The Exeter Times, 1892-8-18, Page 6ICOMO•WrZ5IDOLIDoraoSsalOWOOosollimOsor amiewsiwakesaseleeitasellelleale‘s
Golden Memories.
there mile, be pies as geoe, ana twee better
Than those I knew of Mem ea.rlier days,
Awl° by my mother -eau I eete forget her.
Or a tier say or sing too much in Meisel
mem may be cakes made rioher, lighter,
sweeter,
gerepered by some orte's sciezitifle ride.
:hipped trent a into coo -book) mad look
'neuter
Than those within. rce dinner -pail at sehool.
There mey be doughnuts fall of richer savor,
That to the eye tell ninny a flattering teen
But when attestedfull the tato and eavor
Fall short of those found in that (goner pail,
rhere maybe hymu tunes safer modern sing-
.
mg.
Newfangled, highly seasoned, fedi of grace
or glee,
Butat their best. I never find them bringing
The Joy of those learned atuty mother's Mete.
There may be fresher Yarns, ana newer stories
Of lore and love, ot life, and e'en of depth.
But ale they fail compared with all the glories
Of tilos° I read. with childish bated breath.
Pies, cakes, and doughnuts 'mown ineiodern
story,
No matter -what of these I since have had,
The old still hold. for me their golden glory,
Far brighter than the new mos -good or
bad.,
"My mother rondo them," and in days now
o'den,
Old tales rehearsed, and good -nights, sweetly
sung
0 I the delights of childhoodesmoment golden.
Flow close theyclIng and keen the old heart
young.
THE BELLS Of LINLAVEN.
• .---
ay Jowls' uusseam.
gathering Stern), watching apparently the
effect, of the swift wind upon the treetethee
surreunded his home. Therehesll letierd
teeth ot frost a few days before, mid; now,
as blast after blast ,'struck the swaying
boughs, the sere and yellow foliage was
driven off be showera, flying thick as. snow-
flakes morose the garden and across
the churchyard, in great eddying
whirls. The slates upon the roof rat.
tied in sharp dissonance; and now and again
the walls of the hones shook as some ne-
gleeted door was banged -to by the wind.
Things were evidently lively outside, The
Vicar loved. his &garden, and his flowers; and
as he saw the tall cbrysauthernums, staked
o.lcmg the side -walk; bending to breakage
in the windy air, he may have thought sad-
ly for a moment that much of their autumn
glory would be shorn away, and not a little
of his gardening Mout, lost.
It is jest impossible, howeverigthat his
thoughts were otherwise; for when the cur-
few bell rang out, he started to his feet and
looked at his watch. Was it really so
late?
"Wilfrid should have been home before
now," he said. "If he is not across Brath-
rig Fell before darkness sets in, he will
have an awkward ride of it,"
And As he spoke, he walkecl to his writing,
table, and struck a small hand -bell. Pres-
ently a servant entered with a lighted
lamp, which she placed on the table.
"Has Mr. Wilfrid not returned, Merle?"
CHAPTER L —Tux VOICE o TUP: FETA
The way is long whoa the foot is weary
and the old man, with white looks tossed
and dishevelled, will here a hard fight with
the strong west wind ere he gain the sum.
znit •of Brathrig Fell. He pulls his cap
closer down over his brow, and struggles on,
with t ead bent foward, to the gale. His
step is slow and uncertain'and he frequent-
ly. pauses to take breath, turning the while
lus back to the wind to let the fierce gust
-page. Ono hand holds the staff with, which
he props his fainting limbs; the other
clutches the fastenings of a small valise or
knapsack, brown and much worn, which he
carries slung over his shoulder.
The num eertatnly looks old,yet his feeble -
nese would almost (teem due less to age than
to illnese. For as he gains the shelter of the
pine-woodthat skirts the brow of the hill,
and sits down by the wayside to rest, there
is a hectic flush on his cheek, a quick com-
ing and going of the breath, as if some
spasm of agony, mental or physical, were
about to some upon and destroy him. His
lips move tremulously, like those of one
speaking in pain, but a half.stified groan is
ail that is audible.
It was evening and the mingled gloom
and glory of the red October sunset fired
the western sky. The great hills of West-
moreland and Cumberland rose up huge and
black against that burning background of
light, the smooth round crest of Helvellyn
contrasting with the sharper ridges of
Skidtiew and Saddleback. Dense mas-
ses of black eloud swept along the =D-
er sky, or lay in the far distanee like bars
of darkness across the western flame. A
misty dimness WAS creeping up into tho
vaileyt oa the farther side of the Fell,
showing like it tbin white mist against the
purple shadows of the hills. And &weer
down there to the left, glimpses might be
had throug.h the trees of the glittering sur-
face of it winclentept lake, giving back the
colours cf the eteetern sky in waves of
slowly-fadeug ?rightness.
The light m the west gradually died
down from fiery red to aoft amber, and ere
long from amber to a cold frosty gray. Yet
still the winds blew, and roared among the
great pines above upon the hill. Down in
its wild ravine, Brathrig •Beck sent its
hurrying waters crashing from cataract and
linn, making, with the creaking and groan.
ing of the trees, a gloomy confused
music as of Dia Through it all,
the old matt sat silent, introspec-
tive, self-absorbed. He was heedless
alike of sunset hues. of driving cloud -rack,
of the rush of wind and waters. There was
a fierce etormy beauty in the scene around
him, but his eye marked it not. Nature
may deliver her message to the pensive-sord-
ed, the love-lorn, the calm thinker of deep
things, but her still small voice cannot
reacn the heart that is torn by compunction
and remorse. For so this old man's heart
seemed to be. He with his weak melan-
choly eyes, and se:d introspective vision,
heard another voice within him than that
of Nature,and the half -unconscious gaze be-
neath his drooping eyelids showed that his
hoot was like his eyes, and these were far
away.
"Ali !" said he, as if speaking within hire -
self, 'be thee ever so fleet o' foot, the ven-
geance o' God is fleeter."
And then, suddenly roused by the sound
of his own voice, he looked up, and, con-
scious that the twilight was visibly deepen-
ing around him, started to his feet with a
quick nervous motion, and once more con-
tinued his ascent.
.The narrow bill -road led zigzag fashion
along the ridge towards the higher ground,
and was in some parts smooth and easy, in
others rugged and uneven. For long he
toiled wearily on, makieg little headway
against the masterful gale, and with more
and more frequent pauses for rest. Now
and again, as some gust more fierce than
its predecessors caught him, he was fain to
ding to the grassy bank on his right, like a
man who on shipboard, when the vessel
heels suddenly to the wind, grasps eagerly
whatever support is within reach. Away
down on the left, the shimmering lake was
coming more fully into sight, but the
opalescent brightness of the sunset was no
longer upon it, and its aspect, cold and
leaden, was gloomy and depressing.
At that moment there came up on the
wind the faint and distant clangour of bells.
It was the hour of curfew, rung out from
the tall square tower of Linle,ven Church,
outlined, with its surrouneing trees, against
the gray background of the lake, It did
• not seem at first as if the solitary wayfarer
beard the bells. But as the wind brought'
towards him, now and then, a fuller and
• deeper swell of sound, he would pause for a
moment and listen. He was like a man in
• it dream, not quite sure whether what he
heard was reality or not.
At lent the bells ceased; but the old man
still pressed wearily on—on into the gather-
ing darkness ; till presently his waning
• strength failed him altogether, and he sank
down by the wayside. A. faint groan escap-
ed his lips: ne more. The night closed
around him'dim stars peeped ,glimmering
through the torn reek of the sky ; no voids
or footstep of living thing broke the soli-
• tude; he lay there, alone, home& the dark-
ness, with the winds and the clouds and
the falling waters.
The Rev. l'rancis Norham, the aged Vicar
of Linlavon, was sit-..ing that same evening
by his stucly wipapw, looking out upon the
CC 71
Ng, sir.
" Thole would you say to 'Mrs. George
that when she has seen the children to bed,
she might join nte here."
"Yes, sir," replied the servant, who,
after drawing the -blinds, closing the shut-
ters, and extending the thick ourtatus
across the windows, tele the room.
The one lamp, with its heavy shade, lit
the large library but feebly, althaugh it
shone on the writing-taitle with Sufficient
brilliancy. The Vicar was slightly distrait
to -eight. He did, not sit down, but walk-
ed to and fro in A somewhat restlese and
anxious fashion. The wind without still
roared among the trees, but he did not ah.
pear to heed it now.
After a time he drew a bunch of keys
from his pocket, opened a drawer in hie
writing -table, and took therefrom a small
pack of letters slightly yellowed with age.
Selecting tine he replaced the others, and
sat down in his study chair, with the light
of the lamp full upon him. Opening the
sheet of paper, whistle had beau addressed
to himself, he began to read it over. It
was dated December 21, 1853, and ran
thus:
Itman Fomesx—I am afraidyou a•ill think
I have got into it sorry scrape. It was bad
enough for Inc to break with my father an
the question of my -profession in life,
but I do not know how much
worse it will be for him—or how
much more perplexing for you, who have
always stood by me—when it is knownthat
I have married without his knowledge or
conseut. But suth tho fact is. I see nOw,
what you have often told me, that when a
young man breaks, as I did, with his
natural and accustomed surroundings, he
tria,y, instead of conquering the now and un-
experienced surrottudings, be conquered by
them, I need not argue tho point now. It
is enough that 1 ant married. Nor do I for
a moment regret it,
My marrtage took /Race nearly it year
ago, but, not to aggra.vate my father beyond
endurance, I have hitherto keep it it se ret
from. you all Circumstances, however
have so come about that I do not think it
desirable to keep the matter a secret any
longer. A month ago'a little girl was
born to us, and justice both to the mother
and the child demands. that I should make
my marriage known to my father. I have
thereforewritten to him, informing hint of
what he will nodoubt regard as but dri addi-
tional exhibition of my headstrong tolly.
My wife is a goad and beautiful woman.
Her name is Esther Hales, and she is the
daughter of a dissenting minister. I have
boarded with her mother—who is o. widow—
since I came to this town ; and Esther, who
is well educated, was for it tiff e it day -
governess. In manners and culture she is
a lady ; but as her pedigree is not so long -
preserved as that of the Norharns, I am
afraid my father will not regard her as
being entitled to that distinction. Will you,
therefore, like a good fellow, when yon get
this, go over to the Hall and see my father,
and try to calm him down a
little. I know he will be ever so
wild when he gets the news I send 'him,
but, after all, he is my father, and I am his
son. You know, Frank, how much he aud
loved each other until I tried to strike out
then tide, that he did net intend to return
to Ogforitebut that he wished instead to
etetrehietertif for the profession of a Mining
enguieere •
It was A great shock to the Squire. It al-
mostlook his breath Away. That a young
man desoeuded, from the knights who cern°
thither with William the Norman, should
take to SO mean a• 'profession, was unheard
of Business of any kind was mean in the
eyes of the Squire, whose views
of life were based. severely. on aria.
togratio and . hereditary prinexplee. His
son might go into the army or navy if he
chose; but to epeak of any other form of
profession was preposteroum .Army and
navy apart, the right thing for a young
Squire to do was to prolong the eporM and
pleasures of boyhood into tee remainder of
his natural life, variett ,....ehops by an
occasionel attendance at Qtatrter Sessions;
or possibly if he developed brains enough,
by girding for hiroself a seat in Parliament.
Anything else was little short of absolute
madness.
He could scarcely believe that he had
heard aright. "Arthur," he at length said,
"who has put this preposterous notion into
your head
"No ona in particular, father. You know
I always bad a taste for working ',vitt' tools
and machinery; and since I went to the
university, I have been reading, and think-
ing about things, and keeping my eyes
about me. You have often told me that the
family property was much enctunbored, and
I do not think we alien ever be able to
relieve it by my following upon the old lines.
I am not strong in claemeseand I do not see
that any further knowledge of Latin and
Greek on my part will ever help the estate.
There are valuable minerals upon it, Uwe
had the money to secure them; and I have
formed the idea that, if I could qualify my-
self as a profeasional engineer, I might be
able, evitt-e little money we bave, to make
an atterisY to work those minerals,"
Awes it sensible and manly proposal; but
the father could not see it. If the minerals
were to be worked, surely there were suffi.
dent men to be got for the purpme.
"But don'e you see, father, that
if I had a technical knowledge of the
operations required, and of the minerals
to be sought for, the knowledge would
be worth money to us, and we should
not then be dependent upou the many min-
ing adventurers upon whom gold has hither-
to been simply thrown away.
This last observation was eomewhat un-
wise, or rather impolitic, on the part of
Arthur; for it called up some unpleasant
refleetious in the Squire's mind, and did not
improve his temper. The interview ended
by the Squire informing Arthur that he
must go back to Oxford as before.
Arthur was a headstrong youth; that
was not to be denied. What he had siet his
mind upon, he would carry out, if he possi-
bly could. By a legacy from a distant rel.
ative, he had something like two hundred
pounds a year in his own right, and he
thoughb that, with this, be could manage to
qualify himself for the profession at which
he aimed. Hence, withoutsaying anything
more to his father on the subject, be left
home one morning secretly, and nothing
further was known of him till the Squire
received it letter in winch Arthur told him
that he had entered himself as it pupil to it
mining engineer in Mem:hotel,.
His father received the intelligence as was
to be expected. He stormed, and stamped,
and denounced the insane folly of his son.
Nor need we altogether withhold our sym-
pathy from the Squire in thia emergency.
A man cannot change his opinion aud in-
stincts as he changes his clothes; lia minuet
divest himself of hfe-long habits as a snake
creeps out of its slough, and start
afresh with a brand-new sot. That
the Squire, according to his lights, should
regard his son's conduct as monstrous, was
perhaps, after all, only natural.
At the first his rage took the form of a
threat to disinherit the young man ; and
possibly not oven the peratiastons of Mr.
Brookes, the family lawyer, would have
been successful in withholding him from
executing his impose had the character of
his second son been quite satisfactory.
tee into the hall. The wide* and her
daughter were distracted with grief; and
the -Vicar soon found that he had _more re-
sponsible duties to perform, and more soh
emit tasks to uedertake, than were laid
upon hint by his friend Arthur's letter.
The Sguire's death happened tiler) days
before Christmas; and what rendered this
more remarkable was the fact—ascertained
after long, and, for a time, battled inquiries
—that Arthur Norharn had left hishome on
the day following that on which he had
written to his father and the Vicar, and no
trace of him had since been found. CM the
one day the sou, lied disappeared ; on the
following the Squire had met his death.
The dead Squire was laie with bis tutees -
tors in the chancel of Linlaven Church ;
but of Arthur—from that day to this not a
word had ever been heard.
The Vicar eat this evehing—the storm
still roaring without—with the open letter
in his hand, miming on the se4 history and
mystery which that letter had (wakened
once more in his mind. It was now rieeelY
thirty years sinee he had first received and
read it; but the effects which it brought
about were operating to this day. As he
thought of all this he heard the trarnp of a
horse outside, andpreseutly the door of his
room opeued and a lady entered.
Grandpo.pa," she said, with an anxious
look, "that must be Wilfrid. Oh, how I
wonder 11 he ban a letter for me
(To nn cotzeitruote)
But the character of James Norham—or
Jim, as his associates called him—was very
far from being satisfactory. Unlike Ins
brother, he was so far from disregarding
the snorts with which the country Squires
and slick sons filled up a portion of their
tine, that he could have filled up his whole
time with them. Guns and horses, and
dogs were his unfailiog solace during such
hours as be did not spend in the parlour cf
the 'Three Pigeons—and he spent a great
many hours there. Nor were his compan-
a course in the world for myselt, and how ions of the most select order. Jim would
much the subse uent estrangement has cost sit down and tipple with any groom or
the feelings of both of us. Things will, I
trust, come right between us by -and -bye.
In the meantime, I do not•—for reasons
which are not quite pleasant to me—wish
stableman in the countryside and was con-
stantly making bets which he was unable to
pay, much to the detriment of his father's
income. At length, by the influence of
you to answer this letter, and therefore do friends, a commission was got for him in
A CANADIAN BEAUTY
The Varied charms eritiontinaiten(*h
The Falls oAllionptisocrreinbeeite well luio a
to the American tourist AS 0110 of the most
interesting features of grand old Qnebee.
But among the number who Visit then:, ,ow
are aware that they are not tte oats" glory
of which Montinorenci can boiled,: About
three-fourths. of a miles from where this
grand body of water incessantly rushes over,
a. precipice of 250 feet, Oeszet are several
ether scenes of wild. and Picturesque beauty
whioh would, more teen delight lovers of
the grand and beautiful. One of these is
the Montmorenci Natural Steps, and the
varied charm of the eurroundiugs at well as
the remarkable formation of the step,causes
them to be an object of "iatereet to all who
see them.
The shortest and. most convenient way to
the place is through the property of Mr.
Hall, owner of the famous Montmorenci
new -mills, through whose grounds there is
a carriage (hive by which visitors aro al-
ways courteously permitted to paste The
drive is a very pleasant one, presenting
here and there, charming bits of landscape
loenadthstieweraohgr
yuglusoegaof
b
ralplaeeife
ceesztiliesprrrode
asad maple whose bending foliage, closely
interlacing, forms a delightful archway
overhead. Passing through a dense wood
and reaching the edge of a cliff, through an
opening in the brush wood a path is discov.
ered whtell leads down the side of the cliff.
Arriving at the bottont and emerging frorn
the shade of the trees that overhang the
•pathway, what a grand sight meets the
vtewl There, through a ravine or thaws
that extends as far as the eye can reveille
rashes the Mentmorenci River, in every
conceivable form. Now thundering and
plunging over the rocks ie a succession of
rapids and cascades that glitter in the sun-
light as though crested with a thousand
gems; again, revolving into seething whirl-
pools that would melte one shudder to look
into their treacherous depths; anon, as if
resting from all the fury and turmoil it
had passed through, the torrent relapses
into little lakelets that sweetly mirror the
bending boughs overhead. To the right of
the river, whose course may be traced on-
ward to where it finally plunges in its pre-
cipitous flighe into the Si. Lawrence below,
Mee it perpendicular rock over fifty feet
.high, fringed at its summit by thegrand old
trees that form the glory of our Canadian
forests. luta the sides of the rack, from
the constant lashin,gof the water, miniature
eaves are worn, and the holes in the project.
ing ledges that jut out here and there re-
semble the portholes demo ancient vessel.
A table of rock exteuds to the left mid pro.
Sects over the water. Beyond this are the
Natural Steps, rising As smooth and regular
as if the work of it master builder. Iiere
and there are natural terrecee, leading by a.
few ateps to others beyond, some of which
are surrounded by tiny ramparts and niches
in the smooth stono. The steps lead down
in some places to the edge of the water, and
everywhere, from among the crevices in, the
stone, sweet little blue -bells and dewy ferns
It seems almest impossible to think of
appear, nourished and fed by the spray
from the water below, anything on tlae farm but what is bright and
Among the trees that form a beautiful beautiful. To me farming tames the bright.
shrubbery along the side of the steps aro est, happiest, and most healthful occupation
picturesque little alcoves carpeted with of mankind.
Who can help seeing brightness in Zelda
heather and velvet moss, over which
the luxuriant foliage forms a leafy canopy. of waving corn, with now and then a gleam
In one of those lovely retreats is the Wish- from a golden pempkin scattered through
ing Well. Therm hidden from the sun- the field, or in the billowy itneans of wheat
light's gleams, framed with dusters of fern and oats waiting for the reaper's sickle?
There is not a fruit or Vegetable grown
and golden -rod, it sparkles and bubbles,
looking like a picture m its floral setting. but that has some beeuty or brightness.
A eharm seems to linger routd the spot
tee r, v yleg,
The House Cellar,
The situation of the house itself has much
to do with the dryness of the cellar. If built
on rising ground, be sure that the drains
are numerous wed perfect, that all surface
water may be carried away. If on a low or
marshy spot, the most unceasing vigilance
C9Z hardly keep it from being damp.iwhen,
however, the house is built on a light sandy
soil, it is a comparatively eaey task to have
O dry cellar. Have a floor of cement, `if
possible, and the ceiling and •walls white.
washed. The light stzekingon the ;vans
i
will be reflected, and so aid n lighting the
place. If you have such a cellar as this,
and well lighted, keep it so; you have a sure
foundation on which to build. But the
superstructure (otherwise the contents)
may prove your ruin. If you have allowed
your vigilance to lapse, begin again now --
remove all the ageless household adds and
ends which have been allowed toacoumulate.
Have the walls and ceilings whiteveeshed,
and remember to repeat tlds operation at
leaat once a year; twice a year would be
bettor; the lime contI
eined n the white-
wash willassistin the process of purification.
Clean the glass in the windows, and leave a
apace in your household schedule of work
for its frequent repetition. Make it e law
that your eellar is to be kept in as good
order as your kitchen. Here the floor, if of
cement or boards' scruthed once a week ; if
of earth rammeddown, `swept thoroughly.
At the same time clean all shelves which are
used for holding food, and also the cellar
steps.
If possible, keep the vegetables and fruits
in a seperato collar, but whether there or in
the main cellar, do not allow than to lie in
heaps on' the floor. Keep in barrels arid
sore frequently, remembering that one
decayed potato or apple will mica every
other potato cr apple with which it comes
in contact. See that the coal is Impt in its
bin ; not scattered from there to the cellar
stops; and the wood piled, in an orderly
fashion. Keep the whitlows open as much
as possible in summer, and in wiuter allow
the froth air access for a few moments every
warm day. Insist on this order being main-
tained, tind there win Ira ,ra arocabamy
t110 grand yearly upheaval which strikes
terror to the heart of every housewife, and
greatly disturbs the masculine element in
the family.
not send you my present address. I had the army, and thus for a time the district
yours of a month ago forwarded to me by a
friend from my oldaddress;bntyou mustnot
use that address sty mine, as it might be at-
tended with some risk to me. I cannot at
present explain f urther ; but you will uuder-
stand. When fortune favors me with a more
plopitious gale, I will write you again.
A. N.
This letter was, as we have said, address •
ed to the man who was now for the twen-
tieth time reading it, • aud the initials
appended to it were those of Arthur Nor-
ham, of the two sons of Squire Norham of
Brathrig Hall.
The estate ofBrathrig was a large one, as
far as number of acree went; but when these
acres are in great part composed of dry up-
land fells, mountain peaks, and stretches,of
picturesque water, the results in the shape
of rent are not quite so imposing. The
estate, moreover, was—as often happens in
old family possessions—not much the rich-
er by the operations of a long lino of pre-
ceding Squires ; and the holders of the
mortgages were believed to have a greater
personal interest in the rent -roll than ever
the Squire himself. Nevertheless, he hunt- I observe that both horse and rider were In a
ed and shot, and went to Quarter Sessions, I bad state of teinper ; and, as they disap-
and gave dinners to his county neighbours,
much as was done by other Squires, and man-
aged, year in and year out, to pull through.
He had married a lady whose family
was of precisely the same antiquity as
his own 'both counting back to the enevi-
table Conqueror, and beyon d, that to. Charle-
magne ; and three children had been born
to them—two sons and a daughter, the lat-
ter being the youngest.
It so happens in many case a that ohildren
as they grow up do not exhibit either the
qualities or defects of their parents. And in
Squire Norha,m's instance this was so as re-
garded both of his eons. The elder, Arthur,
had as a boy manifested amost unaristecrat-
ie. taste for mechanical operations; so much
so, that if on anyoccasion he did uot appear
at the lencheon hour, he was to be found
either in the carpenter's or the blaeksmith's
workshop—the latter most frequently: As
he grew out of his boyhood's years, this pas-
sion made itself still more apparent; and
when, alter his second year at Oxford, he
returned home, announced what he propoaed
to Yellow as his future career, the first
was happily rid of his presence.
So the years p.assed, until that letter
came to the Squire in which Arthur an-
nounced to him his marriage. The father
declared at once what he should do. By a
former will he hod left the estate largely at
the disposal of his wife, should she outlive
him, and .Arthur's therein it was only to de-
pend upon certain contingencies. Now he
had resolved to disiuherit him, and would
at once ride to town for that purpose. He
gave orders that the groom should bring
round Black Prince immediately.
"Your honour should ride another, as he
is very fresh this morning," said the groom.
"No," replied the impatient and angry
Squire "1 must have him—the others are
to slow'for my errand."
He proceeded to mount; but it was not
till after a bit of a fight between horse and
rider that Black Prince yielded to rein and
spur. At length, however, he started off,
and went tearing down the avenue at a furi-
ous pace.
The groom stood for a moment and watch-
ed them, dubiously. He had not failed to
CAPITAL FOR KOOTENAI.'"
?lig, 'V, Cie aytitlitheyetice
ecezidsiten.w!uteresteug
.w
A Spokane despatelt says :—Mr. C. M.
Parker, the general manager of the West •
Kootenai Company, bas juet returned frone
Kootenai lake, where he was joitted'by Mr,
W. H. Lynch, vice president of the Mlle
company, just returned from the east, wliere
he has been for some months interesting
eeansatieme
rniceafital in the development of Roots
Development work is being prosecuted by'
the above company on the Thor, which is
the south extension of the great Skyline
mine. Mr. Parker reports the prospects of
Hot Springs camp very eatisfatttory, depecie
ally the dry are properties, .such as the Sk-y.
line, Number One, etc.
The camp is somewhat inactive at pres.
ent, but this fact is due to causes easily ex-
plained. It is a time of transition from the
prospecting stage to that of exteeeive devel-
opment and mining activity. The incorn-
ieg of new and heavier machinery is an en-
couraging sign. The machinery for the
Neosho has arrived, and the road is being
rapidly completed to the S ine, with a
view to bringing in the new y ex.
pected for that property.
Mr. Lynch has been makind preparations
for a large party of capitalists which are
coming west under his auspices in Auguet
or September.
Zr. Parker reports a very notable strike
on the Dictator which had been made the
very morning of his visit to thet property.
Tuesday last. It is it large body of dry
ore, showing very rich in silver, much of it
visible, It is one of those strikes almost as
important to the camp as it is gratifying
to.the owners. Spokane parties, own this
property. Mr. Parker brought down a very
fine specimen front this property.
Mr. Lynch has been abaeut from Spokane
about 15 months, most of the time in east.
ern Canada, Where he has worked incase
santly to interest capital in mines in this
section. He delivered many lectures and
wrote columns for the press. The capital-
ieM of thatseation were slow to take hold,
having had experience with wild -cat
schemes, but after mouths of hard work,
Mr. Lyech was succeesful and secured a
large amount of capital. He will hereafter
devote his entire attention to mining, and
will leave in it few days for the Kootened
district to remain until September.
Tim last issue of the Nelson Miner has the
following; W. H. Lynch, president of the
Kootenai Mining and Investment Company,
peased through Nelson on hie way to Ains-
worth on Friday. Mr. Lynch has busied
himself in the eastern centers for 12 months
talking and writing up weat Kootenai.
So much so that down there he has been
nicknamed "The Kootenai crank." There
are telent 2,000 Kootenai creeks in this
country, so Mr. Lyneb won't be so lone- -
acnne out here as he was back east,.
The Bottom of the Ocean.
There is a common but erroneous notion
to the effect that a human body, or even a
ship, will not sink to the bottom of the
profomider abysses of the oceans, but will,
on accountof the density of the waters,
at a great depth, remain suspended at some
distance above the surface of the earth. This
Is an error. No other fate awaits the
drowned, sailor or his ship than that which
comes to the marine creatures who die on
the bottom of the sea ; in time their dust
all passes into the great storehouse of the
earth even as those who receive burial on
the laud. However deep the sea, it is but
O few hours before the body of a mau who
finds his grave in the ocean is at rest upon
the bettem ;it there receives the same swift
service from the agents which, in the order
of nature, are appointed to ore for the dead,
as cornea to those who are reverently in-
humed in bleesed ground. All save the
hardest parts of the skeleton are quickly
taken into the realm of the living, and even
those more resisting portions of the body,
in time are, in large part, appropriated by
creatures of the sea floor, so that before the
dust returns in the accumulating water to
the firm set earth it may pass through an
extended cycle of living forms.
A Girls' Smoking Content.
peared round a bend of the road, a thought
seemed to strike him. Hurrying back to
the stables, he quickly led out and saddled
another horse, which he at once mounted
and rode off after his master.
At the entrance lodge the gates were
open; and through these he passed rapidly,
after having informed himself in which
direction the Squire had ridden. For a
couple of miles he never once got sight of
him; bet at length he did. The Squire was
at a point where two reads forked off, and
Black Prince was evidently refusing to take
the one the Squire wished. A stiff battle was
raging betveeen the the two, the horse lash-
ing out and rearing. Just as the groom ap-
proached, the animal reared up and fell aver
—his rider underneath. When the servant
dismounted to assist the Squire, it was, to
find him stone dead.
That same morning, the Vicar, having
also received Arthur Norman's letter, ha,c1
ridden over to Brathrig Hall, as the young
man requested, in the hope of reconciling
the Squire to the new situation. But he
arrived too late. He was but in time to
see the Squire's servants, with inourianl
Blight -Spots of Farm Life,
"crossed the sea of matrimone
lend, while drinking its spar
to crave a boon in which their
is concerned, should make it in
the votaries of Hymen.
After lingering among the ram
that surroundtho Natural Stepet
all the witchery of graceful foiling
ing cliffs and natural waterfall
bined, retracing our steps to',
above, aud returning for some di ita
the woodland path, we there not
ond descent in the cliff side. On
its base the view that presents itt
,a,co priya
water,
es re fate
ting to
te,aarms
which
tower -
liven the homely brown aotate. senittfty-thee-
esseasassetrenee,... Amok imematut Waxan
awn. What flowers have we that would
not look pale and. faded. beside the riolt
blossom of the pumpkin iar squash ?
What can make brighter spots than heaps
of rod and golden apples, barrels of pink -
checked peaches and. luscious pears?
In all parte of the day from morning
until evening there are some spots of bright-
() cont. nese if we will but see them.
What is more beautiful to the farmer,
though he is weary from his day's labor,
than his herds of sleek cattle coming one by
one iuto the barnyard for their food and
drink, the flocks of bleothag sheep, and even
the calls of the homely pigs and the cluck
All these remind hint
of the mother ben.
that in the cold winter months he will nob
want and his table will be bountifully sup.
plied with the fruits of his summer labor.
Who can finda place where the brightness
and beauty of the spring are shed so abun-
dantly as on the farm? What can be more
beautiful than the broad, green pastures
dotted with cattle and sheep and the orch-
ards with theli-loaded branches sending
forth ti chest of perfumes and promising
al dant harvest?
With the summer comes the click of the
busy mowee and the smell of the nonetnown
hay. I do not think that our city friends
enjoy their rides in their shady parks as
much as soine of the farmers' wives and
daughters do on the horse rake or mowing
machine. They may well envy the farmer's
wife her gorgeous flower beds, running vines
and beautiful shrubs ; no farm is com-
plete without them and nothizig adds so
mucktoitsbeauty.
*picture the harvest time
makes with all its grains and fruits, when •
everything seems to be dressed in 1 and
gold.
At last comes the winttr, with an.
us tle of snow; then what home can compare
me brightness with that of the farmer's), with its
ed
gathering and holiday feasts?
Taking the life of a farmer Leone January
ng to Depember it would be impossible to find
ve an occhpation that would compare with it
of in beauty, freedom and brightness.[—Ida
e pieein. M. Richardson.
down
into
'littlethe
, the un -
wood
ice by
0, see.
sobing
d's one
of solitary grandeur and striking >vest
to the scene we have just left. Rising aorupt-
ly and closely outlined against. the sky,
massive rocks loom up to the height of sixty
or neventy feet, the ledges projecting from
their grim sides, resembling the turrets and
battlements of some ancient fortress. At
the bottom, walled in by the rocks which
form a semi -circle around it, lies a dark,
still lake that looks weird -like in its repose.
To the right is a beautiful little island, and
immediately beyond, closely adjoining the
cliff, rises a wooded bight, out of which
from a picturesque hollow in the trees.
dashing over boulders and tiny ro
rushes Fairy Falls, so called from it
one of the outlets of Fairy River. ,TI
rocks rising up like stately sentinels,
The wild reckle,ssness and extravagance
of George IV. have become proverbial in
history. During one of his carouses shortly
after his ,coronation, he, in a semi -intoxicat-
ed state, commanded that six of the palace
chambermaids be brought before him. The
order was obeyed, whereupon the King,
turning tp, his associates, asked. them to
make wagers upon the ladies as to which one
would smoke the most cigars in half an
hour. Upon hearing what was expected of
them, two or three of the maids endeavored
to beat a hasty retreat from the royal pres-
ence, but were prevented from doing so by
the attendants. A box of mild cigars was
produced, and each chambermaid bidden
light and smoke one. The ludicrous man-
ner in which most of. them attempted to
light the. weeds caused the most boisterous
merriment. among the courtiers, in veld&
the monarch heartily joined: With the ex-
ception of one maid the rest tried to light
their cigars without first cutting off the end.'
Only one succeeded in struggling through
a whole cigar, but she ha.d•to be removed in
a fainting state. •The others refused to
smoke mole than half of theirs, to the great
annoyance of the king and his courtiers.
The top rottnd of the ladder is an imagin-
ary one; no one has ever reached it yet.
• s,
tall
ast
their shadows into the dark waters be ow,
The musical murmur of the waterfall is tee
only sound that breaks the stillness of the
surroundings. The weird -like beauty of the
place &ciliates the beholder, holds line
spellbound, and haunts his memory 1 lee
after he has ceased to gaze on the bean toe;
of Montmorenei.
ELIZABETH .A. meakuLEI ,
The Bite of a Snake.
The heads of meet of the venom.
snakes, including the "rattlers," bilge j
beyond the neck, Without exception t
have fangs, esther always erect, or rai
and laid back at will, These fangs are 1
sharp -pointed teeth, with a hollow gro
running their entire length. At the roo
each fang is a little bag of poison.
the snake bites, the motion pre.t.ses
son sack, and its contents 11
through the hollow in the tooth
puncture or wound. The harm
forked tongue is cften spoken of
informed as the snake's " sawn
there is no propriety in the
the poisonous snakes do not stin
their victims. There is no creatur
brought from foreign countries wh
tlers do not exist, but will halt an
at the first warningsound of the r
S. Weir Mite.hell, evith others
making experiments with the yen
ferent serpents. Ho has found th
Policeman—" This 'ere boy has been
caught in th,e hact of tying a tin kettle tO
O dog's tail. 'le 'as hoften been seen at the
same practice, yer 'oner."
Baillie—" Well, bless the lad, boys will
be, boys. They must have some amuse-
ment to brighten their little hearts, even
when such amusement may afford pain to
animal life. You may go my wee triennia
Enjoy yourself while you're young."
. Polieeman--.' But—er--er—it was your
dog, yer Yonr dog Fido."
Baillie—" Eh, what ! :My clog Fido ? You
murderous little villian. • Ten with the
breach between himself and his father oc- birch—hard. Cruelty to animals has dot
curred. Arthur's d.oclaration was no less faces, bearing the dead betty of their Inas. to be put down. Next case.
Now,
aine, as
but'bite
, even tf?'
re "rtit-
trembie
tile. Dr.
been
from its peisenous qualities, it con als'it'
of dif-
aside
s
mersas-
wunihf aeee, nb aonnn.
hell has
trolling
le spinal
and
its neck
tick big
hold it
ing germs, which have the power o
Mg enormously fast. So you see,
animal is bitten, these any bits of
tering.with the poison, cattle harm
to begm almost at once. Dr. Mit
found that the nervous center c
the act of striking seems to be in
cord, for if he cut off a snake's I
then pinched its tail, the stump
turned back, and would have s
hand had he been bold enongh
still.
Better Take Him.
"Stop, Charlie, don't ask me
ways regarded you as a, good jo
all," said the fair maiden. " W
yea what," rammed Charlie, "y
snap me up; Geed jokes are he
nowadays.'
Thin out The fruit.
Nature in its abundance very often sets
faramore fruit than a tree or bush can bring
to perfeotion. It not onlyis a bar to fine
specimens that year but is often exhaus-
tive to the bush for the next year. Even
for orchards growing many contend it pays
to thin the fruit, as first-olass, uniform
fruit evilleiell at & profit where the ordinary
is sometimes a drug in the market. we
are not, however. thinking just at present
of the market fruit grower, he being sup-
posed to know what is best,but of that grown
in the home garden. If there are any of
our readers who havenever tried the effects
of thinning heavy crops of fruit let them
begin' this year. On tbe native gropes,
instead of allowing three or four bramehes
to a single shoot, cut .off say two bunches to
a shoot. Thin out peaches and apricots
and sach fruit, where they are manifestly
too thick. This operation is best perform.
ed after the first dropping of fruit when
they begin to swell free:1y. It sometime
happens that enough fail to fertil'
drop' at about this time naturall
Course will need to be taken
elation. Try the thinning
of the small fruits and ire,t
certain amount can be f
plant, and this may
men quantity nI perfe
whole mass of an infer'
Farmer.
I've al-
; that's
e I tell
cl better
to find