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 -â- -w-^Wt^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^- ^^1 s â- ^ I r, V HIS SACRIFICE OR, For Love of* Her. CHAPTER XIII. It WM totally ntterlj unprepared for it that for a moment a^/m S*t aaif sDeU-bound. If Munel unexpectedâ€" he was so that for a moment Arundel sat as if speU kad seen his face she would hare been start- led by the curious half -frightened, hall- be- wildered look upon it. He had not dream- ed of this, had not thought of the posability •fa child- Ruasel's childâ€" who would ^11 kim father, whom he must acknowledge as his own. What a terrible farce it would be' The child would be bom, would live, »nd erowup thmking itseU the chUd of the who had robbed its dead father of his thousand strange m»o name and place. A thouffhts came and went m his bram, per- haps through this child, yet unbom,retnDU- tion would come upoa him it might be that Russell's child would someday avenge the terrible wrong that had been done its father. "You are not sorry, Russel The low, sweet voice was a little wisttul. Muriel could not help feeling that, after all her secret had not been such a glad snrpri-e to her husband as she thought it ^*With a great effort Arundel dispersed the strange thoughts that were twisting and tangling themselves together m his bram. "You are glad, are you not " he saul, loofeing into the face lifted almost plead- ingly into his, and not cing the soft light m the beautiful eyes and he added quickly, â- 'Then I am glad too, darling. Anything that brings you happiness seems good and glad to me." • She was satisfied hsr nps curled in a smile as she said confidently, and with a linle emphatic shake of her Head, "I knew you would be gladâ€" and now you know all the news. ^Vhy, Russel," sud- denly remembering something, "you have not spoken to Leo. You surely have not forgotten him " He must begin to be on hi3 guard, to speak carefully, to manifest no surprise at anytihing, to act as if perfectly familiar with everythmg of which Muriel spoke. Many times he had heard Russel speak of â-  Leo, Muriel's dog he knew what a pet the animal was with her. "I have not forgotten him, he saiU, "but you will forgive me if I did not think of himâ€" you have filled all my thoughts. ' She gave him a swift, tender smile that was almost like a caress. "I will forgive you" she said merrily. "I am afraid i should be apt to forgive you anything you might do it is such an easy thmg to forgive people one does not exactly hate," glancing mischievously up at him. He caught her in his arms, laying his head much less quiet and reserved, so mu3h more companionable. He talked over aU his business affairs witn Mr. Trowbridge, and woi that gentleman s heart by asking his advice cpoa aU impor- tant matters. t a t " You do not know, Anthon, howgUd 1 am that yon tali to me as you do cow, Graham Trowbridge said, one evening when the two men were sitting alon^ together in the cheerful library or the Trowbridge house. "Before you went to Mexico, in fact ever since I first met yon. I tho»g" you were almost too reserved; it used sometftnes seem to me like a lack of conh dence, and I dare say I was foolish, but did hurt me. Come to me whenever yon want any advice, I shall always be glad to give it to you." ..^ " Thank you," said Arundel, warmly x am sure I don't know what I would do with- out you to comp to for advice it is almost as hard to take care of money as it is to make it. Since I had the fever out there m Mexico, my head often troubles me, I can- ^â- r./t^r^t-o-r.A thi'Ticra an nuicklv aS I dlQ to it and disordered upon fi^^^?:^^^^^^- lentle and kindly in their 'T'J^^^^^ tit. the limb, still « W" iBjnr»i to Buoli an *°SfnTthe bowl from the young mman- l,..rid he swaUowed a few mouthfuls of the Sir'eTcSt^Inti, tben lay d^n ag^: The wind was nsmgand t^« .^^^^^^^ ing of the trees seemed " S?"!^^^" his heart, for the misery of his ey^ deepen robberies «d "'"iT " J^I. Ltentthat hrknew he must walk lame Indian's ssB^^^^rr SSonrybWerhiB.tune.^pped away a ""^^^^PKS^^S^ wounded limb '~JWn.'^rs^i^fr«° hunj^erand troubled bin. he s^W^ yet.the brai« SSi' dStl^t^iniid it w,ijike ^heaven not understand things »s quickly and without you I should be all at not have so been loOli uf Do icainst her sunny hair to hide the paiu which he felt was upoa his face. you really love me Muriel me, tlie man 1 am I cannot realize that you truly love me.' "I truly love you," sae answered solemn- "love youâ€" the man you areâ€" as I have ly. efore. never loved any one- in all my lite be There you must not kiss me again until you have spoken to Leoâ€" poor fellow, he has missed you so much. Where is the dog ?â€" oh, there he isâ€" come Leo " In a darkened corner of the room the dog was lying his head upon his paws, his eyes fixed upon Arundel he had lain in that Twsition ever since he entered the parlor, not cnce moving his eyes from Arundel's face and the man started as he caught sight of the dumb beast, for, in the animal's eyes â- was an expression of almost human suspicion ani distrust. ,^ " Why don't you come to me, Leo ex- claimed Muriel, in great surprise, for the dc, who had never before refused to come atli'ercall did not move "come right here, sir," stamping her smill foot by way of em- phasis. Reluctantly the animal rose, walked slow- ly to her side, and stood there, and attract- ed by the dog's beauty, knowing, too, that Muriel expected him to notice Leo, Arundel stretched out his hand but before he could lay it upon the animal's head, as he intend- ed doing, L-io gave a low, savage growl and drew back, showing his white, cruel-looking teeth. • „., -1 "What is the matter with him? saul Muriel, almost frightened by Leo's very un- usual behavior. "I never heard him growl like that before, and at you can it be that he has forgotten you, Russel? I thought dogs neves forgot." ' "He does not evidently feel any great afifection for me," said Arundel lightly "however, I presume he will get accustom- ed to seeeing me around. What are yon thinking of, Muriel?' meeting her thought- ful, inquiring gaze. She iiushed a little. "I am thinking," she said slowly, " that I had never noticed before hov,-, when you smile, it brightens your whole face. I did not know you had snch a beautiful smile. That rarely beautiful smile of Arundel Anthon's had been always one of his char- acteristics people ' ad found it hard to resist that smile it had woa him many friends. The first day of Arundel s new, false, bright, beautiful life was like a dream of happiness to him he did not think of the future, of his own black treachery, or of the sin which Muriel must innocently and uncon- sciously commit by giving him the love of a wife when he was no more her husband than any stranger in the streets. He said to him- self J "I love her as man never loved woman before, and she loves me even if Russel could coma back to her, I know she would iove me just the same. If there is a God, that God surely intended us for each other in the sight of Heaven I take her to be my wife before God I vow to love her, to be true to her, and surely that is marriage. The strain upon his nerves had been so sreat that now that the struggle was over, ind he had yielded to the tempter, a dreamy lanjruor fell upon him he was mentaUy too weary to think, conscience seemed to have died remorse was sleeping. He seemed to drop naturally into the life of love, and hap- ping, and luxury Russel had never en- ^rtained his friends as easUy and gracefuUy as he did people said of him, Russel Anthon ha different man since he came home, so once, sea." He spoke the truth, he could managed the fortune which had come suddenly into his hands, had it not for Mr. Trowbridge. And Muriel was perfectly happv. one often wondered why it was, this great passion of love which she felt for her hus- band, had come so suddenly into her heart. " How strange that I could once let him go away from me, when now I do not thmk I could live without him," she said to her- self. "Did he change while he was away m Mexico, or did I He used to seem so far above me, I was always afraid he could not quite understand me he used to be so much better than I w-as, so much higher every way now," and Muriel laughed merrily at the thought, "he seems to be just as earthy as I am, I am no-; afraid any more that he will not understand me. One thing I am certain of, either he has stooped down to me, or I have climbed up to him, for I know we are standing together upon the same level." Seeing her so happy, Mr. Trowbridge laughed heartily when he thought of the evening when she had told him so seriously that she knew she did not love Russel Anthon as a true woman should love her husband. "Do you remember the night you told me cackles did not mate with little brown thrushes?" he said, laughingly to heroic day. "My little brown thrush seems to get along very well with her eagle." ' 'But, papa, he is such a tender, consider- ate eagle," she answered, gleefull. "He does not go soaring up to the mountain-tops where his little brown thrush cannot follow him, he stays by her, and makes himself her equal when he can, and shelters herwith his stately wings. Ah, that was just it. Russel Anthon could not make himself little, he was fash- ion, d on too grand and noble a scale for that. Though the eagle is the king of birds, his life is far more lonely and isolated than the tiny chirping sparrow upon the ground, for he flies by instinct to the mountain-tops, where all is silent and lonely. And those "â- rand magnificent natures which God some- times allows to come into the world that we may know â- what the angels are, may well be likened to eagles, for by instinct, also, they soar to the mountain tops, which are the highest points of earthly goodness and truth, and their lives are always lonely. Early in July Mr. Trowbridge found it would be necessary for hiai to go abroad on bu-iness â€" of course he would take his wife with him â€" and when Muriel found her parents were going to Europe, a sudden de- sire seized her to go too. " We can go just as well as not," she said to Arundel "the change wid do us both good: and insteadof travelling around, Russel we will take a lovely little villa somewhere. Then, i:i the fall, if 1 do not feel like coming home, we will go to Paris, and afterward to Nice, where we will spend tie winter." So it was all arranged, and the second week in July the party sailed for Europe. together despairingly; ^iStou wonder that it seemed sometimes toihiJmanthathis God had either forgot- ten oXrsaken him? that there were t^'^^^ when he cried out in fierce, intolerabe an- guish, "Surely, if God is J^st and piUful. He would not deal with me as he has done When the Indians reached the Httl? Jut from which Arundel Anthon had nddeu away, they found not a corpse, as Arundel Supposed they would, W a man un- consciouV^ motionless, but still^ive. From the Mexican boy ho had been Russel s CHAPTER XIV. It was past sunset, and thi purple shad- ows of evening were beginning to fall dark- ly and heavily over the mountains. The western sky still glowed faintly, but the pale rose :nd violet tint's were fast fading jnto ashen gray, and already a few stars had blossomed in the vast blue fields of heaven. In the woods ic was d.rk and gloomy, the night birds were beginning to call to each other, and the trees banding and swaying as the night-wind passed over them, seemed to be moaning and sobbing bitterly. Far up the mountains, miles above the plain, columns of smoke were rising toward the clear evening sky, and the led light of f:re3 gleaming brightly through the trees would have told a wanderer in the vicinity that he was near an encampment but if he had been a white man, then woe betide him if he venture nearer the red light, for the dark forms grouped about the brightly burn- ing camp-fires were Indians. There were fifty of them, perhaps, beside women and children the former busily pre- paring supper, the latter running about gathering firewood, and grass for the horses, while the men were idle, some of them talk- ing together gravely, others smoking in '^ilence, staring solitary into the crackling fires. A little apart from the rest, his face turn- ed away from the fires, a blanket wrapped closely around him, a man was lying, as silent and motionless as a dead man. He paid no attention to what was going on around him he had drawn the blanket half over his head and had covered his eyes with one hand. So he lay there until a young Indian boy approached bearing a rude wood- en bowl in his hands, and as the boy, pausing beside him, addressed him, heraised himself slowly, wearily, as though the ntfivement, slight as it was, caused him pain; as he turn- ed his head the fifckering firelight fell upon h's face â€" it was the face of Russel Anthon. But, oh, how changed it was it did not seem as if it was possible for a humnn face to change as his had done, and yet sickness, privations, anxiety, and lack of freedom can work terrible changes m even a few short months. He looked by twenty years older than he bad done that wild March day, when in his pleasant library he had read his brother's letter. The hair which fell long BuidlVd who was with them, they learn- ed th;t the white stranger was a rich man in his own country, and thmking he would be ransomed by his friends, they decided to savehis life if it was possible. Strange as it may be, Russel survived the journey to the camp among the mountains there they took care of him with a lack o all tender- ness, giving him their simple medicines, leaving the rest to Nature-and he lived. At first the brain was clouded, his pov^ers of reasoning impaired he could not under- stand how he came to be there he would look wonderingly up into the dark Indian faces, and would beg his attendants to go and fetch Muriel to him. Then, as he slowly -rained in strength, things began to grow clearer, the mists rolled away from his brain, the mind reasserted itself, and. finally he understood it allâ€" knew that he was a prisoner in the hands of the Indians, and that ISIuriel was far away from him. But where was Arundel? He asked him- self that over and over again, and Muriel, what of her Did she think her absent hus- band was deadâ€" was she mourning lor him, hoping against hope that he would come back to her? Muriel and Arundel, they were in his thoughts constantly, those two; where were they, what were they doing? Lying there wrapped in his blanket, un- ble to rise from weakness, while the slo'w days of his convalescence dragged by, it seemed sometimes as if the cruel suspense of not knowing what had become of his loved ones would madden him. Oh, to be home again, out of the sight of the dark Indian faces, away from the sound of the wind in the trees to feel Muriel's arms around him, her kisses on his lips. His very heart was sick and faint «ith longing, and his own weakness was like a chain of iron upon him binding him hand and foot and this his captors knew just as he did. They smiled grimly when one day one of them suggested that their prisoner be more closely watched they knew he had no strength as yet to es- cape from them. He had nearly decided with the chiefs as to the amount of his lansoni, v,as quite hope- ful, when rumors came to the camp that there were soldiers on their track, and think- lug that Russel might betray the where- abouts of their camping grounds, the In- dians decided not to let him go yet so they took him with them when be moved further up in the mountains to an old camp, and it was not long after their arrival there that he had made that desperate effort to escape, and had been wounded and recaptured. As he lay there now while the Indians were smoking and eating around the fire?, and the night shadows deepened and dark- ened, he was planning an escape, for to es- cape he had determined. Since that in- effectual attempt to get away from his hated captors he had been closely watched, but he had a plan now by which he thought eventually elude them. His wounded limb still pained and troubled him, but not nearly so much as he gave them to understand. They thought he could not bear his weight upon it, could not use it at all, and that was what he wished them to think. la a few days he knew they were to leave the camp, to move to- ward the coast, and he hoped during the journey, to be able to get away from them of course, if he was unable to put his foot to the ground, they would not guard him so closely. Once free, he would gain the coast, cross the eulf into California, then home and Muriel. Home and Muriel those two words seem- ed to inspire him with hope they set his puis 33 beating quicker, and brought a flush upon his ashen face, a light into his sunken eyes. He conld not sleep that night for thinking all night long he lay with wide- open eyes, gazing up at the stars shining so peacefully in the deep blue sky above him, listening to the sighing and sobbing of the night- wind in the trees while Muriel's face cam^ and went before him, h r lovely eyes lookinp into his. How would he first see her Would he go softly up the stairs in- to her pretty botidoir, and find her lying on the little velvet couch asleep, perhaps dream- ing of him, her long lashes wet with tears And she would awake, and seeing him, would nestle in his arms 'with a low, glad cry he would fold her to his heart, and the passionate longing, the unrest, the fever, would all be gone. Or would he find her in the pleesant library, standing lonely in one of the Isce-draped 'windows, her li'ttle hands clasped loosely tegether, her beautiful eyes sorrowful and weary 'with watching, misty 'With unshed tears? He would kiss them away, t lOse tears he would take the little hands in his own, draw the lovely, tired head upon his breast, and whisper teoderly that never again should they b3 separated. So all that night hope grew stronger in Rusiel .Anthon's breist, and when the day dawned there was a look almost eager in his eyes, an expression of earnest hopefulness upon his thin, white face. A few days after the Indiana left the camp and moved toward the coast, oommiiting to"be7i^l^ -patq *BOW he was on the Sdb*^t. bis U gray, his ff«^°^*f; indelible marks of pain and care? How ^gely they would look together, she so y^faSd iJvely. he old before h« tune, Kfndown b/sickne«i and ternble ex- ceriences. Would strangers wonder how it JSrabiut that she Sal married him? W?nld theysay she was too fairand young for him? Wthen the strong, patient heart grew faint as he thought " Pirhaps she is too young for me she might have been happier, perhaps, with a S less grave, not so old as I am. It was a mistake for me to marry her j a^d yet Muriel, my darhng. no man in all the world could love you better than I do jlknoM that if I could buy your happiness only at the cost of my own lite, I would, because of my love for ycu, die so wiUingly.' Ah, God pity him he had yet to learn that lifel holds things far more terrible tbaa death that living sometimes is so much harder than dying. We are all apt to think that the voluntary giving up of life is the greatest sacrifice, of which a human being can be capable, and in many instances it is, but not always there arc times and times when to live is a sacrifice greater by far than to die would be. One morning it was just after sunrise, and he was toiling slowly and painfully on his way to Guaymas, when he came up with a stranger travelling also in the same direct- tion, like him weary and footsore. He was a remarkably fine-lookin? manâ€" a gentleman bom, that was evident there was an air of dignity and grace about the tall figure, though it was clad in rough, well-worn clothes, and the face, though it bore traces o: recent illness, and was stamped with the unmistakable marks of care and pain, was a handsome, high-bred one, with regular fea- tures, and earnest, thoughtful eyes. So these two men, who had never seen each other before, who did not know one an- other's names, went along together.strangers in a strange land both were grave and si- lent, busy with their own thoughts, yet each one was in his heart thankful for the companionship of the other. The stranger seemed to be as quiet and reserved by na- ture as was Russel Anthon his thoughts seemed to be equally absorbing, and in his eyes was the same wistful, longing expres- sion which madeRussel's eyes bich sad ones. All day they travelled together, speaking but little of their own lives, but when they camped for the night, and having made a fire lay down near it, the darkness and loneliness of the moonless night settling over them, both men grew more communi- cative, and spoke freely of themselves, tell- ing each other of their lives, and how it was they chanced to be so far away from home and friends. In a few hours sn intimacy sprang up be- tween thcs3 two men bo strangely thrown together, and when at daybreak they re- sumed their journey, they seemed and felt more like two old friends than strangers who, forty-eight hoars previously, had not known of each other's existence. '1 he next night, lying beside the camp- fire, which threw its nickering light upon his face, the stranger, who called himself Henry Glenmore, told Russel Anthon in a voice which, though calm and quiet, had in it an undertone of great bitterness, that which filled Russel's heart with deepest pity. He was dying â€" that tall, grave, stately man â€" dying of one of those terrible internal organic diseases which, when they ouce seize hold upon a man, tlowly and surely sap his life. He knew it, had known it for some time past, and now fully aware that death was rapidly approaching, had only one hope, one wish, one prayer â€" that he might live long enough to go back to his little motherless four-year-old boy, who was liv- ing with a nurse up in New Hampshire, that he might die with his child's soft arms around his neck, the innocent baby lips pressed close to his and the bitterness in the low voice deepened into passionate agony as he said, brokenly "I have no one in all the world but him, my baby-boy, my little Roy his mother, the woman who loved me so dearly, for the sake of whose lovo I gave up all â€" all â€" died at his birth. It was for the child that I came out here to dig for gold â€" that I might have money to give him â€" her baby â€" every lux- ury, every comfort. For the child I have worked and toiled early and late" â€" laughing a low, b.tter laugh â€" "worning like a day- laborer, until my hands were blistored and hard. Even when I knew this fatal dis- ease had grasped me, and they told me to go back, that I must not work, I only worked the harder, for I knew I must die and leave him and what would he do â€" that little child â€" penniless as well as fatherless, motherless, friendless So for a year now I have been fighting death and working â€" well, I have been more than tnccessfnl I am a rich man now, and a dying one death is gaining on me, I cannot fight it off much longer â€" and my boy will be alone." Before the sound of the low, agonized voice had died, Russel Anthon had taken one of Henry Glenmore's hands in his own. "Give me your boy," he said, simply, "I will take care of him." Almost blankly the other looked at him. "You take my boy " he leaid slowly. "You are a stranger â€" ^youdonot know who I am, yet you offer to take my child " "I know that you are a suffering man," Russel Anthon answered "I know how terrible it must be to feel oneself slipping away from life, knowing tdat a frail, ^arly loved one must be left alone â€" and that is enough to kuow. I say again, give me your child." (to SOME TAdi^ I Custard Withocx Hi, pint of water two heap^g*'"' boil well, and when col' piece of butter half the J cup of sugar, gait to taste*' lemon pr vanilla, â-  m HlCKOBY-UPT MacaRoos, mg as for cake stir in '" hickory-nut meats; ^iyj' spice to taste, to make conv Flour the hands and form t?^ Uttle balls. Place en b* lowing room to spread, and l oven. Cbume Puddikg.â€" Oaec crumbs, one quart of sweet •' cup of sugar, the yolks of jJ^ with a little Icamon to fla-or spoons of butter. Bake unui" watery spread over this a im ' '"gifi whip the whites of theTgc,"?^' I add one cup of sugar and thei"" on pour this frosting over f â-  turn to the oven nntila ligb't " eaten c j!d, with cream a^d'sa Boiled Salmom.â€" The miji mon is the best. Sew up j^^^ quito-net bag, and boil a hour to the pound in ],^^^ When done, unwrap with care on a hot dish, taking care act' Have ready a large cupful of d very rich, in which has been %( spoonful of minced parsley an^ a lemon. Pour half upon the serve the rest in a boat parsley and sliced ecrgs. New Way to Cook ChicEB; chicken up, put it in a pan and a, with water let it stew as done make a thickening of creiE adding a piece of butter, and salt. Have ma 'e and bake a cakes, made as for j.ic-cru;t ti- and cut in small squares, fhisij' ter than cftickcj pi'j Lir.d ilcre make. The crusts' thouia be laijj and the chicken gravy rie„rej i both are hot. Mock Lemo.\ Pie.â€" Que cupo' heaping tablespoouful of flaur, ti two eggs (save the whites [orW pie), one teaspoonful of extract two-thirds of a cup of btewed mix the sugar, flour, eggs ana gether tnen pour ou the 'svater, pie-plant bake with one crust- beat the whites to a stiff froth a it over the pie, setting it Lack it for four minutes Ak Old Disu. â€" A dish cqailt; steak and cheap enough foraDjma:] pared from the shank of a bed meat on it. Have the bone ve wash carefully to i emove bits oi with cold water watch when tit begins and take off the scum Stew five or six -hours till the mi dissolved, break the meat small â€" far better than chopping -put bread pan, boil down the gn,\)- u ing it will turn to a stiff jelly. \\\ is done, gelatine is quite tuperSaa salt, and, if liked, other scasoi pour it hot upon the meat sti and set aside over night, when ii into haadsome mot:Ld slic3s:or or supper. Oystes 0JIELE7. â€" Tivfcive oyi large, double the number if small onj cup of milk, one tablei-poonlaki chopped parsley, salt and pepw:; oysters very fine; beat the yoits ai of the eggs separately, as tor nice whites until they stand in a i three tablespocslul of bntterina and heat while you ai'c mixing Stir the milK. Ln a deep dish, witi; and seasoning. Isext add It: oysters, heating them -well as y ually. When theru'Jghly nu: melted butter, and tinally wi.; whites as lightly as possible. H;t;'j ter in the pan very hot, nuJ p mixture. l)o not stir it, b'Jt « gins to stiffen, flip a broad blaal around the sides iix.d cauticusiy omele' that the batter r.iay re part. As soon as the ccutre is and the bottom bro'.vn, turn cut dish. Lay tlie oi.n ijj.tjni cp' the frying-pan, wliicii uiusr b= t side down dexterously. TW' ' brown side of the oirclet upperoi is a delicious breakfast or tupperc' nitvisnote. mfeto society; g^*S^d not- ^Matter! England' iergrainates. the British ;,^i,welfth of Marines, 01 th9 Di' the laid because imi m I « " Stern Iiaw agalast Smol The progress of .smoking m tralia has been so gr«at within n that It has been thougat advisa tempt to check its growth among A measure has therefore been into the House of Assembly to tie that any person under the age w^ who shall smoke any pipe, cigar o: shaU be guilty of un otieuce, anJ en tion, shall be liable to a penalty « than 5a. nor more than £o anil ii of payment, may be impnsoMa time not exceedmg one month, any person shall be charged, tlie proving the age shall in all casos lie » son so charged. One half of evei) imposed is to be paid to the remainder to the treasurer uses of the province. jind for ye .t jaf'g'" ' ^•vrar cost ,„uofli^e*. ,000,000.000 jd Blnnt, man of 44. ihter. She i Blunt 1* a ' tboUc. ,1X9 now 1 iga helple Ipspepsi*-. meth is ' â- em softenms reet, archite idon. died b the adiri ^l,e workm« Seats T^ tt the openii icar is rathe Lmost virgi The pop' id the soil ions. Indii The mir iled proje fcween Italy »nd will SI jit approba will be a de expense â- ev memori; ^U Al. been sal bf the great ^tle doubt lion Liddon tent fete c Explosion s rooms. 1 by a dynai ibbing ui scare, (theaodgc ^ent speec the lata said th 'Domini When h 3 ago nen helc fsilowi 3 " fated misunde glish ar to som rard fou secret of Euient ai heir cow' said 1 Sever ley wc 1 carriec that tb this 01 they £ ing emp put koys wil inlom for ttej water" EartraordUiary Death ot a Trt An extraordinary fatality has o« British Guiana, where an inexpe" eller, having, as is the custom » countries, taken a refreshing d"°f J the stem of one of the many plants which thrive in the :^^ his cold refreshment by a '"'^,3 Shortly afterward he died m ^i agony, and a post-mortem showed that his internal organs .1 ally sealed up with India rutbei. imbibed the sap of the ev. H I an e |politi( rof C Isters' btbefc Mil BE COOnSTTBD,) Mr. Joseph Morgan acid a herd of four thousand cattle for one hnndied thousand dollars recently, althoagh he started on a ranch in Kanaaa tw^ve yeazs ai^o on bor- rowed capita]. the juice of which coagulates an alchol and rum had had its uso" the poor man's stomach, rily fatal results. The German Goernment has Lay torpedo. The Torpedo wi decided that the ntts emploe?. lish navy render Lay an dWbi« pedoes harmless, but prove ano" which «« ' the Berdan torpedoes, whicn » manofactared in ConstantmoP" .* •a i. ..-.' â- ".•â- n â- -jiTij'.ji-s-.MH' ignn -Lii^ â- 'r=i*,A