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The Advocate, 1887-11-17, Page 24 -4. Mar '0 a Man ler aThat I T.he ricliman's sou inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone and gold, And he inherits soft white laand, And tendor flesh that fears the rold, Nor dares to wear a garmeet-old A heritage, it seems te me, One scarce woultrwish to hold in fee. The 403 man's sou inherits cares; The baulk may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares, And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn.; A heritage, it peenis to nie, • One scarce Would wish to hold in fee. What does the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What does the poor man's son inherit? A patience learned oz being poor, Courage if sorrow come to bear it, A fellow -feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door; A heritage, i seems to Inc. A king might wish to hold in fee, 0 rich man's son 1 there is a toil That with all others level stands; Largetharity cloth never soil But only whitens soft white hands— Thi 4 is the best crop from thy lands; A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee. 0 poor man's Son! scorn not thy state ; There is worse weariness than thine . In merely being rich and great; Toil only gives the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign ; A heritage, it seems to me,. Worth being poor to hold m fee. --James Russell Lowell. - SIR HUGH'S LOVES. "Heaven forbid !" ejaculated Hugh; he was quite appalled at the notion of any likeness between this absurd specimen of humanity and himself ; but happily the little mother did not hear him, foe she was adjusting the long robe to her liking. "There, you must take him, Hugh; I want to see him once in your arms—my two treasures together;" and she held the baby to him. Hugh did het see how the weak arms trembled under their load, as he retreated a few steps in most genuine alarm. 4 "1 take hint. I My dear, I never held a baby in mylife ; I should be afraid of drop- ping him; no, let him stop with his mother. Women ,understand these sort of things. There, now, I thought so, he is going to cry; and Hugh's discomfitted look was not lost on Fey, as the baby's shrill voice spoke well for his strength of lungs. ' " Oh, hush, hush," she said, nearly cry. e Mg herself, and rocking the baby to and ' fro feebly. "You spoke so loudly, Hugh, you frightened him; he never cries so when we are alone." "You will be alone directly if you do not send him away," was her hesband's impatient answer; it is not pleasant for a man to be deafened when he is tired after a long journey. Why, I do believe you are going to cry too, Fay; what is the good of ' a nurse if you exhaust yourself like this?" And he pulled the bell rope angrily. "Oh, please don't send my baby away," she implored, in quite a piteous voice •, "he is always with me now, and so good and quiet, only yon startled him so." "Nonsense," he returned decidedly; "your illness has made you fanciful; surely I meet know what is best for my wife. Nurse, why do you allow Lady Redmond to wear herself out with a crying child? it cannot be right in her weak state. Fay gave up her baby without a word; she was too gentle to 'remonstrate, but if he could have read her thoughts. "He does not care for his child at all," she was say- ing within herself; and then she was very quiet, and shielded her face with one hand. Sir Hugh was rather uncomfortable; he knew he had been out of temper, and that he was disappointing Fay, but he never guessed the stab he had inflicted when he had refused to take their boy in his arms. " Well, Fay," he said, in rather a depre- cating manner, "1 meant to have had a little talk with you, now that noisy fellow is gone. but you seem sleepy, dear; shall I leave Yena to rest now, and come up again after dinner ?" Fay .uncovered her eyes and looked at him rather oddly, he thought, but she made no answer. Hugh rose and looked at his watch, and repeated his question. "No," she said, very slowly; "do not trouble to come up again, Hugh. I cannot talk to you to -night; I shall be better quiet." "There, I told you so," he cried, triutnph- antly. "I knew that little rascal had tired you.' "My baby never tires me," sheanswered, wearily, and closed her eyes. Oh, if she could only close them forever But then she remembered how terrible death had seemed to her in her illness—a bit of infin- ite pain. Hugh looked at her a little puzzled; his Wee Wide was very much altered, he thought ; and then he kissed her two or three times with some affection, and went to his dressing -room. But when she heard him go down stairs she rang for the nurse to bring back her baby directly. The woman did not like her excited look, or the fierce way she almost snatched him to her bosom. You had much better try and get a little sleep, my lady," she said, kindly; but Fay only shook her head. It was not bed: time yet, she said, but she would like to be quiet with her baby for a little. And when nurse had gone to have a talk with Janet, she tottered from the couch, and knelt down beside it, and wetted the whiterobe with her tears.. "It is all over, baby," she inoaned ; "he does not care for you or for me either—he only wants Margaret; but you must love your mother, baby, and grow up and coin, fort hen for she has no one but you to love her in the whole wide world." Lady fleolmond had a ;Serious relapse after this, and it was two or three Weeks before she was &Mica to the &moll again. 4 Hugh had not learned his leason yet. Neither his wife's illness nor hie own had taught hint Wiscloni; he wag as restless and unreaisonable as ever. lie grew very impatient over Fay's pro.f and if he would bring her t� Redniond Hall longed weakness, which he insisted was due in a great measure US her .9.WR 40. If she had not excited herself so much on the night of his return, she t,vehia ;ewer have had that relapse- It Was a very tireseMe affair altegethey ; fey his ewzi health was net thoreaghly re-established, and a Lon- don physician had recommended him a few Months' travel; it Was just what he wanted, and now hie trip to Cairo and the Pyramids must be indefinitely postponed. He rather obstinately Ghose to believe that there was a want of will inthe matter, and that Fay could throw off her weakness she liked. Still he was very kind to her in his uncertain way—perhaps because the doctors said he must humor her, or she would fade away from them yet. So he told her that she would never get strong while she lay moping herself to death in that little painted bird -cage, as he called the blue room. And when she answered Het. lessly that she could not walk—which he was at first slow to believe—he used to carry her down to one of the sunniest rooms in the old Hall—into either the morning. room or library—and place hercomfortably on her couch with her work and book before he started out for hi a ride. It was a new thing to have those strong arms performing such gentleoffices for her. Fay used to thank him gratefully with one of her meek, beautiful looks, but she seldom said anything—his kindness had come too late to the poor child, who felt that her heart was slowly breaking with its hopeless love. For who would be content with the mirage when they are thirsting for the pure water? Or who would be satisfied with the meted grain and the measured ounce when they have given their all in all? Those looks used to haunt Hugh as he rode through the Singleton lanes; he used to puzzle over them in an odd, ruminative fashion. • He remembered once that he had been in at the death of a doe—where or in what country he could not remember;ibut she had been overtaken with her fawn, and one of the huntsmen dispatched her with his knife. Hugh had stood by and shuddered at the dumb look of anguish in the wild deer -eyes, as with a sobbing breath the poor creature breathed its last, its helpless fawn licking its red wounds. Hugh had not been able to forget that look for a long time; and now it recurred to his memory, and he could not tell why Fay's eyes reminded him so of the dying doe's —it was an absurd morbid idea. And then he touched his black mare O little smartly, and tried to efface the recollection by a rousing galop. But, do what he would, he could not get it out of his mind that his Wee Wide was sadly altered; she was not the same Fay whose little tripping feet bad raced Nero and Pierre along the galleries with that ringing laugh. This was a tired Fay who rarely spoke and never laughed—who seemed to care for nothing but her baby. Hugh used to tell her so sometimes, with an inexplicable feeling of jealousy that rather surprised him ; but Fay did not under- stand him. 44 What does it matter for whom I care ?" she would say to herself. "I must love my own baby." And then she would think bitterly that Hugh seemed to like her better now that she had ceased to vex him with her childish demonstrations. "I am getting very dignified," she thought„" and very quiet; and I think this'pleases him. Do old people feel like this,' wonder, when all their life is ended, and they have such feeble, aching limbs? Ah, no; I do not believe they suffer at all. But now I seem as though I can never rest for my longing that Hugh may love me and tell me so, before I die." And so she would prose on in her sad plaintive little way. No wonder Sir Hugh marvelled at her, so silent of tongue, so grave of look—such an altered Wee Wide; but all the conclusion at which he had arrived was that the baby had been too much for her, and that, when the summer beat was over, she would grow strong again. And Fay never contra- dicted him. And by and by, when the days grew a little cooler, Fay began to creep about the garden a little, and call herself well. Hugh drove her out once or twice in her pony carriage; but she saw he did not like it, and begged him to let her go alone—such reluct- ant courtesies gave her no pleasure. But presently Erle came for a brief visit, and was her ready escort, and after that she really began to mend. CHAPTER XXXI. FAY'S MISTAKE She loves with love that cannot tiro, And when, ah, woe I she loves alone Through passionate duty love flames higher As grass grows taller round a stone. Coventry Patmore Never! 'tis certain that no hope is—none? No hope for me, and yet for thee no fear, The hardest part of my hard task is done ; Thy calm assures rae that I am not dear. Tenn. Ingelow Erie was quite shocked at Fay's changed appearance, but he said very little about it. He .had an instinctive feeling that the shadow had deepened, and that Fay was sick at heart; but he only showed his Byrn. pathy by an added kindness, and an almost reverential tenderness; and Fay was deeply grateful for his delicacy, for she knew now that though she had been blind, others had had their eyes open; and she had a morbid fear that every one traced her husband's restlessness and dissatisfaction with hislife to the right cause, and knew that she was an unloved Wife. Fay was very proud by nature, though no one would have guessed it from her exceeding gentleness; and this knowledge added largely to her ain. But she hid it—she bid it heroically, and no one knew till too late how the young creature had suffered in her silence. Erie and she were better Mende than ever; but they did not resumetheir old con- fidential talks. Erle had grown strangely reticeht about his own affairs, and spoke little of his fiancee and his approaching marriage. He knew in his heart that Fay had read him truly, and knew that his warmest affections had been given to Fern, and he had an uneasy con- sciousnetis that She condemned his conduot. Pay never told him so; she congratulated hitn very prettily and Made One of her old inischievoue speeohee about "the young lady with the go in her "—het ;somehow it seemed to fall flat: and he asked him a few question, as in ‘duty bound, ,about hid prospects', and fib* Often he tette Mise Selby, ' yenouerdawyf; forrieI,mwehaLvteor 8b4e9 ;near; .bfeo,n,,c1.0hof o eentinned ; "and 1 hear from the Trelaw- Peps that Miss pelby—but I must call her gvelYn nOw—is very nice indeed, a4a thet you are to be congratulated," "She is fee too good fez' me," returned Erie, With a touch of real feeling, for his fiancee's unselfish devotion was a daily reproach to lihn. Could any girl be sweeter or more lovipg, he thought. Fay sighed as she watched him. Erle had changed too, she said to herself; be was nicer, but he bad lost his old-time merriment ; he looked graver, and a little thin, and there was not always a happy look in his eyes. Fay sometime feared that the other girl with the fair hair had not been forgotten; she wapted to tell him that she hoped Evelyn knew all about her, but she lacked the courage and somehow it was not so easy to talk courage, Erie this time. But there was ono subject on which he dilated without reserve, and that was on Mr. Ferrara' search for Crystal. He was in New York now, he told Fay, with his sister, and he was waiting for further intel- ligence before he followed Miss Davenport. "Miss Trafford corresponds with him, he continued, with an effort; "but it seems the travellers have little time for writing." But he wondered, as he talked about the Ferrara, why Fay changed color so often—he had heard it was a sign of delicacy. "I am tiring you," he said, beefily ; "you are looking quite pale; you want a change sadly yourself, my Fairy Queen." And Hugh, entering the room at that moment, caught at the word, and came up quickly to the couoh. "Don't you feel so well to -day, pet?" he asked, kindly; "why are you talking about a change." "It was only Erie's nonsense, dear," she said, hurriedly. She never could speak to him without apainful blush, and it always deepened if he looked at her long, as he dia now. "I never saw you look better than you do to -day," returned her husband; "she is quite rosy, is she not, Erie? But you are right, and a change will do her and the boy good. I was thinking how you would, like to go down to Devonshire, Fay, while I an away." " Away ?" she said, very quietly; "where are you going, Hugh ?"—but there was no surprise in her face. "Oh, you cannot forget," returned Hugh, impatiently, "unless that baby puts every. thing out of your head. Do you not remember that I told you that Fitzclarence was coming down this week to arrange about our trip to Cairo." "No," she replied, "you never said any, thing about it, Hugh;" which was the truth, for he had never taken the trouble to inform her, though Mrs. Heron had had orders to prepare a room for the expected guest. "Well, well," rather irritably, "I meant to tell yon; but one's memory is treacherous sometimes. He will be down here about Wednesday or Thursday, for in another week we hope to start." "Indeed, returned Fay, in her tired voice, pulling off her baby's shoe; but to Erie's astomshment, ehe manifested no emotion. As for Sir Hugh, he was relieved to find his Wee Wide was becoming such a reasonable woman. Why, he could talk to her quite comfort- ably without fear of a scene. What will you do with yourself, dear," he continued, briskly. "Don't you think it would be the beet thing to go down to Daintree and show your baby to Aunt Griselda ?" "Just as you like," was the indifferent answer. But Erie interrupted her. "How long de you mean to absent yourself from the bosom of your family, Hugh?" "Oh, two or three months; we cannot follow out the route Fitzclarence proposed under that time—about ten or eleven weeks, I should Bay." "Three months? Well, all I can say is marriage is not the fettered state that we bachelors imagine it to be. I had no idea that onocould get leave of absence for half that time. I hope my wife will be as accom-. modating as Fay." "There was a concealed sarcasm inErle's careless speech that jarred upon Hugh, and he answered angrily, I wish you would not talk such nonsense, Erle. Fay has the sense to kno.v that my health requires Complete cha'nge, and I shall not be the man I was without it. I ought to have had three months last time, only her illness recalled me. But now I can leave her more happily." "And you expect to make the trip in eleven weeks with Fitzclarence as the leader of the expedition. Fitzclarance, so renowned for his punctuality—so celebrated for never altering a given route at a minute's notice." Erie was . going too far, and Sir Hugh ' answered him with decided impatience. "1 did not know Fitzelarence was a friend of yours, Erie; but I never listen to the idle gossip one nicks up at one's club. I am perfectly eatitified with his arrange., ments,,and so are the other men—we have two Other fellows going with us. Fay, my dear, I should like you to write at once to yotneaunt, and ask her if she can have you and the boy. The cottage is rather small; do you think you could do' without Janet, and only take nurse?" 'Oh, yes," replied Fay, in the same crib - strained voice; but Erie saw that she had become very pale. But just then Ellerton entered and told his master that some one was waiting to speak to him on business; and eo the subjectdropped. Erle looked rather Wistfully at Fay when they were left alone together. " I am afraid you will be very lonely When Ilugh goes away," he said, kindly, "Why need you go t� Daintree; you will be dreadfully dull there With drily your aunt. I de net Bee why you should not come to Belgrave Hot* first, While Mrs. Montague is there. She is 4 Very, pleasant women, Pay; and yeti &mid do just as youlike, and you would See Evelyn, arid 1 ani Auto yots two would soon be great friends, t o cense, Fay; and you can go to Daintree atter. Vil'Ir'iy dis'iiihnek het head With a faint, dissent! ing smile but she was touched by his kind Said; doeidedly, "it Wottici not do all. u h would not Ike ongth of reentence; and though it may sv usho tho one hundrod young gent mon if, 116 "wiehes mo to go .to Nutt kern., 6Wo:rdly to y�u,L are ferded.to run yof iiir teven esebet the elk young hidieS te ctis'eIdor "fq my Present life is enenatikable. 'the Oeheert.:'"Ouanah- (Teftag)Adraifee• " What does it Platter to him Where you go, so long as he is enjoying himself," buret from Erie's impatient lips ; her meekness really preyoked him. But he regretted the Fad? SPeePh as aeon as it was uttered, eePePially as a Soft hand touched "1 Hush I Erle," ;the said, gently, "you should not speak like that; not to mg at least- Do you net know that 1 have no greater pleasure in the world than to obey my husband'is wishes. No," she continued, and her eyes grew misty, 111 have no other happiness but that—no other happiness but that." "But, Fay," interrupted Erle, eigerly, "what possible objection could Hugh have to your staying at our house while Mrs. Montague le there ? We would wait on you, and watch over you, as though you were a queen." "Yes, yes I I know that—you are always so kind to me, Erle; but it would never do for me to come to Belgrave House. Hugh does not like Mr. Hunt- ingdon." " Very few people do," muttered Erle, "but he has always been a. good friend to rny mother and nie." "Yes, I know; and he is your uncle, so of course you make allowances for him. But Hugh has told me the story of poor Neo Huntingdon; astt, somehow, I feel as though I could never' visit Belgrave House until you are master there." Erle smiled. "When that day cornea, Mrs. Trafford shall reap a golden harvest after all her hard work. You do not know how I long to help her, and make life easier for them all. Think of such women living in a place like the Elysian Fields—over that shop toq; and yet, if I were to take up their cause now, 1 should only forfeit my own chances, and do no good. So you mean to be obdurate, my Fairy Queen, and not come to us." "No, dear," she said, quietly, "1 could not come." But she neVer told him that one of her reasons was that she might possibly meet the Ferrers there, if they were 'coming back from America; and she felt just now as though she could not have borne such an encounter. Erle had to go up to London the next day, but the Hon. Algernon Fitzolarence took his place the following evening, and after that Fay had a miserable time; for all day long Hugh and hie guest were planning the routelor their trip, or talking over previous tours. Either Fay's knowledge of geography was very limited or her head got confused; but as she listened to them, she felt as though Egypt were thousands of miles away, and as though Hugh would certainly get lost in those trackless deserts, and was cruel to leave her for such dangers, she thought. And sometimes she, got so nervous that she would make an excuse and leave the room'that she might not hen any more. And then she would wander about the grounds in an aimless way, tryingto throw off the oppression that was growing greater as the days went on. It was not that she did not want her husband to leave her. Her loneliness could not begreater if he went i away—so she believed n her wretchedness; but she was so terrified for him. And she had taken a dislike to the- Hon. Algernon Fitzclarence. He Might be a great trav- eller, as Hugh told her, Rini a very amus- ing companion, but his manners were not to her taste. Fay's innocence instinctively took' alarm at the covert admiration con- veyed in her guest's looks and words. He was too much a man of the world to pay her open compliments; and indeed her gentleldigeity repelled him; but he made her understand that he thought his hostess very charming. Hugh noticed nothing; he was rather pleased than otherwise that a fastidious man like Fitzclarence should admire his little wife.* Fay was certainly very pretty, even in her husband's eyes, and she was so much iniproved—not half 80 childish. But it Was a relief to Fay when theHon. Algernon departed. Hugh was to join him in town for a day or two to procure his outfit, and then come back to the Hall to bid Fay good- bye. It was on the second day after their guest had left Redmond Hall that Fay went into her husband's room to dust and arrange his papers as nautal. Iwas a duty she had taken upon herself from the first. Sir Hugh had a masculine horror of what he called servants' interfer- ence—he never allowed them to touch the papers on his writing.table or bureau; and his strictures on the feminine duster were so severe that no one but Mrs. Herm ever ventured even to remove the' overflowing waste -paper baskets. ' But when Fay came to the Hall she assumed the duty as her right, and took O great pride and pleasure in her task; and Hugh's first marital praise was bestowed on the clever little fingers that tidied without disarranging his cherished papers, and after that the work became her daily pleasure. But this nieriiiiig there Was. an unusual amount of diserderand confusion.Sir Hugh had sat up late the previous'might sorting and dee- troying hie letters; and not only the baskets but the,floor was heaped with a profusion of torn paper. Fay felt weak and tired, and she went about her work slowly; but she would not ring for a servant to help her; it would be a long, time before she tidied Hugh's papers again, she thought. And then her attention was attracted by an unfinished'letter lying at the bottom of the debris which she first believed had been thrown away , by mistake—but on closer inspection she- found—it wag torn across. But it was in her husband's handwriting. Fay never knew why the temptation came to her to read that letter. A sentenee had caught her eye, and an intense wish ;Suddenly coin° over her to read the whole and know what it meant. Afterwards she owned that her fault had been a great one; but she was to pay dearly for her girlish curiosity. It was,a mere fragment, and was appal., ently the concluding portion of a long expl anatory letter. _ " . . And now I have told you all frankly, and hoWever much yoil may condemn me, at least you will bo eorry for me. "For, indeed, I havacione all that a Mar% can do, or at least the best that is in me, and have 'only beeri beaten and humiliated at every turn. / ccen do 110 More. my ill lie88 hb.,8 exhausted me, and taken away all Just Put yonreelf in my place, and think wllat ratliSt' Suffer. " So you must not blame me; dear; if I haVe PON to the conclusion that the sem° Place ealmot hold us 130111—A least not for a thne. One pr other of us must leave; and Of course it mist be 1. 124o Misery of it in too great for my endurance, until I can learn to forgot the pet; and, tte I have told you before, Margaret," --the word lightly scratched through and 1" ;substituted only Fay never noticed this—" I think it right to go; and time and absence will help us both. She is so good and gentle; if she knew all, she would own that this is rny duty; but—" here the letter was torn across, and Fay read no more. But as ,she stood there her fingers stiffened over the paper, and an icy chill seemed to rob her of all feeling. She thought that letter was written to Margaret, and now her despair ha.dreached its climax. Poor,unhappy Wee Wide.; it was a most fatal mistake. That letter had been written by Hugh one night when he could not sleep,. and it was addressed to his wife. He had come to the conclusion that be bad lived the life of a hypocrite long enough, and that it would be wiser and more honest if he unburdened himself of his unhappy secret and told Fay why he had thought it • better to go away. He bad tried to speak to her once, but she did not seem to under- stand, and he had grown irritable and impatient; it would be easier to snake excuses for himself on paper. He could tell her truly that he was very fond of her, and that he wanted to make her happy. "I mean to make you a good husbaud, 'be had said in a previous portion; one of these days, if you are patient with me, you shall be the happiest little woman in the twhorrulgudg.bh"appnever happened to distract his attention, finished this letter; some - and he never found an opportunity of com- - pleting it. The night before he bad read. it over, and the beginning had not pleased. him. "I will write another when I am away," he said to himself ; " I am afraid she will feel herself hurt if she reads this, poor little thing. I have not been sufficiently considerate." Unfortunately Fay haa come to a different conclusion. She thought. the letter had been written to Margaret, and that the " she " who was mentioned was Hugh's wife. Yea, it was his wife of whom Hugh spoke when he said the some place could not hold them both, and for "place" the unhappy girl substituted "house." Hugh could not remain in the same hopee with her. " She was good and gentle; if she knew all,"—ab and she did know all—" she would own that it was his. duty; his present life was unendurable," and therefore—therefore he was going to• Egypt with that dreadful man who would . lead him into danger. "One or other. of us must leave, and of course it must be I." "No, no, my bonnie Hugh," she said at last, with a dim smile, as she lifted up her eyes to his portrait; "if one must be sacri- ficed it shall not be you—no, my dearest, it shall not be you." And then, in her child- ish ignorance, ,she made up her mind that, Hugh should not go to Egypte "You are very unhappy, darling," she went on, pressing the letter in her hands ; "you are terribly unhappy because you can- not love me and care for your boy; but you shall not be troubled with us any longer;. and, indeed, I could not stop—" and here a blush of shame came to her sweet face— "knowing what I know now. No, baby and I will go, and you shall not leave your beautiful home and get lost in these hor- rible deserts; yon shall stay here and learn to forget all your troubles, and presently you will be happy ; and it is I who will go, my dearest." (To be continued.) Extraordinary Scene in a Church. An extraordinary scene occurred in All Saints' Church, Woodford Wells, Essex. It was the occasion of the usual harvest festival and the building was crowded. As soon as the service commenced an elderly man, of gentlemanly appearance, jumped up from his seat excitedly, and, pointing to O lady who was entering, exclaimed,'" Oh, what a bonnet !" He continued muttering to himself, and occasionally starting to his feet during the prayers, as well as beating time with his hands to the music. The churchwardens and others endeavored to pacify him, but when they approached him he placed himself in a threatening attitude, the consequence being that no one was able to lay hold of him. Meanwhile many of the worshippers left the church in a state of alarm. When the first hymn was given out by the vicar, the man again jumped up suddenly, left his pew and advanced toward the' vicar, every one expecting something serious to happen. The man, however, went up to a lady, put his arms around her and embraced her, to her great consternation. He then turned and walked out ef the church and no one followed him. He is a etranger to the locality, and the supposition is that he is an escaped lunatic. Meanest Nan Outdone. The Brockville .Recorder publishes the fob - bowing; " The writer was, on the road to Farmereville and had to wait some time at the Elbe toll -gate, vvhieh was blocked up by a waggon with a hay rack. As we finally drove up and handed over our low cents „ the old lady in charge of the gate said: If — you wait long enough I'll tell you why that man was so long here. You see this morn- .„ ing he went past with a load of hay so large it would not go through the gate. To help him out of the trouble my husband and myself got rails from the fence and fixed up the side of the road, so that he could drive aroundthe gate, and he got by withoht unloading. When he came back just now he refused to pity only One way, as he said he had only gone through the gate once. What do you thiek of that?' said the old lady as we drove on." Lessons in h 'admit( PhilneoPhy., " Yes, Tommy," said the teacher of the infant elass, " that is right ; vegetable e come from. the ground; and now can Willie Waffles tell us where meat comes from 2" Yessinn," responded 'Willie, with the air of Oh& familiar with the subject," meat comes from the betcher'e." The Place for our Superfluous Girls, Keep o �lotot 1 taand aed '