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*nPT*^- I wui , m.^mwm^ â- â- vn ii ' The Miller And tbe Maid. AcroftH tbo boath ami down tbe Mil. Aback of patient Dolihin. Thu (anncr'iidau^fbtor ride^ to nuJI. Aud mot'lui the ibruxh xiid n>ltiti For MuMU> HlirV n ha^'K ii( tjrain. Hbo iiidtiwiM< HitH and ibirriqtN A ftnger in old Dobbin'b iu&ih* Ih good an furt> tttirruph TbtK miller miuiw a merry blade 'â-  And dufTh hiit hat mid gruete h«T~ " Wbat wiwb you hfte. my |>retl> maid '' " I W brouf^ht a HftL-k of Hht«at, ^ir " " Aud bave you fjold to f(i^e for grtrit '' " Nut 1, wc'rH poor, ulack, iiir , liut taku your Utll a t«<titb. 1 vutt From wbat >•< in iii) 'tack, sir." Hv lifts her lif;hc)> frm httr seal. Audlaiitcbft a nit*rrv :>iller ! " I caiiuot take uiy to'l ';i wlieat, 1 must have roI^ oi bi!ler. " But iinre you've brought no coiu nor bcript," He BUiileH aud fondly i-yeh hierâ€" " Ml a^k DO toll but froui ^uur lip - A kiuâ€" who'll be tbe -â- viiier t" The maiden bluubed ai:d t>owed her h«a<l Aud with her apron Angered, Aud pouted out her lipfi of red. Where countless kisses liik^ered. *' A siutfle kiHh '.' iSbe buiiled in gleu. As one would nay, I've cauifht you.i My father aaid your toll would be A teuth uf what 1 brought you ' Tbe mill Bireaui ahouttnl to the Hands " He kissed the farmer'^ daughtor ;' Hut tha ffrim old wheel Htretchwl out itt* bauds Ard Kpauked tlie nau* y water In th«* Lanr. And an tbuii then, iiiy heart, too uKI Kver to U-ap with hire again. To feel tl»« btron^ bloo*! torreut rolled ThroUKb heaviuK breast and teeunufjbrai'i ' U it no more, my heart, for thee Life'a uue unquestioued ecBtasv' Are faded quitethooedim. fardayK When niuhu- iiiotbered every aouiid. When up and down yuuthn bapi»v wiiy- Fared ulorittH ou eternal round ' Hati chillof y«ar« killwl evfr> joy That bloaaoDied ftir thr wandering boy ' These are the tr«t's once known so well We felt to tbeiii all but b«kuown , Their very ahadow we t-mild tell From othen* by the forewt thrown Tbe lame glad aongr. frum bush and bough Alt once we heard, we bear them now. And tlieM* Hweet tlowers beneath my feel. Their young eye*. grt»ot us au of yore Ttie hope, there'! Still they think to meet Her glance that aliall not answer more. To ua alone it cannot Ite They're hK>kiiig up no tenderly. This ia the same gray path we t<>oL Itehiiid the aluwly going day , Am they do now. tbe light leavebhbook When evening breur.eu lilew thiit wav And tbere'H tbe glow upon the doiii*' Aud here tbe cowh are comuig honu* Ah, no. good heart, thou atill canst Ktir hlill livo« the lovt* firat bid thee leap Ktill are we at the mde of her Tbey laid away iieath yonder Mmtp ThouKh doda be on her and a hlone. in the dear old lam- we're not alone j f THREE : A NOVEL. "Theu follows the reply dated M»ril.t burj;, 2nd F'ebru»ry." •• 'Hir: " ' 1. I have to direct you to lionvev to Lieutenant and Adjutant Keraliaw, and llic 8urviviiifj iiieiiibera of tlic corps kiiowii ab Alirtonu Horse, the >iif(li iieiiiie tiiturtau>ed by the (>ftio«r. etc.. of tile ffallaiit conduct of that uor|>H tii the face of overwhi'lniiiiK oddx at iHaiidhlwaiia on the 'J'Jud of January. â- "2. It ID with deep regret that the Officer, etc., learns of the heavy niinfortiine which halt Ix-fallen I,ieut<!naiit Kerbhaw. Ho wiaheH to expretta hm itpprKciittioii uf the way in which that oOlccr handlwl tl remnaiitH of Iiih coriw. and to inform him that his name will lie forward»i to the proper ipiarter fnr the cxprouuion of Har Majeety'a pleaMUra with refjard to lub »ervico8 " ' H. I am diriM ted to offer ymi ii com miHiion in any of the H)lnnt<'er coipB now on Berviire in the iitinpaifjii â-  I have, etc , (Hi({no<i) " ' I'hie* ok iiir. Sr vtt Then (Mmien a letter from Ber|{eaiit Major Jones, gratefully ackiiowledi^in); the e.xpreh aion of fhe lii;<h opinion of the Of)iix<r, etc , and dealiniii); the olTer of a coniniiBHUiii in another volunteer corpH. Next ih a private letter from the Otlicer, etc., offirint; to recommend Kerjjeant Major Jonea for a comiiimHion in the army. And, linally, a l.'lter from Horj>eant Major JoneH to Otiicer. etc., ^ratofiillv declining the Baine KriicBt l>M>ked lip tilmrply. The nii>i))i il' fnire of the movement w«h gone, for he c onid no lonfjer nee, but the habit remained " Why did you decline the oommission, Jeremy?" Jeremy moved iineasily, and lo/ikcd through the little cahin window. " On general |iriiiciple8," he answered presently. " Nonsense ! I know you would have liked to go into the army. Oon't you remember, au we were ridingup to the camp at Isandhlwaiia, you said yon proposed that if tbe corps did anvthing. we should trv and work it ?" •' Yes." " Well?" "Well, I said «,â- !â- â-  " I don't c|iiite follow you, Jeremy.' " My dear Kriieat, you can't go In commission now, can you ?" Krnest laiighu<l a little bitterly. " What has that to do with it?'' " Kverytliing I am not going to you in your iniufortiine to go and myself in the army. I could not do it ; I should be wretched if I did. No, old fellow, we have gone through a good many things side by side, and, plesHe Ciod, we will stick to each other to tlit end of the chapter Krnost was alwayti easily toiichud liy kindness, (•8|>ccially now that his nerves were shaken, and his heart ttoftenuil by misfortune, and Inn eyes tilled with tears at Jeremy's words. I'utting out hin hand, he felt about for Jeremy's, and, when lie hud found it, grasped it warmly. " If I have troubles, Jeremy, at least I have a blessing that few can boa^t a true friend, if you had gone with the nnt at Isaiidlilwana yonder, I think that my heart would have broken. I think we do bear one another a lovo that ' passeth the lovo of a wnniiin.' Il would not be worth much if it didn't, and that is one tiling. I wonder if Absalom was it tndT fellow than you are, Jeremy ; from the sole of his fix>t uven to (.11 leave enjoy the crown of his head there was no blemish in him. '\'our hair would not weigh ' two hundred shekels after the king's weight' though" (Jeremy wore bis hair cropped like a convicts) ; " but I would baok y»u to throw Absalom over vour shoulder hair and all." Il was his fashion to talk nonsense when ffwted by anything, and Jeremy knowing it, said nothing. Just then there came a knock at the door, and who should enter but Mazook, but Mazook transformed ? His massive frame, instead of being clothed in the loose white garments he generally wore, was arrayed 111 a flannel shirt with an enormous stuck up collar, a suit of [lepper-and salt reach me-downs several sizes too small for him, and a pair of boots considerably too largo for his small and shapely feet, for, like those of most Zulus of good blood, his hands and feet were extremdy delicately made. To add to the incongruity of his appear- ance, on the top of his hair, which was still done in ridges Zulu fashion, and decorated with long bone snuff-spoons, was perched an extremely small and rakish - looking billycock hat, and in his hand he carried his favorite and most gigantic knobstick. On opening the cabin -door he saluted in the ordinary fashion, and coming in squatted down on his haunches to await orders, forgetting that he was not in all the freedom of his native dress. The results were most disastrous. With a crack and a bang the reach-me-down trousers, already strained to their utmost capacity, split right up the back. The astonished Zulu flew up into the air, hut presently dis- covering what had hap|icned, sat down again, remarking that there war. " much more room now." Jeremy burst out laughing, and having sketched his retainer's ap|>earance for the benefit of Kriiest, told him what had hapiiened. " Where did \ou get these things from, Mazook?" asked Krnest. Mazook e.\plained that he had bought the rig out for three pounds ten from a secoiid- ilasH passenger as the weather was growing cold. " Do not wear them again. I will buy you clothes as soon as we get to Knglaiid. If you are cold wear your groat-coat." " Koos 1" (chief.) "How is 'The Oevil'"'" Kriiest had brought the black stallion on which he had escttjitMl from Isaiuihlwana horxt: with liim. Mszxiok replied that the liorse was well, but playful. A man forward had U'en teasing him with a bit of bread. He had waited till that man passed under his box, and had seized him in his teeth, lifted him off the ground by liiscoat, and shaken him severely "Goodl (iive him a bran mash to- night." " Kooe!" '• And BO you find the air cold. Are you not regretting that you came ? I warned you that you would regret." " Ou ka Iiikoos" (oh, no, my chief), llie Zulu answered in his li(|uid native tongue. " When first we come upon the smoking â- hip, and went out on to the black water out of which the white men rise, and my bowels twiste<t up and melted within me. and I went through the agonies of a hundred deaths, then 1 regretted. ' Uh, why,' I said in my lieart, ' did not my father kill nie rather than bring me on to tint great moving river ' Surely if I live I shall grow like a white man from the whiteness of my heart, for I am exceedingly afraid, and have last all my inside forth.' .'Ml this I said, and many more tuiiigs which I can not remember, but they were ilark and heavy things. Kut behold, my father, when my bowels ceaH<'d to melt, and when new ones had grown to replace those which I had thrown forth, I was glad, and did eat much beef, and then did I >|uestioii my heart about this journey over the black water And my heart answered and said : â-  Maz<H)kii, son of Ingoliivii, of the tribe of the Ma<|iiilisini, of the iH'ople of the Amazulu, yon have done well. Great in the chief whom you serve ; greot is he on the hunting path; great was he in the battle , all the I'lidi could not kill him, and his brother the lion (Jeremy), and his servant the jackal (Ma/xraku), who hid in aliole and then bit those who digged. Oh, yes, he is great and his breast is full of valor . you have seen him strike the I'lidi down, and his mind is full of the white man's knowli'dge and discretion; son have si-eii him form the ring that spat out Ore so fast that his servants the liorMenien were biiriwl under the corpses of the Indi. Ho great is he. that the " heaven alxive" smelled hiiii out as " tagati " (n wizard) ami struck him with their li|.htiiiii^. but could not kill him then. And so now. my father wanders and shall wander in the darkness, seeing not the sun or the stars, or the flashing of spears, or the ligkt that gathers in the ejuB of brave nion as they close in battle, or the love which gleams in the eyes of women. And how is this? Hhall my father want a dog to lead him in his darkness '.' Hhall his dog MazxHiku, son of Ingoluv, prove a faitliiess dog, and desert the hand that fed him, anil the man who is braver than him self? No, it shall not lie so, my chief, and my father. Hy the head of Chaka, whither tlioii goest thither »ill 1 go also, and whore vou build yoiu kraal tli.ue nliall I make my nut. Koos ! Itttba !" And having saluted after the dignilied Zulu fashion, Mazixik drjiartod to tie up his sjilit trousi^rs with a bit of string. There was something utterly inoongmons between his present a|i|iearaiice and his melodious aiui poetical words, instinct as thoy were with ijiialities which in some respects make the savage Zuiu % getitlo- inaii, and nut him above th* white ('hristian, who for the most part regards tl;e " nigger" as a creature beneath con tempt. For tliiire are lessona to be learnod oven from Zulu " niggers," and iiii.ong thorn we may reckon those taught by a courage wliicii laughs at (!eatli ; I'li absoluto fidelity to those who hR\etlH) rinht to com- mand it, or the (pialities necessary to win it , and in their raw and unoonvortcd state, perfect honesty and triithfiiliioss, " lie is a good fellow, Mazook," said lOrnest when the â- lulu had gone, "but I fear that one of two things will hainicii to him. i;ither ho will get homesick and become a nuisance, or he will got civilized and become drunken and degraded. 1 i should havu done better to leave him in Natal" C'HArTKRXXXVIll. came running up the stairs of ihe principal Plymouth hotel, and bnrat into a private sittiog-room, like a human liomb BncU of attractive appearance, somewhat to the astonishment of a bald old gentleman who was sitting at breakfast. 'â-  Good gracious, Dorothy I have you gone suddenly mad?" " O Koginald, the Conway C!astle is nearly in, and I have been to the ofiice and got leave for us to go off in the launch ; so come along, quick!" " What time does the launch leave ?" " A quarter to ten exactly." " Then we have three quarters of an hour." "Oh, please, Reginald, be quick; it might go before you know." Mr. Cardus smiled, and, rising, put on his hat and coat, " to oblige" Dorothy, he said, but, as a matter of fact, he was as excited as she was. There was a patch of red on.each of his pale cheeks, and his hand shook. Ill a quarter of an hour they were walk- ing up and down the quay by the Custom- House, waiting for the launch to start. " After all these years," said Mr. Cardus, " and blind !" " Do you think that he will be very much disfigured, Reginald?" " I don't know, dear ; your brother said nothing about it," " I can hardly believe it ; it seems so strange to think that he and Jeremy should have been spared out of all those people. How good God is !" " A cynic," replied Mr. Cardus with a smile, "or the relations of the other people might draw a different conclusion." But Dorothy was thinking how good God was to her. Khe was dressed in pink that morning, and " Oil, she looked t.weei .\s Che little piul: dov er ciiat grows in tile wiieat.' Dorothy neither was, nor ever would be, a pretty woman, but she was essentiullv a charming one. Her kindly, puzzled face (and, to judge from the little wrinkles on it, she had never got to the bottoii of the questions which contracted her forehead as a child), her steady blue eyes, her diminu tive, rounded form, and, above all. the indescribable light of goodness which shone around her like a halo, all made her charming. What did it matter if the mouth was a little wide, or the nose some what "tiptilted?" Those who can look so sweet are able to dis|)enBe with such tieshly attributes as a Grecian nose 3r chiseled lips. At the least, they will have the best of it after \ outh is past ; and let me remind you, my young and lovely reailer, that the longer and dustier i>ortioii of life's road winds away toward the pale horizx>u of our path on the farther side of the grim mile-post marked "30." Hut wh^t made her chiefly attractive was her pi(|uante. taking manner, and the "chic" of her presence. She was such a perfect lady. " All aboard, if you please," broke in the agent. " Rum in tbe gang way V and thev were off toward the great gray vessel wit^ a blue pemiant at her top. 1 1 was a short run, but it seemed long to Dorothy aud the old gentleman with her. Kigger and bigger grow the great vessel, till at last it seemed to swallow up their tiny steamer. " Kase her! Look out for the line there ! Now haul away ! Make fast !" ^- - It was all ^>Me in an instant, and next moment th<A Mood upon the broad white deck, amid the crowd of passongers, and were looking round for Kriiest and Jeremy. Hut they were not to be seen. " I lio|X' they are here," faltered DorotliN . Mr ('ardiis took his hat off and wiiied his bahl head. He too hoped that tney were there. .\t that moment Dorothy became aware of a great black man. clad in a white smock pulled on over a great coat, and carrviiig a big s|H'ar and a kerrie in his liaiiil, who was pushing his wa\ toward them. Next moment he stood Ix'fore them saluting vigorously. "Koos!' he said, thrusting the sjiear KBNF.ST's KVII. IlESTINT. AIkjuI nine o'llock o» the morning fol lowing Mai-ooku's oration a young lady into the air before Mr. Cardus' astonished nose. " Inkosi ('asa" liliieftaiiiess), he re peated, going through the same process iH'fore Dorothy. " Tliis way, master ; this way, missie. The chief without eyes sent me to you. This way ; the lion bring him now." Tliev followed him through the jiress towanl the after part of the ship, while, giving up the unfamiliar language, he vociferated in Zulu (il might have In-eii Kanskrit for all thry knew.! Make way,. you low |H-ople! make way for the old man with the shining head on whose brow sitswisdoin, and the fair young maiden, the sweet rose-bud, who comes," etc .\t that moment Dorothy's (|uick eye saw a great man issuing from a cabin, leading another man by the hand. And then she forgot everything, and ran forward. ' () Kriiest, Kriiest ! " she cried. The blind man's cheek flushed at the music of her voice. He drew his bond from Jeremy's, and stretched out liif arms toward the voice. It would have be<>n easy to avoid them ^ne need never be kisseH by a blind man but she did not avoid them. On the contrary, she plaot<d lier.self so that the groping arms closed arouml her with a cry of, " Dolly, whore are you? " " Here, Krnest, hero!" and in another moment he hod drawn her to him, and kissed her on the face, and she had returned the kiss. Oil, fie! Dorothy, ftc ' Then she ki88o<i .leremjr too, or rather Jereiii) lifted her ii|i two or three feet and kissed her tt came to the same thing. And then Mr. Cardus rung them both by the hand, wringing Krnest's the harduBt, and Mazook stood by, and Zulu fashion, chanted a little song of his own iinpro vising, about how the chiefs came buck t.i their kraal after a long expo<lition, in which they had, etc. -and how Wisdom in the shape of a shining headed and ancient one, the husband without any doubt of many wives, and the father of at le«st a humlrod i;hildron, etc. -and iioauty in the shape of a sweet and small one, etc., eti:. ; and tiiiallj thoy all went very near to cry iiig, and dancing a fling on the quarter- deck togotiiur. And then tbey all talked at once, and set about collecting their things in a muddle- headed fashion, and when these had been put in a pile, and Mazxx)k seated, assegai and all, u^ioii the top of thum as a solemn Kriiest's great black horse, " The Devil. " And behold, Dorothy stroked " The Devil's" nose,' and he. recognizing how sweet and good she was, abandoned his usual habits, did not bite her, but only whinied and asked for sugar. Then Ernest, going into the box with the horse, which nobody but he and Mazook were fond of taking liberties, felt down his flank till he came to a scar inflicted by an assegai, in that mad charge through the Undi. and showed it to them. And Dorothy's eyes filled with tears of thankfulness, as she thought of what the horse and its riiier bad gone through, and of the bleaching bones of those who had galloped by their side ; and she would have liked to kiss Krnest again, only there was no excuse, so she only pressed his hand, feeling that the sorrow of the empty years which were gone was almost atoned for by this hour of joy. Then they went ashore to the hotel, and sat together in the pleasant sitting-room which Dorothy had choson, and made sweet with great bunches of violets (for she remembered that Ernest loved violets), and talked. At length Mr. Cardus and Jeremy went off to see about getting the things through the Custom-House, where they arrived to see Mazook keeping half a dozen gorgeous officials, who wanted to open a box, at bay with his knobsticks, and plastering them with offensive epithets which fortunately they did not under- stand. " Doll," said Krnest, presently, " it is a beautiful day, is it not ? Will you take me for a walk, dear ? I should like to go for a walk." " Yes, Krnest, of course I will." " Vou are sure you do not mind being seen with a blind man ; you must give me >our hand to hold, you know." "Krnest, how can you ?" Mind giving him her hand to hold indeed! thought Dorothy to herself, as she ran to put her Iwnnet on. Oh, that she could give it to him for always ! And in her heart she blessed the accident of his blindness, liecause it had brought him so much nearer to her. He would be helpless without her, this tall, strong man, and she would be ever at his side to help him. He would not be able to read a book, or write a lettei, or move from room to room with- out her. Burely she would soon be able so to weave herself into hia life, that she would become indispensable to it ! And then, perhapsâ€" [lerbapsâ€" and her heart pulsed with a joy so iiit«iise at the mere thought of what might follow, that it became a pain, and she caught her breath and leaned against the wall. For every fibre of her little frame was thrilled with a passionate love for this blind man whom she had lost for so many years, and now- had found again ; and in her breast she vowed that if she could help it she would lose him no more. Why should she '' When he had Wen engaged toKva, she had done her best for him and her. and bitterly had she felt the way in which he had bfen treated. But Eva had taken her own course, and was now no longer in the out- ward and visible running, whatever place she miuht still hold in the inward and spiritual side of KrneBt's nature. Dorothy did not underrate that place ; she knew well that the image of her rival had sunk too deep into his heart to be altogether dia- lo<lged by her. But she was prepared to put up with that. " One can't have every- thing you know," she said, sliaking her wis»> little head at her own '•eflectt'Wi in the glass, as she tied her bonnet-striiigljr , Hlie was an eminently practical little [icrsoii was Dorothy, and having recognized the "eternal veritv" of the saying that half a loaf is better than no bread, esjx>cislly if one happens to be dying of hunger, she made up her mind to make the best of the position. Since she could not holp it, Kva would be welcome to the inward and spiritual side of Krnest, if only she could secure the outward and visible side , " for, after all, that is real and tangible, and there isn't iiuicli comfort in spiritual affection, yon know," she said with another shake of the head. In short, the argumentB which provinl so convincing to her were not unlike those that carried conviction home to the gentle breast of Mr. I'lowden, when he made up his mind to marry Kva in the teeth of her engagement to, and love for. Krnest ; but, putting aside the diversity of the circum stances, there was this differenve between them ; Mr. I'lowden recognized no higher siiiritiittl i>art «t all ; he did not believe in ' ... „ - that sort of tilings . he contracted for Kva 'â- '"'*'•*'"' I'eop'*' who raise a "howl becaa*' as he wouhi have coiitracte<l to buy aj*^"'.^' h»vt lost the affection of their wive^ lovely animal, aud when he had gotten the °^ sweethearts, for the\ slioiild ha\e beei "Now tell me about iourself, Ernest. What have you been doing all these I004; years, besides growing bigger and hand somer, and getting that hard look about the mouth ?" " A great many things, Doll. Shooting, ughtiug, playing the fool." " Pshaw! I know all that, or at leaat I can guess it. What have you been doia« in your mind, you know ?" " Why, thinking of you, of eourae, DoU. " " Ernest, if you talk to me like that, 1 will go away, and leave you to find your own way home. I kncwwell of whom you have been thinking every day and every night. It was not of me. Now, confess it." " Don't let's talk of her, Doll. If yoc talk of the devil, you know, yon sometimen raise him; not that he requires much raising in this instance," he laagfaed, bitterly. " I was 30 sorry for you, Ernest dear, and I did my best ; indeed I did. But I could do nothing with her. She muat havs been off her head, or the man and Florence had some power over her ; or perhaps aha never really cared for you ; there ar« some women, you know, who seem very sweet, but cannot truly care for anybody except themselves. At any rate she married, and has a family of children, for I have seen their births in the paper. " O Ernest, when I think of all you moat have suffered out there about that woman, I cease to be sorry for he. , and begin t.j hate her. I am afraid you have been ver\ unhappy, Krnest, all these years." ".\h, yes, I have been unliappy some times â€" sometimes I have consoled myself. There, what is the use of telling lies? â€" [ have always been unhappy, and never so much so as when I have been in process of consolation. But you should not hate her, poor girl , perhaps she has her bad times too ; only, fortunately, you women conaot feel, at least not much -not like us. I mean" I don't know about that," put in Dorothy. Well, 1 will qualify my remark â€" most women. And, besides, it is not quite her fault ; (leople can not help themselves much in this world. She was appointed to be my evil destiny, that is all, and she must fulfil her mission. All my life she will probably bring me trouble, till at last the fate works itself out. But, DoUy, my dear, there must be an end to these things, and Nature, always fertile in analogies, teaches na that the end of sorrow will b» happiness. It is from the darkness of night that day is born, and ice and snow are followed by the flowers. Nothing is lost in the world, as old Alston used to say, and it is impossible to suppose that all the grief and suffering are alone wasted ; that they are the only dtill seed that will not, when their day comes, bloom into a beaati ful life. They may seem to be intangibls things now ; but after all, the di£fereac« between tangible and intangible is only a difference of matter. Wo know that intangible things are teal enough, and per haps in a future state we shall fiud that they are the true immortal parts. I think so myself." " I think so too." "Well, then, Doll, you see, if once on* gets the mastery of that idea, it makes the navigation easier. Once admit that everything works to an end, and that end a good and enduring one. and you will cease to call out under vour present sorrows. But it is hard for 'the little bov to learn to like being whipped, and we ar- all children, Doll, to the end of our days." " Yes." " And you see, Doll, for some reason 1 have been picked out to catch it prettv warm. It does seem rather hard that 4 woman like that should be allowed to tun: all the wine of a man's life into vinegar , but so it often is. Now, if she had died! that would have been bad enough ; but 1 could have borne it, and bided my time tv join her. Or if she had ceased to love me and learned to love the other man 1 thin.'. I could have borne that, because my prid- would have come to my rescue, ani because I know that the law of be 1.! 'ec tions is the only law that the hoarv of woman really acknowledges, however man> others she may be forced to conform to and that a woman of refined nature who has ceased to love you. and is yet forced t.-i live with you, is in con.sequen.-'e a thing worthless to you. and dishonored in her own eyes. Besides. I ask no favor in sad matters. I have no sympathy, asa general given i|uantity of flesh ii'id bKxHl he was satislieil. Of the beaiiti 111 soul which the huniaii casket held, and which loathed and hated liiin. he had no account. He had got the woman, what did he care about the woman's soul ? Houls. and spiritual parts, and attinilies with what is goiKi an. I high, able t(> keep them. If any man could hav^ cut me out, he wm- welcome to do so, for he would have proved himself the better man. and, as for ihe ladv. I would n >(; have her without her heart. But I gatht-r that was not quite the case with Kva." "Oh, 110 indued, at least she .said that and the divinity of love, etc., etc., were i ^''® "*** wretched ' caiiital things to preach about, but they did " Exactly a.s I thought. Well now, yo 1 not ajiply to the affairs of every day" life. *^''" understand that it is rather hard. You Be8i<leB,"if he had been asked," he would "Pe I did love her dearly, and it is painful have given it as his candid opinion that j '" "''1'' of this woman, whose love I won, women did not possess any of these things. I "'"l *ho by that divine right and by the There are hundreds of L«dacate<l men who ' '*"" "' nature should have been my wife, aa think like Mr. I'lowden, and there are ''•"â- "<"''"'" being the wife of another man, thousands of educated ladies who give color | however charming he may be ; and I ho(X) to such opinions by their idle, aimless f""" ^^^ "»''« ""»' ^^ is charming. In foot, course of life, their utter inappieciatioii of it fills me with a sensation I cik:i not dtu anything bevoiul their own little dail_. round, and the gossip of the dozen or so of families who for them make up what thev call society and the interests 01 existence ; and by their conduct in the matter of marriage. Truly the great factor in the lowering of women is woman herself. But what diKiS it matter ? In due course they have their families, and the world goes on! • o /. l Now Dorothy did believe in all these •-'?'''"* ^.'' *^"*°'''"'" ^''''^^^''.^â- ''"â- '*" (''"ureli crilie." " I'oor Ernest !" (To t>eooatiaued.l ' Heliuld How Good it llilug It Is," «t<' The oldest Protestant church in Canau* is Ht. Paul's, Halifax ; the uextoldest isthi Mohawk Church, near Braiitford, and thi things, and she know what an innKirtant I Montreal. Of the last mentioned church. part thev plav in human affairs, aiid how | '.'"" "* ^''""rauii' eaince, bat a very insigm they dominate over and direct finer minds. °'^»"' "»*-' compared with the modorn Ho did she bclierc in the existence of the ' ?, "" , ^ "' ""^ commercial metropolis, planets, and ill the blooming of roses i„ | ""'• ''''bert Campbell is writing the history walled gardens; but she could not yet !'''' *'''',"}'"'-^"""â„¢8*'"Kl^'"'»cO"''«'''^^ near to know the beauties of the stars, or ! "' " 9''"""'''"'}!' but one that standi to see the opening rose-buds, so she had to ' ""'.Prominently is the fact that the oongre satisfy herself with the light that poured'^*'"","! ''"J''^*'* '" '**'''.^ Umes unusually from the one, and the scent that came from' f"j"-^ relations with other religiou.-t the other. When one is tltar-stricken, or ! , '"; J^'"'" "" Kpiscoi.al church was mad in the matter of roses, that is bettor ' ",".''"^''' "'" Episcopalians worshipped u; I this Presbyterian church, and when t than nothing. I "i'"* t'resbytorian church, and when the And so, taking Ernest bv the hand ,,he ' K'*'*''-^.'*';' '"""'"""''''**' ""''^''""'"^ ""^P*'â„¢ led him throhgh the crowded streets 'with ' J"' "f^'M''t'<"""i>! Roman Catholic priest lent tender care, and on to the quiet Moo .\iid ' oongiogation a Komaii Catholic buildiui; as they passed, the people tunicHi to look ' ^ «'0'"«"'P ">• at the handsomo young fellow who was' ' *" blind, aini some thought that they would! " " What is the l>08t wav to manage « - not mind a little blindness if i"t led to '"*"-'" ""ks a fetainme correspondent. Thrt warning to thwvos (and ill would it have heing iKrsonally (.onduct<.'d bv so swoot a ' »nawer to this old conundrum is, " Don't gono with the thief who dared to meddle | girl. | let the man know you are trying to manage with thit pUo), started off to luspeot Soon they reached tho gardens |\iim." . ' 1 . ' i - \^