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The Brussels Post, 1893-3-31, Page 22 BEYOND REALL Pub1!+hed by ins'lal arrangement from 111105'emote of tee, ,r,•.r•Jolomat. CHAPTER LI. 1 Leen\ Tut enter l AT L,t(T. The gate was unfastened. It opened >zoiselesoly tinder my hand, and I paused Into the garden, Following the path 1 ap• proaehel my wife unseen), as she stood on the terraee with her child looking out t.a. wards the sunset. The glory and nnojoaty were reflected on her calm, grave fame, othing had shaken the evidence against Iter yes. I stepped abashed, with a 111111111 pf my own iniquity in suspecting her. An air of purity enveloped her -11 god•1!ke armor from which the shafts of doubt re- bounded on myself. Holding for support to the marble terrace beside me, I stood there, gaging at her in awe, like a guilty wretch in the presence al an offended angel at the gate of heaven, whilst a voice within 5118 said, " What are you that you should judge this woman?" What was I, indeed, but a faulty creature euataemerging from the condition of a brute y scarce better or less hideous than the grinning saytr on the pedestal which sup• ported my unnerved frame A sound in the house caught the child's ear. She slipped from Hobe's hand and ran Indoors. I made a step forward. Turning Quickly my wife saw me, and the angel be• eomiug Inman, in a moment she ran down the steps 50 meet me with a cry of delight. Then suddenly, when site was almost in my arms, she checked herself, and catching my rands in hers held me away, whilst her eyes looked into aline with painful, strenuous earnestness. I could easily have detached her little rand, and drawn her to my breast, but I held her from me as she held erne from her. feeling that the supreme moment, had cone that was to decide our future, and wall aching hope in my heart I also strove to find the soul in those dear eyes and read it. " Tell me," 1 faltered, "tell ole that I am guilty, and not you." Guilty !" she murmured in wonder. 1' i ou ,guilty—of what?" "Of doubting the purity of the soul I am 'looking into now." " And if you are not guilty," she whis- pered in feverish eagerness; 0 my soul is pot pure?" ' Then God forgive you, and God help She snatched her hands away with a quick, sharp cry of joy, and flinging her arms about my neck drew my heal. down bnd kissed my face and lips. Then she egan to sob, clinging to my neck, and Murmuring incoherent sentences, broken by emotion, "Oh, my darltng 1 my darling ! 1 knew the real love would coma back again in time. Poor love I poor love ! tortured and ipurdened till even your manhood gave way the kindness and faith and courage all trampled out of the suffering heart. But not the life, dear one. And the life strength- ened, and all that was good in it came back little by little, like the beauty and sweet• gess of tender plants in a garden after they have been beaten down by a storm, Oh, I knee, it ! I knew it ! and the knowledge res given me vigor and brought back the )lope that had tied." She paused a moment, as if she found epeeoiu ton poor for the fervid eloquence of Iter joy and love. Then aha resumed in a prouder tone— " Tell lee, love, that if I were impure yen would not suffer me to lie here upon your breast—you would throw lee away, you would—with this pure love that clings to ynhe for what is gond in my being." But now that I knew her innocent, I could not in imagination figure the abandon - melee she say:. She, quickly reading the feeling in any heart, found words where could not, ' You would cease to think of me even ! 1(011 8031101 say that. Your heart is too strong to break. You muststill have thought of me with pity and sorrow, though you would not have stooped to the degradation of mingling your life for ever with mine. That ie what you meant when you asked God u, forgive me if I were wicked, and to Help you to live alone again, poor darling I" Then iter voice sinking, she whispered, f' Kiss me, darling ! kiss me 1 By Heaven, 1 am not unatorthy of you !" I lifted her up from her feet that I might Ieel she was alt mine, and her cheek lay against mine when our lips parted. There was a little pavilion at the bottom of the garden built in the form of a chalet. " That is ours," she said, nodding to it when we tante bank to earth, so to speak, find stood side by side, yet knitted together. (e I have been alt the morning preparing i for you. Take me in there that we may be ,1511 alone ; I have so much to tell you." We were young lovers again as we stole into the pavilion with a backward glance, 'earful of any one coming to break in upon our happiness. The air was soft and gentle as a Juno evening, and sweet with an odor of myrtle rend orange blossom. The open mildews looked over the bay to rite snow-capped mountains beyond Sar• lane. The foliage of the roses trained upon the wall outage made a garland to the window, and stood out In dark relief }garnet the pale sky. 011 ! it was a fatting :frame for my clear wife, and I held her ehere, gazing upon her beauty. "But it ion t only for my prettiness you yeve me now, darling, is it !" she whispered `t' It isn't like the time whet. you loved me only for what seemed to your eyes beautiful, You love me with your very heart now, don't you ? But I loved you with my heart, dear, always; and I trusted to my heart, that tout me I must have patienc0 and wait. Oh 1 how 1 thanked God that 1 waited. Even if 1 had proved to you that I was guiltless, your love could not have been what it is now." " No," said I ; "it was not time. But how had you the wisdom to see that 3" "It was not wisdom, love. It was just accepting the guidance of my inner heart ; that was all." That is the sourer," 1 exclaimed ; " 1 have trusted to my feeble reason—you to a higher guidance." ' Oh 1 see the stars coming nut over There 1)o you know, I have been in the garden all the afternoon waiting for you ? " I thought you expected me to come tar night," said I. That hateful old man told me you would seek me tonight. But I knew you would come before." Was it your heart told you tlta,t also ?'' " Yes, love. 1 would sooner trust to at than anything else." "So will I for all time to come, dear en0 1 ,r "Again, Love, again hiss me, Now let us be very calm. What more we talking about? Oh, 7 know --that dreadful Beaton,' ehe said, composing )herself ; than, mitre, an accent of d1s 1 ant:, " How oat. one 11e110v0 :Mob a man as that ;" "I have up to this vary clay," said I with ennh'itiol(. " Why, so luta'o I. Oh ! sty heart wee good for notlliug. II betrayed ml. 'hat. morning when he crime and told me you had been nearly taken 1>,y the pollee." " What niorni ng 3" I asked in astonish- ment. The morning after we had parted for the last time --When you went 0081 to New- ton sn early," ' He told you I lord been nearly taken by the police ?" I said in amazement. " Yeo ; and that be had helped you to get away, and come here 50 Ajaccio." Hero was an explanation I had never dreamt of, ' He never told you that 3" sloe asked. "No," " Then what could you have thought of ole when you found ole gone ?" " Oh ! do not ash me to confess that. Do not remind ole of my folly ar,d my crime. Tell only what happened to yet." " Ho told me yott load gone to Ajaooio, and 1 believed him ; for I did not then know that your innocence had been proved, and that you were no longer in danger. Well, dear, I thought that you would need help, and so 1 took all our jewels and money out of the drawer where you had told me you kept them, and went to London as he advised me ;and from there I came on here as quickly tie 7 could. And it was at the Detrol, when I asked about the English in the town, that I learnt our dear friend, Major Cleveden, was here. You may think how surprised he was to see me, and yet how glad ; but he caw through Beeton's treachery at once, and I should certainly have returned to England at once tc find you, but that the wicked old man came before we had finished breakfast, and let us know that you were here." Good heavens ! And I had dared to think this dear creature base enough to rob me— base enough for worse than that. " Tell me mote,"I cried, eagerly, craw: ing to take upon myself the shame 111ati laid upon my wife. "George saw through it all. He said, that old villain has hoodwinked 'poor Kit, and led him to believe that you ran away from him to come to me. And your hus- band has followed you With the intention of taking your life.' :l. was glad to hear that, for I knew you meet love me with your heart then. Oh 1 1 would rather that you killed me than lived believing me winked. You man never believe that again?" " No ; 1, too, can trust my heart now." " Then at last you wallet me speak about the Pest 3" ' L could forbid you still, but not for that reason which made me shun it before. Look you, dear one ; put ole to the teat. Say not another word about the past, and see how by my life I shall believe yon pure and guiltless, though all the world should eou- demn you," "But I don't Wicut all the w'o1l.,? to ('011- denn mo," she said, smiling, "Your wife, like Crsar's, ahould be above reproach. I will have all the world to know that she is. All that little world will be here to-mght ; and they must know a11. 'I'ilere is still an. other awl better reason, love ; from now un- til the end we shall ne only one in heart and soul, and this dear right hand," said she, taking mine and laying hers in it, "must know all this little left hand (Meth. I will never close my eyes at night till I have confessed myself to you, and even my dreams shall be told to you in waking," I do not remember what reply 1 matle to this speech, in which tenderness alternated with pride, and every sweet word was ac- companied with gentle gesture; I only know that my reply wan lean worthy of re- lnombrauee. " There is still one more reason," she continued, "why every one should know the truth. It is a debt we owe to George — orr brava, true, constant, nod dear friend, the major. For our sake he has done that which he would not have done to save his own life—he has told a lie." Her voice faltered as she spoke. I Saw a tear roll doted her cheek. "I esunot help it," she said ; "I cannot think of his devotion, hissteidtast love, his fearless chivalry unmoved, And Helen too what other sister would have made the sacrifice with which she shielded me? Oh, who can .ay teat men end women have fallen away- in nobleness ! Yon can guess doer love, what lie it was that George told for my Bake ; he told the world I was his wife. The wife ho married was Helen." "The children are hers," 7 gasped. "The boy is hers : the girl, dear—is yours." The shook took my breath away : a sweat burst out frotn my temples and crisped hair. Mine I" I said, beneath my breath. "Ours, my husband. She was born at Vevy eight months rafter our separation. When I found that I Was to become a mother, I bad to confess all to Helen. She told Major Cleveden, who had then offered her his hand. To sate me and our child frau disgrace, he gave me his name at the same time that he made Haden his wife. She, too, for my sake, gave me the name she Was en- titled to—" I could hear no more. My agitation was unoontrsllable. I dropped my wife's hand, and rose to my feet from the seat in which •1'e hod been sitting band in hand. A feeling of infinite shame and remorse overpowered me,aa I thought of the wrong I had done my wife and this noble friend, and I eavered my face with my hands, 'Kit, dear Kit!" murmured my wife, in a tone of expostulation as she took my nerveless hand ; sit down again." "No, no,"I cried; "the only place for me is here," and I threw myself upon my knees at her feet. She sank down at my side, and slipping her arm round my neck drew my cheek to hers as she murmured— "And mine, too, dear love 1 For we have both to thank God 1" CHAPTER L1I. T(tE 1,A1T ACT, "Hark !" whispered Iiebe, raising her finger, a new delight brightening her eyes. There was a light step outside ; her quick ear detected whose, Then the handle was tried, and following a tap on the door, a young voice cried. "M'ma dear, are you in there?" "Who's there ?"asked she, seuseeing ney hand, "I I" I" Why, who can thee Loo" " Hebe—Hobo Wyndham !" said the lit. tlo voice, 111y clear wife caught up my hand to her lips in an ecata5y of joy, saying that I had two Helms now, and then quickly opened tlx: door. The seine child I had seed standing be. si'do my wife on the terrace stood before THE BRUSSELS" POST. 11 ,tdu'1I:j1( j892 ire --a tall graceful girl ; her soft glistening hair curling low over her forehead; bet big 07,1 fixation Itle, '' this is papey )lobe, dear,' said my wife She leaked et me timidly at first ; but suddenly, finding in my farce something that overe;uun her fuss, It 801110 111 up her face, and with the wenn impulsiveness of her mother, she ran into nay outstretched are 0, 1 caught her up end held her close to me, whilst my heart throbbed with a strange new happiness, and the likeness to Hobe that I fatted in her complexion ; her deep soft eyes and her mouth became blurred through the tears that sprang into sty eyes. "isn't site sweet, dear?" whispered my wife. "She is like you, love," I answered. But I could say no more. A feeling over. came me like that a man might have in find. iug himself on the edge of a precipice from winch he has escaped by a miracle, For, recalling, the events of the night on wheah I had taken my wife from the II eimita o, I suspected that it was this my own child whose lite I hod been tempted to take away. Going up to the house, my wife on one side of me and my daughter on elle other, we came, at turn of the path, suddenly face to face with the major. Ho had been prepared for a ohnnge in my eppeartenc0, and, after a start of surprise, lie hold on, his hand to me lvitit a smile then showed I had changed for the better in hie eyes. We stood holding eaolt other by the band in silence for a moment, ; then he said— "I did you an injuelioe eleven years ago; Ian( glad to acknowledge ie now." My reply was not heroic ; I roar it was incoherent. The acknowledgment 1 owed him was not to be made in a few words. en the evening I told my omitting y story, nothing that could set the coniduot of lny wife and my friend in a t'uejlight. Knowing the 'melee that ]and brought many people here, I tried to confine myself to a supple narrative of facts and avoid any evidence of feeling; but my subject betrayed me into en- thusiasm when I spoke of the major's chiv- alry, and my voice foiled me from emotion when I told of my wtfe's patient love. EPILOG UE. To MADASI H1tLEx CLEYEDE7, �'illaBallastrino, Adjacoia. MY D,tal.Ixn SISTEn,—We found yotir welcome letters and the photographs on the table when we came in from our drive this evening. It is strange to think that we are henceforth to live so far apart after living so long together. Almost as hard to realize as the tact that dear George is de- voting himself to the humus of growing oranges and lemons ; but we are very glad 'that you have found a home so delightful, and an oo0upation that, ae 11 interests your husband, must add to your happiness. Only, as you see, my gladness is just a tiny bit dashed with selfish regrets, I would have alt whole I love close to me. But my dearest Kit consoles me with the promise that we will most certainly spend the winter months with you—if you will have us. I remember ikrtlastrino quite well, with its lovely terraces, where the deep•green foliage of the lemma and oranges spread "think inlaid with patinas of bright gold," end the beautiful bouquet of palma rising beyond ; all compassed about with the amphitheatre of olive•covored hills, facing the ever -blue Moditeer0nean. Or shall I over forget those olive woods, whore my dear hnsbend and I wondered away front yon in the spring seeking fe'us, and heath, and myrtle, and oiatus, and cyclamen 3 Thevety memory makes mo cry with its ex- cess of joy. Do not for as ntotncnt, dear,tllink that I am one whit less happy now than then. No 1 no 1 The delight is calmer ; that is all. My life is full of real, real happiness ; and each day I find myself richer than yesterday by some fresh added joy, Last week I was seized avitlt a desire to go back to the little cottage on the moor, and my dear husband, yielding to my caprice, took me there. It was just as we lead left it, I expected to feel a desire to live the old life over again there? to renew the many joys I felt as my clear Kit came back little by little to his nobler self. But the charm was gone, and I think we were both glad 1.0 leave it and return to our hone here. I know the se- cret now; it is because my husband is nobler and wiser and better than in those old days. Hetes sitting here with me writing to your husband. George did well to consult him about the new house you are going to build ; for Kit—I ebink I may say it without boasting—understands such subjects better than any man in the world. Our dear child adds to our joy ; she is de. voted(sa she may well be) to her father, and hes the greatest admiration for hie genius. She is learning to draw and model in slay, and I am proud to say she shows a heritage of his wonderful skill and fine taste. Alt, how 1 wish 1 could do something in that Way ! But my husband would not have me forsake music for any other art, even if I bad the ability ; and in playing to him while he carves I find my solace for having no higher gifts. Now, darling, I must say good-bye, for dinner is served, Ever your loving &later, HEIIE WYNDirAta, P.S. —I out out a paragraph from a news- paper to eentl you, but it is mislaid ; it was the last we shall ever hear of that horrible old man, Beeton. It seems he was arrested in London for a most impudent forgery, and seeing that there was no hope of escape he ended his days ho the police cell by suicide. le. W. Watersw'eot, Linton, Devonshire. July 8, ISS— [Tet le END.] Flooring An American. Some American gentlemen visited Cardiff n. short time since, and, )happening to pass the fire -engine station, stepped inside, After they had a geed look round, ono of them turned to the engineer, and said : "You know, in New York they use 0 -inch hose, not 3'inch as you have here." "O11 I" said the engineer,not to be beaten, " that small hose is only used for laying the dust in the station. This hose," point- ing to a p10ee of suction -pipe about twelve incites in dianotor, "Is what wo use at fires. It saves us using the firo•oscapes," continued the engineer,"for,whon we want to send a man to the top of a building, we just lot him on a jet, and send him up." . "But,"said one of the visitors rather inoredulously, "how floes he come down again?" " Why, he puts his arm around the jet, and slides down," replied the engineer, The Americans gazed a few monlent0,first at the: hose and bran at the engineer, and then left in a hurry, oro of them rnutenor' ing : "I goes that man 11115 been connected with a riewapeper 5" mm,mow*awruss,m'+a"ewmx gav0Lm®MIIMl0uoru,ma,wwvam nnme,ueruwa mrwommmmz,aiIi0Mru.ar.,wmamr„001:11s1bY04 POETRY. Winter Night0?l The rose lets faded front the w0. ern -1.y Behind cite hey mill, The amnvk w'huLaraveu ,hrie • lit br,ndy Ile \('hero an 1, gray 4111 it'll, low dim and faint the 111.1.1,1' +terpb: mow, 11'1111eMuhl ',drear 111111 �,"1.fl' ren0.0 nw+ Aern,s the land, aid dell the a; .it Ol' oshml wood nod -trop. .( hove the Ileitis n great "ea:at+l:od ..'1 0 10 sparklill1c eoldnisi white; The deep dark curtain of :he 01,1 n81r Shine with a sudden limit, 411111110 moment, hath 1 cured' !Mod, Tho full moon risescllill Behind the tangle of the sombre wool That urea 110 the distant 1,111. —(Harper's Weekly, The Owners ofthe Universe. Lot us cover up the sunbeams Lying all around our path (101 it trust on wheat and roses, Give the poor the thorns and tlhalf. Lotus find our choicest pleasures Hoarding bounties of today, So the poor shall have saint m0aa:ue And two prices have to pay. Yes, we'll reservoir all river,, And we'll levy on the likes And we'll a lay a trifling poll tax On each poor elan who partakes; Weil brand his number on ltbn That he'll carry through his life; We'll appren Gee all his children, Got a mortgage on his wife, We will capture e'en the wind god, And confine hint 01 it cave; 4nd then through our patent process We the atmosphere will save; Thus we'll squeeze our little brother When his lungs he trios to nil, Put 0meter on his wind pl /e And present our little bill. We will syndicate the starlight And monopolise the moon ; Claim a royalty on rest dept. A proprietary- noon ; For right of way through ocean's spray We'll ohargo,lnst What it's worth : We'll drive our slakes around the lake - 1n foot, we'll own the earth. —f Groat Thoughts (London). Common Things. Clive mo, dear Lord, thy magic common things, 1V1ileil oilcan sec, which 1(11 may share-- Sunlightanti dewdrops, grass, and stars, and sea— Nothing unique or now and nothing rare. Just daisies, knapweed, wind among the thorns: Some clouds to cross the blue old sky above Hain, winter tiros, auseful band, a heart, The common glory of a woman's lore. Then, when my feet no longer tread old paths (Keep deal from fouling sweet things any. whore), Write one okl epitaph in grace lit word, "Snellthings look fairer that he sojourned here," —(The Spectator, The Old Front Walk. I'm dreaming oft of the old front walk. Which led from rho gate to the door, Its borders rich with ofd -fashioned bloom; I'll 000 it, alas! nevermore. 13right posies mother eared for and loved. Bloomed freely adoavn the long way; The bncililor'0 buttons, white, pink and blue. And marigold golden and gay. The fling poppies, quaint four-0'0100es. An hollyhocks. comely and tall. T110 Larkspurs bine. and clematis vino. An over the old garden w1111, Tho tulips bright. near the spicy pink,, Sweat rosemary. thyme. mignonette, The lilacs tall, and svringia blooms— Stich fragrance Is dear to na0 yet! The pungent dill) there plueked for rhuroh. And munched—smiling shyly at Nate. - 0 rare, 0 blest ; the soft Summon night .00,1inger with him Dt the gate! The zephyrs wafted a 51'001 perfume, \V h on slowly wo sauntered tc talk 1311 sweeter far way the 0toryold He tall neon the old from walk, —Wormy L. Panebe•, I Should Forget• 11 1 could know that e'er another sun, 1Sy task of earth were ended and my lifework dune, Meth laky I should forgot to chide For every act remiss—of selfish pride, \'1y thought would be, 0 Loral with mo abide. I should forgot the years of toil and strife, In reaching out to grasp eternal life. I should forget the tonely years, The clays so full ot'.torturing fears, The weary nights of bitter tears, All wrongs I should make hosto to set Wright; Bury the past, in darkness deep as night, l should forgot the tarots and sneers, I should forget theins s awl jeers, Which 1 mac those mcny }cors, Tho loves and hales of earth I'd ley ns!do, Why should I choose to bear them o'er the tide? I 011on)d forgot the loves of earth Arid every Irate which had been given birth, Ali, 1'd forget, but heavenly worth. —(Lydia A. Riches. SINGULARR CUPRISE. au1EFF&Lusa al'SpeTSocOFh AttSrtRbnted to Sudden Joy or Grier. Sir William Dalby, Consulting Aural Surgeon to St. George's Hospital in London, has been noting down some "strange ince• dents in praotioo"—that is to say, pertain cases within 11100011 experience as medical practitioner—which he confesses himself un- able to account for by any course of cause and effect with which the profession con be said to be at all aoonrately familiar. The meat curious have referenda to the effeate of emotion on the various senses. One is that of a lady who 005.1 standing before her toilet table, and looking through an open door into her husband's d ressing•room, when she saw in a mirror the reflection of he husband in the act of cutting his throat. From that moment she was absolutely deaf. A similarly sudden end complete less of bearing happened some years later to a young married lady who was soddenly con trotted with her Inlsband's dead body at a time when she believed him to be quite well, and when she was going to :toot him afte' a long absence, On Vareous 0030010110 Sir William Dalby has noted the remark. able effects produced upon the hearing by emotional influences, not only by great mental shooks, but by mental strain. He has known not only atidden grief, bub also overwhelming joy, instantly to make a person quite deaf. Sir William Dalby has known the sense of smell to be lose by very strong emotional influence, anti with this the sense of taste. A remarkable instance of loss of a faculty is that of a brother physician, who in boy hood found himself suddenly deprived of the power of speech. Iio was a man of middle age and robust appearance. His hearieg was perfect, and he 0ohld under- stand all that one said, but his replies were always cotnmmnicatecl by pencil and paper, One day this physician announced that the power of speech had returned as suddenly 110 it had ot'ginaliy loft him, Ifo added that he was entirely unable to ascribe the recov- ery to any cause, anti Sir William Dalby omlfesees dint itis experience does not unable them to offer any explanation. A woutler'ful hen is owned by a man in Waterloo, It fa as export as a, cat in oatoh' ingg,� rots. it teases thea awhile, and then releaser them. The owner of tide remark- able fowl has observed that no rat ever mimeo the second time (('101in reach of its clans. Deafness SHOOS FOR THE DOGS. 915(lalntn iv; Matte I111'ln for 1'reterilon Against 8111,01, 1PP, No wonder most people like (logs; they 01,0 e0.0)t 001110, f'altllfihl 01'0111 three, I admit, says Dol, 1111dc1', the Arulbl traveller, that my own regard for tltoul amounts to affeetton, 1 never seen n pool', folorn, tramp of a dog limping :lone the 0(11(01 anti coating furtive glamour, around for his neural enemy, the small boy Willi a tin can and 10 string, without wanting to do something for the miserable atltua811 to feed him tf poseiblc, and, if not, than just to pat hien on the head so he may know some one cares far him. Dogs have been to me moll 111111 and use - fat friends in the past, and have (tarried tea safely through ao many perils that they have well earned my everlasting esteem. When after dragging my sleet alt day over the frozen Arctic waoleo, I would lie down upon the snow for a few hours' oblivion, they would huddle as oloae to me as pos- sible, to keep me warm, and incidentally, perhaps, to share what little heat might be provided by my own body. I believe in treating all animals kindly, but particularly dogs, for they seen( to ap- preciate kindness more than enters. A man who would abuse a dog is too low la follow to associate with such a noble animal. In• deed 11e le not fit to tie a dog's shoe, "A dog's shoe? How ridiculous !" you say "Why, dog's don't wear theca." You are mistaken about that, my young friend. Iu this country perhaps they do not but in arctic lands they do. .11.1ne of TANNED 01.111,51117, A clog's shoe is made of tanned sealskin, shaped lilce a bag, and is tied around the ankle with a drawing string, 1t is large enough at the bottom to allow the foot to spread, and, though so1notimee very useful, is never ornamental. It looks very numb like a rag upon a sore linger, and it is just as necessary, During the spring, when the snow melts at middayand hardens again as the sun gets low, it 50 often very sharp and outs the doge' feet like glass. Then they would soon become lame and bo rendered useless. But a careful driver is always provided with a few shoes for his team, and as soon as he sees a dog limp or notices a spot of blood in the track upon the snow, it indicates to him that one of his dogs has clot his foot, and then he puts a shoe upon the wounded member. When the team stops to mat the driver must keep a sharp lookout upon those dogs that are shod, for, as they are always hun• gry, they are apt to devour their shoes. A good dog is very careful to keep his feet in proper condition, and every time the sled is halted he chews off' the ice and snow that has gathered upon his feet and is frozen to the long hairs between his toes. No mate tee if it does hurt when he pulls at it with This teeth—for that part of a doge foot is very sensitive—he knows he must get rid of those folder,, and, though it sometimes tnakes him cry 011111 ith pain, he pulls aways whining, until hie feet aro free once more. Then, after licking them all over with hia pliant tongue, he curls them under ham and lies down upon the snow to sleep. 1.1 VFW 111'(0 11111115111 (10115. If you would like a real live sleigh tide, take spin behind ateatn of fine strong dogs, with a light load and smooth snow. It would give you more intense ratification than any other ride you ever hack. You may have had a good time with a handaled on 0 well -iced hillside, but there is the lone walk back to make you wlslt you hadn't ridden so far. Behind a dog team, however, there it, beside the exhilaration of rapid 111001011, a charming uncertainty Its to where you ere going and whether or not you will roach your destination without an upset. A rifle behind a dog main is Dot an occa- sion for miter t'efleceion ; your' attention is too M5011 occupied by what is transpir- ing. I once took a long ride in a Spanish dile. gencia, drawn by fifteen mules and a horse, and sat beside the driver on the front seat. We travelled over the Albania range of mountains in Andalusia, from Loje to Alhaula. The driver, who, by the by, had but one arm, had not only to guide the whole team, by the reins, which he held between his knees, but also to manage the brake, and, as much of the way was over (hilly country, he had his hands—or rather hes one hand—full. The double string of ani- mals led by a postilion on the horse, always rushed madly down hill, anxious only to keep out of the way of the great, lumbering vehicle that came rattling, close behind them, Notwithstanding I was in the southern part of Spain, I was constantly reminded of a sleigh ride behind dogs, and the resemblance was heightened by the con- stant stream of personalities poured out over the team by this one-armed driver. Each particular animal was repeatedly called upon by his individual name, and adjured by. Ids own spoolal saint to exert himself more and more, and when this method failed to move him, a man armed with a long stiolc jumped down from the steps behind the conveyance, and, rushing to the front like a sprinter, belabored each mule as it passed neo' him until the whole team was scampering for dear life. As the coach whirled by the whipper sprang nimbly to his perch in tho rear, USES 11I0 101111' v1EE0.Y. A dog driver, too, is 01w'ay0 haranguing his team. liaah dog is addressed by name, and, although he was apparently doing itis best at the time, ite puts a little addl. tional spurt, hoping by so doing to avoid the cruel lath which he hears dragging along the snow behind the sled. But the fact that a dog is doing This best is nopro tectionjfrom the whip. An Esquimau driver believes that an occa- sional flogging all around is a good thing at general prinei los, and ile administers the medicine in allopathic doses. The whip has a handle not over ten inches in length, but the lash is fifteen or twenty feet long. A blow 0011100 upon an erring dog —or an unerring one for that matter—like a streak of lightning from a olearsky, and the first thing he dors is to emit a hotel of sur- prise and pain ; the next thing is to jump upon the dog nearest him and shake the breath out of Trim. A general flogging resorts in a promiscuous row and a complete mixing up of clogs, harness, (ashinggs,alod,spectators, andevery- thing else, so Haat the time n00essary to the unraveling of the snarl is greater than that whirls would have been lost if the doge had bad their own way, so that this heroic treat- 100nt i5 of doubtful benefit• --[Col. W 11, Hilder, No Ohanoe. Mr. Biller,—"Poems to me, Maria, the children don't speak half as good English 00 they did before they bog:atl to go to school," Het, 13!lltis—•" For meroy'n sake, John, how can yon expect then to learn everything at school? 7 wiah'yon Wo1L.1 quit harping on that bugdish•langnaage fad of ynar11 t" When people are 1:1 ed le geed they quit wore a& Leon ass the pay *dopy. HEALTH. Buraery Hygiene, Tho room especially sot apart for the children of the family ahould bo the best- eired, the 0umntest coal the driest in the house. At the saute time ie should he sal sitnatrl 00 10 110 kept at it temperature an nearly uniform as possible, Ae u general. Wring ie should be on the south side of the hoose, Any e011000 of 01110)1ghl, if inch exists, can he cosily controlled by ahadee, Since the nursery is, as a rale, occupied both night and clay, it sho,tld be 111 large as possthle, to facilitate It thorough supply of fresh ab', Considerations of air, sunlight and deem- liness shouted bo paramount, and all ques- tions of decnratiou should be entirely Dub. servient. To this (m,1, everything ahould be simple in construction. In all but exceptional rases the nursery is the scone, 01 eon10 time 01' other, of ono or more of the diseases incident to child• hood. 0n this amulet all materials that might servo as dust and disease organisms should be excluded. Tito furniture should be pain so as to be easily kept clean. It should also be light, or else furnished witlt strong castors, so that it can be easily moved about. Piotures on the walls were better omitted. The nursery Moor should have particular attention. While 1110 ideal floor may not bo always attainable, the ideal should be an. preached es nearly as possible, A floor of closely joined hardwood is the best, since it is most easily kept free from dust. Over this should bo laid rugs or carpets, which should be frequently taken up and beaten. Nursery closets, too, sboold be carefully looked after. They should always be open to inspection, 011(1100 a001l,101110111011 of soiled clothing should be permitted. Open shelves aro recommended since, while clean linen and other necessaries are easily kept upas them, they are less apt to be made the re- ceptacles of " tucked -away" neatness, than are shelves inclosed by doors. The habitual use of disinfectants should have no part in the cafe of the nursery. The necessity for their use should be avoided by me0111 of scrupulous cleanliness. A room in which disinfectants are needed should bo inhabited by no one, least of all by chit dren. The ventilation of the nursery is an im- portant (natter. The essential thing to be secured is a frequent change of air without draughts along the finer. Lithia Waters. It is one of the curious developments of modern medicine that remedies largely used by practitioners for years are suddenly shown to be lacking in the powers general. ly attributed to them. For years the pr'o• fcesion.hao used lithia water in venom) diseases, with the idea that the results ob- tained were due to the comparatively small gqmulti ty of lithia present in solution. Those physicians wig examined the snL- ject closely speedily concluded that the greater part of the benefit derived by patients from so•called lithia waters de- pended rather on the large amount of pure water ingested than upon the lithia coo• Mined in it. L1 other words, the pure water practically flushed the body of int - purities. These conclusions were still fur - they supported by the discovery on analyaie that one of the widely advertised liehfa waters, indorsed by a large number of lids. guided persons, was only a pure water, with practically not a trace of lithia in it. Still more recently, Haig has told us that while lithia speedily combines with uric acid in a test tube, in the body ft has a greater affinity for the acid sodium phos- phate in the blood, and combining with this leaves the uric acid untouched. Lithia waters should be used, not for their lithia, but for their purity, and the results ob- tained placed to the credit of the flushing of the system, not to the lithia. How to Onre a Gold. Almost everybody has a remedy for a 00111, which he is ever ready- to recommend to others after detailing his own experi- enee. We quote from a medical writer some advice on this subject which seems to be more than ordinarily useful. When one becomes chilled, or takes cold, the mouths of myriads of little sweat glands are suddenly closed, and the impurities which should pass off through the skin are forced back at the interior of the body, vitiating the blood and putting extra work on the lungs and other internal organs. Just beneath the surface of the s(cfn, all over the body, there is a net work of min- ute blood vessels, finer than the finest lace. When one is chilled, the blood is forced from these capillary vessels into one or more of the internal organs, producing in- flammation or congestion, and thus often causing diseases dangerous to life. The time to treat a cold is at the earliest moment after you have taken it. And your prime object should be to restore the perspiration and the capillary circulation, As soon, theft, tee you feel that you have taken cold have a good fire in your bedroom. Put your feet into )tot water as hot as can be borne, and containing a tablespoonful of nunstard. Have it in a vessel so deep that the water will come up well toward the knees. Throw it blanket over the whole to prevent rapid evaporation and cooling. In from five to ten minutes take the feet out, wipe them dry, and get • into a bed on which there are two extro, blankets. Just before or after getting into bed drink a large glass of lemonade as hot as possible, or a glass of hot water con- taining a teaspoonful of cream of tartar, with a little sugar if desired. Should there bo a pain int the chest, side or back, fndioat. ing pleurisy or pneumonia, dip a small towel en oold water and wring it, as dry as po00ible. Fold the newel so that it will cover a little more surface than is affected by the pain. Cover this with a piece of flannel, and both with oiled silk, or better, with oiled linen ; now wind a strip of flannel a foot wide several times around the chest. The heat of the body will warm the towel almost: immediately, the oiled linen and flannel will retain the heat and moisture, and, steaming the part, will gen- orally oause the pain to disappear. Should there be pain or soreness in the throat, you. should treat in a similar manner with wet compress and flannel bandage. Eat spar- ingly of plain, simple food. Baked apples and ether fruit, broad and butter, bread and milk, mill. toast, and baked potatoes or raw ayal0ra may be eaten, 13y following the above directions intelligently and faith- fully you will ordinarily cheek the progress of the cold, and prevent serious, possibly fatal, illness. The art of paper•ntaking has reached the point whore it 10 peestble to out down e; growing tree arid convert it into paper suitable for printing purposes within twenty-four hours.