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Lucknow Sentinel, 1890-06-06, Page 2• WWF'."11bA.k1A:A .•. �:A�r..,.w, ,v.li;; �� u, fir_ � ri'S�•�Crua7 ,--?c!'r-,-- r �:.'. ::.q,-..+tiF:w..•�';i-�rt ,ac.. {; .:iw��"�,...r ��,.w.,,. c__...y...+.. a triteFatter of the Wangle. We an asaion gathering in my mother's lace see, `?fid melon h len® the bed-teein. SGntlY lays 'Tits* I know that I grill catch it, and my flesh in fancy itohea,. ,!!s I listen fotm he patter of the ehieftle on Y "4eif • F Beery tinkle of the ehingle has an echo and a sting, Awl a thousand burning fancies into active being eprs'in ; Abdul. thquaand bees and hornete 'neath my coat tail seem to swarm As I,liaten to the patter of the shingle, oh, 8o .warm) ie a e latter Gomes my father—whom i sappoaed • Oa31mey •tae situation, atia To sewn bending o'er me, ae I listen to the Played byherby the shingle in a wild and weird Ina sudden intermission, which appears my only chance, I say sltli' Smy Strike me genent s," mother, or you'll eke stops a moment, draws her .breath. the shingle holds aloft. And Bays: " I bad not thought of that, my son ; just taktthem off." Boly Moan! and the angels oast your pitying glances down - 41, • po tine on ; ,Sad may I with took and dunces everlastingly commingle yingle It I ever shi7i aanother word when mother wields ADOPTED BY THE DEAN : strange. And yet," oho ridded, with a slight shiver, ao " Partant pour la Syrie," ano- oe®ded the " l]iai@seiUaige. I think it. Only makes me long the snore. Mademoidelle will pardon me—but today—!s Jour des Mort*, I cannot help being gad, and no one ,here will, understand, andwind "—with a rash of Ferre—" Jd suis desoiee.- Frances was fora moment greatly per- plexed. „ erplexed.. To attempt any comfort under the oiroamstanoea was almost impossible, yet to go to a .still more retired plaoe would probably attract Mre. Mortlake or Cornelia. She resolved to risk it, however, and turned - once more to Esperanoe, who was still standing disconsolately by -the window, the With Clande's ' Madera,' I shun feel ill used 1" "Your maneuverings was beautiful to use, Raid Frances, laughing. " How you managed to keep both firs. biorilake end Miss Collindon 000upied I can't imagine.' " Merely by shatter. General talk when goegiible,- inesip, if Mrs. Mortlake seemed to be slipping away—the arta and soleness to detain Cornelia --what a medley it must have been, to be sure 1 But tell me about my protege. Poor little maid 1 I was long. ing to talk to her." - " I wish you could have done so, her naivete world have delighted you. Poor little thing 1 half a dozen worde of French won he She was crying, r completely. IIMMIMMV 4 dear me, dear me •1 Qom and kiss me. my dear." Esperanoe obeyed willingly enough, but when Cornelia put the other end of the speaking -trumpet into her hand with an injunction to " say something "every word of Englieh eaddenly escaped her memory, and atter a dreadful page° oho could only sky in Veenoh, "1 am ao pleased to see the friend of meemother." Whereupon Cornelia frowned angrily, end the old lady herself pat down the trumpet with a little laugh. " " Ah 1 you speak in French, end I em, not such a good scholar in that respect as 1 used to be. Never mind, never mind, we shall understand each other soon." ed at her shed orimeo n vex „ ••,,,. �7 a kin �,��� �,��. �pp� ph�� � @eranoe bla , z....M4. r,;!}A�, rs','t.�'_ �.., r,'^'A-F.,, ^... ,ctt ']:".if w iiAry'.„"'" ...t .-C;.7,'.otlier ?., .jac; �. c, _ „rtilT;tc•.z, .,_.., �:;;r- 'T a .. stir- , . T•' heavily on ilia o xyeanthemiim dropping y � minutes. as it we had known each other 1or'�:rliilfire, krYtc�-dryrxsd-s��iut�r�»u pE,aea�wsdir„�"�,��,�„fig-oyes,Y��•��:��n:Y=,,����.-��.��.�3�-�-�,. t�.�v.�.-�"•�"'�"e;�'`�' had collected her ienneghte mien& to listen lawn every detail of the business in which he is engaged, will find his chance to step lane IND BUSIe eteii • Many Falx Because They Want to Been nt the Top. Every fall a new army of boys enter the business world. Each boy will feel aura that he ie going to make a grand an000se, and if he does not feel that way he is not mush of a boy. A great many boys fail. not becaue° they have not.ability, bake because they want to begin al the top; they are not willing to shovel, but want to make their way in cushioned chairs. The mem who -fill cushioned chairs with the greatest dignity are those who never hesitated tp shovel if shoveling helped to make a park upward: The boy who is willing to be a tinthe world, e part keep - bop and do a boy p� leaves. .1 Do you think, dear, we. might look at the conservatory ? it would be qniet in there." Esperanoe naught at the idea, and led the way to a little inclosed veranda which opened out of the drawingg-room. Unfortu- nately, Cornelia happened tolook up at the moment, and fearing that he had been neglecting Miss Neville, hastened forward. " Will you not ,00me nearer the fire ? Esperanoe has not been taking care 9f you, A 6TORY OF TWO OOIIIITBIEB The season," so to speak, o! Riloheater, began when the Worthington°, returned. ry gne repo nixed --Lady Worthington _as. tbe leader of the neighborhood,fe ; to t- oertain extent, even the •inhabitants of the deanery bowed to her opinion. „Esperanoe had heard reference° to them through the autumn : ” When the Worth - come bank we must begin a aeries of diniere"; or, " When Lady Worthington is here all the ladies' committees will oome to life again"; or most frequently of all in testifying any queetioned act, " 1 am euro Tracy Worthington does it." Frzsne each remarks as thee°, Eeperance farmed posed to thinknthat nothing and ogoodprediscould selene oat of Riloheater, she pictured Lady Worthington to hereeltsea tall, managing, masonline English woman, and the more eke heard her quoted the more ehe felt inclined to dislike her. The only thing which made her waver now and then was the recollection of Claude Magnay's great ing. "I have been admiring your ohryean- themume, and your cousin war going to show me the conservatory." " I am afraid it is scarcely worth seeing ; our gardener has not managed well this autumn." Frances was jfraid there would be no getting rid of Mies Collinson after this, but happily Lady Worthington, managed a skillful appeal to her judgment in the queetion whish she and Mrs. Mortlake were ..dieonseing, and Cornelia, nothing loath, left Frances -and—Eeperrinee--to-••admir a --the, flowers alone. Frances, hardly bestowing a glance on the shabby array of planta, took Eeper• anee's hand inhere and still speaking in Ferenc*, said, . " Will.yost..n- cit tell , me _about your troubles ? then, perhaps, I could understand a little. Claude Magnay told my sister that yon were living here, and. she oome on purpose to see you she knew your father and mother, as perhaps you have heard." " No, I think not" replied Esperanoe, "bat I have heard papa speak of Sir Henry Worthington. He—he spoke of him onoe, remember, before all the trouble began—so long ago it seems now." " Wee that before yon left the chateau?" asked Frances, convinced that talking were a relief " No, we were at Paris, peps and Gas - years.r' " Or ae if she had not had a confidante for months," said Lady Worthington. " No No wonder she is unhappy g plaoe, and with those terribly stiff people." And yet I fanny there is so mnoh real good in Mies Collinson," said Franoee, musingly. " My dear, Frances, you would see good- ness in every living soul, I do believe. How- ever, your are doubtless right, only you really must let me try and reeoue that little T. •„nh A uirl who_ I feel oonvinoed is as 2.guldrfe:_the teles tami1y., b t even_Ihlft— p bad little weight with her, so contradictory and cynical was she growing. ° But while she was daily becoming more hopelessly miserable, relief was on its way to her, for Lady Worthington was hot a person to lose time, when once a project sag grated itself toter she bent all her energies to its aogomplishment. It was "All Souls' Day," or as Ever - awe had always been acoustomed to call it, " Jour des Marts," and between her ead memories end her uncongenial surround- ings ehe was in a linable state. A letter from Gaspard, fall of tendernese, only proved a - source of tears, and Mrs: Mortiake's unsympathetic curiosity and .Oornelia's undisguised scorn were almost unbearable. Never hod the purple drawing - room felt so oppressive, never had the day seemed so interminable! Something,' how- ever, of her old courage kepi her from quite giving way ;'she eat reading aloud to her on oeins, meohenioally, indeed, but still with a firmness of purpose whish deserved pease, ooneidering her very slight powers . ot.eelt.control. Her thoughts were far away—now in the crowded Parisian cemetery, now in the hospital ward beside her father'a death -bed, or farther still in the little grave -yard at Mabilion, where, year by year she had taken on this day all the flowers which the wild, old garden would produce. Did the peasants tend it now ? she wondered. " Really, Esperanoe, your pronunciation is getting worse and worse," said Cornelia, reprovingly. Whereupon Esperanoe was startled back la the present, and toiled along wearily with her reading, her eyes dim with tears. At last the sound of the door -bell made itself heard. Any interruption would be weloome, end she listened eagerly for approaching footsteps. To her great relief the door was opened, and Lady Worthing ten and Miss Neville were announced. Whether it was on account of 'this most opportune arrival, or whether Lady Worth- iagton's appearance fasoinated her, it is impossible to say, but her prejudices were forgotten, and for a minute or two she was as happy and animated as in former times. Lady Worthington was, at fleet, misled by the smile of pleasure with whioh she reoeived her greeting. She followed oat her;preconceived plan, however, and exerted herself to the utmost to keep both Mrs. Mortlake and Cornelia " at , bay," while Frances made the most of her opportunity with Esperanoe. At first she was talkative enough— seemed delighted to speak of, Gaspard and Claude Maguey, and fairly puzzled Frances by her apparent happiness. In a few minutes all was ohanged, however a brass band, whioh had for some minutes been causing the gray walla of the Vicar's Court and the deanery to echo to operatic airs, now gave forth with ,mnoh martial ardorl• the ainspiring " Marseillaiee." The oolor died out of Esperance's face. She paused in the middle of what she was slaying, and Frances, full of pity for her, tried to invent some excuse for moving ont of the eight of the rent of the party. " What beautiful chryeanthenmums you have in your window. May I look at them?" Esperanoe gladly assented, and the two moved to the opposite end of the room, where in the broad window -seat a few flowers were deriding, now arranged by the femorae housemaid rev stiff rows, though Eeperance Wearyingly tried to group them after her .fanoy. The brass band was , now still more audible, and Frances was more grieved then surprised to see that the little French girl's eyes were brimming over with tears., " It most be hard to hear one's netionel bong in a strange land," she said, gently. Esperanoe started, her cheeks glowed, and ehe even smiled through her tears, for Frances had spoken in her own language. " You speak French like a native I " she n' a ern o " To resew her,, or to make her see ? " said Franoee, half to herself. I wonder which is the right way." dear,' a little " As renal in our case, my of both, I suppose," said Lady Worthing- ton ; alter whish the conversation turned upon other things. • CHAPTER XVIII. see an votta and �e were e0 happy. mademoiselle, so very happy. But then name the war and then the dreadful siege, and from then sill now things have grown worse and• worse." " Poor child 1" said Franoee, gently. Her words caused another rush of tears, how- ever,, for what memories did they not recall to Esperanoe 1 and how long it was since she had heard each a term of endear- ment 1 Frances could only hold her close, and Eeperanoe, as she grew a little more calm, looked up gratefully, for nothing could have eoothed her so Well as the gentle, caressing sympathy whish Franoee knew so well how to bestow. 'Coneoions that the time left them was short, neither attempted to enter any more into detail, bat Frances anxious to show that this was to be the beginning of a closer intimaoy, began to speak of the future. " Yon will come and see me et home, will you not ? and we will talk French all the time." - " Yon are so kind, dear mademoiselle," said. Esperanoe," now I shall have some- thing to look forward to, and the time will page more quickly." Her face. lighted up for a moment, but there was a certain sadness in her .words whioh did not escape Frances ; it seemed to her unnataral•for such a mere child to speak thus of whiling away the time. Yet, as they entered the oppressive drawing - room, once more, she owned that it was not surprising ; -an air of stiff, sleepy propriety pervaded the room, the large cloak on the mantel piece . seemed to tiok slower than other clocks, the sunlight straggled almost reluctantly through the narrow windows, the fire smoldered lazily in the grate, a fat pug -dog yawned oontin- nally on the hearth -rug; she could quite understand that all this would depress a French nature. And Eeperance certainly was out of plane amidthese surroundings. She hastened to move -one -of the ponderous erni-ohairs for Franoee—it is to be feared that she took a wioked delight in changing their positions —and then, as Cornelia turned to the manger visitor, she bent down to the dog, closed his month in the middle of a yawn, ann tried to rouse him a little. Something in her unstudied attitude annoyed Cornelia ; ehe wished -she would sit down and be like an English girl. " Do leave the dog alone," she said at last, with edme sharpness in her tone. " Grannie is coming bank to Riloheater," observed Cornelia Collinson, looking„ up from a letter she was reading at breakfaet the-following.morning " Coming back 1 " exolaimed Bertha, in her annoyed voice. " I though she was to spend the winter at St. Leonard's. I am sure she said in the summer that she had to the oonbereetion. ” Yes, I grew tired of St. Leonards," Mrs. Passmore was saying. " The house was draughty, too, and I began to long for my old haunts ; after all, my dear, there is no place like home." " And are you oomfortably settled in ? " asked Cornelia. " Well, pretty well ; there is a great, deal to see to, and the days are short ; my rheu- matism has been troubleeome to-dsy, and that is a hindranoe. Could you spend a I should be so glad to have you." Cornelia did not at all wish to stay, And began to hunt for muses.. " I am so busy just now, grannie, or I certainly would ooroe, and Bertha has—a oold, or she might have helped yon." Mrs. Passmore looked disappointed. " I am sorry for that, it would have been enoh a pleasure to have yon." Then with a smile again, " Could Amy's little girl stay ? ' " Oh, certainly," said Cornelia, without referring to Eeperance. " She shall stay with_yauiow, just as long as you like." And so the matter, was settled end` or- nelie► Boon took leave, turning ,just at the last to Esperanoe with the words, " I will send down your things, and the books you taken the house fora year. I will want, and you meet walk in on Friday " Rhe eeeme to wish to bb at-home again 'morning for reit lensone ; ' "I -will be ready and as to the house there was little diffi- culty in disposing of that. She will return early next week." " And now there will be those wearisome pilgrimages down to the priory," groaned Mrs. Mortlake. " How tiresome of her to change her mind 1" " Where is the Priory ? " asked Esper- anoe, not a little excited at the proepeot of a new arrival, and rightly oonjeoturing that " Grannie " was Mrs. Passmore. " The Priory --my grandmother's house —is about two miles out of,the town, on the London road," explained Oorneliaratter a for you at eleven." Then the oarrisge drove off, and Esper. once was lett behind with mingled feelings of relief at being away from the deanery; anger at being so summarily disposed of, and awe of Mrs. Passmore and the trumpet. She was soon happy enough, however, for Mrs. Passmore wee delighted to have a companion, and spared no pains to make her comfortable and at home, She was charmed with her curious old-fashioned bedroom, and with the exquisite neatness Of the whole house ; there was a feeling of oelmnese and repose, too, which, with all • moment's pause.,its dullness, the deanery never could attain, `asp` "-eiti a ince-wrrry-`that it I•ar-111-'r.,-_srfti-meet seeds else ansa-cs� -heirs -really wanted restored Eeperance to'mnoh o! her old cheerful brightness. The only .drawback to her . complete happiness was Mrs. Pasemore's deafness : this had now been of euoh long duration that the old lady had fallen into silent habits, and only twioe in the.long winter evenings did ehe take up her trumpet:. But though silence or dullness of any description were penally very nnoongenial to Esper- anoe,-she was now too much oat of health, and too weary of the incessant " nagging " of her cousins. not to be thankful for the respite. The busy idleness of the next morning, too, suited her admirably. She enjoyed helping old Mrs. Passmore in her manifold tidyings and arranging° ; and as the old lady could not feel comfortable till every drawer and 'cupboard in the house had been systematioally eearohed and sorted, she was kept fully occupied. Her dainty little fingers seemed to have a natural aptitude for such work, and nothing Mame amiss to them, whether they dealt with stores of old lace, artificial flowers, venerable silk dresses, or ohaotio odds end, ends. At last, while setting to rignte the con- tents of an old 'secretary, ehe Dame torose a drawer fall stof letters, and, not liking to break in upon their wild confusion, drew Mrs. Pasemore's attention to them. " Letters ? dear me 1" exclaimed theold lady ; " I thought I had sorted them all last year. This will be en afternoon's work for ua, Eeperance." A000rdi`fiy, after the two o'clock dinner was over, and Mre. Passmore had taken her usual siesta, the two set to work, destroying a few of the less precious documents, and arranging the others carefully according to their dates. Eeperance had just tied up and labeled a packet of 1847 letters when Mrs. Passmore gave an exolamation of surprise. " How strange to be surest and that I should have come across them to -day! Two of poor Amy's lettere—your mother, my dear." And she handed them to Eeperance. They were folded together, though one was written on thin bine paper, the other on a little note -sized sheet, yellow with sge. Eeperance opened the latter and read eagerly " Russell Square, 16th May, 1848. Me Wee Mns.1?essisos$,—I cannot thank yon enough for your great kindness in ask- ing me to stay with yon during next month. Thank yon, too, for your consideration 113 saying that, if my brother changes his mind, I may still be free to stay in London: but of this I now feel sure there is no hope, for, besides his former objection to our marriage, he has now, I fear, a personal dislike to Monsieur de Mabillon. I cannot tell you how terribly all this has grieved me. Had it not been for dear Christabel'e kindness, I don't think I could have borne it. She has, indeed, been a good sister to me." " tinder the circumstances, both Alphonse and I think it will be beet thbt our wedding ehonld be perfectly claret ; so, with many thanks, I will decline your kind offer of accommodation for any guests. I! it will be quite convenient to yon, and to the clergyman of the parish, we should prefer some day in the first week of June, and should like it to be early in the morn- ing. Again thanking yon for your great kindness, believe me, your affectionate Ann CiCLLINBON." Eeper&nee looked round, surprised, but still smiling. 1 " It is exude,. Ciel ! he sleeps. again when my back is turned. Pug, you are the most lazy of dogs! " - The provoking ease of manner,' the unfortunate " Ciel," equivalent to swearing at the deanery, and .yet , more, the grem- matinal mistake, angered Cornelia beyond all patience, and, in an unmistakably dis- pleased voice, she said, " There are plenty of chairs, Esperanoe ; why do yon not sit down ? " That " English" idea of the necessity of sitting down 1 how it annoyed Esperanoe ! With a little expressive moveinent of her hands, she subsided, however, into the nearest vacant chair, and sat for a few minutes like patience, on a monument, but when the good-byes were being eaid Frances noticed that her eyes were f all of tears, which she was sure would not have been the ease ad Pags diverting exercise been continue 1. The departure of the guests • made an opportnnity of escape, of which Eeperance was not slow to avail herself, particularly as she felt that a scolding was in store ; but in all her harry she found time to stop at the landing window till Mies •Neville'° violet bonnet was hidden by the archway of. the Vicar's Court. The strata- gem had certainly been enooesefal. Lady Worthington gave a sigh of relief as the carriage drove away from the deanery. " There 1 I sell that ' Something opposite direction to Worthington Hall. She did not make any more inquiries, how- ever, as her cousine were evidently put out, but her curiosity grew all the greater, and she looked forward mach to the first of the " pilgrimages„ which Mre. Mortlake had mentioned. Mrs. Passmore arrived et Riloheater on Tuesday, and on the Wednesday Mre. Mortlake insisted that some one must go to see her. This led to s disagreeable dis- cussion between•theaistere as to who should perform the tiresome duty, to whish Eeper- ance listened with some scorn and a good deal of amusement, congratulating herself that for once she was out of it. After mnoh arguing, Cornelia yielded, not very graciously, and consented to go to the Priory, • provided she could have ' the carriage. „ ” And you may as well oome with me, she added, turning to Eeperance ; " it will be useful for yon to know the way to the Priory." Eeperance prudently refrained from expressing too mush eatiefaction aware that any " foolishness ' • on her part would put a atop to the whole thing ; but inwardly she was much excited. To meet Mrs. Page - more, her mother's friend and helper, was indeed an unlooked-for pleasure, and Cor- nelia would certainly have been scornfully enrprieed had ehe known that Esperanoe spent a good half hour in curling her feather, preparing her dainty little neck -tie, and mending her old but fenitlesely neat gloves,in view of the afternoon's expedition. By three o'clock the cuisine were driving through the sleepy streets of Rilchester, Cornelia feeling virtuous though inolined to be dross, and Esperanoe almost gay in, spite of f thick November fog, whish usually depressed her more than anything. Almost for the first time she saw the really poor quarter of the oity, the deserted, tumble-down houses, and the egnalid, dirty little children. . 1' This This is different from the rest of Rib ablator," she exclaimed: " Is this where Cousin Chrietabel goes to eee her poor people ? " " Oh, no, she merely visits a few of the respeotable honks near ne, replied Cor• nelia, shortly. " Bnt who takes care of all this ;poor part?" " I' m enrol don't know, it is not in our parish." The parish 'belonging to the cathedral merely inolnded the houses in the close, and a very small sprinkling of " respeotable poor," an arrangement ainguleriy unfortu- nate .einoe it gave all the riob people the same excuse for ignorance and idleness whioh Cornelia had joist made : " It is not in our pariab,"—while the clergy of the poorer distriots were sadly hampered by the dearth of church -workers. Eeperance askedno more questions, and in, a few minute° the houses were left behind, and the bare, bleak country lay before them.' Half 'a mile beyond the town stood the Prior, a gloomy, brown building, not really old, but built 1n the antique style ; Esperanoe'. .heart beat quickly, when, in one of the lanoet•headed windows, she naught sight of the snowy hair and widow's sap which oonld belong to no one but Mrs. Passmore. - The cap, however, speedily disappeared, and by the time the oarrisge had driven tip the gravel sweep, the old lady was standing by the open door, with °what Esperanoe considered quite the right kind of welcome. " How good of you to oome the very first day, my deer children—in .all this fog, too." " My dear grannie, do go in ; how unwise to come out to the door," said Cornelia. Whereupon the old lady, but half under- standing, held out her hand to Esperanoe, till Cornelia led the way to the prim little drawing -room, and taking up Mrs. Pass- ,more's speaking -trumpet, made the deaf old lady anderetand-- who her companion was. " Amy's little girl oome from France 1 exclaimed rapturously. " Mademoiselle 1e attempted, something done 1 ' and if yon too good—it makes the land no mos don't tell me of a grand result, Franoee, higher every year., Do not fear to sale questions. If you do not understand it thing study until yon find out all there is to know abo t it. Do not fear to get to your business, lit e early or stay a little late. Keep your mind on your share of the waif; do not try to manage for the whole firm. I remember a man who .u� *0 1a., amuse�Lwt reslin very mnoh. He never earned more thaw $-15 a week until he had passed 50 years et age, and during hie married Iife his wife a 4 sed would grow intense y ezor e, ' manse a largeand exceedingly proeperons corpora. tion would not adopt hie plans, th • gh his oonneotion with it was paying h tare su passenger on its oars. The fir = ploy- ing him would, if managed by him, grow wealthy in a year, he insisted. Still the firm diepeneed with his valuable services and were able to conduct business. That man had been so busy all his business life planning affairs with whish he had no con- nection that he really had no time to think. of hie pereonal_.work.. He was not lazy„ e he oed norknow en-ough°'to-mindehise own business.—Christian Union. Remunerative songs. " She Wore a Wreath of Roses" was sold by the composer for £210e. When the copyright came to be sold the auctioneer's hammer fell at £500. .George Barker allowed the " White Squall" to go for 40 ehillinge, though after Messrs. Cramer had realized tl, ineanda b; it they sent the ,composer a (l rk for £100. Leslie's ' well' known song, " Four Jolly Smiths," was recently sold for £262 10s, and that beautiful Scottish melody," Afton, Water," by Alexander Same, for £160. For " There's a Good Time Coming, Boys," Henry Russell received £2, for The Mamiao," £1, and for " Man the Lifeboat," 10e. Yet all these songs have -eeirasso u reo•i'est^'%,' r'.aaenee-pefit-to-the galore. " Grandfather's Clock" was for a season. one of the most popular ditties of the nine- teenth century. Thousands of pounds were made by it, yet Mr. E. C. Bertrand got only a few shillings for the copyright. " Cheer, Boys, Cheer," whioh the regi- - mental bands -played when the British sol- diers were starting for the Crimea, and • from which the publishers have realized many thousands, secured for Henry Bunsen only £3. ' Everyone knows the song " Alice, Where Art Thou?" Mr. Wellington Guernsey,. the compoeer, offered it to several publishers • for a £5 note, but they refused the bargain, only to find, to their sore annoyance and dismay, that it eventually attained an ins. M813813 sale. Belfe'e song, " Come Into the Garden, Mand," was composed for Messrs. Bosley & Co. and was published on the royalty system. Shortly after it became popular Belle sold his royalty to she firm for £100. Now the copyright, if put into the open Market would run into four figures. From " God Bless the Prince of Wales" (which may be called, the Welsh national anthem) the publishers are supposed to have netted thousands of pounds ; yet all that Mr. Brinely Riobards, the composer, reoeived for the copyright was £20. The publishers did afterward give him 100 guineas as a bonne on its success. For that very pretty and popular song. " Kathleen Mavourneen," the composer. Mr. F. N. Crouch, reoeived just £5. The same sum was paid to Milton' for " Para- dise Lost." The copyright is now in the hands of a London firm, who paid £,552 for it, and poor Crouch some years ago was looking death in the face through starva- tion glasses Perhaps the most remunerative song of recent'times, so far as the compoeer wan. concerned, was " The Lost Chord," from which alone Sir Arthur Sullivan realizes e handsome income. At first Sir Arthur was glad to part with the copyright of husk, songs for °5 or .10 guineas, but einoe hie namebecame famous he has pabliahed " Christabel, then, was the name of my aunt ? " asked Eeperance, looking up with swimming eyes. Seeing how great en interest her com- panion took in the matter, Mrs. Passmore became at once both sympathetic and com- municative. (To be Continued). W. E. Hart, agent for several coal com- panies in New York, have disappeared, leav ing a shortage in hie accounts amounting to 520,000. only on the basis of a royalty o sold. The one of his better,ka which he sold outright was " SwTethearte."' for which the Messrs. Chappell paid him £700.—New York Mail and Ewpress. oh copy h songs New Cure for the Insane. I? aring the prevalence of the grip quite a nnrhber of parsons were reported 'to have become insane from the effects of the die - ease. New the statement is made on. excellent authority that eeveral insane per- sona were cured by the same malady. Dr. N. E. Payne, of the state insane asylum at Westboro, Mase., says that seven' of the eighty-six patients attacked by the influ- enza appear to have recovered. He adds that five of the seven would never have recovered if the epidemio had passed by without entering the hospital. Mr. Pasteur, or some other medial man, will devise some method b Now, if I gentle- ► whittle patients in insane asylums oan be inocu- lated with the influenza germ, or microbe, a great blessing may be conferred upon humanity.—Chicago News. A Change. " I've changed my mind since I saw you last," said Cadley. " I hope the new one is better than the last," put in Cynione, and Cadley got mad ' Colonel Atkins, of Denver—Young man, • what was that dose you gave me afore yon yanked th' tooth ? The dentist—Cocaine and whiskey, sir. Colonel Arkin°—Pull some more 1 A man's opinion ehonld be good for him., It should fit his conscience and make him feel comfortable. But a man with an opinion has no right to insist that others ehonld have theeeme opinion. nerr,en ,1. ism, . 4 •