.,T. R.
ting bis third set
Queen Victoria's aversion to the em-
ployment of electricity as a motive
power is a further evidence of her
curious conservatism in not viewing
with immediate favor: new adapta-
tions of the forces of nature. Thus
the Queen in early life was highly ap-
prehensive of travelling by rail, and,
although now quite at her ease m a
long railway journey, she,, unlike the
Prince Consort, who took immediately
to conveyances by steam, preferred for
many years to travel by road between
Windsor and London.
DISGUISED FOR MANY YEARS. -
A Women nlnsgirernd.a n8 a pan 10 7111)1-
1,0,i.
One,. of the strangest, and most suc-
cessful cases of masquerading over
heard of in Canada came to light the
other afternoon in Montreal. While
Constable Fafard was on duty on Otto.'
wa street he saw a small. -sized, dark-
haired, pale -faced man, without a hat
and dressed in an overcoat and a black
pair of trousers staggering in an in-
toxicated condition across the street.
On accosting the inebriate the _latter
remarked that he was going home to
his house on Tar Lane, a small thor-
oughfare off Nazareth street. Think.
ing the man's .voice sounded feminine
the officer arrested the individual and.
took him to No. 7 station. There he
gave his name as James Mitchell, lab-
orer. On being searched, the man
was found to be a woman. At eleven
o'clock at night .a woman called at the
station and said, "You have arrested my
husband, I want to see him." Asked
what her name was she said that she
was Mrs. Mitchell and that she had a
bwelve-year-old son by Mitchell. That
they had lived on Tar Lane for twelve
years, and they had been married for
five years. Her son's name, she said,
was Sandy Mitchell. In the morning,
the alleged Jas. Mitchell, said that her
right name was Annie Thompson.
She also said that she had lived as a
man for the past five years on Tar Lane,
working as such and associating eneire-
ly with men. How the woman man-
aged to conceal the idenbity of her 'sex
for so long successfully is a mystery,
as for that period she has always been
o gTaro L as
a She by
ways0 smoked
a and
would get drunk,
The Recorder remanded her until next
Friday as the 'police wish to examine
her premises wbioh they say is full of
goods. They also claim to have strong
reasons for suspecting that the alleged
son is a girl.
Future Coal Mine for France.
A singular fact is recorded -namely;
that on the shores of Brittany, between
St. Malo and St. Lunaire, in the vici-
nity of the St, Enogab station, at a place
called Port Blanc, the tides have lately
displaced a considerable amount of sand,
say, to the depth of some nine to thir-
teen feet. Accompanying th 8 remark-
able phenomenon is the fact thatforests
known to have been buried for periods
covering some eighteen or twenty cen-
turies have now been brought to light
and a vast Lorcet has, it appears, been
discovered in 'the �process of transfor-
mation into coal. Feriae and the trunks
and barks of trees are to be seen in an
advanced state of decomposition, show-
ing, in tact, the films and flakes which
are found m coal, and, wbile some of
ell) trunks are sixteen feet in length
and still very distinct, they are becom-
ing rapidly transformed.,
The Cape of Good Hope Government
is contemplating the bestowal of a pen-
sio7p upon Lennard Jacobs, who found
the first diamond in the colony,
Jacobs, a Korannah, settled in Penlol,
now known as Barkly,'in 1800, 4Ger-
man missionary, K.allenberg, told bins
to look sharp for diamonds, explaining
to the ignorant Korannah the value
and appearance of the stones. Jacobs'
children soon after found several glit-
tering stones, Ono proved to be a real,
diamond. The oebera worn crystals.
Jacobs' wife, not knowing that any
particular value attached to the jewel,
exchanged It for calico. Jacobs' set
out on the trail' of the lucky trader,
and, finding him, forced him to return
the jewel. The Korannah's stone
was forwarded to Port Elizabeth,
where Sir Philip Wodehouse, the Gov-
ernor,
o
ornor, purchased it for £500; He named.
it the "Star of South Africa, and it
ink -1 hope -upright, a: she a beau- �o aur own interests -an - - o B
t u" o r a l , e t still.remains in his family, Jacobs,
lot, Far too well oda- marc Clarissa Peyton,"' says Dorian, tars, somewhat elude's', clutehin ;aim- after a lapse of two years, received e
airy desolate
to asebciate With those of her and humorodly, " Well, it to aoharm�, leerily at the quilt. "Poor Alice -poor bora), wagon, and some sheep as payer
oaten y
own class, she 38 still Out off by the gag scheme, you know ; but I don't think gist! ' It was uint day on the beach, inept. The man Is new an aotogenar-
laws of, eaate front mixing with those it will come off, In the fires place, when the waves were dancing, and the fate and in hearty health.
,
shops now stationed at Belleville,
Ills, E. Morgan, of Delhi, has paid out,
0 for eggs since January.
Joseph Fallowfield, of Brampton, has
Callen heir to $200,000 in England.
A 920,000 infirmary is being built in
connection with the Hamilton asylum.
A new settlement of Mennonites at
Didsbury, Manitoba, is progressing
finely,
A bicycle company has been organiz-
ed in Goderich with a capital of 9100,-
000.
The water hi the Holland River is
three feet lower than the ordinary
level.
Rev. Mr. Clatworthy, Troy, has ac-
cepted a call to the Leamington Bap-
tist church.
Montreal loses 940,000 by a change
of plans in a bridge agreement with
the C. P. R.
Rev. J. B. Duncan has resigned the
pastorate of the Perry Sound Presby-
terian church.
Amherstburg .is looking for a chief
of police who will serve for less: than
912 a month.
A mail bag stolen eight years ago has
just bean found in a chimney of the City
Hotel at Guelph.
The centennial anniversary of the set-
tlement of Searbore& township will take
place next June.
If the GIT.R. shops are removed from
Brantford the company must repay the
city 932,500 bonus.
The net debt of Canada,incressed by
90,292,000 from the 30th June, 1894,
and the 30th June, 1895,
The Gilford Good Towbars have de-
cided that 40 chickens are. more profi-
table
table to a farmer than one cow..
Two peach trees in a Kingsville or-
chard which always boyo blood -red fruit
this year produced whibo peaches.
R. D. Grant, of Glencoe, Ont., has been
appointed second assistant on the staff
of the collegiate school at Portage la
Prairie.
It is seed that Jacobs & Sparrow are
endeavouring to secure the site of the
TT,,ecenily burned, opera house in St.
Catharines.
over $14,00
The late Mr. Mellanley' of Port Col-
borne, bequeathed 920,000 oto bhe Metho-
dist, church, $$10,000 to the superannua-
tion and a like amounb to the home
missions.
Michael Connolly has settled his claim
with the city of St. John, N.B., for $15,-
781 for improvements to the west side
of the deepwater wharf: The original
claim was 944,000.
Bicyclists in '4Palkervillo are restriot-
ed by e, recent by -low' from riding fast-
er than eight miles an hour within the
limits of the town. They must sound
a boll at corners and erossmgs at night.
The maximum fine for conviction is $20.
G. Gold, of Kerney, has'a hen wbioh
lays a sholless egg the shape of the
figure eight, the yolk being 111 one end
and the white in the other end. James
Week of the same place has a giant
potato so far as vines are concerned.
The vines spread oub would easily 1111,a
waggon box, some of them bemg six
feet long and as thick as a broom
handle.
A Cold Winter Predicted,
A famous and venerable weather
prophet of Easton, Pa., known as
Uncle Josh Welton, in accordance
with a long-established • custom, has
issued a bulletinregarding the com-
ing winter. He
predicts that it will
come early and stay late, and will be
remarkable for high winds, tremend-
ous storms, deep snow, and cold of the,
Polar variety. As reasons for his pre-
diction, he says that the leaves hang
on the trees regardlessof frosts and
strong winds, the crickets stopped
singing early, chipmunks have laid in
a great supply of provisions, the corn
has a remarkable thick coat of busk,
cranberries possess peculiar acerbity,
the" chestnut hurts are lined with un-
usually thick fur, and the goose bone
is meetly white, Uncle r f
josh I hong
oured in his own county, hi
neighbours say that his predictions
are always fulfilled. His latest is cer-
tainly nbt a very cheering one,