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Huron Record, 1881-03-11, Page 2Be as Thorough ;as 'Yqu. Ilan: Whatsoo'er you find to do, Do it, boys, with all your nright•.l' Never he a little- tine, • Or a little in the right, Trifles even Lead to heaven, Trifles make the life of man; So in all things, Great or small things, Be as thorough as you can, Let no speck that surface .dim— Spotless truth and. honor bright 1 I'd not give a fig for him Who says any Be is white 1 He who tatters, Twists or alters Little atoms when we speak, May deceive me ;, Bat believe me, To himself he is a sneak 1 Help the weak if you are •strong Love the old if you are young,. Own a fault if you are wrong, If you're angry hold your tongue, In each duty Lies a beauty? If your eyes you do not shut, Just as surely And securely • As a kernel in a nut 1 Love with all your heart and soul, Love with eye and ear and touch; That's the moral of the whole, You can never love too much! 'Tis the glory • Of the story ' In our babyhood begun; Our hearts without it - Never doubt it= • Are the worlds without a sun. If you think a word will please, Say it, if it is but true ; Words may give delight with ease, When no act is asked from you, Words may often Soothe and soften, Gild a joy or heal a pain;, They aro treasures Yielding pleasures It is wicked to retain. Whatsoe'ersyou find to do, .' Do it, then, with all your might •; Let your prayers be strong and true Prayer, my lads, will keep you right,. Prayer in all things, Great and small•things, Like a Christian gentleman ;, And forever, Now or, never, Be as thorough as you can, VICTORIA CROSS:." By the author of "A STRANGE WiaTinr-G= . EVE," " CLARE STANHOPE'S •DIAMONDs,".&e. , • CHAPTER - VII.—coNTINuBp. " Not yours—you said so --1 'knew it you said so." Wistfully, appealingly, the. beautiful earnest eyes were raised to, his,the slender hand was laid on his ; and he turned aside with quivering lips. • • " You have' heard that?"he muttered, shading his eyes with one hand. "Do not heed what 1 said—I forgot that you were. here—I knew scarcely what.I said.=.; So you: have heard that story of my life? ,Forgive me, Cecil ; I couldmot tell you." " I heard it week ago,' She answered,, more steadily now. "I, would noteven ask you, because I did not believe itwasall true—my father trusted you." "Dear loyal heart!" said Colonel McLeod; softly, half regretfully. The words came involuntarily from his lips, "Who:: wins this will win geld," She crimsoned' to her very brow, gave one fleeting glance upward and mat the• dark soft eyesthat spoke such yearning tender- ness all unconsciously, and then her head dropped upon his hand. One brief second she atruggled ; but her loyal heart triumph: ed. " you have won it," came in a low whis- per. Then the bowed face was lifted gently and drawn to his breast, his arms '• enfolded her,. his lips were pressed to her forehead, and his tremulous passionate words fell like music on her ear. " Cecil, is it so, my heart's life+ -my dar- ling !" • . It seemed as if even for him the sunlight. might shine in its dazzlingbrightness. She loved him. Her pure fresh heart was,given to him. Come what alight; life could never be quite themere dull monotony of days •to' Loris McLeod. Then a. sharp revulsion . came..' He had no right to hold her to his breast so ; . yet; oh, how could: he put her from him•sever this new sweet tie ?. "Gecil," he murmered hoarsely, ."it must not be ; leave me while there is time ; do not tempt me—for Heaven's sake do,not tempt me !' But the girl's slender hands only clasped his more closely as she hid her faee on his breast. ' ' " You will not send me from you ?' she; murmured brokenly. "You are not angry with me? I could not see you suffer." " My heart, you are only too dear to rue," said McLeod ; and he, stopped, striving ter self-control. "" How can 1 link your young life to mine, blighted, seared, weary.? How can I give to you ahem; shadowed with dishonour?" Cecil raised her leadwith a quick proud Movement. • "It is not dishonoured to me," she said in a clear distinct- voice—"'to me yoit are all that is noble and brave. What care I that your life has been blighted? That will only make me olirg closer to you"' The fair head drooped again, and'` a half: smile of exquisite peace stole over the beau- tiful lips. "'Oh," elm said, closing her eyes and drawing a long quivering breath. "it is so little 1 can give to'you who giveall to me 1 Whyto think that I, only a.weak, fragile girl, should be aught to you 1" . • " Cecil, hush ; you exalt . ine'tee mach 1" Her joy and her fulness of love and trust held him with a strange awe, while to her it seemed so wondrous that this man, to her the noblest oa earth, should have her orowa- ed with the diadem Of his love. Cecil," he said a little hurriedly, "11e- ten. You trust me $p- perfectly that you never think that there may have been more than justice, according to: the known facts, dealt to me, Why should you suppose that there was no dishonour in my •yielding up, without a blow struck for defence, what had been given to me as a .charge to bold, come what might V _ . . "I don't know," she answered simply, in absolute childlike faith, "I thought per- haps you found, after all, you could not hold the town. I know you would never have shrunk from eneountering any numLers, nor • would you have led your men to certain 'death without good reason." She felt him shiver from head to foot ; yet still hespoke with a forced calm. " It might have been, Cecil—as some be- lieved of me—that I wasyoung and wild for glory, and could not brook to die there be- hind walls, without one chance of the glory I coveted." " No" answered Cecil directly, "that is impossible ; you would not care to win glory at the expense of a soldier's greatest °rine but one--disobedience--you would not care to step to fume over the bodies of the men you had sacrificed," • Colonel McLeod turned aside, veiling his eyes with his hand, "Child—ohild," he said with bitter sad- ness, " will nothing shake this blind faith of yours'? -What though I sinned in neither of .these things,? Was I right to shield a ---" He covered his face suddenly and bent down. "No, no, I `cannot say it—not that, my bright -haired lad. Could he know what he was doing ?"The girl's cheeks grew pale at those words, yet she said nothing and asked no question. To recall that past was almost to endure its agony . again. She could tell that by the quick heavy breath he' drew, by the iron clasp of the hand that held hers, and by the low slow whisper when at Iast lie spoke, telling of the mental and physical exhaua- tion thatfollows sharp mental pain. "No word of this that I must tell you has passed my lips until now," he 'said, not then, raising his head. " I had thought to let the bitter secret die with me ; but vou. have a right to know, and 1—Heaven help me .1— I cannot choosebut clear my honour to the woman I love." He paused a moment, then wento» more - quietly.: ""Yu know, Cecil --you told me—all the facts of that time ; you know that !'sudden ly abandoned Gherutpoor and fell 'back on Kota "It was perfectly true that the fort was well-nigh• impregnable in fair siege ; but .when I evacuated it it was- already too late. to make, resistance. We .had been betray- ed; There were subterranean paasages piercing the hills. on which the fortifications stood. '.,1 knew nothing of them, nor did any one else, -save, .as.,;1.found. afterw.arde, one_ man --that was my brother, Cecil:" She started and flushed, then grew pale again, but only a' half -exclamation• of pain escaped' her. Her heart, was aching for the man. who had blighted his own life. and borne anotker's dishonour with:such untold hero+. ism. 4•4 Ver3y few people ., knew that I had -a brother.," the Colonel went on: in the, same, ' quiet manner -" none, 1 .think, , in India. He was mmoth'er's darling,' And m . Y g, , . Y father's pride—a fairhaired bright-eyed lad, I don't think any one knew: the•nature that. was masked by the fair winsome face, I thank Heaven my mother died before Archie. -r--' But it matters little ; shewouldnever .have knoivn it., Well, he was always way- ward and unsteady—a spoiled darling ;. and . my mother,, whea elle • died bad me .watch. 'over him and. guard him. I promisedher 1 would ; and I did ao ;as far as .I was able. I lovedthe lad, es moat -did; and it was the 'bitterest grief' I had=known then when he ran away; from home, He was'at a private, tutor's ---My father had to remove hien from Eton—and he must have gotinvolved in some affair., which he feared to reveal.at. home.; in' addition to which he had always a passion to go to India.: He was sixteen then.. I never saw orheard .of him again till. I went out to India,. not long after the outbreakof the .Mutiny ; then he came to me, almost destitute, deeply penitent for the past. I dare not say that was feigned; I think he was true ,then—Heaven knows- I' may not judge him. • I loved him --r could not turn from my mother's darling: He said he had 'suffered much, and had been. at various native Courts ; but he spoke little of that part of his life. I kept him; dear, me as much' as -possible'; ,he was serving in 'the ranks, Cecil, and he. went with my. men to Gherutpoor. : " One night he was missing -he had stay- ed be and the walls, we. thou ht; and had falleinto the enemy's hands and probably been shot. Not long after that, .while we' were anxiously looking fog reiatoreements, I had just made the rounds of the ramparts the last'thing One night, and was going off to get an hour's sleep, when one of. our ne- tines came up and gave me a scrap of paper:' I•knew the writing directly, •andthe cipher used was one known only to Archie and myq- selfone we.had invented. a Children. He was a prisoner, he; said, among the Sepoys. He had betrayed -the town under .threats: There were underground' passages Of which he. alone knew ; he had revealed them they had laid mines in them under the town; and intended to blow up the whole place late that very night. There lay about four hours between us and certain destru tion, Cecil ; and more, the toad to Kota vould then lie absolutely defenceless. Their garrison Was weak, and there wasno•one to warn them. • " There was no time then to feel the blow that at another 'time must have paralyzed every nerve.. There was no defence to be made, My brother said he bad -managed to warn me; it was all he 'could' de, I know not to this day whether this was all—alt= :treachery. Perhaps if I had known, even then, .could I have betrayed my own bro- thee, and brought foul shame on the name we bore? My father, too ---it would have broken his heart 1" • Colonel McLeod paused again. He wait white to the lips-; yet they burned lik fire,, and tine blood coursed . hotly through hue veins;. but he -nerved himself to finish hie story. " There is little more to and,'veoi'1:" `the garrison was roused ; and, .under over of the darkness, We marched out—like men," be said, with strong bitterness, ""we dared not fame an enemy. Was that's light thing to bear t But the Sepoys did notblow up Gherutpoor when they found it empty ;; the gates must have been quietly opened by— my brother. I thought I might reach and strengthen the garrison at Kotul, unless we should ohance to fall in with reinforcements. The rebels, in overwhelming numbers, Caine tp with ne while miles of country lay be - ween us and Kotul ; and my men fought With the courage of lions; but it was hope - lees. They fell around me by scores, whilst I, whose only prayer was for death, seemed to bear a charmed life. Then reinforce- ments came, but too late to a ave aught but the hfe that was a curse to me---" "Hush, hush 1 Oh, Loris, no 1" wbis• ppared Cecil, with passionate earnestness. R. eaven is too merciful to lay that ourse for ever upon you." "Forgive me, my child 1" he answered,, with a deep humility that touched .her to the quiok. " Your simple faith is a rebuke to the . bitterness that burns within me sometimes, I may have seemed patient outwardly; but 1 have not always been so, Heaven knows 1 Such patience as 1 have is bought with tears Of blood." Ue paused for a moment. "You know," he went on, that I was tried by court-martial ? The sentence was death, Cecil; but the Commander -in -Chief in India sent the case home for final con- sideration, and that sentence was reversed, But the undercurrent of suspicion has ever been at head-quarters—that I have always known' -that 1 betrayed Gherutpoor, The ouly'ex,Lilaination I could give was not satis. factory ; and I had, disobeyed orders." He rose as he.apoke the last words,•raised the girl gently from her kneeling posture, and.laid his hands on her shoulders. • "You know now, Cecil," he said softly and quietly, "all that•rests on this name 1•• bear. It is dishonour, I would not, drag you down, to that, my child. ` If it were but given t'o me to redeem that name 1 But this is all over now," • She threw herself upon his breast with an intensity of passion that startled and shook him to the heart, quivering with deep -drawn sobs, which could not be quieted, even by his loving touch and soothing whispers. "It is for your sake, darling 1" he said, at length when she Jay tranquil like;a tired. child, clinging to him us though she could not bear to miss the clasp of his hand. " I strove• to hide from your eyes this love I bear yau. 1 could have borne to see you the wife of . another if .you could' have been happy no. And now. I have, allunwitting- ly, brought the firstcloud on your young life, my Cecil .l" He put back with lingering tenderness the. clustering. curls from her brow, and met the blue eyes that looked up withsuch wistful-' •nese. '. " You do not know what It .would be to live day after day under the cloud; that shadows: this life of mine: I have passed. myyouth dear, and Ihave grown use to Walking in nhadow Sanshine•;ia-net a ne= ceesity to me. as it is to yod in the spring- time of life." Don't ; I can't bear it 1" she cried, with . a quick gasp, as the.aweet voice faltered and- was silent.:"There' would ; be no sunshine for me without you. .I could' not 'live, 'end should break my.beart to. know you were lonely and weary, and I was, sob withyen.' You called me your .'sunshine'. once.. - Oh, let the be'that, let me be happy in trying to,. lighten your. burden 1" , '" Cecil, Cecil, spire • me 1 My own heart pleads sefor this ; joy 1 A niomeutbear. • with me 1..r . - • He released her; and turned away, walk-. ing: from her down the long room.. How Could he be strong here when those dear wistful eyes •looke& into hi, and 'those clinging. fingers were .touching, his ?. .• She drew back, watching flim, her lips" half parted,:the colour flitting over her soft • cheek. While Loris McLeod stillstrove withthe deathless love that:pleaded for her,•he heard not the mad :galloping; of; a horse's hoofs without on.the -grae 1, -or • the loud echoing, - peal. of thebell. But Ceoil ;did,' and knew 'hot what 'strange ,impulse made her'bound forward to the door, and then stop, pressing;` , her: hand over her throbbing heart. She •had' na distinct tbought, she did not know •what she . expected ;' but .yet,-, when a ;light tap; was heard at the library -door, and Raptor entered, her eye fell without surprise•on the yellow envelope he carried. •"" Give it to me," she said quietly, Is any one waiting)" • •"No, 'Mies Verner.: An 'orderly from Hyde brought thb telegram on," paid Hec- tor ; and he withdrew. , ' ' - ., Then the; girl sprang to the'Colonel!s side,: and he turned to her. He had given•no heed to what had passed; and she put the telegram into his hand, ' With a violent effort -he forced himself to calmness, and tore open the envelope: ' • The next moment the. paper dropped from his: hand: With' a amptbered'•'ory .he sank down' upon a chair•near him, and bowed. hie. head on his locked hands. `! At lust, at last" Thank Heaven .1", ..And -,yet the Indiana' that Cecil read with rapture was oitly a summons to dire danger,. perhaps to death. It ran thus -- "Join the ,—th ;at Chatham at once, em- bark on. the•.22nd� Colonel Darnley ill; • Insurrections 'there," • . CHAPTER VIII. "It may' be, Cecil, that 1 shall= never come back to you; but, whatever befalls,,I shall , die, Heaven .willing, ' as a soldier. should die.. And. so farewell; my own data IMO" • • They were the.last-words Colonel McLeod buoke, as he folded the girl`m his arms, and pressed his lips to her with lingering ten, dernees. It might be the last time he should so hold her to his heart, so' kiss those. soft' lips, so meet the brave loving gaze of :those blue eyes. • He could not speak ; but he. smiled, and took'the wistful face in his hands, looking. down upon' it as though he would grave every lino onheart and menial, Then he turned away, and went :out into the hall, where Heotor, hie faithful atten. dant, awaited him, where there Were signs of departure; and through the open door Way Mild be seen the noble chestnut horse the Colonel' always rode, led up and. down ,by •a groom. The servants alt collected to say the last "good-bye" to the master, and .old Colin stood looking wistfully in the en- iry Mrs, Annandale , and Alio, wheae ready tears were dowing, came. out `from the draw. lug -room. he Colonel had already taken leave of them, and had told Mrs. Annandale alone that he left Cecil ae his promised wife,whieh information had greatly pleated hie kins- woman though it had not very greatly aatonisbed her. "What, tears, my little maid?" said the Colonel, with his bright gentle smile, as he gut hie arm round Alice, and kissed. her ono more, " A soldier's lassie ? Ile brave and hopeful, my child. I dare say,1 Obeli come back to Hidingburst, after all.." The eervants crowded about him, the• wo- men in tears; and for every one, from the stately butler down to the little kitchen- maid, who hall hid behind the house -keep- er's skirts, between grief at the Colonel's departure and wondering awe of his uni. form, he had a firth hand-olasp and gentle word of farewell, But,, when he had sprung into his saddle and had gathered the reins in his hand, while Hector sat like a statue awaiting his master's . word, Colonel McLeod glanced; round, half paused, then, as if sone thought had atruck him, .called to Coil to come out, •. "Only a fancy'," he said a little hurriedly, bending down to her and`holding her hand in his uogloved right hand. "Yours must bethelast touch. Heaven watch o+vet you, my heart's'dearest 1" They watched hitt down the long avenue asfar as they could see;: and, long, after. horse and rider were lost to sight, they could hear the click of the hoofs echoed' back from the quiet country roads. Then Cecil turned back with her sister to. the drawing -room and atobd by the lire, locking down into the blaze, one hand rest- ing on Colin's brown head—he was.. her charge now. • There was a dreamy smile lighting up the large eyes, her thoughts were tar . enough away from that'apot, and her heart was all aglow with a ,noble enthusiasm. "I should have thought, you Would have been more 'sorry for Colonel McLeod's de parture," said Alice disconsolately. " Why,. you are actually smiling 1" ` •Cecil turned to her sister with a . half start, . as though she had been awakened from a dream.. " Was I?" she said. And then she stoop- ed over Colin, and her brighthair' fell like a veil of gold over her soft , clear cheek. "Don't you know, Alfie, how the High- land women used to send off their soldiers to the wars ?" But Alice made no answer. She did not understand Cecil in the least. • "McLeod 1 Ah, by Jove, this is. the jolliest thing a fellow' can nee 1" was the earnest hearty greeting '.of Lord :Kennedy. when; after a day's continuous.' duty, the Colonel eat in his room writing. • ... C.olonel McLeod::had:notLL seen Lord Ken-' • nedy till 'now, and, as that .young• officer burst into his apartment almost without the ceremony of knocking, he rose quickly and. .advanced to meet hint with ..outstretched' hand: ' " I declare L could pitch my cap lip in the air 1" cried Lord Kennedy,seating himself on the table. • "The time seems ; to pass •like lead till we're off.; And perhaps after all" philosophically, though with ,an under- current. of sadness in his #banner-" it's only. food for the assegais we'll be" "The chances of war," said -.the Colonel,, with ;a fleeting anile. "Tatar otir people, Ken- nedy.'-how do they takeit ?" "Like ike bricks 1 Aren't. they Englishwo- men?" replied Lord Kennedy, puffing. with• suspicious vigour at a cigar he. had just lighted. ,t "Fancy' my.mother turning out.. at four O'clock in 'the morning to' see me off last week 1 • Thera: are plenty of Spartans among modern women -22 "1 hive -lett one . at Ridinghurst," aaid Colonel'MeLeod, who knew'his youngfriend, was hovering round the subject. ",Ah 1" Lord Kennedy looked up with suppres`aed eagerness. Cecil=-= I can't hel galling her that=how does she take':it ?" p • 00101401.3401400 was sitting by the •ble, resting bis :forehead on one hair:. ,' .He said" now, looking; up straight into Lord i nedy's frank eyes, not answering bin.. quer, tion—. "Kennedy,.isn't ..our famil inti'hnictel •related to: tat; of Lord' Tredegar'? y Lord Kennedy coloured, looked down,ani. then said off -hand— • "Yes; nay eldest sister's his wife, that's all. What on earth has that to do with Miss' Verner.?" "You cannot deceive me, Kennedy," said the Colonel gently, " Did you think it would hurt me to owe this command to.you, dear boy ?" ' For a moment lord Kennedy sat looking' at the-Co'Ionel; too. .much taken .aback to speak. "How did you know ?" he Said at length. " I'am right, then?"•' ' " You will make so much out of nothing," said Lord Kennedy; !" I knew your'appli-. cation had ,beenrefused, and '1 was 'mad. Se; 'as soon es Add Darnley was kind enougla. to' get sick, I worked what' interest .I had.. You see you're a firt.rate -man, so it was• all right ; and a certain• person out there you know, who shallbe nameless, wrote me -=--I. know him=' Why, on 'earth don't 'we have out McLeod! 1 wish' bad' him; with my C9luinn., " • • The young man paused a second ; then he said, turning aside and. speaking in a low' voice , "I knew yea..would give worlds to go out, McLeod—forgive me=and I got: an idea—I 'must have it out—you won't be vexed?-- after I saw you that day it canoe back to me -that you had been sacrifioing yourself for 'what .you thought. would .':be for Coil's happiness and 'chine. I was se taken. up with my own selfish feelings that .„16 never- Mooed me before: If that were so, whioh• •ever way it went, You would•want tenfold, if that could be, to'.go•.out. That's all the truth, McLeod. if I have pained yon, you'll know it was unwittingly,, and pane over,"•• • • : The Colonel in answer only put out hie' hand and Clasped that of the younger man fn silence, It was many minutes before could speak at all.. " Dear noble friend,". he saki softly, "` you' will never knowquite all that you have done for me. You. still trust .me, Kennedy 1 1 • have felt likea "--he drew in hie breath sharply and bit his Hp,: taking up another phrase quickly*" as though I Were deceiv- ing you till you know this, And I should 'sever have given her a name unredeemed from the breath of dishonour. I cannot say much u thanks for your noble generosity;, words are but: vain to pay such a debt as this 1" " It's nothing, nothing," answered the young man hastily, as he walked away to. the mantel -piece, where be stood silent :for some time; nor did McLeod intrude upgn what must inevitably be thoughts tinged with bitter pain even to a heart 80 noble as this.. "Wells" mid the young man at last, turning round, but with .a quiver in bis' voice, "Heaven bless her 1 Aad you-,rI don't grudge you the jewel because I can't wear it myeelf. She will be happier with you than 4 could have made her, I don%. know that T. understood her as you do ;; though I=- . You'll tell her how glad I am?' And then, without waiting for an answer, Lord Kennedy rattled away about military subjects. The conversation lasted until a late hour, when the two men parted. Not many days after that the transports stood'ohtto sea; and every heart beat high with hope and longing as each moment bore them onward to the, goal where honour and glory might be woo. l'TO BE CoNTINIIED.j Fashions for Men. COATS SHORTER—TROIISERS' TIsHTaa-.•yEST$ IIIGH—THE NEW COLORS. The tables of tailors are laden with the newest goods, and the mandate. has gone forth that there is to he an approach to more plainneya of : style, Nothing that may be called loud is to be ,tolerated, As to the materials- in imported goods, English and Scotch suitings are to be plentiful. The latest sampled show great varieties qt, Mei- tons, woollens, Scotch chevoits, baskegooda and diagonals. Meltons are In -alt• colors; and there are many styles of mixed, goods from which to choose. • The colors are to be generally more sot- . bre, and certainly not so pronounoed as here. • tofore. Among the mixed goods are some red and black, and with the novelties may be seen what is called an olive green. The green is a delicate shade, 'and .barely distin- guishable, and not enough to offend the most stanch . In reTorygard to shapes there is to be 'a wide margin •to suit the most varied tastes. Tailors agree that there is at present a good deal of individual sovereignty in dress. A rnae with thin legs will pot usually, hold him. self up to ridicule by wearing the old-fash- ioned tight. pantaloons .they "used to call. "gun covers." Fashions are becoming more and more elastin, and the time has gone by when any fashion plate will be made an iron rule for men. Single-breasted cutaways are to be worn, with an occasional three or four' • button cutaway -where the wearer rebels against one butted only. In spring .overe. coats the•prevailingstyle is- loose.. buttoned up high, with 'a tendency to roll.over•the collars so as to show the silk•lining and give : • a stylish' appearance. Prince Albert coats • are to be a leading feature, buttoned up high .. • in the.neok. The vest will' be high, without collar:. Some of .the; young, fellows show a disposition to rebel against the ''Prince :Al- ; bert coats as better fitted for more elderly ,persons; Coats for :• businessstits are; to be made with smallrolling goners to a great extent, Trousers are to be worn rather close.' fitting to the form of thei legs, the bottoms • small and shapely: Young men who aspire • to lead the fashionfavor, tight' trousers. The -tightness will not, however, he carried to an • extreme. - Tkilors say that a custom is rapidly spread- ing among fashionable men to leave orders forclothing with merely general instruotions • to "make it up according to the latest • style:" This leaves it•to the: cutter's option or his knowledge of the special tastes of his. customer to modify the style to suit particu- lar cases: • For exact • or extreme fashions there is a tendency to short coats as'well as to tight trousers, .So; that the young men , who,.; follow` the latest styles. will present a very: natty appearance • All *oats are to be • • -made•shorter,, There rs•littlechangeindress . suits,: except.a't'endenc , to. Make the coats • shorter.. The fact' is thatt so fevX lien can:.• afford to wear out, a dress coat in a short tithe that there is positive and. "effectual re - bellied against any midden or frequent ohan= ges in that respect. • . , Besides *the olive green referred to there are among the 'novel colors blue and olive mixed, brown and olive, and other novel.• combinations of shades.Business suits for m summer wear are to be Made of blue Scotch chevoits in skeleton form,'rather tighterfit:' tingthan last year. As usual, moat of the .. finerimported` goods ate imitatedskiifully in cheapper qualities, A. suit that posts' $40 at a fashionable tailor's•may be bought for $15 in a cheap store. Thereis a great rush • for'clothes made to order at low rates, and many low-priced establishments have sprung up all over the city. Now Use for. Sawdust. The LLiainberrtean says : We have been:: shown a'model of a car wheel consisting' of an iron rim of seven inches outward diameter by one-half inch thick, fitted with a well proportioned hub, the space between the hub and rim SIIed with pine saw dust, pressed in so solidly that we are ready to believe the assertion that resting the iron rim upon . bearings, a pressure equal to 23 tons applied to the hub failed to develop any signs of weakness. We hesitate in these days : of progress' to assort that anything is impossi- ble, and we begin to think that even saw. dust .possesses elements of value hitherto. unsuspected,. and that 'the day may come '. when the filled. grounds adjacent to all saw- mills may be seen to have a great value : in the mechanical development and utilization of the nnw nselesa' debris pinked upon • them to get• it out of the way. Sawdust car wheels, sawdust brick, sawdust fence poste,. railroad ties, and even sawdust window and door frames, wainscoting,and mouldings, be- gin to appear among the possibilities ol`, the inimodiate future. .i.- r____s. AMox' 4 the signs of returning business prosperity in Switzerland may be noted the facts that the receipts of the railways the past year exceed those of 1879 by 2,000,000 franca, and that the watch trade has lately become so active that manufacturers are raising their prices for watches in the rough by eighty per coat., and for finished• watches thirty per cent.