St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 15, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 28 October 1893 — Page 2

UNCLE SILAS AT THE CAPITOL, It tuk er heap o’ travlin’ Ter get me hero terday; Ter celebrate the corudor-stMl Our gran'sires fought ter lay. Twas long ago they thought ter muk» A buildin’fine and fit. An’ ’tain t no Bin ter notus that It ain’t done yit. The universe kin Bee the flag That from it is unfurled; The word tnet's spoken in its halls Is heard arouu’ the world. It’s big an’ glorious ez it stands ; It matters not a whit. Exceptin’ ter it s credit, thet It ain’t done yit. The nation thet it reppersents Is very like it, too; It hez rizen in its granjcr whore Eternity kin view. Fur power and prosperity, ’1 here’s none compares ter it; It hez distanced all its neighbors— An’ it ain’t done yit. THE QUIETMAN. J “I’ve seen a good many strange things in my time, as you know, but I never y t told you about the strangest of them all; and I can : promise you that it’s a story worth 1 bearing.” ■ So spoke Gen. 11.—, as we sat side - by side in the veranda of his snug 1 little house in one of the Northwest- 1 India, watching the ; ^^^BSKmK^fbehTnd the endless line of trees that stood ranged Like plumed soldiers along the oppo- , site bAnk of the river. “Suppose you tell it me now, General,” suggested 1, guessing from the 1 Krave look on the old hero’s weatherbeaten face that the forthcoming ' story must have deeper inte est than 1 any of his ordinary campaigning ancc- * I ©tes. 1

“I don’t m nd if I do,” answered the veteran, ‘‘for although it is an affair that I have no great pleasure in looking back upon, yet it taught me a good lesson, if only I had the sen e to profit by it ” “When I was quite a young fellow, and hadn't long joined the army,” he resumed after a pause, “1 used to belong to a fashionable cub in London, the members of which were just the sort of men you read about in Lever’s novel’s—as wild as could be, always in some scrape or other, and spending their whole time in riding, shooting, gambling, or fishing—all except one. “That one was a small, quiet, palefaced, gray-haired man, with a very rad, weary 1 ok, as if he had once been crushed by some great sorrow, and had never been able to shake it off. He hardly ever spoke to any one, , and when he did it was in a voice as i meek as his face. So, of course, we Baade fun of him among ourselves, I Sliding these quiet ways of his a very queer contrast to our own rackety, harum-scarum style, and we nick- ; Darned him the ‘Quietest Man in the Club,’ though, indeed, we might just as well have called him the only quiet man in it. “Well, one even ng, when the ; TOOK! was pretty full, and our friend, the Quiet Man, was sitting as usual •&>Lyvfkv;, , ftora.

hardly a man among us who hadn’t been •out’ once. “ ‘They did some tidy duelling in Use old times,’ said Lord H , who was killed afterward in action. ‘You remember how those six chums of Barry 111. of France fought three to three till there was only one left alive out of the six.' “ ‘That was pretty fair, certainly,’ cried Charlie Thornton of the Guards; ‘but after all, it doesn’t beat the great duel thirty years ago between Sir Harry Martingale and Col. Fortescue.’ “He had hardly sp ken when up jumped the quiet man as if somebody had stuck a pin into him. “ ‘What on earth's the matter with him.-’ whispered Thornton; T sever saw him act like that before.’ “‘But what was the story, then, ’Charlie?' asked another man; ‘l’ve heard of Fortescue, of course, for he was the most famous duellist of his time in all England: and I’ve heard of his tight with Martingale, too; but 1 don’t think I’ye ever had any particulars, or, at least, none worth speaking of.’ “‘I can give them to you, then,’ answered Thornton; ‘for my uncle was Martingale's second. I’ve heard him tell the story many a time, and he always said that although he had been in plenty of duels he had never seen one like that, and never wanted to see it again. What they quarreled about I don't know, and I dare say they didn’t know themselves, but my ancle used to say he knew by the «ook in their eyes when they took their places to tire that it could not and without blood, and it didn’t. iThey tired twice, and every shot told;

V«e’ hare Ynv’ ana 'rueeUitiU mat wanted to pu'u an end to it. But Fortescue—who was one of those yrim fellows who are always most dangerous toward the end of a fight —insisted upon a third shot. The third time, by some accident, Martindale tired a moment too soon, and gave him a bad wound in the side, bat Fortscue pressed his hand to the wound to stop the bleeding, and

then, almost bent double with pain though he was. he fired and brought Sown his man.’ “ ‘Killed him?” “‘Rather —shot him slap though the heart. But it was his last duel, 3or from that day he was never heard ©f again, and people said he had Mther committed suicide or died of a 'woken heart.’ “ ‘Well, 1 don't see why he need have done that, for, after all, it was n fair fight,' struck in Lord 11 , who had been looking over the newsliapers on the table; but if you talk W duelling, what do you say to this?' “‘Another Duelling Tragedy in Paris. The notorious Pruss an bully and duelist, Armand de Villeneuve, has added another wreath to his

blood-stained laurels, the new victim being the chevalier Henri de I’olignac a fine young fellow of 23, the only s6n of a w dowed mother, borne strong expressions of disgust used by the chevalier with reference to one of De Villeneuve’s former duels having come to the latter's ears, he sought out De Polignac and insulte I him so grossly as to render a meeting inevitable. The chevalier having tired first and missed, IDe Villeneuve called out to him, “Look to the second button-hole of your coati” and scuta bullet through the spot indicated into the breast of his opponent, who expired half an hour later in great agony. His mother is i said to be broken-hearted athisdeath. How much longer, we wonder, will j this savage be allowed to offer these human sacrifices to his own inordinate vanity?’ “Just then I happened to look up, and saw the Quiet Man rise slowly from his chair with a face so changed that it startled mealmostas much as if 1 had seen him disappear bodily I and another man ri c up in his stead. : I had once seen an oil painting abroad in which an avenging angel was hurling lightnings upon Sodom ■ and Gomorrah, and that is just how that man looked at that moment. He glanced at bis watch, and then j came across the room and went quickly out, “ -The next night, and the next, and the next after that, the Quiet Man didn’t appear at the cl>>b, and we all began to wonder what could have become of him. But when I came in on the fourth evening there he was, though lie looked—as it

seemed to me—rather paler and fee-; bier than usual. “ ‘Here’s news for you, Fred,’ called our Charlie Thornton. That rascally French duelist, De Villeneuve, has met his match at last, and Dr. Lansett of the —th Bengal Native Infan- , ; try, who saw the whole affair, is just going to tell us all about it,’ “‘Well, this is how it happened,’ ■ began the do tor. ‘ln passing through ' Paris, 1 stopped to visit my old friend, Colonel de Malet, and he and I were strolling through the Tuiler- . les gardens, when suddenly a murmer ran through the crowd. ‘Here comes De Villeneuve.’ Then the throng parted, and I had just time to catch a glimpse of the bully's tall flgureand long, black mustache, when a man : j stepped forth from the crowd and 1 said something tc him, and then suddenly dealt him a blow. “•Then there was a rush and a J ! clamor of voices, and everybody came I . crowding round sc that I con dn’tsee anything, but presently De Malet } came up to me and said: “Lansett, | we shall want you in this affair, although I’m afraid that you won’t have a chance of show.ng your surgery, for De Villeneuve never wounds without killing. “ ‘Just then the crowd opened, and I saw, to my amazement, that this " man who had insulted and detied the most terrible tighter in all France

the right to choose weapons,” we heard him say, quite coolly; ‘“and I choose swords.” *■ • ‘‘Are you mad!” cried De Malet, seizing his arm; “don’t you know De Villeneuve’s the deadliest sword man :in Europe’ Choose pistols — give yourself a chance.” “ ‘ “Pistols mav miss — swords can’t,” answered the stranger in a tone of such savage determination that every one who heard him—even i De Villeneuve himself,furious though he was, gave a kind of shudder. ‘I ! had vowed never t.p tight again, save ! with a man who deserved to die; but you have deserved it well by your cold-blooded murders, and die you shall!” “ 'Where both sides were so eager to fight, there was no need of much preparation. They met that even- ; ing, Col. de Malet being the stranger’s second, and another French officer acting for De Villeneuve. “ ‘As a rule,, De Villeneuve was as cool on the ground as if he had been at a picnic, but at this time be wis as wild and fierce as a tiger, partly, i no doubt, from having been insulted before so many of his admirers, but partly because he had found out that the stranger was an Englishman, and he hated everything English like poison. But more terrible than all . his fury was the cold, stern, p tiless ! calmness of the Englishman’s face, as if he felt certain of his man. “ ‘They fought for some time without a scratch on either side, and then suddenly the Englishman stumbled forward, exp using his left side. Quick: as lightning the Frenchman’s point darted in, and instantly the other’s ■ shirt was nil crimson with blood, but ।

h tic’ c® ^o?***. vv iuii aii vixo might, and buried his sword up to the hilt In De Vil eneuve’s t ody. | Then 1 understood that lie bad de- I libeiately laid himself open to his op- : ponent’s weapon in order to make sure of killing him: so he had, for De Villeneuve never spoke again.’ “Just as the doctor said this, down ; fell a chair with a great crash, and, looking up we saw the Quiet Man

trying to slip past us to the door. ; Dr. Lansctt sprang up and caught him bj T bota hands. “‘You here?’ he cried. ‘Let me congratulate you upon having punished, as he deserved, the most coldhearted cutthroat in existence. I trust your wound does not pain you much?’ “ ‘What?' we all shouted, ‘was it he who killed De Villeneuve?’ “ ‘lndeed it was,’ answered the doctor, ‘and it was the pluckiest thing I ever saw.’ “We all jumped from our chairs and came and crowded around the hero, setting up a cheer that made the air ring, but he looked at us so sadly and darkly that it made the i shout die upon our lips.

- i “ 'Ah, lads! lads’* said he, In > j tone of deep dejection, ‘for Heaven’s i sake don't praise a man for having I shed blood and destroyed life T ; killed that ruffian as I would liave i killed a wild beast, to save those ■ whom he would have slaughteredbut God help the man who shall take a human lite merely to gratify his own i pride and anger! If you wish to know । what happiness a successful duellist i enjoys look at me. Do you remem. ber that story which Capt. Thornton told here the other night, about the duel in which Col. Fortescue the , <3uellist, ” as you called him killed Sir Henry Martingale?’ ’ J “‘To he sure,’ answered Charlie . I hoi nton, looking rather scared- -hut what of it?’ ’ but ‘“I was once Col. Fortescue,’ waJ the answer.’’-Saturday He view Republic. | TIN DIDN'T PHASE HIM. How Appetite Bill Won a Fie-Biting Mat cK A jolly crowd of jokers were swanping stt ries at Frank Sell's the other night when the conversation turned on appetites. Every one had something to tell abiub feats of gourmandizing. j i j 'Vid ynu over Appetite Bill won a big potof maMF in a pie-citing contest?” spoke Jfc Walter Davis. JT-i No one over h id. J “Well, you all know that Bill power when it comes t > feed. When John Usher used to serve a boiled dinner on Mondays Bill thought nothing of assimilat ng three heads of cabbage and the appropriate accompaniment of salt meat, while he helped digestion along with a peck of potatoes and a couple of loaves of bread. Biil was great on boiled dinners but when it came to pie he was a marvel. “He wasn’t so strong on the quantity of pies he could eat as he was on the number lie could bite through when they were placed one on top of the other. He had a record of making his teeth meet through a layer of six pies, and sweet potatoe pies at that, but 'ne-wouldn’t bet on more than live. “Os course a man who can bite through til rec pies can make a fortune if he only has a stake, so you can imagine how Bill would clean up the gilt of a new town when he would begin on three and then play progression. “Well, sirs, when Bill first struck Rum Bow and began pie biting ho kept the boys broke, so it. was concluded that a ob should be put up on him. One day a fellow wanted to bet him that he couldn’t bite through four lemon pies. Bill looked at him mournfully and pulled out his roll. “-Bring on your pies,' he said, as he put up his stuff. The fellow went out and pretty soon back he canfe.with the pies. He had iiad •-m baked to order, and in one of ’ei. kp had made the baker nut in ul ttie JOKC ewi'pt 818 and laughing as Bill picked up the lie opened his mouth and inserMd the edges of the pics. Then he bita “When his teeth met against tie pie plate the most surprised look you ever saw in life spread over his face. Then lie grow red behind the ears and lie drew himself together. He ust gave one mighty bite and then put down the pies, while he spat out a.lot of c.ust and iilling and took a semicircular pie e of tin plate out of his mouth. •‘The crowd nearly fainted as BU gathered in the stakes and remarked: “ ‘Boys, you i tier lied put in a stove lid; tin don't phase me.”— Washington News. Arcuracy of Touch. There are p enty of men who will by the impression carried through a pair of calipers and the fingers’ends determine within a very small percentage the amount of pressure which shall be required to 1 e exerted by a hydraulic press in order to force on to its shaft an engine crank ora locomotive driving wheel, a measurement in which a thousandth part of an inch variation in diameter causes much mor • variation in pressure than is permissible. Indeed, on some kinds of work done in the machine shops a thousanth of an inch has now become the most commonly employe I unitof measure- | meat; a unit which is divided and subdivide ! into at least ten parts m order to express the decree of refinement arrived at. This, of coursgfcJjH; th^ J frequently mentioned but supposem^ ■ superfluous, hairsplitting operatu^pji tl.vo-u.mi wJava.«...b Oi j in diameter. < i The paper upan which Scribner’S : Magazine is printed is about three j thousanths of an inch thick, and one 1 ten thousandth part of an inch is ; therefore one-thirtieth the thickness of the sheet. Considerably smaller variations of size can be detected by the trained sense of touch, or rather by the vari- j ; ation in resistance of a pair of calipers passed over the work, and it is I even possible for the sense of magnitude and sensitiveness of the finger ends in relation to it to be so highly ; developed as to detect, unaided, and by merely rolling a small steel ball ; between the thumb and finger, a variation from true sphericity I amounting to . 12500 of an inch, or' about 1.3. th part of the thickness of the paper of this magazine; Ambrose < Webster, a machinist of Waltnem, ; wnose business is the making of ma- ; • chinery and tools for watch manufacture, having demonstrated his ability to do this —Scribner’s Magazine. I ' । The ring and letter which th© girt returns are slight tokens.

Syffi® । The Slory cf a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTER IX—Continued. Hit, Ba t for so:no minutes in e ’^ st - John amusing himself by tin-owing small stones from tho ; illto the Be a» Captain Flemyng looking with a far-off, dreamy gaze a t the heaving waters and the sapphire Siy. Suudenly Major St. John broke ti.e silence that seemed to have enfoldi ed them. “General Sir Huntley Dacre understands how to give a good ball. I never remember a better entertainment in I Malta than that of la-t night.” Dau! !• lemyng made no reply, the ; subject evidently did not interest him “How beautiful la belle Etheldreda I grows! I admired her exceedingly la^t evening.” “She is a lovely girl,” said Paul, rou-ing himself; “it seems a pity that youth and beauty like hers should be buried here.” The General is sure to return to Lngland, and when he dees that young lady will create a furor. If I. for instance, had any idea of asking her to marry me, I should do so at once.” And Major St. John looked curiously at the Calm, handsome face. “That would doubtless prove a wise p ecautiQn," said the Captain, carole sly; “I am not a gie..t bolioi or in the tollcity of either love or marriage." 4 'Thun you uro no woldloi’, ’* waa tho quick reply; “nextti glory a soldier values love." “It may bo that I have had no actual experience,” laughed Paul Flemyng. ' 1 have imagined to myself a kind of ideal woman, b it I have never met any i one like her.” “That's all very well. I prefer the real myself,” returned the Major, dryly. “I should have imagined, for example, that la belle Ethel was infinitely eu’ orior to any ideal that you or I could imagine.” ■ “She is a beautiful girl.” “Sho is more than that,” remarked the Major. “I can read passion, genius. fire, power, in her face. Do you know," quosti >ned he, abruptly. “I fancied there was s- im- little tenderness between you and Miss Dacre?” “I never care to discuss such matters,” said Paul, calmly. "That is so say, you will not boast of ‘g od fortune.’” “I have none t > boast of, and if I had there is honor in lovo, I suppose, as well as in warm e.” "We all noticed Mbs Dacre'slwmqtvt of white rosebuds," con inued Majir St. John, "and wo c mid not help seeing that when you left the ball-ro m you carried one of them in your coat.” “There is nothing in that. Miss ; Dacre cave it to mo because I admired i them.'’ “Young 1 idles do not give rosebuds for nothing,” said tho Major laughing, i "I consider it a m • ! suspiciouscircum- i stance.” To this Captain Flemyng made no reply. A*ou will call at tho General's som- i tim^ to-day?” -aid Major St. John. "Yea. I told my rervant to follow mo here first with the papers un i letters tow efee mail. “A" kill mo anything Miss lOiw-re, j , ly - I have nothing to t«!1, oxccn that I | •nink her vei l 1» mti.'-.l wnetjk.i to her lather an 1 Low kiud.»Uu > s ‘o every one! Ah, here comes tho ' let-.-rs'.” There were several letters and paper? . Captain Flemyng gave tho papers to hi f lend, whl'c -e ri ad the cloLdy written pages of his English corresp n ’ lice. He cam ■at 1 m; th t > a o'ce. oiiicial-h eking envelope-, ai d Major St. John in lead of reading the news, I looked a: him while lie opened it. The letter was of great moment t > tl o young soldier. It was to t 11 him whether lie was Herd Charnleigh, of Crown frighten, a peer of the realm, with a vast fortune at his command; or whether he was to remain Captain Flemyng, with nothing ave his i.n---d tinted bravery and hi- noble heart. Y-.-t his hands did not tremble as he , broke th seal, his face neither tlu-hed j nor grew pale with e:m tiom ho was calm and collected; and the Major, a brave man himself, did silent homage j to his comrade's self-command. Paul | Flemyng read the letter through, then laid It a-ide, and cilmly opened the rest. Nothing could b - gathered from his face—-there was neither great elation nor disappointment in it. “What news?” asked the Major, curiously, unable to bear the suspense any longer. “I was just going to tell you. For a lawyer’s letter, this is really romantic. . The true heir is found, and, to use a j Hibernicism, sho is an heiress. There I will be no Earl of Charnleigh, but a countcss. It is quite a romance. Even Mr. Clements seems touched by it; he , says there is not the least doubt as to ; perfect legality of tho young lady's I claims. Tae court has pa ed judg- ! ment in her favor. No will can he found, and she is tho n arest of kin. j JIo a ids that she is young, exceedingly I-lovely, and has led a ino.it retired life.” ( uOl'Vbc asked the major. t- Amn.i<eßß of Ciiaruioigii aud.. Baroness ^Fieldsaye.” “What a position for a young girl! - ’ exclaimed the Major. “I cannot help ! wishing, Paul, that the gieat prize had i been yours.” । “I resign it cheerfully,” he returned. | “I should have liked it, but it is hers, i and I would not take it from her if I ■ could, Heaven knows. She is welcome to it. See-I part with my hopes as ! easily as I part with this. ” And Captain I Paul Flemyng, as he spt k tore a piece ; cf paper into shreds and threw them : away. I “You are a hero. If I had just lost a , peerage, I should be in a most uni Christian frame of mind with the whole ; world. I can admire your heroism, but . cannot imitate it. Do you know what i I should do if I were in your pl ace, mon ■ brave sabrour?” । "No; I cannot even guess.” i “I should get leave of absence, go I home to England, woo, win, and marry the countess.” i "All young ladies are not so willing । to be married,’’ said Captain Fiemyng. “But 1 must go now, Major: it is time I paid my visit to the General. Will you accompany me?” “No, I foci that I should be co trop. I shall see you this evening." And the two, without more words,

parted after the fashion of Englishmen w arm'aff r F" i° hQ had such » warm affection for Ins friend that he cou.d have wept like a woman over his d icappomtme nt. CHAPTER X. Meanwhile Captain Paul FlemynnWouid not admi t that + 1 api ?- uted; ho sa id to himself that a sokaer must bear the buffets of fortm o as he boars the blows of a ° oa ? In y> without flinching. As ho walked < n beneath the sapphire sky the sun p luring down golden flo ds of t v^ 11 hlm ’ he thou " ht much of tae lovoiy young counters who was now rnmirT? ° f Cr ° Wn Le’ffbton. He repealed her name to himself “loonie,” he oaid. “The face that ?°« 8 Wit ? namo Bhoald £ bright da j‘ nty '- I.^uJer what tho i ichest countess is like. Only 18, and one of tho richest heiresses in England, she should have some one to take car® oi her. Not until ho icached the General’s handsome house did Captain Fleinvnx cease to dwell up< n such thoughts; then he was roused from hik dreams of far-off England, and returned to the every day practical duties of life. i On I ^ ra ^ was not at homo, but 'vas, and the young soldier followe I the servant into tho drawingr5 om ,’ Sho was not there, but through th Ion" - French windows he saw tno gleam of her dress in tho balcony. Kven as he cn h ed the ro »m he thought to himself what a perfect picture was before him. The golden su i light camo brokenly through the co >1 green vine-loavos; e light iron balj cony was cne mas -of looming flowers, I and the lovoiy girl in their midst looked like their queen. Tad luscious rises twined round the slender pillars, and purple pa^si >n-flowors lav at hor feet. "A flower among flowers.” he said, ; laughingly. “I called to thank you for i one < f tho happiest evenings i have I ever spent, Mbs Dacre.” “You owe me littleg;atitude, Captain Fl -myng; the ball was paj a's idea, in t min e Will you como cut here on ts tho ba’cony? It is so much pleasanter than in the warm room. I think July is a month that tries one's temper severely.” “I do not think you havo a y temper to try," he remurVc 1, pushing nackthe roses while he f u .d a r laeo by her side. She lor’ o1 at him with Hashi.ig eye . j ” i on are mistaken, 1 iptain I- lomv n A m n's idea < f feminin v exe? llen-e is I always in n ty. Now, do tel eve :r.e, a woman w thout a temper would be simply insipid and unb -arable. ’ He a igi-.e.l at her earno t . vehement words. “You must allow <no thing even if i she has a litt’o spice of temper, she j in st not show it.” “i ha 1 not agree even to that " she i replied. "Wnat wan’d tire any one' । more than a e ntinval diet < f su ^ar?” i He smiled to him elf, wondering if : the young Countvs ■ in fai-off England was of th- same opinion, and she. look- [ ing up at him sudden y, caught the' i smile. He had not notic <1 that while ■ , sue sp »ko to h in her beautiful fa c ! turned shyly away; he never saw how ; the white hands tfcmbled and tho dark eye- dropped, so he did n >t io d their .-octet. Hi- was blind to ail thse sign . ^Lj.ld have I can so well under- ■ ca^hr t 7*j change the subject. “I .n- --; j ou >.ni uo me i: >nor, replied. > | "I know the English mail was in t - day. ana pray, pa don me - I hea d 1 : pap; talking ab ut you to my r. mt. • Shall you think me very inquisitive if i ; I a: k you whether the Cha; n'eigh ease I is ottied?” I. oking at her 1 vely face, and tho I dear, true eyes l ent so kindly upon him, tho impulse . aue to him to tell I her the whole timth. Sho listened, even as he read his letter*, with a cairn face: !• t when his story was o ided, there was little of calm m the flushed face and trembling lip-. “Then you havo 10.-t entirely,” she i said; "there is no chance for you'.-” ; "None at all,” he answered; “the as-; fair is finally s ttltd." “And you knew t at only two hours since, when the n ail came in?” “I received my letters and lea: ne.l my fate then," he replied. “Yet, with that knowledgde, y. u could c: m ■ here calmly to fulfill a tri- ; fling social duty, and n ver once m n- | tion what must have Ilin heavily on your heart!” “I a-sure you,” he explained, earni estly. "that since I have stood in this i ba’cony until you asked me about it, I have never given it one thought.” She was to be forgiven if she mi - i understood him; her lovely face flushed ■ and ber eyes dropped with a glad, > happy look which she did not seek to I repress. So the sweet, fragrant sunshiny hours passed while the two conversed among the flowers. To the young girl those hours seemed stolen from paradise, they were so full of happiness; ; they flew like golden moments; she could hardly realize that they were ended when Captain Flemyng said that . he must go. He hold the little white hand in his ; for ons minute, then he was gone: and to the girl it seemed as if all the sun- । standing witu unpuia ijiug vu ' the iron railing! when the was gon^ : she stooped down and kissed the place where his hand had lain, and then a hot blush burned hor face. “ I would I were a queen.” she said, i “that I might give him all the riches j that would be mine. I wish Il ai the : largest fortune ever given to woman that I might share it with him.” CHAPTER XI. ! Captain Paul Flemying never spoke of his disappointment: he had not ■ mentioned his exp ctations. out every one knew from the papers what they were. But one feeling was general, and that was universal admiration of tho coolness, the courage, tho g. ace with which he bore what to most men would have seemed an almost unbear- ' able disappointment. No one admired ; his cool, calm courage more than Ethel: ’ Dacre. . ' “If ever we go to London,” she said i to Captain Flemyng, one day, "I shall hope to see your beautiful young conn- j tess. Have you ever seen her yourself?” ; "No,” he replied; "to fell ycu a still I : mote startling truth, I do not kno.v cf . he • existence. I shall not be sorry | j when leave of absence comes, so that 11 I may go home; ihen I shall see her.”

^ csuretn Hke hor very much, said Ethel, with a si_-h. J "She is the head of the’family; I must look up to her as chieftainess’ of a great race. Ko did not understand the wistful loox she gave Lim. cu wi:l think her very beautitul. without doubt, Captain Flemyng." I "Lawyers aro given neither“'to ro-m-.n o nor to exaggeration, and Mr. ! L m 1” me she is lovely.” ; 1 OU will be sure t> think h r tho I nicest girl ycu ever saw.” Ho looked up with an amused smile i ianmt ell, Mi s Dae e: I will let you know if the maticr interests you ” i Os course it interests me,” she re- | plied.turning away with something like faint envy of the young countess. he d ' d not understand—granite itself was not c-'lder or harder, not more insen. ib’e ’.han he. i , Meanwhile Lennie,Countess of Charn- ; m^n. was learning to fulfill all the duI Ues of her station. Crown Leighton had in former times I been justly celeb -ated for its magnifii cent hospitalities. Lady Charnleigh " v ery anxious to resume them. Imagine a fete in these grounds 1” she said, with the ardor of one of whom ail such things were new. “Imagine colored lamps amid these tieos, fountains scattering : ilver spray high in tho perfumed a r, and music floating over tlie trees and Howers—ladies in jewels bright as tho sta s in the tlc/l Oh, . Ledy Fanshawe, do 1.-t us have one . fete 1” “Not until you have been presented, my dear Lady Cha-nloigh. I know what is duo to your po-ition and rank. Thore can bo no objc ti< n to a few quiet parties, but your first public appearance mu t be at the court if her Most Gracious Majesty.” Sho had been to a very few quiet eveni g pa -ties, and Lady Fanshawe had invited some young people to Crown Leighton, but Lady Cha~nlelgh did not care for these dull entertainment s. “I am so tired of seeing young ladies in while marlin."she said one day. with, a sigh; “they al! iirg, and play, and dance, and t ilk in low voices about the las. new fa hi<n< Auntie” -for by that n; m ■ “my la,iy" cho e t designate her gu-.vian—"t.>.l me, does n t th • mind lequire food as well a> the »dy? ’ “M- st as uic lly. Le nie. ” "Then my mind i; starving. I i thought pc p e ta’ked so cleverly—they do in books. No one over says anything trite or stupid t ere. I want I ford for my mind, and I cannot find it in t e n cie y of these white-robed j youn < ladies.” j One day in April she entered the drawing-room where laidy Fanshawe j awaited her. “Oh. auntie,” she cried, “I wish it were May! You said we should go to London in Mav: I am counting the hours.” “Y- u are to l>e presented in May, Lecnie." returned tae elder lady; “so we must decide s >on upon your court dreis. Os course you will wear the ; < ; a-iileigh diamond -.” 'in-re ei:me to the young girl, who 1 ai Icon reared in the midst of poverty and private n. a kind cf winder as to whether this was a'l a dream — wheihe - iho would wake up suddenly and augh at hor own folly. Lady । Fanshawe looked at tho brilliant face. “Loonie,” she sad, suddenly, "you । ougul to marry weto—you are sure-to i A lew ripple of laughter came from j acterized her. "A'urry!” she said: “why, what can ' marriage give me?” L:;dy 1 ausbawe made no re; ly. “I : ave wealth.” continued the girl, “jewc i. rank what m ire does life rei quire t > make it happy?” "You will find out some day—that is, if you are of the sam- nature as other girls. I am not rcmantic, nor do I teach romance, but at your age I sh' uld have th ught that love would take precedence of all.” "Perhajis it might if I knew anything at all abcut it: but Miss Templeton did not allow such a thing to be mentioned. Any young lady found guilty of receiving a love letter would have been severely punshed.” ’ “M;ss Templeton act-d rightly,” said Lady Fanshawe: “pi -Lat school have no business to think of such a thing." "Os course,” continued Leonie; with an air of charming candor, “we were allowed to talk as much as we liked . about money; so that I understand that better than love.” But in the eyes of Leonie, Lady Cha’ nleigh, as she spoke, there was semethinfr that belied her words. (TO BE CONTISUE3. J A Queer Thing About Camels. Seme years ago, when the British troops were fighting against the forces of the Mahdi in the Soudan, oppportunity was afforded to many of the correspondents accompanying tho expedition to study the habits cf the camel. Most of the transportation cf tho soldiers' baggage was dene by these "ships c.t the desert,” as they are called, and at night some of the newspaper men spent a portion of their lea u:o trying to learn something new about there st argr creatures. One of ill m, who wus an inveierate smoker, dl-eov -re 1 r at the esmoi is a compound, said he. and the camel will ' follow the smoker about, p’ace'bis nose close to the burning tobacco, inhale the fumes with a proknged sniff, swalLw the smoke, then throwing his head up, with mouth agape and ejes upturned, showing the bloodshot ' whites, will grunt a sigh of ccs'ary that would make the foitunoof a low comedian in a love scone. S > if any of you have a pet camel who 1 seem t> bo longing f>r something and refuses t ibreomf. rted until he gets it. you m ght g’ve him a cigar. He is usuady so intelligent that it would probably take •. ery few le sons to teach him how to smoke in a most export fashion. —Harper's Young People. The ’World’s Largest Vine. The vine at Hampton Courts is believe I to l e the largest in Europe, its i branches extending over a space of 2,300 feet. It was planted from a slip in the ye a? 1768 and generally b a"s upv a: d oi 2,000 bunches of grapes cf ' the blark Hambro’ kind. A Trial of Married Life. “Just as I expected!" muttered Mr. I Billus, examining his shaving imple- | meats. "My wife has quit complaining i about her corns and my razor is ruined!" J