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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-3-20, Page 2THE VICAR'S GOVERNES' C'17.11r•PEIt XXIII (Conti:Med)a Bransec nts, who le standing be her, hero turns his head to look stead- fastly at her.' His blue eyes are almost black, his lips are compressed, his taco is very pale. Not an hour ago she had promised him his tenth deuce, Ile had asked her for it he haste, even as k e went by her with another part- ner, nor, and she had smiled consent, Will she forget it? "With pleasure," she says. softly,gaY- 1y, her usual lovely smile upon her lips, Sheds apparently unconscious of any one except her old new friend, IaennedY pats her name down upon his oard. At this Dorian makes one step Cor - ward, as though to protest against something—some iniquity done; but a sudden thought striking him, he draws 'back, and, bringing his teeth upon his exnder lip with some force, turns elx- •ruptly away, When next he looks to Oxer direction, he finds both Georg and her partner have disappeared, The night wanes. Already the "keen stars that falter never," are dropping ,one by one, to slumber, perfect and serene. Diana, tired of her ceaseless !watch, is paling, fading, dyiug imPer- meptibly, as though feeling herself soon to be conquered by the sturdy morn, Dorian, who has held himself care- tully aloof from Miss Broughton since that last scene, when she had shown herself so unmindful of him and his just claim to thedance then on the cards, now, going up to her, says, cold- ly,— "I think the next is our dance, (Liss Broughton." •Georgie, who is laughing gayly with YIr. Kennedy, turns her face to his ,some surprise mixed with the sweet - mess of her regard. Never before has he addressed her in such a tone. "•,s it?" she says gently. "I had for- ,go,..en; but of course my card will tell." "One often forgets, and one's card .doesn't always tell," replies he, with a :smile tinctured with bitterness. She opens her eyes and stares at him ,blankly, There is some balm in Gil- ead, he tells himself,. as he sees she is totally unaware of his meaning. Per- haps, after all, she did forget about that tenth dance, and did not purpose- ly fling him over for the mon now be- side her, who is grinning at her in a supremely idotic fashion. How he hates a fellow who simpers straight through everything, and looks always as if the world and he were eternally at pence! " ' • She flushes softly,—a gentle, delicate flush, born of distress, coldness from oven an ordinary friend striking like ice upon her heart. She looks at her card contusedly. , "Yes, the next is ours," she says, without raising her eyes; and then the band bogies again, and Dorian feels her hand upon his arm, and Kennedy bows disconsolately and disappears amid the crowd. "Do you particularly want to dance this?" asks Dorian, with an effort. "No; not much." "Will you come out into the gardens instead? I want—I must speak to you." "You may speak to me here, or in the garden, or anywhere," says Georgie, rather frightened by the ve- hemence of his tone. She lets him lead her down the stone steps that lead to the shrubberies out- side, and from thence to the gardens. .The night is still The waning moon - flight clear as day. All things seem ,halm and full of rest,—that deepest ,rest that comes before the awakening. "Who is your new friend?" asks he, •abruptly, when silence any longer has "become impossible. Mr. i eunedy. He is not exactly .a fr.all amyife and he w sim one ight before in very kind to :me." "One night!" repeats Dorian, ignor- ing the fact that she has yet something .more to say. One night! What an impression"—unkindly—"he must have made on that memorable occasion,to account for the very warm reception .accorded to him this evening!" She turns her heed away from him, but makes no reply. "Why did you promise me that dance if youdidn't mean giving it?" he goes on, with something in his voicethat resembles passion, mixed with pain. "I certainly believed you in earnest when you promised it to me." "You believed right; I did mean it. Am I not giving it?" says Georgie, be- wildered, her eyes gleaming, large, and troubled, m the white light that il- luminates the sleeping world. "It is your fault that we are not dancing now. I, for my pert, would muck rather bo inside, with the music than out here. with you, when you talk so unkindly." I have no doubt that you would rather be anywhere than with me," says Dorian, hastily; "and. of course this new friend is intensely interest- ing." "At least he is oat rude," says Miss ,Broughton, calmly, plucking a pale green branch from a laurestinus near her. I am perfectly convinced he is one of the few faultless people on earth," says Brancombe, now in a white heat of fury. , "1 shouldn't dream of aspir- ing halevel. en hitm the dance you promised me." "I didn't," says Miss Broughton. in - o dignantly, in all good faith. els the to dance half an hour •given me before?" "The tenth 1 You might as well speak about the hundred and tenth! Tf it wasn't on my card how could remember it?" But it was on your card: I wrote it ,down myself." I am sureyou are making a mis- take," Broughton, h.ton y, Miss ,thou,'' says g though, in her present frame of mind, I think she would have dearly liked to +tell him he is lying. ; "Then show me your card. If I have 'blundered in this matter I shall go on my knees to beg your pardon. I don't want you on your knees," —pettishly. I detest a man on his knees, he always looks so silly. As for my card,"—grandly—"here It is." :Dorian, taking it, opens it, and run- ning his eyes down the small cohimns, stops short at number ten. There, sure enough, is "D. 13,," in very large capi- tals indeed, "'ea see." he says, fooling himself, as lie eve it, slightly un eneroes, "I am very 5011y," says 1)115s 13roegh- ton, standing far away from a Mee. and with little quiver in tier n bave behaved nbadly, I now see. But X did not moan it" She has grown very pale; her eyes are dilating; her round- ed arms, soft and fair' and lovable es a little child's, aro gleaming snow-white against the background of ebining lour- el leaves that are glittering behind her in the moonlight. Her voice is quiet, but her eyes are full of angry tears, and her email glovedbands clasp and unclasp eaob other nervously. "You have proved me in the .wrong," she goes on, with a very poor attempt at coolness, "and, of course, justice is on your side, And you are quite right to say anything that is unkind to me; and—and I hate people who are always in the right," With this she turns, and, regardless of him, walks hurriedly, and plainly full of childish rage, back to the house, Dorian, stricken with remorse, fo1• lows her. "Georgie, forgive me! I didn't mean it; 1, swear I didn't!" be says, calling her by her Christian name for the first time, and quiteunconsciously, Don't leave me like this; or, at least, let me "Lave lights upon the hearts, end straight we feel' More worlds of wealth gleam in 00 u11- turnod eye Than hr the rich heart or the miser Ms" "I thought I told you not to come," oars Mies Broughton, .still frowning. 1 m sure yea slid net," eontrpdii ats Ito eegerlyl "you said, rather unkindly, 1 must confess,—but stili you said it; 'Catch me if you can,' 11)01 was the command, 1 have obeyed it, And 1 have caught yon. "You knew 1 was not speaking liter- ally," said Miss Broughton, with some wrath, 'The idea of your supposing smelly meant you to catch mel 'S,oa couldn't have thought It," "Well, what was I to think? You. certainly said it. So x came, 1 believe ed"—humbly--"it was the best thing to do." "Yes; and youfound me sitting -as— . I was and singing at the top of my voice, How I dislike people" - says Miss Broughton, with fine disgust— •'who steal upon other people un- awares!" • 1 didn't steal; I' regularly trampled" —protests Branscombe, justly lnd:g„uant —"right over the moss and ferns, and the other things, as hard as ever I could. If blue -bells won't crackle like dead leaves it isn't my fault, is it? I hadn't the ordering of them!" "Oh, yes, it is every bit your fault,," persists she, wilfully, biting, with en- chanting grace largely tinctured with viciousness, the blade of grass she is call tomorrow and explain," holding. "I don't want to see you to -morrow Silence, of the most eloquent, that or any other day," declares Miss Bruu- last for a full minute, even until the ghton, with canel emphasis, not oven unoffeuding grass is utterly 'consumed, turning her head to him as she speaks. Perhaps ou would rather I went But you shell see me to -morrow,' ex- claims be, seizing her hand, as she reaches the conservatory door, to de - fain her, You will be here;,I shall come to see you. I entreat, I implore you not to deny yourself to me." Rais- ing her hand he presses it with passion- ate fervor to his lips. Georgie, detaching her band from his grasp,� moves away from him. "'Must is for the queen, and shall is' for the king,' " quotes she. with a small pout, "and to-morrow—oatoh me if you can! with frowns slightly, and a sud- den movement, getting behind a large floweing shrub disappears from his gaze for the night. CBA,P.TER XXIV. "But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, Is first and passionate love; it stands alone," -Byron. Next day is born, lives, grows, deep- ens; and, as the first cold breath of even declares itself, Dorian rides down the avenue that leads to Gowran. Miss Peyton is not at home (he has asked for her as in duty bound), and Miss Broughton is in the grounds some- where. This is vague. The man off- ers warmly to discover her and bring her back to the house to receive Mr. Branscombe; but this Mr. Branscombe will not permit. Having learned the direction in which she is gone, he fol- lows it and glides into a region where- in only fairies should have right to dwell. A tangled mass of grass, and black- berry, and fern; a dying sunlight, deep and tender; soft beds of tawny moss Myriad bluebells are alive, and, spread- ing themselves, far and wide, in one rich carpeting (Whose color puts to shame the tall blue of the heavenly vault above), make one harmonious blending with their green straight leaves, Far as the eye can reach they spread, and as the light and wanton wind stoops to caress them, shake their tiny bells with a coquettish grace, and fling forth perfume to him with a lavish will. The solemn trees, that "seem to hold mystical oonveise with each other," look down upon the tranquil scene that, season after season changes, fades away, and dies, only to return again, fairer and fresher than of yore. The fir -trees tower upward, and gleam green -black against the sky. Upon some topmost boughs the birds are chanting a paean of their own; while through this "wil- derness of sweets"—far down between its steep, banks (that are rich with trailing ivy and drooping bracken)— runs a stream, a slow, delicious, lazy stream, that glides now over its moss - grown stones, and anon flashes through some narrow ravine dark and profouud. As it runs it babbles fond love -songs to the pixies that, perchance, are peep- ing out at it, through their yellow tresses, from shady curves and sun- kissed corners. It is one of May's divinest efforts,— a day to make one glad and feel that it is well to be alive. Yet Branscombe, walking through this fairy glen, though conscious of its beauty, is conscious, too, that in bis heart he knows a want not to be satisfied until Pate shall again bring him face to face with the girl with whom he had parted so unamic- ably the night before. Had she really meant him not to call to -day? Will she receive him coldly? Is it even possible to find her in such an absurd place as this, where positive- ly everything seems mixed up together in such a hopeless fashion that one can't see further than one's nose? Per- haps, after all, she is not here, has re- turned to the house, and is now— Suddenly, across the bluebells, there comes to him a fresh sweet voice, that thrills him to his very heart. It is hers; and there in the distance, he can see her, just where the sunlight falls athwart the swaying ferns. She is sitting down, and is leaning forward, having taken her knees well into her embrace. Her broad hat is tilted backward, so that the sunny straggling hair upon her forehead can be plainly seen. Her gown is snow- white, with just a touch of bleak at the throat and wrists, a pretty frill of soft babyish lace caresses the throat. Clear and happy,, as though it were a free bird's, her voice rises on the wind and reaches Branscombe, and moves him as no other voice ever had—or will ever again have—power to move him, "There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion -flower at the gate; She is coming, my dove, my dear; She Is coming, my life, my fate." The kind wind brings the tender pas- sionate love -song to him, and repeats it in his ear as it hurries onward: "My dove, my dear." How exactly the words suit herl he says them over and over again to himself, almost losing the rest et the music which she is still breath- ing forth to the evening air. "lily libel my fatel" Is she his life, —his fate? The idea makes him trem- ble. Has he set his whole heart upon a woman 'who perhaps can never give him hers in return? The depth, the intensity of the pwwith which he ssion r repeats the words 01 her song astonish- es and perplexes him vaguely, is she indeed his fate? He is quite close to her now' and she, turning round to him her lovely flower- like Lace, starts perceptibly, and, springing to her feet, confronts him with a little frown, and it sudden deepening color that spreads from chin to brow; At this 'moment he knows the whole truth. Never has she appeared so dr sizable in his eyes. Life with her means happiness more than falls to the Int of most; lite without her, an inter- minable blank, away'," says lv1r. Branscobe,. stiffly, aee- ing she will not speak. He is staring at her, and is apparently hopelessly af- fronted, "Well, perhaps I would," returns she, coolly, without condescending to look at him. "Good-by,"—icily. "Good-by,"—in precisely the same tone and without changing her position half an inch. Branscombe turned away with a pre- cipitancy that plainly betokens hot haste to be gone. Ile walks quickly in the home direction, and gets as far as the curve in the glen without once look - Ing back. So far the hot haste lasts, and his highly successful; then it grows cooler; the first deadly heat dies away, and, as it goes, his step grows slower and still slower. A severe struggle with pride ensues, in whoih prdie goes to the wall, and then he comes to a stand -still. Though honestly disgusted with his own want of firmness, he turns and gazes fixedly at the small white -gown- ed figure standing, just as he had left her, among the purple bells. Yet not exactly as he had left her; her lips are twitching now, her lids bave fallen over her eyes. Even as he watches the soft lips part, and a smile comes to them, an open, irrepressible smile, that deepens presently into a gay, mischievous laugh. that rings sweetly, musically upon the air. It is too much. In a moment he is be- side her again, and is gazing down on her with angry eyes. "Something is amusing you," he says. "Is it me?" Yes," says the spoiled beauty, mov- ing back from him, and lifting her lids from her laughing eyes to cast upon him a defiant glance. 1 dare say I do amuse you," exclaims he, wrathfully, goaded to deeper anger by the mockery of her regard. "I have no doubt you can find enjoyment in the situation, but I cannot! I dare say"— passionately—"yea think it capital fun to make me fall in love with you,—to play with my heart until you can bind me hand and foot as your slave,—only to Piing me aside and laugh at my ab- surd infatuation when the game bas grown old and flavorless. He has taken her hand whether she will or not, and, I think, at this point, almost unconsciously, he gives her a ,gentle little shako. 1 But there Is a limit to all things," be goes on, vehemently, "and here, now at this moment, you shall give me a plain answer to a question I am going to ask you." He has grown very pale, and his nos- trils are slightly dilated. Sho has grown very pale, too, and is shrinking from him. Her lips ars white and trembling; her beautiful eyes are large and full of an undefined fear. The, passion of his tone has carried her away with it, and bas subdued within her all desire for mockery or mirth. Her whole' face has changed its expres- sion, and has become sad and appealing. This sudden touch of fear and entreaty makes her so sweet that Dorian's ang- er melts before it, and the great love of which it was part again takes the upper band. PRACTICAL FARMING, IT AND HOW X GROW. PEAS,. "La the first piece peas are a money crop, as at present the supply of peas is nearly all used for seed, a good sam- PIO''selling readily at one dollar a bush- el. In Canada largo quantities aro grown and sold to millers who mantis feature thein into ' split peas,' whloh there 10 a good foreign and do. mestio market," says a Writer in Miohi' gen Farmer, " They are a cheaply grown crop as they require no enlace - tier' and if you aro a ' raiser of swine,' they require no harvesting or at least very little, 11 you have bogs enough so you are sure they can clean your field of peas all up, why turn them Lnl otherwise, you had better draw in part of the crop for threshing or future feeding. Their feeding value is ' Par ex- eellencs; ground into a 'pea meal, you have a very strong feed, lees liable to cake in the stomach' of young stock than cornmeal, but for general feeding mixing with bran gives the best satis- faction. I see a correspondent consider- ed pea straw equal to clover bay for cattle. I don't think, quality being equal, that it is, still I would rather have a good pea straw than poor clov- er hay ; pea straw is quite a relish for sheep • they thrive and winter well on it, only a little grain at lambing time being necessary. Farmers who bave no seeding, or whose outlook for a hay crop is poor, should try a crop of peas, and cut and cure green for hay or pasture them. I sold my hogs a little before I expected this fail and consequently there wore quite a few peas left, which sprouted after a rain and came up as a volunteer crop quite late this fall, withstood several frosts and made a nice lot of pasture for cows. Peas and oats sown together in the spring'make g an early and valuable forage crop. 1 have read of this crop being raised for the silo ; I have never tried it myself. It don't seem possible that a reader of the Farmer could have a ' run down farm,' after enjoying so much excellent reading on farm ailed soil improvement. Still, youmay have a field which wants i help, or f you intend to summer fal- low, try a field of peas to plow under • youwill be well pleased and repaid. Their fertilizing nature is the same as clover, and only those wile nave grown peas, know the excellent condition they leave the soil in after harvest. To. raise peas successfully the soil should be wets prepared (which should be done for any crop); this enables the vines to shoot up rapidly, which in case of a drought are soon able to provide shade for the ground and in a great measure retard evaporation hs, capillary action. I have always had the best success rais- ing the small Canadian varieties, one of 1211101, the Golden Vine, yielded thir- ty bushels to the acre for me last sum- mer. 11 you wish to turn your hogs into your peas, sow your seed as early as the season will permit. If you wish to thresh your peas, don't sow them before the first of June or they will be very. buggy and unfit for seed. The amount of seed to the acre depends a good deal on the richness of the soil, strong mellow land requiring less seed than light soil ; from one and a half to two bushels of seed to the acre will be found about right. They should be put in with a drill the same as wheat, etc. My mode of harvesting peas is this: take a horse -rake and starting into the field, go around the field, dumping quite closely together; after going around the field, start back followed by a smart man or boy; catch each bundle or roll and draw it a short distance to- ward the next roll; this will loosen it and your man or boy can roll it over out of the way'of your next trip. They pull best when fairly ripe and after a rain, when the vines have had time to dry. After drawing your crop off, turn your bogs in, they will take care of any that shell or are left. Anybody who is used to pulling peas with a scythe, can harvest them as cheaply as you can cut a field of grain with the binder." mpulsively he takes her in his arms, and draws her close to him, as though he would willingly shield her from all evil and chase the unspoken fear from her eyes. Don't look at me like that" he says, earnestly. ' I deserve it, I know. I should not have spoken toou as I have done, but I could not help it. You made me so miserable—do you know how miserable? — that 1. forgot you 1vi11 surely marry me." This sudden change from vehement reproach to as vehement tenderness frightens Georgie just a little more than the anger of a moment since. Lay- ing her hand upon his chest, she draws back from him; and he, seeing she real- ly wishes to get away from him, in- stantly `releases her. As if fascinated, however, she never removes her gaze from his, although large tears have risen, and are shining, in her eyes. "You don't hate me& I won't believe that," says_ Branscombe, wretchedly. "Say you w111 try to love me, and that you will surely marrly Inc." At this—feeling rather lost, and not knowing what else to do—Georgie cov- ers ber face with her hands, and bursts out crying. it is now'Bransoombe's turn to bo frightened, and he does his part to per- fection. He is thoroughly and desper- ately frightened. "I won't say another, word," he says, hastily,, 'I won't, indeed. sly dearest, what have I said that you should be so distressed? I only asked you to marry me." "Well, I'm sure I don't know what more you could have said," sobs she, still dissolved in tears, and in a tone full oP injury. But there wasn't any harm in that," protests he, taking one of her hands from her face and pressing it softly to his lips. It is a sort of thing" (ex- pansively)"one does every day." Do you do it every day?" "No; I neverdid it before. And"(ver gently) . "you Will answer me, won't you?" No answer, howover,, is vouchsafed, "Georgie, say you will merry me." (To Bo Continued,) By chance it has been discovered that even the most dolieate tracery 01 petals of flowers can be reproduced in metal. During the trial of a new fuse the other day, a small leaf fell between a dynamite cartridge and an iron block on which the cartridge was fired, As a result a perfect imprint of the leaf was loft on the iron, LITTLE THINGS. Great results often depend as much on the small details as on the greater parts. The short small brace in the framework oP a building is as essential us the Live greater beams which it ren- ders more firm in their place. A score of other minor parts contribute to make up the completeness and utility ofany considerable structure. . - In attention to the live stock there is almost daily call tor new vigilance, an a breeding farm. A little neglect of the fences or gates, and a failure to foresee possible trouble from incomplete construction of breeding pons for the stock, brings an increase in the herds or flocks at an undesirable season. In a word, disaster follows a lack of meth- od. An hour of hard thinking and plan- ning could have saved hundreds 01 dol- lars of loss, it followed by a few hours' for energetic work. The right action at the right time is the call of success. Breeder, is your lamp of knowledge and experience now trimmed for the care of the young creatures that, are entrusted somewhat to your attention? Can you not improve on the methods of your former years in the direction of attaining better results? Probably one who reads this has met with losses fre- quently, of his young stock. 'There was a mistake somewhere, awl effort now may avoid this again. Has the dam prospective of every doming youngster it reserved stall for herself that is warm clean and dry ; and is the food adapted to the animal's condition? More inm- portant, too, is the question 01 exercise the confidence attention, animal in man as her friend. The aged successful breeder can sug- gest to a younger man numerous items, which an article In print could not fully li impress on the understanding. Such conversational teaching is indispensable, if one would succeed. Iiow did the sue- ressful breeder attain his distinction? The beginner must question him time and again to learn the details of his pro- gress. apparently, aro Many small affairs a I P y yyg to be considered. Moderately liberal feeding for the two months previous L•o delivery is demanded along with care that the food is relished and properly digested end. assimilated. Perfectly nor- mal condition of the entire system of the animal is to be sought, especially the tempering of the nerves by judi- cious food, excreiso and handling, The seat of most trouble is usually. derang- ed condition of the bowels, By exercise of brain, hand and heart, and by borrowing experiences, as well as by judicious use of one's best pow• ers, success is assured, 1 MiA 20, 1890 WINTER W1UNIf=ES, Tafichex "What }vas ,roan of Arc dust „ mal a rig pup a MA,Y'S SUNDAY -SCHOOL LESSON, Welt. Castleton— ti 1)y, Willie, �Witle ting, YOUNG FOLKS. d f?" Brigid', it "M de of .. - Willie—"1 knew you Were corrin to- May stood by the window, pall lie- OSister )pas been as cop vii the of and d rumorthe on ;,e pane. arneen,," 2 "I think It's too bad," she said la "Da you behove in luck 1" "lot ehould mamma, who sat sewing• sa,v 90 ; snare last nl ht blow off my Dot neighbor's,walk andICtcd in the full f r length of Milne 1 ' `,!'here Was once a Professor who, bo- 1ug eskaci what hs know upon a eer- taln subject, replied, Nothing; I hove not even lectured on it.' "Poli wily do you 0011 the estoxn, house texas a duty ?" "Rr--1 guess Lt is because every body takes such great de- light in dodging it. )Jr. Pills—"Who was the"most teuceeas- 1al of• all the girls lvho werq study105 modimne with you?" Dr, Sc1uL11s ' m Estehem; she got married!' "I had rather you svould mins! ' o or a , while I finish this," analve - cd mamma, who looked tired, 'tBut you said you always wanted mo Ps study my Sunday School lesson be - fors Sunday, and' now 1 want to, and Yon Won't let me, and Ida will wonder why I do not came over, Dot's all right, playing with her blocks: I shnk you wwm and stuoulddythi, and Idaould will beant soe disaptogo- Pointed, when I sail I would come." "You are the only doctor who advises ; Well, then, May, go," said mother me to stay at„home. All the others say ' quietly, end turned to her work with- 3',ought to go to a winter resort." 1 out another Word. May looked' at her suppose they have all the .patients they to see if she really meant it; for she want," Lawyer (a few years hence) -"make could hardly believe she had made` maen- your mind easy. The jury will (Liss ma see the/thing as she saw it. And aBice, "Prisoner- "Baro ?" Lawler— she was not quite sure she bad, -when "T ,know it,; Two.. of the . members aro man and wife " running by the window, she noticed Ardent Lover—" If you could see fait heart, Belinda, you would know bow fondly—' Cp-to date Girl (producing a emera)--"I intend to see it Hiram. Sit still, please Sbo-"He Whistled as he went for want of thought. 01 course it was a boy. You wouldn't find a girl whist- ling for want of thought. He—" Ne; she wouldn't whistle; she'd talk:' Bland—"What' is the trouble between Alice and Rate?" Ethel—" Why, you see. Alice asked' Hate to tell her just what she thought of her." Maud— "Yes'?" Ethel—"Kate told her." "Man wants but little hero below"— So runs the good old song; If he but advertises, though, He doesn't want that long. He—" Oh, dear! I wish I could get hold of some good biscuits like mother And I used to make o ke f r nue 1" —'' A wish I could get some good clothes like father used to buy for me." Charles—" Really, I think that Miss Gray takes a good' deal of interest in me." Henry—".But you should remem- ber that where the interest is large se- curity is apt to be pretty poor." " Ah 1 that's a great ;tram"ex- claimed the tenor who was: exercising his voice in his bedroom, A. great strain it is," replied his room mate, " on those who have to listen to it." Mrs. Hicks—" I'd like to know what you could have to say to that disreput- able -looking dog-catcher." Hicks—" I told him if your poodle got lost to come around and 1 would give him a dollar." ":She—" Do you think that Mr. War- rington still loves his wife V" lie— " Loves here 1 should say 3m did. Why, if she should use his best razor for a can -opener, Warrington would potcom- plain.' Visitor (hearing the piano in the next room)—" is that your daughter 1. She appears to bo playing with only one hand." Gentleman of the house—" Yes ; her fellow is probably playing with the other." Hoax—" My wife and some of her friends aro going to organize .a secret society." Joax—" Nonsense 1 The idea of women in a secret society," hoax— ' You misunderstand. They are to meet to tall secrets." "1 would be mighty wiilin' to work," Mr. Dismal Dawson explained, ' 11 I was only able." ' You look able-bodied enough," said the sbarp-nosed lady: " What is there to prevent you work- ing?" " Me pride." "Doctor, my father wanted me to study ,medicine but I wouldn't have made a successful physician." " Indeed! Why not, pray?" ' Because I could not have felt a lady's pulse without caus- ing heart trouble." " I am going to propose to Miss Jlnk- les," said Whykins thoughtfully. "Has she given you any encouragement!"' 'I should say so. Why, she is afraid I am spending too much money for bouquets and matinee tickets." Sissy—" Say, auntie, dear, you're an old maid, aren't you?" Aunt Emma— (hesitatingly)—" Certainly, Susy : but it is not nice of you to ask such a ques- tion." Susy-" Now, don't be vexed, auntie; I know it isn't your fault." "I can overlook his past."' sighed the grieved and mortified young wo- man, after a careful inspection of the ring she had just received from her lov- er, ' but' I own I am bitterly disap- pn innted d waswit h s present." The dia- mamma had dropped her work and bad taken Doc, who was fretting, : in her arms, But she ran down the street and gayly trilled by Ida's house, es she wont up the path, The 'door opened, and a bright-eyed little girl stood there smiling, clad m a long-sleeved apron, "It's you, May," she said glancing at the quarterly May held. I am so sor- ry to disappoint you, but mamma asked. me Co clean the silver this afternoon, as Maria is away. Just look at my hands 1 I knew you would be disap- pointed, too, but I thought you would. understand why X wanted to help mam- ma; you have suoh a dear ons. of your own, So we will have to wait till next week. And • mamma said she would help me herself to -night, and that will be pay enough. I must not stay any longer now. Come in, won't you?" May declined, and as elhe door closed on Ida's bright face, stets walked slowly toward home, rolling her lesson quar- terly, and thinking very hard. As she turned into the yard she heard Dot crying, and going past the window, she saw mamma's work still on the floor, and the baby in her arms. "Back again so soon?" said mamma, as May entered. Dot stopped crying to 'lock at her. "Yes" she faltered, putting off her hat, Ida couldn't study just now:" "Why 1" asked mamma. "'Cause. she seas—helping—her— mamma," burst out May, and running to her mother, she buried her head on her shoulder, while the sobs came fast. 0, is that it?" said mother comfort- ingly, stroking the yellow hair. "Well, May, you cando that as well as Ida. Here is Dot, who still wants sister ; and by-and-by when the sewing is done, and Dot is asleep, you and I will have the lesson together." May raised her head. "That's just what Ida and her mamma are going to do," she said surprised. "Is it not a good was, when Ida is toe busy to study with you?" "0, mamma," said May, coloring. "I did not mean to be so selfish. You know I'd rather you would help me than any one else. And perhaps it was because I wanted to see Ida more than it was the lesson." "I do not wonder ivou wanted to see a. little girl like Ida,' said mammawith a kiss; "I am glad you did." •AT THE DINNER TABLE Patiently await the coming of your turn ; do not follow with the eyes the food served to others. Never unneces- sarily handle the dishes, or in anyobher manner exhibit nervousness or impa- tience. Do not feel obliged to "clean up the plate;" especially do not make a laborious display of doing so. HOW TIGERS ARE NETTED. The Nel„ Are er cocoanut Plber—Nntlrrn 'MIT the 1155818. Tiger netting is never used, natur- ally, on the grass plains of Nepaui, but only in the state of Mysore, where it' is absolutely necessary, although it may seem unsportsmanlike, as the jungle is so impenetrably thick that the game cannot be captured otherwise. The nets, of which many are used, are made of half-inch rope. of cocoanut fibre with — a 9 -inch mesh, and are each about for- ty feet long by twelve feet in width. They are used in two different ways; Varieties of potatoes, to be profitably one is to surround the tiger with them grown, must be of recent origin. Even at night; and the other is to place then our newer varieties are not so produc- in line and drive the tiger into it, as be tive as when first introduced. The life will then try to break through and se of any given variety has been short-' entangle himself that he is easily spear- ened materially since the coming of the el by the natives, potato bug and the poisonous remedies applied for its destruction. For these reasons potatoes do not ripen perfectly. Mark the strongest hills, while grow- ing, and select the potatoes which are best from these hills. Such geed should easily be worth thrice as much a bush- el for planting as seed selected at ran- dom from a bin. If a farmer can once get started with seed of this nature it will require much less labor to fight there for two or three days, and often the potato bug. 'shot through the meshes, without a Mt toewfrom chance being given him to try and re- seedoswillvarieties yield muchofpotaheaviersgrocronps for gain his freedom. Coo or three years after Choir mtzo- The nets aro held up by forked stinks duction Chan they ever v ill again. It incllning towards the interior, and the pays, therefore, to give an extra price end near the ground is well pegged for seed in order to get the benefit from . down and logs of wood turned inside this vigor of the new variety before it it, the remainder being turned up, gay has deteriorated. netting • that for four feet above the ground the is, doubled. The tiger is then driven into a cul de sac formed of this THE WORLD'S TELEGRAPH WIRES. netting, and, the end is then quickly A German expert, after a careful esti- closed, terming a circle of about 800 mate, has announced that the total yards !n diameter. Then all the cit df about c. is cleared around it iu a belt length of telegraph lines in the world of about ten or fifteen feet in width'. is 1,002,700 miles, of which America After this the parties with choppers has 545,600 miles; Europe, 880,700; Asia, enter the enclosure and cut two .path* 07,400; Africa, 21,500, and Australia, 47,- across each other, so that by watching 500 miles. The United States has a these the exact locality into which the greater length than any other conn- tiger has moved can be easily asaar- try,408,900 miles,and. Russia comes next tained. This cutting of paths inside an although European Russia has only 81,- enclosure, with an enraged animal wan - 000 miles. The other countries follow daring about, would appear to those, wise in this order: Germany, France, Aus- do not know bis nature to be foolhardy trio -Hungary, British India, Maxiao, and inviting certain death, but as long the United I{ingdom, Canada, Italy, as the men keep well together a tiger Turkey, the Argentina Republic, Spain will not charge upon them. Should ha' yy point of proportion, bow - 1 Cluh. In enc I L have received a wound it is very difti- ever., Belgium leads with, 400 miles 01 cult to persuade the natives to venture wire for every 1,000 square miles of inside, •, . , ' 11:.1 ei bele; ,C,t1; ffi:,;li territory; Germany, comes next, with 850 miles; Holland is only slightly be- , , hind Germany, and the United Ring- A TRAMP'S LAMENT. dein has 280 miles of telegraph for l SELECTING SEED POTATOES, The only castes who take part in this sport are the "Oopligas," who use spears with handles about eight feet in length and blades three inches wide and twelve long. It is a very curious thing that tigers never attempt to jump ever these nets, which they very easily. could do. Panthers have often been known to. escape thus. When a tiger has been safely netted in, he is kept every 1,000 miles of country. Mrs. O'Donnell, one of the oldest resi- dents in Eastern Ontario, died on Fri- day at Brockville, Where she had lived continuously for fifty-seven years, She was ninety-six years of age. Perry Patettic—I see they air tryin' now to get forty-eight hours auto a do y. Wagworn Watson—Oh, sure, %them corporations would matte 0man work 500 hnnrg a clay of they could. This here forty-eight is jist a starter. { 1 1 a ii a; 1v G F T P 31 D IS Lt in erD 8( R, 1 II. ea AN A i• Ea, An, For He' Wl, Tb, An Ani Alii 1; He 11 One A Be It But 119 He Be' 0 The 1 rvhi Ile; But He Ancl The The The Hie And IleI 1Vitl Int, Ile ti