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SIR GUTS WARD. A THRILLING 8TORY OF LOVB AND ADVENTURE. CHAPTFB XXII.-(Coimscci>.) " Think what I have gone through. )'..r. iav* only suffered fork tew minutes, / have iiiflerl lor three long day*. Think of it. My heart wa* breaking all the time. I went to London hoping to escape thought, and never shall 1 forget what I endured in tl.it detestable city. Like a man in a dream I lived, acarcely seeing, or, if seeing, T>ly try- ing to elude, thoee 1 knew. At time* " " You went to London*' " Vet, that it how I have been absent for three day* : I have hardly slept g_r eaten aince taai I taw yon." * Here Cecilia ii diatinctly courciou* of a feeling of satisfaction : next lo a man'i dy- ing for you, the sweeteet I hing it to bear of man'* starving for you I " Sometime*,' 1 goes on Cyril, piling up tur agony higher and higher, and (peaking in hi* gloomieit tone*, " 1 thought it would be better if I put an end to it once for all, by blowing out my brain*.'' " How dare yo-i ipeak to me like this'" Cecilia aay* in a trembling roice : "it U horrible. You would commit suicide? Am 1 not unhappy enough, that you mu.it aeek to make me more *o ? Why ihouM you blow your brain* out '" with a ihudder. " Hicauie I could not live without you. Kven now," reproachfully, ' when 1 ace you looking so coldly upon me, I almoct wuh I had put myself out of the way for good." Soon after thi* they part, more in love tin each other than ever. CHAPTER XXIII. I'lu'ltf. I hare i;iore < m-e to hale him than lo Inve Mm : Kor M h ii had he lo do lo chide lit mcT At You I.Hr It. When Lilian') foot n at<am itrong and well, almoit the tiwt u*e the rnuke* i.i it n to go to the Cottage to *ee I rcilia. She ii gladly welcomed there ; tl.e two girl* are a* pleased with each other a* even in fond anticipation they had dreamed they should be : and how seldom sre such dream* realized ! They part with a secret though mutual hope that they ihall toon *ee each other again. Of the tint two meeting* with the love- ly widow Lilian speaks openly to Lady Chelwonde ; out with (uch an utter want of interact i* her new* received that in sum-lively *he retrain* from making any further mention of her new acquaintance. Meantime the friendship ripen* rapidly, e with- ' Cyril, I forbid you to talk like thi." " Why ? I don't suppose youcare whether I no* *tand bare and *hivering in their I am dead or alive." Thi* artful apeech, uttered in a heart broken tone,doe*imm*n*e ciecation. " If yon were dead." begin* the, forlorn- ly, and then atop* ihort, because her voice fail* her, and two large tear* *teal lilently down her cheek*. " \Vould you care ?" a*k* Cyril, going up to her and placing on* arm gently round her : being unrepulsed, he gradually Uengihen* thi* arm with the other. "Would you'" " I hardly know." " Darling don't be cruel. I waa wrong, terribly, unpardonably wrong ever to doubt your iweet tiuth ; but when one ha* atoriei perpetually dinned into one'* ear*, one nat- urally grow* jealou* of one'* ibadow, when on* love* a* I do." " And pray who told you all lhe*e *lor- ie*T" " Never mind." " ISut I do mind," with an angry aob. " What ! you are to hear lie* of me, and to believe them, and I am cot even to know who told yon them ! 1 do mind, and I in I on knowing," " Surely it cannot aijrnify now, when I tell you I don't believe them." "It due* lignify, and I should b* told. But indeed I need not ajk," with exceeding bitternea* ; " I know. It wa* your brother. Sir <iuy. H* ha*alway*(why, 1 know not) until at length icarcely a week elapses wiil out Lilian'* paying at least one or two vuita at the Cottage. I >f the strength of thi* growing intimacy Sir Gay u lupremely ignorant, until one day chance betray* to him it* exiitence. It i* a bright but chilly ntorniug, one of November'* rawe*t effort*. The tree*, bereft of even their faded mantle, that ha* dropped bit by bit from their meagre arm*, un lovely nakedness. The wind, whittling shrilly, rushes through them with imp* tienl haste, a* though longing to escape from their gaunt and mott untempting embrace*. There i* a vuipicinn of mow in the biting air. In the (Cottage a roaring fire i* icolding and quarrelling vigorously on it* way up the chimney, illuminating with it* red ray* tlie parlor in which it burn* ; Cecilia i* (landing on one tide of the hearth, looking upat Lilian, who ha* come down by appoint- ment to ipend the day with her, and who u mounted on a chair hanging a picture much fancied by Cecilia. They are freely ducuaiing iu merit*, and with their gay < halt IT are outdoing the noisy fire. To Ce- cilia the aweel companior.ihip of thi* girl in not only an antidote to her loneline**, hut an axceaaive pleaaure. The picture mil hung n a copy of the Meditation, ' and i* a special favorite of Lilian'*, who, being the mo*t unsentimental (erson in the world, take* a tender delight in people of the visionary order. " Do you know, Cecilia,' she says, " 1 think the eyes something like your*?" " l>o you " lulling "You Hatter me." "I flatter ' Mademoiselle U Meditation,' you wean. No ; you have a thoughtful, al moet a wntful look about you, at time*, that might strongly remind any one of Oil* picture. Now, 1" reflectively "could been a'cruel ener.y of mine."' ) < look like that. When I think (which, " He only related what he heard. He nil" do me justice, is seldom), I always dwell not lo be blamed." ' upon unpleasant topic*, and in consequence "It wa* he, then'" quickly. " Bui 1 1 maintain on the*e rare occasions an ex- ' blamed *' of course not ; no one is iu the wrong, I mppoae, hut poor me ' 1 think, sir," tremulously, "it would be better youihoujd go home, and forget you ever knew any one >o culpable a* I am. lahnuld be afraid! lo marry into a family that could '. and so misjudge me a* your* Joe*, learn to forget me. " " I can go, of conr*e, if you deiire it," laying hold of hi* hat : " that i* a simple mailer ; bul I cannot promise to forget. To some people it may be eaay, to me mi- possible. " Nothing is impossible. The going i* the fint *tep. Oblivion" witn a *ign " will quickly follow." " I do not think so. Itut, since you with my abaenc* " He moves toward* the door with lowered head and dejected man- ner. " I did not lay I wiihed it," in faltering tone* ; " I only requeued you to leave me fcr >our own aake, and became I would not make your people unhappy. Though' pile? uly " it should break my heart, I would still bid you go." " Would it break your heart ?" flinging his hat into a corner (for my own part, I don't lielieve he ever meant going) : coming up to her, he fold* her in hi* arm*. " For- give me, I entreat you," he says, " for what I shall never forgive myaelf. The hmnblenes* of this appeal touches Cecilia'* tender heart. Mie make* no effort to escape from hi* encircling arm* ; she even returns one out of hi* many caresses. " To think you could behave so badly to me !" she whisper*, reproachfully. " I am a brute ! I know it." " Oh, no ! Indeed you me not," lay* Mr*. i eedinuly sour, not to say ferocious, expre* ion. 1 hate thinking! " So much the belter," replies her com panion, with a fainl sigh. " The more per intently you put thought behind you, the longer you will retain happineu." " Why, how sad you look ' Havi I a* usual, said the wrong thing? You niiufn't think," -affectionately. " If it make* you ad. Come, t 'is, let me cheer you up." ( V. 'I la starts a* though (truck, ami mov et backward a* the pretty abbreviation of hsr name *ound* upon her ear. An ex pre**ion of hatred and horror rise* and man her face. " Never call me by that name again lie say*, with come passion, laying her hind upon the sideboard to steady herself. " Never ! do you hear? My fat her railed me o " ihe pauiei, and the look of horror passe.* from her, only to Iw replaced by one of shame. " What must you think of me," sheaska, slowly, "you who honored your father ? I, too, had a father, bul I did not no, I did not love him. Am I hate- ful, am I unnatural in your eye* "" "( Vcilia," sayi Lilian, with grave sim- plicity, "you could not lie unnatural, you not b* hateful, in the sight of any " That name you called me by" si rug O 1 na with her emotion " recalled old i. * lies, old mernorie*, most horrible lo me. I am unhinged to-day ; you must not mind me." " You are not well, dearest," " That man, my husband," with a strong shudder," he, too, called me by that name. Afler long year*," (he lay*, throw- iiiKont her hands with a significant gesture, cou I one. *rn, ou iii.ireii you nieiioi, Bays .irs. t m tun nrr naiiuv wiiu a igi.mcani geiuire, Arlington. " Well, ye*," drawing a long ai though she would fain 10 fling from her brealfi, " I forgive you ; but /n-o promise you will never distrust me again." Of course he gives the required promise, and peace i* once more realored. " I shall not lie content with an engage- ment any linger, ' Cyril all haunting thoughts, " I cannot rid myself of the fear, the loathng, of thoae past any*. Are they put? 1* my terror an omen that they i>re not yet ended'" " Cecilia, you shall not ipcak 10," says rsays, pre*- Lilian, putting her arm* gently round her. consider it eminently nn- " You are nervous and ami upset about ttisfaclory. W hy tot marry me al tomelhing. Why should yon encourage cnce' I have nine hundred a year, and a such superstitions thoughts, when happi- crap nf an estate a few mile* from thi*, I ues* lies within your grasp ' How can harm by the by, you have never yet hen to see come near you in this pretty wood, where y.ii-.r property, and, if you are not afraid ! you reign queen ': Come, smile at me Ii to venture, I think we -night be V.TV rectly, or I shall tell Cyril of your evil l>e , even on that iniall sum nappy " I am not afraid of anything with yon," hessyi, in her calm, tender fashion : "and money h.n nothing to do uith it. II, with a troubled sigh, " I ever marry you, I shall not come to you empty-handed." If ; dost thon answor me with ifs ?'" quotes he, gayly. " I tell you, iweet, there is mi such word in my dictionary. I shall only w.ut a favorable opportunity to ask my mother'* conwmt to our marriage." " And if she refuse* it?" " Why, then 1 ihall marry you without hen, or your*, or the content of any one in the world." " You je*t," she say*, tears gathering in her laige appealing eye*. " I would not have you make your mother miserable." " Above all thing*, do not let me ee tears in your ey.is again, he lay*, quickly. " I forbiil it. Kor one thing, it make* me wretched, and" softly " it make* me feel *ur* yo ar wretched which ' far wor*e. O.'ilia, if yo-.i don't instantly (fry thorn tear* 1 shall be under the painful necessity of kissing limn away. 1 tel I you I shall pet my mo-.her's cadscjit very readily. When she ees you, she will l>c only too pruud to wel con. suA a daughter." h.ivior, and nend him here armed with a stout whip to punish you for your naugh- tmess. What a whip lhal would he !" aay* Lilian, Isugbinrf >o gleefully that Cecilia perforce Inugh* too. " How.iwr.et are you to me !" she say*, fondly, with tear* in her eye*. " At time* I am more than foolish, and last night I had a terrible dream ; bin your coining ha* done me good Now I tan almoit laugh at my own fears, I hat were in vivid a few hour* iiijo. Bui my youth was nol a happy one. " " Now you have reached old Ke, I hope you will enjoy it,"*aya Miss Chesney, de- murely. Almost at thi* moment, Sir (Juy Chet- woode i* knnounced, and is shown by the inestimable Kate into the parlor instead of the drawing-room, thereby causing milliter able mischief. It is only the sec mil time lince Mrs. Arlington'* arrival at the Cot- tage be haa put in an appearance there, and each time huiinoas has been hi* golc cauae for calling. H< is unmistakably (urprised at Lilian's presence, but qui. kly suppresses all show of emotion. At tint h* look* faintly as- loniabed, bul so faintly that a second later on* wonder* whether Uio astonishment wa* there at all He ihakes hands formally with Mr*. Ar- lington ; and smiles in a somewhal restrain ed fashion upon Lilian. In truth, he i* much troubled at the latter'* familiarity with the place and it* inmate. Lilian, jumping down from her high eleva- tion, say* to t -cilia, "If yon are going to talk bniineu I shall go into the next room. The very thought of anything connected wilh that bugbear Law ' <lepre**e* me to death. You can call me, Cecilia, when you have quite done. " " Don't be frightened," aay* (iuy, plea*- antly, though inwardly he frown* a* he note* Lilian'* unceremonio'i* usage of his tenant's Christian name. 1 ihan t detain Mr*. Arlington two minute*." Then he addre**es himself exclusively to Cecilia, and say* what be ha* to lay iu a perfectly courteou*, perfect ly respectful, per- fectly freezing tone, to all of which Cecilia respond* with a similar though rather exag- gerated amount of coldness 1 1 at deadens the natural aweetnes* of her behavior, and make* Lilian 1*11 herself *h* haa never yet seen Cecilia to such disadvantage, which i* pro- voking, a* *he ha* set her heart above all thing* on making Guy like hr lovely friend. Then Sir (iuy, with a distant salutation withdraws ; and both women feel, lilently, a* though an icicle had melted from their midit. " I wonder why your gaurdian *o dislike* me," lay* Mr*. Arlington, in a somewhat hurt tone. He i* ever most upt,;nerous in hi* treat meat of me. " ''Ungenerous !" hastily, "oh, no! he i* not that. He i* the mo*t generous man alive. But but " "Quite so, dear," with faint smile that yet ha* in it a tinge of bitterne**. " Yon are there is a 'but.' I have never wronged him, yet he hate* rr.e." Never mind who bate* you," aayi Lilian, impulsively : " Cyril love* you, and o do I." " I can readily excuse the rest, "*ay*Mr*. Arlington, with a bright (mile, kitsi-g her pretty consoler with grateful warmth. An hour after Lilian'* return t. Chet- woode on thi* momentous day, (!', , having screwed hi* courage to the ti< mg point, enter* hi* mother'* boudoir, where ht know* he and Lilian are sitting alone. Lady Chetwoode is writing at a distant table ; Mis* Chesnoy, on a sofa cloae to he fire, i* surreptitiously ruining or, as *he fondly but erroneously believe*, i* nutting away bravely al the gray sock her adyihip haa juit laid down. Lilian'* pretty ip* are pursed up, bei brow is puckered, her ofl color has risen a* she bend* in ilrong lope over her work. The certain charm hat belong* to tins scene fails to imprea* iir (iuy, who i* too full of agitated deter- mination to leave room for minor intereit*. Lilian," he say*, bluntly, with all tie execrable want of tact that character ize* the very gentlest of m*n, " I with you would not cultivate an acquaintance with Mr*. Ar- ingtoo " " Eh ?" *ay* Lilian looking up in aome- whal da/ed am v/emenl from her kuiltang, which wa* gradually getting into a more and more hopeless me**, " what i* it then Sir tiuy ?" ' I wish you would not seek an intimacy ith Mrs. Arlington," repeal* Chetwoode, peakinv all the more sternly in that h* feels hi* courage (bbing. The sternness, however, prove* a mil take: Miss Cheoney resents it, and scenting battle afar off, encase* herself in Heel, and calmly, nay, eagerly, arait* the onslaught. What ha* pat you out ""she say* ipeak ing in a tone eminently calculated lo incense Ihe listener " Yon seem disturbed. Ha* Hmikcll IM-CU poaching again ? or ha* t hat new pointer turned out a <ii<>i/</i n/- r What haa poor Mrs. Arlington dona to you, th.it y MI mutt send her to Coventry?" " Nothing, only " " Nothing ! l)ii. Sir (iuy. surely you must have *ome lubitaniial reason for taboo her 10 entirely. " Perhap* I hav*. At all events, I ak you moat particularly to give up vuiting at the ( 'ottage. " I am very sorry indeed to seem dts- obliging, l.ut I ihall not give up a friend without diffident reasons for so doing." " A freind ! Oh, thi* U madness, " says Sir (iuy, with a perceptible start; then turning towards hi* mother, be says, in a rathei louder tone, that add* to the inipc- riouinns of his manner, " Mother, will you speak to Lilian, and daiire her not to go?" But, my de%r, why ?" auk* Lady Chet- woode, raising her eye* in a vague t as hi on from her pen. I! -cause 1 will not ha*e her associating with people of whom we know nothing, ' replies he, at his wil'i end for an excuse. This one is barefaced, a* at any other lime he iu far too liberal a man to condemn nny one for being a mere stranger. I know agood deal of her," cayi Lilian, itnp.Ttnri.al.lv, "and I think her charming. Perhaps, who knows ? a* (he i* unknown, she may prove a duchess in disguite." " She may, but I doubt it," replies ho, a disagreeable note of irony running through his uneech. Have yon discovered her parentage ?" oak* Lady Chetwoode, hwtily. " U the of low birth ? Lilian, iry dear, don't have low taste* : there i* nothing on earth," says Lady Chetwoode, rr.ildly, " *o o so m'lnn h"ly a* a person arllicU ed with low taste*. " If thinking Mr*. Arlington a lady in the very be*t sense of the word is a low taste, I con fee* myself alllictcd,'' say* Miss Chei- ney, rather wucily ; whereupon Lady Chet- woode, who know* mi* hief is brewing and i* imbueil with a wholoeame horror of all disputes between her sou and hi* ward, rise* hurriedly and prepare* to quit the room. " I hope Archie will not mit* his train," ihe say*, irrelevantly. " He i* always so careless, and I knuw it ia important be should see hii solicitor this evening about the transfer of York'* farm. Where i* Arch- ibald?'? "In the library, I think," respond* Lilian. " Rear Archie, how w* ahall mis* him I shan't we, auntie?" Tin* tenderly regretful speech ha* refer- ence to Mr. Cheaney's intended departure, he having at last, through business, been compelled to leave Chetwoode and the object of hi* adorat ion, " We shall, indeed, But remember," kindly," ho liss promised to return lo u* al Christmas with Taffy," " I do remember, "gayly ; "but for that, 1 feel I should give way to tear*. " Here Lady Chetwoode lay* bar hand upon the girl'* shoulder, and presses, it gently, entrestingly. " Do not reject (iiiy'i counsel, child," she ays, soft ly : " you know he alway* (peak* for your good." Lilian make* no reply, but, gracefully turning her head, lay* her red lip* upon the gentle hand that still rein upon her ihnuldsr. Then Lady Chetwoode leave* the room, and Lilian and her guardian are alone. An ominous silence follow* her departure. L'lian, who ha* abandoned- the unhappy sock, ha* now taken in hand* a very valu- able l>reiden china cup, and i* apparently t xaminicg it wilh Ihe most profound inter- est. " I have your promia* not to go again to .he Cottage ? ' asks Sir Guy, at length, the exigency of the case cauiing hi* persistency. " I think not." " Why will you persist in this ob*tinate refuaal '' angrily. . " Kor many reason*," with a light laugh " Shall 1 tell you one ? Did you ever hear of the ' relish of boing forbidden' ?" " It t* not a trifling matter. If it wa* possible, I would tell you what would pre- vent your ever wishing to know this Mrs. Arlington again. But, a* it i*, I am your guardian," determiriately," I am re- poniibl* for you : 1 do not wilh yon to lie intimate at the Cottage, and in thi* one matter at lea*t Imuit be obeyed." "Mu*t you? we shall *," replies Min Che*ney, with a tantalizing laugh that, but for the *we*t beauty of her riante face, her dewy, mutinous month, her great blue eye*, now ahla/ewith childish wrath, would have made him almoat hate her. A* it is, h* is exceeding full of an indignation he scarcely eeks to control. " I, a* your guardian, forbid you to go to se* that woman," he lay* in a condensed tone. " And why, pray ?" " I cannot explain : 1 limply forbid you. She i* not fit to be an associate of your*. " " Then I will not be forbidden : so there I" nys Miss C'hesney, defiantly. ' Lilian, once for all, do not go to the Cottage again," aay* (iuy, very pale. "If you do you will regret it." ' I* that a threat ! ' No ; it is a warning. Take it as *uch it you are wise. If you go against my wishe* in thi* u alter, I shall refuae to take charge of you any longer." " I don't want you lo take charge of me," cries Lilian, tears of passion and wounded Feeling in her eye*. In her excitement she liaa neeo to her feet and stands confronting him, the Iresden cup *Ull within bar hand. " I am not a beggar, that I should crave your hospitality. I can no doubt find a Dome with some who will not hate me a* {ron do." With this, the foolish child, losing nrr temper in toto, raise* her hand and, !*cau*e it ii the nearest thing 'o her, fling* the cherished c ip upon the floor, where it lie* (nattered into a thousand piece*. IB silence Ciuy contemplate* the ruins, in silence Lilian watches him : no faintest trace of remorse ihow* iUelf in her angry fair little face. I think the keenest regret Guy knows at this moment is that she isn't a boy, for the simple rewou that he would dearly like to box her ear*. Being a woman, and an extremely lovely one, he is neceaaari- ly disarmed. : So now !" say* Miss Lilian, still defiant. " I hav* a great mind," replie* (iuy, rail- ing Ins eyes (lowly to her*, " lo desire you to pick up every one of thoee fragment*." This remark is unworthy of him, providing that in hi* madness there is not even metn- od. His speech fall* a* a red spark into the hot lire of Min C'hesney 'i wrath " ) >" cteiire !" ihe say*, blazing instant hr. " What is it yon would aay? ' i>esire !' On the contrary, / desire you to pick them up, ar.,1 I (half atay here lo see my com- mand* obeyed." She ha* come a little cloaer to him, and i* DOW atandiag oppocite him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. With one firm little finger she point* to the debris. She look* such r. fragile creature possessed with such an angry spirit, that Chetwoode, in ipite of himself acknowledging the comi- cality of the aitualion, cannot altogether conceal a smile. " I'ick them up," says Lilian imperative- ly, for the aecond time. " What a little Fury you are !" aav* <uy : aud then, with a faint shrug, he suc- cumb*, and, st. wiping, doe* pick up the piece* of discord. " I do it," he says, railing himself when hi* ta*k i* completed, and letting severity once more harden hi* feature*, " to prevent my mother'* being grieved by inch an ex- hibiliouof " " No, you do not," interrupt* *he ; "you do it Ixrause I wiahed it. Kor the future understand that thou^hyoti are my guardian I will not be treated a* though I wero a way war I child." Well you have a wicked temper '." lay* (>uy, who i* very pale, drawing his hrrath quickly. He smiles a* he says it, but it ii a smile more likely to incense than to soothe. ' 1 have not," retorts Lilian, passionate- ly. " Rut ill i' you goaded me I should never have given way to anger. It i* you ho have the wicked temper. I dislike y .iu ! I hate you ! I wish I had never en- tered your house ! And" superbly drawing herself up to her full height, which doe* not take her far" I (ball leave it ! And I (hall never come back to it again '." Tnis fearful threat (he hurl* at hi* head with much unction. Not that she means it, but it i* well to be forcible or siiuh occa- sions. The less you mean a thing, the more eloquent and vehement you should grow ; the more you mean it, the lee* vehemence the better, bocauso then it is energy thrown away the fact accomplished later on will I* crushing enough in itself. Thi* i*a rule that should be strictly observed. liuy, whose head i* held considerably higher than it* wont, look* calmly out of the window, and disdain* to take notice of this outburst. Hi* lilence irritates Mia* Chcsney, who ha* (till suDicient rage concealed within her to curry her victoriously through two quar- rel*. She is therefore about to let the vial* of her wrath once more loose upon her un- happy guardian, when the door opens, and Florence, calm and atately, sweep* (lowly in. " rtiuii Anne not here ?" (he lay* ; and then she glance* at (Iuy, who i* still hold- ing in hi* hand* come of the fragment* of the broken cup, and who i* looking distinct- ly guilty, and then u*picfou*ly at Lili- an, who*e *oft face i( crimson, and whose blue eyes are very much darker than usual. (TO III CONTINUED.) NILE TRANSFORMATIONS. ee a fear It %* Me IK-K-M laio a i murm E4e*. By no one, perhapi, have the impreuion* produced by the various phaie* of the river been *o poetically described a* by Oiburn, who thai describe* the low Nil* : " The Nile ha* shrunk within its bank* until it* stream i* contracted to half it* or- dinary dimensions, and it* turbid, (limy, tagnant water* acarcely seem to flow in any direction. Broad flat* or iteep bank* of black, un-bakcd Nile mud form both the shores of the river. All beyond them i* sand and sterility, for the hammen, or and wind of fifty day*' duration, ha* scarce- ly yet ceased to blow. The trunk* and branche* of tree* may be seen here and there through tl.e dusty, hazy, burning at moiphere, but *o entirely are their leave* coated with dust that at a distance they are not distinguishable from the dear, t sand that surround* them. It i* only by the moct painful and laboriou* operation of watering that any tint approximating to greenes* can be preserved at this season even in the pleasure garden* of the Paaha. The firat symptom of the termination of thi*mo*t terrible season is the riling of the nortb wind (the Kteian wind of the Greek*), blowing briikly, often fiercely, during the whole of the day. The foliage of the grove* that cover Lower Kgypt i* soon diiincumber- ed by it of the du*t, and reaume* it* ver dure. The fierce fen or* of the *un, then at hi* higheit aaceniion, are also most *ea- onably mitigated by the lame powerful agency, which prevails for ibis and the three) following month* throughout the entire land of Kgypt." Then at last come* the inundation : " Per- ^ hap* there is not in nature a more exhilarat- ing sight, or one more strongly exciting to confidence in (>od, than the rise of the Nile. Day by day and night by night it* turbid tide itweep* onward majestically over the parched sand* of the wa*te, howling wilderne*,* Al- most hourly, a* we slowly ascended it before the Ele*ian wind, wi heard the thundering fall of come mud bank, and aaw by the rush of all animated nature to Ihe (pot that the Nile had overleaped another obstruction, and that it* bounding water waa diffusing life and joy throughout another desert. Ther* are few impressions I ever received upon the remembrance of which I dwell with more pleasure than that of seeing the first bunt of the Nile into one of the great channels of it* annual overflow. All nature shout* for joy. The men, the children, the buffaloes, gambol in it* re'reshinu water*, the broad wave* parkl* with*hoal* of fish, and fowl of every wini flutter over them in cloud*. Nor i* thi* jubilee of nature oonfned to the higher order* of creation. The moment the sand become* moistened by the approach of the fertilising waters, it iiliteially alive with iniecte in- numerable. It u impossible to (tend by the ide of one of these noble streams, to tee it every moment sweeping away some obstruc- tion in its majestic coune. and widening a* it flow*, without feeling the heart to expand with love and joy snd confidence in the great Author of thi* annual miracle of mercy. ' t The ef.ects of the inundation, a* Oiburn how* in another place, "exhibit iheui*elve* in a scene of fertility and beauty *uch a* will scarcely be found in another country at any season of the year the vivid green of .he pringmgcoru, ihe grove* of pomegran- ate tree* ablaze wilh the rich scarlet of their blossoms, the fresh breeze laden with the perfume* of garden* of row* and orange thicket*, every tree and every shrub cover- ed with *wet-*cnted flower*. These are a few of the natural beauties that welcome the stranger to the I ind of Ham. There i* considerable sameness in them, it is true, for he would observe little variety in the tree* and plant*, whether he first entered Egypt by the garden* of Alexandria or the plain of Ass-nun. Yet it is the sa 11* everywhere, only because it would be im- possible to make any addition to the sweet- neu of the odor*, the brilliancy of th colors, or the exquisite beauty of the many form* of vegetable life, in the midst of which he wander*. It i* monotonous, bat it i* the monotony of patndise. "The flood reache* ('airo on a day closely approximating to th.it of the lurnmer oli.ic* It attain* it* greatest height and begins to decline near the autumnal equinox. By the winter solitioe the Nile ha* again sub- sided within it* bankiand returned its blue color. Seed time has occurred in this in- terval. The year in Kgypt divides itself into three season* four month* of sowing and growth, corresponding nearly wilh our November, December, January and Febru arv : four month* of harvest from March to June ; the four months of the inundation completing the cycle." Kor destroying a paper which ahe wa* permitted to inspect by order of the Court of Probate, the Oowager Duchess of Suther- land was committed to Holloway prison for lix week*, and lined two bundled and fifty pound*. < . iiii<lla inr.llnc. Canada ia soon to hive another flourish- ing industry. Initevl of importing yearly five or six hunnred thousand boxes of tar- dine*, weihill ipeedily be iu a position to hip almost unlimited quantities of the delicious little tish abroad. I town in the vicinity of Kaniotiraska sardine* are found in great abundance, and until recently their commercial value wa* not leali/ad. The fishermen were in the habit of throw- ing them away, and so numerou* are they that the farmer* in that part of Quebec frequently plough them into ihe ground for manure. An i-n terprisiug <J uebecer last year larted a canning factory. The result of the aeaaon'* operation* waa highly luccen- ful. Already three or four hundred hands are employed, and as the trade develops the number will be increased. This incident point* a moril to Canadians. If they real- ized more fully the natural advantage* by which they are aurrouoded, and showed a little more enterprise in developing them, the country'* prosperity would be auured. Endowment orderi are itill fleecing the people of New Bruuiwick notwithitandmg the experience of Ontario and several of the State* ot the American Union. Ac- cording to the St. John Sun the scheme* liave been vigorously pushed in that prov- ince during the last three years and nave gathered in a lot of money. It i* too soon to auum that Ontario is rid of tiie mm-unu venture*. Preliminary ttep* have been, taken to protect the people, but they must be followed by action. The report on iniu ranee ihow* that fifty-five benevo- lent ociutio* have been regiitereU, whiln even have been refusvd registration. Several organizations failed to me applica tion* for registration, and it may be taken far granted that they had little faith in their ability to stand an investigation. Iu all probability there will sooa be