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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-7-17, Page 2F� 13317061114$ rosT. JULY 17, 1896 FATE'S INSTRUMENTS. 0HAPTBItII• hinsl tenguel4 t course eves very c l a. "HOW cooldT over have far atter?1 bg ewle0lp ro rel s mmha de vb 0 p } Olp , e T woman d n rule an exposer Of a 1 Walked .1 d cud as h P "I George al es- Very prohilln was no worse than Meny "`I rememiwr her clow as if it was y ether an role nnquast n y terday iso that'appar' Memory, like muoh e d t. man, le a queer tbing, an Ulna a the t 'e name of PeektaR had supplied b One lick missing in his reeolleotia i? had he ever forgotten How, indeed, pan a man forget his fleet brief any than bis first lova?-so like are more - they in their infinite promise, ere like be their very finite reenlist The picture was now cemPlote in his mind: the little, muggy court at Peek - ton; old Dawkins, his wig black with age, the rest of him brown with snuff; the fussy clerk; the prosecuting coun- sel, eon to the (same fussy clerk; he himself, thrusting bis first guinea in- to his: pocket with shaking hand and old beating heart (nervous before Daw! Imagine!); the fat, peaceful po- liceman; the female warrior, in her black straw -bonnet trimmed with dark -blue ribbons; and last of all, in the dock, young girl, in shabby, nay, greasy, black, with pale cheeks, disordered hair, and swollen eyelids, gazing in blank ter- ror on the majesty of the law, strange- ly trang ly expressed in the Recorder's ancient person. And, beyond all doubt of im- agination of a doubt, the girl was Gerald's bride, Neaera Witt. "I could swear to ber to -day!" cried George. She had scraped together a guinea for his fee. "I don't know where she got it from," the fat policeman said with professional cynicism as he gave it to George. "She pleads guilty and wants you to address the court." So George had, with infinite trepidation, addressed the court. The girl had a father -drunk when not starving, and starving when not drunk. Now he was starving, and she Iliad stolen the shoes (ohl the sordidness of it all!) to pawn, and buy food -or drink. It was a case for a caution merely-aud-and-and George himself, being young to the work, stammered.. and stuttered as much from emotion as from fright. You see the girl was pretty. A11 old Daw said was, "Do you know anything about her, policeman?" and the fat policeman said her father was a bad lot, and the girl did no work, and -- "That's enough," said old Daw; and, leaning forward, he pronounced his sen- tence: "I'11 deal lightly with you. Only" - shaking a snuffy forefinger -"take care you don't come here again! One calen- dar month, with hard labor." And the girl, gazing back at honest old Daw, who would not have hurt a fly except from the Bench, softly mur- mured, "Cruel, cruel, cruel!" and was led away by the woman in the black straw bonnet. Whereupon George did a very unpro- fessional thing. He gave his guinea, his firstborn son, back to the fat police- man, saying, "Give it her when she comes out. I can't take her money." At which the policeman smiled a smile that convicted George of terrible youth- fulness. It was all complete -all except the name by which the fussy clerk had call- ed on the girl tie plead, and which old Dawkins had mumbled out in senteuc ing her. That utterly escaped him. He was sure it was not "Neaera"-of course not Neaera Witt;' but not "Neaera Anything," either. He would have re- membered "Neaera." What on earth was it?" be asked himself as he unlocked his door and went upstairs. "Not that it matters Much, Names are easily changed." • George Neston shared his chambers in Half Moon Street with the Honor- able Thomas Buchanan Fillingbam Myles, commonly known (as the peer- age has it) as Tommy Myles. Tommy also had a small room in the Temple Chambers, where the two Nestons and Mr. Blodwell pursued their livelihood; but Tommy's appearances at the lat- ter not resortwe Geoow and. rge brief.much He Half Moon Street either, being a young man Much given to society of all sorts, and very prone to be in bed when most people are up, and vice versa. However, to -night he happened to be at home, and George found him with his feet on the mantelpiece, reading the even- ing paper. Well, what's she like?" asked Tom- my. She's uncommonly pretty, and very pleasant," said George. Why say more, before his mind was made up? 'Who was she? , pursued Tommy, rising and filling his pipe. Ahl I don't know. I wish I did." Anybody sere there?" matters to you. "Oh, a few people." "Miss Bourne "Yes, she was there." Tommy winked, sighed prodigiously, and took a large drink of brandy and soda. "Where have you been?" asked George, changing the subject. "Oh, to the Escurial -to a , vulgar, really a very vulgar entertamment- as vulgar as you could find in Lon- don." out again?" Are you going "My dear George. It's close , on twelve!" said Tommy, in reproving !tones. Or to bed?" eel ins. "No. George, you Hurt my feelings. Can it be that you wish to be alone?" "Well, at any rate, hold your ton- gue, Tommy. I want to think." my one word. Has she been cruel?" Oh, get out. Here, givemea drink." Tommy subsided into the Bull's-eye, that famous print whose motto is Lux in tenebris (meaning, of course, pub- licity in shady, places), and George st himself to consider what he had best in the matter of Neaera Witt, ore The difficulties of the situation w, obvious enough, but to George's mind the consisted not so muob in the ques- tiony of what to do as in that of how to do it. Ile had bean tolerably clear from the first that Gerald must not marry Neaera without knowing what be could tell him; if he liked to do it afterwards, well and good. But of course he would not. No Nestor would, tbought George,,wlio bad his fnll share of the family pride. Men of good family' made disgraceful marriages, it is true,. Int not with thieves; and anyhow no- thing of the kind was recorded in the Weston annals. How should he look hiss uncle and Gerald in the face if he held • great deal better -looking than most ethers. The whole position smacked un- Pleasantly' of melodrama, and George roust figure in the eharacter of t)ie villain, a villain with the best motives and the plainest duty, One hone only there was. Perhaps Mfrs, Witt' W°111/1- see the wisdom of a timely withdrawal. Surely she would. She could never face the atone, Then Gerald need know nothing about it, and six months' ire - vel -say to America; where pretty girls live -would bind up his broken heart. Only -again only -George did not much fancy the interview that lay before him, Mrs. Witt would probably cry, and be would feel a brute, and -- "Mr, Mr, Neston," announced. Tommy's valet, opening the door, Gerald had followed his cousin home, very anxious to be congratulated, and still more .anxious not to appear anx- ious, Tommy received him with effu- sion. Why hadn't he been asked to the dinner? MIght he call on Mrs. Witt? Ile heard she was a clipper; and so forth. George's felicitations stuck in his throat, but he got them out, hop- ing that Neaera would free him from the necessity of eating them up at some early date. Gerald was radiant, Ile seemed to have forgotten all about Peckton," though he was loud in de- nouncing the unnatural hardness of Mr. Blodwell's head, Oh, and the last thing Neaera said was, would George go an see bee? "She took quite a fanny to you, old man," bo said affectionately. "She said you reminded ber of audge," George smiled. Was Neaera practis- ing double entente on her betrothed? "What an infernally unpleasant thing to say!" exclaimed Tommy. "Of course I shall go and see her," said George -''to -morrow, if I can find time." 'So shall I," added Tommy. Gerald was pleased. He liked to see his taste endorsed with the approbation of his friends. It's about time old George, here, followed suit, isn't it, Tommy? I've given him a lead." Geotge's attachment to Isabel Bourne was an accepted fact among his ac- Suaintance. He never denied it; he did like her very much, and meant to mar- ry her, if she would have him. And he did not really doubt that she would. If he had doubted, he would not have been so content to rest without an ex- press assurance. As it was, there was no hurry. Let the practice grow a little more yet. He and Isabel under- stood one another, and, as soon as she was ready, he was ready. But long engagements were a nuisance to every- body. These were his feelings, and be considered himself, by virtue of them, to be in love, with Isabel. There are many ways of being in love, and it would be a want of toleration to deny that George's is one of them, althougb it others. iee certainly very unlike some of the Tommy agreed that George was wast- ing his time, and with real kindness filedlled Geraldhismind. back to the subject which Gerald gladly embraced the oppor- tunity. "Where did I meet her? Oh, down at Brighton, last winter. Then, you know, 1 pursued her to Man- chester, and found her living in no end of a swell villa in the outskirts of that abominable place. Neaera hated it, but of course she had to live there while house Witt won.as" alive, and she had kept the 'She wasn't Manchester -born, then'" "No. 1 don't know where she was born. Her father seems to have been a romantic sort of old gentleman. He was a painter by trade -an artist, I mean, you know, -landscapes and so on" "And went about looking for bits of nature to murder, eh?" asked Tommy. "That's about it. I don't think he was any great shakes at it. At least, he didn't make much; and at last he settled in Manchester, and tried to pick up a living, working for the dealers. Witt was a picture -fancier, and, when Neaera came to sell, lie saw, her, and-" "The late Witt's romance began?" - "Yes, confound. him! I'm beastly jeal- ous of old Witt, though he is dead." "That's ungrateful," remarked George, "considering--" "Hush! You'll wound his feelings," said Tommy. "He's forgotten all about the cash." It's all very well for you—" Ger- ald began. But George out in, "What was his name?" " Witt's? Oh, Jeremiah, I believe." "Witt? No. Hang Wittl The father's name." Ohl -Gale. A queer old boy be seems to have been -a bit of a scholar as well as an artist." "That accounts for the 'Neaera,' I suppose," said Tommy. "Neaera Gale," thought George. "I dont remember that." Pretty name, isn't it?" asked the infatuated Gerald. "Oh, dry ups" exclaimed Tommy. "We can't indulge you any more. Go home to bed. You can dream about her, you know." Gerald accepted this hint, and retired, still in that state of confident bliss that filled George's breast with trouble and m"II might as well be the serpent in Eden," he said, as be lay in bed, smok- ing dolefully. CHAPTER III. The atmosphere was stormy at No, 3, Indenture Buildings, Temple. 11 was four o'clock, and Mr. Blodwell had come out of court in the worst of bad tem- pers. He was savage with George Nes- ton, who, being in a case with him, had gone away and left him with no- body to tell him his facts. He was savage with Tommy Myles, who had refused to read some papers for him; savage with Mr. Justice Pounce, who badcut up his speech to the jury,- eou1oe, who had been his junior a hun- dred times! -savage with Mn Timms, his clerk, because be was always sav- age with Timms when be was savage with other people. Tommy bad fled before the storm; and now, to Mr. Bio dwell's unbounded indignation. George also was brushing his hat with the manifest intention of departure. In my time, rising juniors," said Mr. Blodwell, with sarcasm, "didn't leave chambers at four." Businese," said George, putting on his gloves. "Women," answered his leader, brief- ly and scornfully. It's the same thing in this case. I am going to see Mrs. Witt." Mr, Blodwell''s erson expressed mor- al reprobation. George, bowever, re- mained unmoved, and the elder man stole a sharp glance et him. I don't know what's up, George," he said, "but take care of yourself." "Nothing's up." "Theo. Why dad yon ,jump?" "Timms, a he.nsom, cried George. "I`ll be In court all day to-neorrow, and l ee you straight, sir." "ln Ideavon's namedo, That fellow Pounce le such a `bagger far dates, Now get out." Mrs. Witt was living at Albert Man- sions, the "swell villa" at Manchester naval gond to Vie Mr. Witt 10 entered, his only prayer was that mi ht not find Gerald in possession, He ha c no ver clear idea how to proceed in his un veer task. It must de - bo. S e was at awe, and, es .'gorge to pend on how sbe talres it," be said. Ger- ale was not there, but Tommy My woe, voluble,olieerful, and very 1114011et home, telling Neaera stories oR her lover's school -days. George chimed in as best he could, until Tommy rose to go regretting the conventionthat; drove one man to take his hat five minutes, at the latest, after another came M. Neaera pressed him to eome again, but con did venotntion, invite him totransgress the George almost hoped she would, far he was, as lie confessed to himself, 'funkhi it.. There were no -signs of anysue feeling in Neaera, and no re- petition of ,the appealing attitude she had seemed to take up the night before, "She means to bluff, m0,, thought George as be watched her sit down in a fade bowweiliairitha b large tanthe fire., and shade her 'It is," she bean, "so delightful to be welcomed by all Gerald's family and friends so heartily, I do not feel the least like a stranger." I came last night, hoping to join in that welcome,' said George, "Oh, I did not feel that you were a stranger at all. Gerald had told me so much about you." George rose, and walked to the end of the little room and bank. Then he stood looking down at his hostess. Nea- era gazed pensively into the fire. It was uncommonly difficult, but what was the good of fencing? "1 dsawerately. you recognized me," be said, elib In a minute. I had seen your pho- tograph." Not only my photograph, but my- self, Mrs. Witt." Have I?" asked Neaera, "How rude of mBrighton?„a to forget! Where was it? George's heart hardened a little. Of course she would lie, poor girl. He artistic lying, and Neaera's struck him as didnartistrc'tmind, that. But be did not like "But are you sure?" she went on. George decided to try a sudden at- tack. "Did they ever, give you that guinea?" he said, straining his eyes to watch her face. Did she flush or not? He really couldn't say. "I beg your pardon. Guinea?" "Come, Mrs. Witt, we needn't make it more unpleasant than necessary. I saw you recognized me. The moment Mr. Blodwell spoke of Peckton I rec- ognized you. Pray don't think I mean tov ba hard on you. I can and do make every allowance." Neaera's face expressed blank aston- ishment. She rose, and made a step towards the bell. George was tickled: She had the amazing impertinence to convey, subtly but quite distinctly, by that motion and her whole bearing, that she thought he was drunk. Ring, 11 you like," he said, "or, rath- er, ather, ask me, if you want the bell rung. But wouldn't it be better to settle the Ge matterzalcl:" now? I don't want to trouble I really believe you are threatening me with something!" exclaimed Nea- era, "Yes. by all means. Go on." She motioned him to a chair, and stood above him, leaning one arm on the mantel -piece. She breathed a little quickly, but George drew no inference from that. (To Be Continued.) STATESMEN IN BED. .low .lir, itt and the 00100 of Newcastle Consulted Togetlter, When, in the old days of trouble be- tween the English and French, there was talk of sending Admiral Hawke to sea to keep watch over the enemy's fleet, there occurred a notable interview. It was November. The weather was stormy and dangerous for vessels, and the government was not agreed as to Sending them out. 1 Mr. Pitt, who was in bed with gout, was obliged to receive those who bad business with him in his chamber. This room had two beds and no fire. The Duke of Newcastle came to him to con- sider the sending out the fleet, and had scarcely entered the room when be cried out, shivering all over with cold, "How is this? No fire?" " No," said Mr. Pitt. " When I have the gout, I cannot bear ono." The duke, wrapped in his cloak, took a seat by the invalid's bedside and be- gan talking ; but be found himself un- able to endure the cold. "Pray allow me I" he exclaimed, sud- denly, and without taking off his cloak, he buried himself in the other bed and continued the conversation. He was strongly opposed to risking the fleet in the November gales. Mr. Pitt was as absolutely resolved that it should put to sea, and both argued the mat- ter with much warmth. It was the only warmth, indeed, in the room. , I am positively determined that the fleet shall sail," said Pitt, accompany- ing his words with the most lively ges- ticulations. It is impossible 1 It will perish l" said the duke, with equal emphasis. At the moment the discussion wax- ed hottest another dignitary of the realm came in, and found it difficult to keep his ni, deliberating g countenance at the sight of two mion a mat- ter of so grave importance from such a novel situation. The fleet did put to sea, and Mr. Pitt's judgment proved to be right. The enemy was crippled, and a singular ad- vantage gained ---- DISLIKED THE FLAVOR. A farmer in Strong, Me„ has dis- covered a way to keep the crows from his corn. After be plowed the land he strewed corn about in a few places, which was picked up by the crows. He then strewed some more corn that bad been soaked in water in which was dissolved some strychnine. This was eaten by the crows and shortly after be never heard such a cawingin his life before. They seemed to be hold- ing a caucus, and evidently decided that the corn was not good, for he has not seen a crow on that corn field since, ABSOLUTE PROOF. A recruit, wishing to evade service, was brought up for medical inspection, and the doctor asked him: Have you any defects • Yes, air ; I am short sighted. i How can you prove t? Easily enough, doctor. Do you see that nail up yonder in the wall? Well, i don't. ?RAC IC; FAR 1 IN q. SUMMER PRUNING, "Most varieties of apple trees set in suitable sell grow a supsrabundent5 01 wood unless checked by judieiaus, prun•• ing, The young tree nogleeted he this particular tine first few year's after transplanting to the orchard- site is likely ever after to show the effects of tbo neglect," says a whiter, "Most varieties of apple trees nodal, good cultivation in a deep, congenial soil; makes a vigorous growth, and if not pruned soon develop too much top, Pear and plum trees aro less inclined to grow ri superabundance of branches: \Vith a majority of varieties of these fruits the main thing is to start the tree right when set, and but little cutting is called for other than to annually shorten In ,the leading shoots. "lin pruning two objects should bo kept in view -the regulation and form of the tree and later the production of fruit Winter pruning of young and vigorous trees should not be thought of'; cutting when the sap is dormant promotes growth of wood, a condition we desire to check rather than hasten. The trees should be allowed to . grow with just sufficient pruning to regulate the formation of the head, and this should be performed during active vegetation, a matter of some holier - tame in trees which are long ,lived. "These facts should be kept in mind by farmers and amateurs, that pruning the trees when the sap is dormant pro- motes growth of wood; pruning when the sap is active and the tree growing rapidly promotes the forming of fruit buds. "A mistake the inexperienced culti- vator makes when setting his fruit trees is in sparing the use of the knife and allowing too much top to remain. Frequently 1 pass gardens and newly - set orchards where the young trees are left with nearly twice the number of branches of which the roots will war- rant healthy development and growth. While in the nursery rows the side limbs contribute to the healthy growth. and development of the stock; but when removed from the nursery at, the proper age the shook of removal mei- dent to the loss of roots and more or less lacerated condition of those remain- ing requires, for the healthy and rapid recuperation of the tree, that then the top be cut back in proportion to the number and condition of the roots. There is little danger .of a too full use of the knife on young apple trees when reset from the nursery rows. When trees have been left to grow without pruning for a number of years after set in the orchard and then are taken in band with a pruning knife it is not an easy matter to make well -shaped trees of them. Also the severe cutting, sometimes necessary to effect the right shape, in the removal of large branches, gives the tree a shock from which it is a long time in recovering. The first thing to be thought of is the forming of the head of the tree a proper distance from the ground. Very low headed or- chard are generally a nuisance, espec- ially specially after the trees attain to large size. The leading branches should be high enough so that teams can pass near to the trees. The convenience of this will be apparent in spraying the orchard, in removing, the fruit and in cultivation of the soil. The endeavor in pruning. the young apple tree should be to retain only side branches which join the main stem at nearly a right angle. The variation in the habits of growthof different varieties often makes it difficult to train all the trees with one straight upright stem. A radical departure from this form, how- ever, invites disaster in after years by splitting down of crotched trees when laden with fruit or loaded with ice and snow. One cannot always accomplish the desired, and in this regard it is hard to form in the mind the appear- ance of the future tree from the small sapling before him. As a rule the ama- teur orchardist errs in allowing, too many branches to remain on his trees rather than too few. . MIL'LING. "This is one of the most important operations in the whole line of dairy work. You may be ever so careful in feeding and also with the milk, cream and butter, but if the milking is done in a careless or slovenly way the whole operation is likely to be unprofitable. In bbs first place," according to a writer, "the milker must have the con- fidence of the cow. If she does not trust her milker he will not get all the milk, that is certain. If the cow is a good one, of a nervous temperament, sbe may in a sudden 'huff' kick, and there will be open warfare thereafter to the material loss of the dairyman. Each cow has an Individuality, with a number of peculiarities. There is much nonsense written by people who never had hold of a cow's teats ane could not draw, a pint of milk in an nour, on the necessity of kindness to milking cows, eta. One writer fancifully says, treat a cow as you would a lady.' All ani- mals, cows included, have more or less intelligence. The baby cow should be named and always called by its name. She will soon learn to answer to it. Firmness must be used along with kindness. Train the heifer not to be afraid of you, but (when you speak ber name with emphasis) to obey ,you; you must be the master and she know it. You must also be master of your own temper. If you are not the cow will soon know it and that will be bad for both, When the heifer bas her first calf the greatest care and patience is required; she le in a nervous, excited and feverish state, Very likely when you first touch her udder sbe will kick, but you must somehow assure her that no harm is intended and that you only desire to minister to her comfort, as you always have done. Have a dry, smooth flannel cloth and very carefully rub the udder for a little while, which will somewhat allay the inflammation, and then milk very slowly and care- fully. Never dare to strike or hick her or even speak harshly to her. After milking her for a few weeks carefully and patiently you will find her per- fectly quiet and you can sit down, set the pailunder her with safety and pro- ceed. Soma cows are always gentle others are mischievous or have bac{ traits. Such must be watched . and treated exactly as yen would treat school boys who would not heed your words. I (very kindly) thrashed some of my vicious boys and it did lots of goal. It has the some result on cows, If your cow .kicks or will not stand, look for the cause first of all, The tents may he cradled, the udder sore. You. may be hurting her, When you come to milk the cow speak kindly to her, pat or stroke her kindly ; then sit down and wipe her udder perfeetly clean with a damp cloth. Don't Use any milk op, your hands for reelsture, That is filthy. Allow no foreign Matter to get Into ,your. Mille while Milking,Fast flanging m generally preferabe; but somecaws have such d011cate udders i that t is apt to hurt them, Be very Milk lk 10t. sura Coilk the cote al an, M in the udder tends to dry up the cow. So soon as the milk le drawn weigh it and note down the 01000nt. Have each milker do dila and if any cow falls be- low her customary, weight find the cause and remove it, It is often the milker's fault, Have a regular time of day to milk and milk the cows always in the same order, Let eeoh milker' have his particular cows and . always milk Those, liermic no unusualnoise tivl»le milking, as nervous cows will pot give down al! their milk and the milk will not contain so much fat in that case. Again I saybe cow 1$ an iniel- ligeamine't amine' and oho milker should be too." , NOBODY WOULD BORROW IT, i— The 1'ttlgn° Experience of the First stain to (au•iy 1111 tinibrell lei Ennulon. We have it .on good authority that Jonas I•Ianway, the eccentric philan- thropist, was the first person who walk- ed about the streets of London with an umbrella over his head. He was a man who did not want courage, as we know from _other deeds which ho did of a more dangerous sort. Being a Quaker, be was not afraid of sneers or jeering remarks, which Quakers have always had to encounter. Very like- ly he was both insulted and pelted when he appeared with his umbrella in some streets, for the constables of the reign of George III. did not keep order so well as our .modern policemen do. Probably ;good Mr. Hanway's original umbrella was even larger than those to which, in allusiofn to one of Dick- ens's tales, the popular name of "gawps" is often given by way of joke. The Georgian umbrellas are diseribed to us as being made of green oiled canvas, with cane. ribs which would not bear a strong gust of wind. Cowper, the poet, in his "Task," mentioned his umbrella as an article which people used to protect them from. the sun, because it was the fashion then to cut down many of the fine old trees of parks and groves, so that per- haps this was Hanway's first idea about it, that it made a good sunshade. Evidently the umbrella came to us from the East, where it is employed for that purpose, but. THE FRENCH HAD IT BEFORE US. This was one thing which made people dislike it, for French fashions were 'thought silly. telaoDonald, writing in A. D 1778, says that the London idlers and the hackney coachmen shouted after him when he carried an YOUNG FOLKS. ABOUT BADGERS, The badger, when full grown, Mae sures frons 2 1-2 to 8 feet in length, Naturalists toll 00 that be is related. to the hear family, He cerMinly does remind one ofa small bear, with his thick, round body, covered with ion hail', Isis big, short lege,. and Ills WIC - ward shuffliog.gait. He, too, is Planti- grade, the same as the bear. That is, he places the whole sole of the foot on the ground when walking, instead. of walking oil their toes, like the eat or dog. Tide manner of walking brings his body close to the ground and makes his legs' seem shorter than they real- ly are, It also accounts for his sham- bling gait.. In the West he is said to live to a great extent on prairie dogs; but It is difficult to understand how Ile Manages to catch such sharp, aotive" little fellows as they are, with his lazy ways. The badger has rather a long, point- ed nose. A white stripe runs from the nose through the center of the fore- head and terminates at the nape of the neck, On either side ot this stripe the face is black, while the body is a blackish gray, fading out on the un- der side to a dirty, yellowish white. His, home is a burrow in the ground. This he digs by first loosening the dirt with his pointed nose and then poking it back with hie fora feet. When quite a pile is collected under bum ha kicks it away with his hind feet, while he con- tinues digging with bis nose and fore • feet, At the end of his burrow, which le sometimes dug to quite a depth,he has a home, which, may consist of three or four apartments. In the one farth- est from the opening is always the bed, made of dry grass and leaves. One day with my dogs I was digging out a badger, and when with my help he was at last killed (he is a good fight- er and a bard biter), I turned to ex- amine his burrow, After a little more digging I found cuddled together,warm in their grass bed, two baby badgers. They wereblind, like young puppies, and cried pitifully when I picked them up. They were fat, roly-poly things, and would tumble over every minute when they tried to walk. Then they would cry, reminding one of a baby's first efforts at walking. I wished very much to raise them for pets. We bad at that time a mother dog with young puppies, and I took them to her kennel to try to persuade her to raise them. At first she growled and acted cross, but after I had stroked and petted her awhile, telling her bow much I wanted her to bring them up for me with her puppies, she allowed them to be putto the teat, and 1 left delighted, thinking my pian a success. Next morning I hurried out t0 see my bets. Just beton reaching the kennel saw the old dog some little distance umbrella, and called him a "mincing away on, the Hillside with ono of my badgers in her mouth. Hastily looking Frenchman." His sister was out ' into the kennel I found never a badger walking with him, and she was so i there, and turning, ran after the dog. much insulted that he bad to take re- When I reached her she was just bury- fuge in a shop. But I must say some- thing about Jonas Hanway, for he is worthy to be remembered, He was born at Portsmouth in A. D. of loose earth. This I dug into and 1712, and travelled about the world a l found it to be the grave of my other good deal, and published a book giv badger. She had killed them both,and ing an account of his travels in Persia. I was left to mourn their sad fate. With some other gentleman he found- A. L. Bennett. ed the Marine Society in 1756, which was intended to benefit beggar boys and orphans, by giving them an outfit and starting them as sailors upon trad- ing ships. He was himself a Russian merchant. Then be was one of the early friends of Sunday schools though the schools which be helped to start were different to those we have now ; they were the means of taming children who were like young savages. They heard the truths of the Bible and were taught to read. It was not till this century that a machine for sweeping chimneys was invented and the custom of employing boys as climbing sweep- ers gradually ceased, but before that Jonas Hanway did what be could to protect these poor little fellows. They bad often to go up chimneys on bitter cold mornings; sometimes they stuck fast and died, often they got bad bruises and sores from this dangerous work. Some of the timid ones, too, were always afraid of meeting bogies in the chim- neys. Even at the age of six or seven, children were so employed, because, when small, they could climb up nar- row chimneys better, and little girls were actually sent up sometimes. Mr. Hanway obliged the masters to feed these young sweeps properly, to have them washed after their work, and to give them beds, not dirty sacks, to sleep upon; also be got their hours shortened. When he was in London, Hanway lived during many years in a house in. Red Lion square, Holborn, and Im bad all the reception rooms there decorat- ed with beautiful paintings and de- vices. The reason he gave for this was a good one; he said that often visi- tors isitors did not know what to talk about, and these wall scenes gave them a subject, nag the little badger in a hole which she had dug in the side of the hill. A little way from her I noticed a pile THE WILY SEAL. Senate or Efts Caulmig Tricks-0klIrul Tact les. The seal is probably the clumsiest animal in the world. He likes to bask in the sun all`'day, and when be moves he is exceedingly sluggish and awk- ward. It has often been wondered bow this animal manages to secure its fa- vourita food, wild sea fowl. Sea gulls are so wild that it is diffi- cult even for man to get within gun- shot of one. The seal seems to realize that it would be a waste of time to at- tempt to crawl up upon the gulls, as they rest upon the everter and eatoh them unawares. So he watches until the gulls are soaring through the air close to the waves. Then the 'seal dives into the sea and swims underneath the water for some distance. By the time he has managed to swim about a hun- dred feet: the gull has forgotten time presence of its enemy. This gives the seal bis opportunity. He cautiously rises to the surface of the water at some distance from the point at which he dived, and allows merely the tip of his great nose to appear above the water. Remaining in this position, be gives his enormous body a rotary motion, so that bis nose ddscr"ibes a circle on the surface of the ocean. He does this so skilfully that to the gull his nose looks like a fish at play. 'this catches the gull's eye, and it at once darts down withrho speed of an arrow, aiming suralght for the little dot. The seal sees it coming and sinks a few inches, and as the gull strikes the water with. tremendous force the jaws close upward, and the grill disappears. TWO NEW GAMES. Shadow Buff. -This is a very amus- ing game, it is called Shadow Dull, and is full of incident. A sheet is hung across one side of the room, and the player who takes the part of 'Buff" sits facing it at about a yard or so distant. A lamp is placed on a table at the opposite side of the room, and the other players pass one by one be- tween the lamp andthe sheet, on which, of course, their shadows fall. From these shadows Buff is required to give the names of the individuals. The players may disguise themselves in any way they like -by sticking out their hair, altering their clothes, or improvising impossible collars. When the Buff guesses correctly, the player detected becomes Buff, and Buff joins the rest. Many Words in One. -A game which commends itself to many children and which seems at first almost like tragic, is called " Many Words in One," and isplayed thus: One of the company is 'asked t,p leave the room while the others settle upon some particular word which she must guess. Suppose the word to be ' Apple;" she is called in and stops before the first child in row, who at once says Arrow." She goes to the next, who says "Potato," the third says •"Post, the fourth says "Lozenge," and the fifth "Eagle," each taking care to mention a word whose first letter is one that is found in the word " apple" and to say them in regu- lar order. The guesser having heard all these words, pauses to think over their initial letters, and finds that,wben put together, they are A, P P,.L, E, and compose the word " apple," which she immediately pronounces; and it is then the turn of the one at the bead of the row to go out while a word is proposed. If most of the company are unacquainted with the play, the one at the head need not explain at first how the word is guessed, but she bad better tell her companions beforehand what words they are to say when the guesser comes in, and then they will be surprised at her guessing correctly, not thinking that it is from putting to- gether the initial letters. • AN OLD BUTLER'S FORTUNE. An amusing little history comes from the South of England. Three wealthy old ladies who lived in considerable state were accustomed to rely In every diffieulty upon their butler, who was what is known as a " treasure." This individual one clay gave a month's warning, and utter dismay fell upon the threw spinsters, At length they de- aided that, in order to retain his ser- vices, ono of them must marry him, and the youngest was chosen for his bride. So the servitor in due time be- came muster of the house with an ample fortune. As years ppassed the old' ladies died, ono after another, and fin- ally the ci-devant butler was left with a very large income. Naturally the country folk fought rather shy of the good man, and, as it happened, only ono neighbor was even tolerably civil and hospitable. When the butler died it was found that he had left his entire fortune, amounting to over T12,000 a year, to the eldest son of lug kindly neighbor. F 'T lI I, Ai As Iq H Su Ie Au 'T!'