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 li •' 'W^WJ wm^ i. tfic ,reiit .\oiH,i '«" KrltishCoJnmH 11. sijt orVebraska. ' ' 'â- â- -' " "•lilt p«rt«fu,l .-• I ^r;.col:ir3. Addle " -â-  lo-K SJrret, Tc?.J »• 'Janajer. J imsT.HASREfURiil and opnnod a Stadio,! to. Portraitainoilli fft. â- LANEOUS^ *;-AlUUh;S:5K.HTufll Toronto. AarentswanM â- 0(1. Trade work a spec KY. S Sing StK.. Toronj ;f). 'Tan-arrofMasomca ••••I- l.")l Kin? E-.^Mom .Si iJW "CARD3,~lfi N west designs, '.r \M.-;. 4 KingE. .Toni iil| I lor f-of illu3trared( ictoKYrilE.theJeweS Tnto. WuTtkT.VG" MUD^ .;"inL\ with hiiiipcoai|/iet( St.. Kast. Toronto. â-  -iiici Kister; iu$l. JiJ lot^. l]y post pre-pii " H.'iO.'-^.. Toronto. 'i' nD-IMFKOVED-I .taIo:;ues free. H. F ^iiursh, Maryland. U.' 'tit' THK (;reat"he| ' p'^r package post-pai t-\ Ont. Agents U".actd .. OAICVILLE-:.rANll iif niit-;i(ie and insid -I ?.iou;din:,-3. Sendf^ â- â- ^â- :. sTuootfi siiriacej ' â- â-  -.-%- toii.-h. Scndfrf y-' j.f wooDUxq T'lronto. â- ' ii 'it .-^Al.Eâ€" INi'iOOO :â- . v:ili!i-rt at SW.OOi-'bj â- -:.;-:â-  t) J. C.GK-VU-l :.A;iV (â- .JLLEfrKJOl r !•â-  PiiN-rfrom O'C"" "iTif. d..V. Kdii-I i. Ar,3 iSStHIATI. U-KiMaco. lYovidclo! '" I'il.-vIBERTOXP.!^, 3i\ :to. ApcntsjvsntecJ i:T!I~()F ^FARin'i' iii'.:vr pronortTin '3^ A X A j WEST LA.Mf U Ade'.aide-st. U'ij i of an V description al )nld call or pend parol .3-! and 55 K;ng-str«t| lid Val upr. ^i â- iirin;? tr realize. W" i.^'mifaUdescripnoa?.! of p'lfmcnt. J-^" ,1 at, 23 Toronto street IILL A1ACBIS0.L a: stock and stabbufi nth Pitman's iro" Pr"I aftg completft *l e ronto. Ont. f GAJ.T, O.VlAWjl im and model mat^; linery BpecialM^'M Inv«ntor« assists 1 ;U1Y ai' »^S^ Jeesie, In eood or««^- the schooner iu-. improved farms- ^t^ I romne88P;_0:J!t- ' ith preemptiojis?"o/ e tract. ^^o^^L. ments now pMiK" i tly hardy throD^oM 5 years old, »^^ 8tation-3 ifi,sS: n as recall*";,,!* ew T»rietiM. »» gj,. A** ^, thai 'hey do lav'NOl "«e to keeT "'^S kno-,rnr^*^o^Ibtf^ 4 ^tM" .hebanbleand thebih, '*»•' rhopill'3"' '" the crib. -^^.i 'â- '%eb'shy-3 crown. '^i, around its feet ;^.' i*e Httlo sheet- 'â- -,,,.-1 in a pod. i-*'*, »rdwa and a sap. "• ,rireaniv little nap, r,^nlrandy-pand. •""P- There ;, "P than ^J" no "n.ationt"1ii3,,f ^butalsoi -!:.;, '/^f Colds tl'Jri^X "E GRlTfina FOR ml KHEum. Neuralgi)! HEADACHll,TooIJj SORE THROHTl Soreness, Cut»,B(A FROSTBI^ Aidallotherbodij,, and psius. FIFTY CENTS « I SoIdbyallDmaaM Pa?^qfJ"«3 The Charles A. \om Oi.-»i»T. to A. Toonnit TLER E^S ,,,t-e I.andT-andy-pand '-,. vodcir-po" ,u, ^^.^(Io^T DiaKcrs tent, â- â€¢' '" ^^.^lltâ- s =o.'t descent, .^ri^ll'^^twVto dreams well '^j ^j.vin;; streams ^°^^tsUo.v.naker'8baby •^"m i,P down with us, may be. ^^""mo-v pillow of the sod. â- ^; ;;,ow-canda doze. ^,'.,*a.eep"fromhL.adtotoes, -i-T'vi!llie,wewilllic. :â- â€¢ ;t^ Landy-audy-pand 'â- ' -.jie Noddy-iiod. r^AGRTFICE uK, roi i,ove or Hex-. i.NTIXUtD). [aAi'TKKXXI. V ,,. ' 1 am i;lad he is gone," said f 'oerdflr, whfii the trees had hid- .- a:i"lit. "'lie is so very tire- l"'hij ulk aliout Boston and his "-rc'ativL's, bis friends, hi^ horses; rlmsuttirit a-e are very apt to hi H l;e;- ;l3U'ji-3 and ierns she be- l-.,.a,-c':uM .si^rt them, not takiuir L:"Cwti'ou the tact that the boy in 'uis nearly lunf years older than .i:Viriao;i.er.t5 ^he felt rested, and kp begun to hurt tur little delicat*; LVinilialf-a'o""' and iialf tohei- "" "ai t' c I'i^'lI^ "|d' "'" '^â- heer |, n"'" â- c"'"j' a!s"""li53s'y through ii-atd the sound of the sweet 'iiij, and I'CcauHe !u; had nothing ° auil I'.aviiit.' :- l.iiuc curiosity to tj the singer was, he followed the d the vi'KO a.s it came to him lithe'tr^es. Louie could not tell ex- Jn- it lap;enetl, but in clambering [rjikherlLut was caught in a cre- ii.; tried tj dislodge it, failed, slip- I :hf sii:outii ruck and fell heavily, ureiriiiii;; and spraining her i-rv 01 pain broke involuntarily [•r,i. li.niling fureward she tried fccr Email i'.ut out of the crack in ir.tj wlii.'.i i: had slipped, tried, ily. I'uot lij .-'UietliiiiL' to assist you?" J a violent start J-ouie looked up |ii:i.ercai.-i;red her: tlie young man .• Lesiue !ier wai a gentleman â€" of :.-..â-  was i;ut the slightest; doubt. â- ; a vf!v lian(isonie gentleman too. kii'ijio.M; hair l-iy soft and wavy |a wir-.. ui'!l-s!;apjd forehead, the :.. ,^ a ih. sliailed a mouth which .1.' cri iiiViiiinattly beautiful but :..;i!:.e-.s ot the chin, and the eyes â- V Ijji.t anximisly upon Louie were cs;iri;sivo, deep gra}' ones in figure i'Ljiianil wtU lnult, with a certain s.'nat abjut hini which made his t'At. I sui; seeui belter and finer than râ- ^vi^ !tv, asonly a travelling suit, -uul.l have i;oue into a parlor with |m, an 1 wiriilii have looked better than ir.c'i ill tlieir dress suits. la;na;rai'i Viji; i.a\e hurt yourself," he litnairaid so iio," answered Louie, itjsnuie, thoagh the cruel pain was all t-f clor oat of her lace. "1 :ght iiiy r^ji.tâ€" sec, and 1 cannot ui;t,' • ndtuowu and triud as she had done ;t, l,ut tender as he wag, the gentle touch hurt her so that she [aanot bear that." *iiiOs«olleu I ejuid not pull it out P-hurtinL' J on terribly," he said. "I r^Stotf you l^ij a vi-i V -c ut it ofi if needs â- Mibarrassin^ position to be â-  houio's â- ,\ lute face Hushed pain- ttiirrL' was no help for it. She «^'e';l ai ho (lid that her foot was -^i L'H;r.y instant, that it .nust be j'-io: the erevice: wliich had proved '-:'-3ba.l. as any trap. â- â- â- ited tlie niittor just as though it ' every d„y occurence to find a [:=jjuii-lady witli her foot caught in ^na hisaianner lielped her through ^^/'â- '^â- '^^^ar.l predicament. Unbut- "^e tiny butt: ijieil boot, he Bianaged "o:i. Tiitu taking the little stock- ""Wt i:i ius hands, i:e pulled it sud- j.r" '"â- â- 'â-  terribly, two gi-eat tears drop- 1,-^nuhe loug la^lifs and rolled over tne r :_-iace blanched with pain and look- iTrt'""' '"" '"' '^^cct face with its r-'fi i'n "" 'i'livering lips, an almost r-;5 lable nr.pule rose within the hand- [:;â-  '^i?*:-!- 1 ., take tile little figure in his U ' I '^^ away the tears, as he could, 'jteri r 'â- Â°"^- i'" a child. Kut he rc- have 1 JJ-.ea \ery brave, â- "^nd now" 1 will had M£^'iA^;.,^iwWi'..^*,-.l^..'"" ;v. ». ..,...- ";-^; *;,;;' jifV ..i^.-yt:.y-.. â- Jvl '*is Kviiiwi he said, tell you "gliain, I'ercy Kvriug- '-HAPTKU XXIL â- :;t!:i'jogha,u. ie;at„i „ " ' .cai .^i she Iieard it calml early and dietinct- Louie Ant'ion's ' Ti:e fair",.""^-"'.-"' ^^-nily and all unmov. N horrn '" "^^^ ^^"1 °ot b'anch with k.ntothg "°i?°" °^ l'^^^^ anguish 1'*:t.\,1^ s'iL^-^"" *y-^- i'lie name held ";^: it did"'"'" ,^'gBii5canre for her, the raen- "'dit"ii-° ^^aken bitter memories, J-"is iKp" tor the first timeâ€" it was I* Wen "^j.'^^'^e of any stranger would "Uthpv-"f ^^'•^ ""i-T heard the story l"-1S',^"'^°"'« sill- It was best, Ptafc,^l:!,"^ltght, that she should not jj«.fst"tfiX'?s;,:sris;'" no- "And mine ia Louie Antlion " the «».H looking up at him. •!« said, He heard the name as she had hi- the Evnngham and Anthon names had onc» been connected. He had been brought u^ him. " for that darken his mo- ard Jivnngham had said, knowledge would sadden and life But Percy had grown to minhood, and his grandfather still shrunk from telling " Ti,^o enough," he said to himself "the boy 13 happy now. care and pain will come soon enough, and 1 will let him enjoy life's sunshine while it is brightes." "And now that we have introduced our- selves, let me thank you. Mr. Evrmgham for your assiatanre," eaid Louie, the color commg back into her face for, though her wounded foot sti.l tbrobb d painfully, the sharp agony had subsided since her ' new friend had succeeded in extricating ic from the crevice in the rojk. " I am sure I don't know what I should have done without you," she continued frankly, " for I seemed to be powerless to help myself, ard I think in another ment I should have fainted from pain." "I think so myself," he answered. "I am afraid, Miss Anthon, that ysur foot is badly hurt. Can you bear your weight up- on it " =1 "Oh. yes, I think so ' she said, confi- dently but when she had risen from her rocky seat and attempted to take a step for- ward, she found, to her great dismay, that the sprained ankle and swollen foot refused to bear her wtight. "I do not know what 'I shall do," she murmured, helplessly, rather appaled by the situation. " How shall I ever get back to -Schaffhausen " " You are stopping there " he asked. "Yes, we were all anxious to take tlie trip down the Rhine. I came abroad with some friends â€" a family of Brentwood?." The handsome face brightened. " The lirentwoods 1 ' he exclaimed. " Mr. and Mrs. William Brentwood, of New York " " Yes, the very same," she answered. "Are you acquainted with them " "I met them two or three winters ago at Aiken, South Carolina," he said, " and I liked them so very much. I shall be very glad to meet them again." " I am very glad you have met them," said Louie. " Ah, here comes my friend I How surprised he will be, Mr. Evring. ham, to see you here, and me ia this pre- dicament!" The young Bostonian was certainly very much surprised â€" unpleasantly so, too â€" when, emerging from the bushes, his hands filled with ferns and wild flowers, he found the young lady, whom he considered the most charming creature he had ever met, and with whom he had already imagineci himself deep m love, seated upon a rock, conversing easily with a stranger, who was â€" he was forced to acknowledge to himself â€" as grajeful and as aristocratic looking as he was handsome. " Where in the devil did he come from " he muttered to himser,^ savagely, for it was anything but sootiiii; ^d comfortable to know that while he bfen clambering up slippery rocks for \ril " flowers, venturing into damp and marshy places for ferns, and altogether putting himself to an infinite amount of trouble and inconvenience merely for the sake of winning a smile from his fair companion, someone else had been sitting beside her in this romantic and picturesque spot, talking with her, positively sunning himself in her smiles. Louie noticed the grave expression upon his face, and she smiled a little mischievous- ly as she introduced the two gentlemen. "I have never met Mr. Evringham be- fore," said the Bostonian, stiffly. " Neither did I until a few moments ago," said Louie, quietly. "Don't look so horrified, Mr. VVentworth 1 met with (luite a serious accident, and I do not know what I should have done v ithout Mr. Ev- ringham's timely assistance." And then she went on to relate the details of the casual- ty which had been the means of bringing Percy Evringham into h.er life. "I am awfully son-y," said Mr. Went- worth, mournfully, wondering why fate had been so unkiiid to him as to allow the hand- some stranger to h*ve introduced himselt in such a romantic and novel-like manner. '•I did not want to go and leave you here alone. Miss Anthon 1 did not think it was safe. I am afraid Mr. and Mrs. Brentwood will never trust you with me again. " Oh ' Mr. Wentworth, it was no tault of yours," said Louie " it was only my misfortune, or rather misstep. "Jt the question is, bos' am I to get back to Schatt- hausen?" ^i „ hr. "I think with my assistance, that can oc accompolished without any dilfiJuUy, said the Bostonian quickly. "Mr. Evrinpham has already ofiered m^ his I think with the help of both of you, i shall be able to get along, said Louie, an i â-  thanked her with a Percy Evringham grateful glance from his expressive eyes. Between them both, she did get along vei-y well, and at last they came up with the rest or the party, who were surprised and pained to hear o. Louie's acciden.. Mr and Mrs. Brentwood recognized EvrinKham at once, and were glad " â-  â- â€¢ showed •-afcjj; ,o"^) (â- "« snc snouiQ noi. «;s,Lo^; '^at darkened the Anthon "â- '"i5(;io[.,^ f ^°^'i to womanhood '""'iaidh ^^^ sorrow and shame "ssiJfcin,]" "'â- ^'i^lpareuts on her fa- -atro^u "'â-  lather once had a bro- wa(s, before she was born. Mr. to see him again their manner showea plainly that they liked him. and Percy appreciated and was sincerely grateful for their warm and cordial greeting. Like them, he was travelling down the Rhine. He had come abroad with some col- lege friends of his. and. whi'e they remain- ed in Paris, he had left them »nd gone .nt3 Switzerland, resolving to see a bttle more ofEuropethan they seemed to care to see. To tell £e truth, he had been rathei /hs eusted «ith the actions and doings of his SSlions. They were aU '^^^^^-^'tt weU-bomand bred men; but, out f the aSht of friends and relatives, away from the retraining influences of borne, they had iweT^Siselves up nnreserredly o the de- S of the world, of the flesh.aad the devil, ^d hadconducted themselves m a manner taeir monj ud religions tniniaa. l^ercy ETTingham wm not » Mint by^wiT means the blood in hi. veins wm hSW S,^^^ ^9^^^^^ Wood he wa. \S!1 tempered impulsive, apt to do his thinkiBg after the deed was done; he had d^n many things in the twenty-thnw y«Ms of his life which he would have been very glad indeed to be able to forget, things jrhioh brought a flnah of shame nj»n Us tace, when he thought of them. He had seen more of the world then many men t^ce his age he had made friends of men older than himself. No. Percy Evringham's moral record was not a stainless one, yet he was a better n an than most of the men in bis set no one but himself had ever suffer- ed because of any act of his, no man or wo- man had ever endured sorrow or shame through him. StUl. quick and impulsive as he was, he had too much self-respect, too much manly pride, to calmly aUow himself to smk into depths of moral filth; and when he found that his friends had evidently for gotten that they had an higher purpose to accomplish in lite than the gratificatibn of their earthly desires, he told them that he was going to leave them for awhile, and leave them he did. though they begged him to remain with them. When Mr. Brent- wood found that he was travellmg in the same direction as tbey were he invited him to remain with his party, and Percy ac- cepted the invitation It seemed to him there could be nothing pleasanter on earth than the trip down the beautiful Rhine in company with Louie Anthon. The condition of Louie's foot made it im- possible for the Brentwood party to leave Schaffhausen for several days, but this was no very hsavy cross to any of them. The Wentworths who had not the time to remain in the little town, went on their way, to the great sorrow of Louie's ardent admirer, who went away very sad and angry to think he must leave handsome Percy at Miss Anthon's side. "I would be willing to bet that they will go home engaged to'be married," he said to bimse'.t, moodily, and then he fell to won- dering if ever, m the classic city of Boston, he should meet a young lady who would in any way cotrpare with Louie Anthon. " I know 1 never will," he groaned in spirit, as visions of sundry Beacon street maidens of hij acquaintance rose coldly be- fore him; "they are all to resthetic and intellectual, and 1 can't bear a-stheticism and int3llectuality," Very (quickly and pleasantly passeii the sunshiny summer days spent at Schaffhau- sen. Certainly Percy Evringham proved a mrat agreeable travelling companion in a day or two all feeling of strangeness had worn aw^ay, and he seemed like an intimate and Jong-known friend. Mr. and Mrs. Brent- wood had always been very particular re- garding the people with whom their daugh- ter came in contact having Louie Anthon in their charge made them, if anything still more particular, and handsome and agree- able as Percy Evringham was, he would not have been allowed to join the party had they not known who he was and all about him. When two winters previous they had met him at Aiken, South Carolina, he had been stopping at one-of the large hotels there with his grandparents â€" proud, stately, Howard Evringham and his sweet silver- hairel M-ife, whose gentleness and loveli- ness of character had won Mrs. Brentwood's heart. So it was that neither Mr. Brent- wood nor his wife had any fears with re- gard to the Ijo)i ramaradirie which iu such a short time s-prang up between Percy, Aline, and Louie. A casual observer, almost any one in fact, would have said Mr. Evringham preferred Miss Brentwood to Miss Anthon. He laugh- ed and talked so gayly with Aline, they practiced all the latest waltz steps in the quaint little parlor of the inn, they played duets and sang together but Percy's dark- gray eyes had not the tenderness in them when they rested upon Aline's beautiful dusky face that was iu them when they fell upon Louie. But Aline did not notice it. A new light had come into her velvet eyes, a new look about her red mouth. Never had any gone-by summer seem- ed so beautiful as this one to Aline Brent- wood, never had life seemed so fair and sweet, and she had not yet asked herself the reason. CHAPTER XXm. Somebody once said tome "If you want to know a person just travel in the same party with them, and in two weeks' time you will have a truer idea of that person's character than you could have gained in a whole year's social intercourse," and I have had oocasion to realize the' truth of that statement. Let a party ot people travel to- gether, and they are thrown into daily con- tact with each other, their interest for the time being are the same, they share the same experiences, and, as a natural conse- quence, formality, reserve and restraint are, to a great extent, put aside. They see each other as they really are, they ac" out un- consciously their true natures, and Mme- times totally unsuspected qualities, ,gOod as well as bad, are brought to light. Travelling has its unpleasant as /well •• s its pleasant side. It has a tendency to bring out all the impatience and ill humor latent in any one's disposition. It sounds very charming when your friend who has just returned from Europe descnbes his trip, tells of the places he has visited, the sights he saw, grows eloquent over the grandeur of the snow-crowned Alps, expati- ates upon the beauty of Italian sunsets but he does not speak, nor do you, the interest- ed listener, think of the deathly seasickness during the voyage over and back, the head- aches produced by too much sight-seemg, the aching-limbs which were the results of mountain climbing, the patience-trying en- deavors to make the waiters understand, the wearisome ride in the diligences. All these are things which are speedily forgotten, but at the time they dealt heavy blows to pa- tience and good temper. By the time the Brentwood party reach- ed Colojme they understood eaah other per- fectly, knew all each other's Uttle failinp and weakness, and liked each other all the better because they did. Their compajuon- ship, close as it had been, had not disco- vered any glaring faults or disagreeable traits of character. Percy knew that easy- going as Mr, Brentwood was it areuaed his Wath to have a waiter bnng him apiece of tough, leathery, overdone meat, and then Btftnd by Bokawly ud penutently deelar- iBgtb»titirw'tannwUef," th«t it dis- turbed lorelT Mrs. Brentwood'a eqnsaiiBi^ to be (^liged to sleep in a little, cramped, close room, and that both tbe young ladiee, charming as they were, had little tempers of their own and they, in their turn, were all psifeotly well aware that handsome, graodnlPercy was veryquick-trmpered and impnlsiTe. Net by werd or deed did Per.y E-.-ing- ham betrayed to any one of the pan y â€" not even to the girl herself â€" that the feelings he entertained for Louie Anthon were deep and warmer than thoee of mere friendship, yet so it was, when he first had seen her.crouch- ed on the rocks in the Biiine woods, her face white with pain, the tears she could not force back clinging to her long lashes, her lips quivering like those of a grieved child, a tenderness such as he had never felt be- fo.e for any human being had risen in his heart â€" that tenderness was the forerunner of love. He could scarcely realize ic himself when he found it was so. He bad p'ayed at being in love a good many times, had handsome Percy, but no woman's face had ever held a charm for him that Louie Anthon's did, no woman's hand as it lay in his had ever quickened his pulse as did the slightest touch of Louie's little fingers. But he had no intention, as yet. of speaking his love. Percy was proud he had always said he would never ask a wo- man to be his wife until he was quite sure what her answer would be, and Le was net at all sure now as to what Louie's answer would be. He knew by the way she treat- ed him, by the way the frank brown eyes met his, that as yet her feelings for him were only those of a warm and sincere friendship but he fondly hoped and trust- ed that in time that friendship would give place to love; he had not a doubt but what it would she liked him, there was no rea- son why she should not love him, he must try and be content to wait. I dare say it was egotistical to him to think as he did, but then it was scarcely Percy Evringham's fault that he had come to think that the woman he should honor with his love, should be proud and happy to accept it. His gentle grandmother had almost succeeded in spoiling him, women had petted him ever since his babyhood, and it was a perfect wonder tliit he was not ten times more egotistical that he really was. He very soon discovered that he could not devote himself to Louie as he would have liked to do, without betraying himself he could not give himself up to perilously sweet conversations with her, because he knew he was not strong enough to keep the love in his heart from rushing to his lips so it came about that he talked more with Aline Brent- wood than he did with her, never dreaming that beautiful, proud Aline ha(l for him the same feelings that he felt for Louie, lor so it was. Itwaslovc that had brought the new light into Aline's eyes, the Lew look about her lips, that made this summer seem brighter, and sunnier than any that had gone before, that made life seem so fair and sweet to her â€" love for Percy Evringham, About a year previous an old friend of Mr. Brentwood's had made him a visit, and had seen Aline for the first time since she was a.little girl. He was a grave thought- ful man, one who ha'i seen much of the world, and who had made a study of men and women and reading the passion in Aline's eyes and mouth, he had (juietly said to Mr. Brentwood, "Take care to whom your daughter gives her heart love will be more to her than it is to many woman, it will either mane or mar her life. " And what was Aline's love to do for her â€" was it to make or mar her fair young life She had not asked herself whence came the brightness that had flashed so suddenly into her life, she had not looked into her own heart and seen who she already had enshrined there. She was dreaming a bright beautiful dreamâ€" ah, so many of us have dreamed those dreams, and the awakenings are always so bitterly hard and cruel. Aline's awakening came in this wise. It was while they were in Cologne they were wondering through the famous cathedral one morning, Louie had cone ahead with Mr. and Mrs, Brentwood, Percy and Aline were sauntering along together, pausing to look at the pictures, the painted windows, and to read the inscriptions on the monu- ments, talking earnestly, as they always talked, for though Percy had never thought of loving Aline, he admired her greatly he liked to converse with her, to watch the co- lor come and go in the beautiful face, the ever-varying expression of the lustrous eyes. Walking so slowly they lost sight of Mr, and Mrs. Brentwood and Louie, but as they entered one of the side chapels Aline saw them, "There they are!" she exclaimed. "I thought we would find them here. Oh, Mr. Evringham, "she said, impulsively, "doesn't Louie look lovely with that red light falling over her " With her small ungloved hands loosely clasped together, her head raised a little, LDuie Anthon was standing before the mon- ument of the archbishop of Cologne. The sunlight, streaming through a gorgeously painted window, fell full upon her, bathing face and figure in a flood of crimson light, turning the wavy gold brown hair into a mass of molten gold, tinging the pure com- plexion with rose upon the lovely face rested an expression htlf dreamy, half re- verent, the soft eyes had a far-away look in them as though their owner's thoughts were wandering far ba:;k into the past â€" no pictured Madonca's face was ever purer, sweeter, fairer. Percy Evringham stood motionless, his eyes fastei'ed upon her, while slowly there came over his face an expression made up ot the deepest, tenderest, the most absorbing love. Suddenly Louie moved from the place where she had been standm^ â€" the spell was broken. With a quivering sigh he turned to his companion. "Miss Brentwood, I think your friend is the most beautiful girl I ever met." Something in the tones of the low voice made Aline look iip at him quickly. She saw the look of love and tenderness upon his face, the light in his eyes. In an instant she had read his heart and her own â€" it was as though] a lightning flash had revealed them both to her â€" he loved Louie, and she, Aline, loved him. It came upon her so suddenly, that for a moment she was half stusned, nnab'e to qnite anderstsnd the misery that had come B{xa her. It seensd ss thoagh the eartlt had llen from under hw feet as if the worth and brightness of life had gone out, leaving her in cold and darkness. She shi- vered, and clasped her hands so tightly to- gether, that the stones in her rings wound- ed the delicate flesh, wondering i; she conld keep down ^e moan of pain that vi as forcing itself to her lips. [to B£ coktinukd. Waists. Women, e^ecially those of the upper classes, who are not obliged to keep them- selves in condition by work, lose after mid- dle age (sometimes earlier) a considerable amount of their height, not by stooping, as men do, but by actual collapse, sinking doMm, mainly to be attributed tu the perish- ing of the muscles that support the fram'e, in conseqnsnce of habitual and constant pressure ot stays, and dependence upon the artificial support by them rfforded. Every girl that wears stays that press upon these muscles, and restrict the tree development of the fibres that form them, relieving them from their natural duty of supporting the spine, indeed incapacitating them from so doing, may feel sure she ia preparing her- self to be a dummy woman. A great pity Failure of health among women when the vigor of youth passes away is but too pat«it, and but too commonly caused by this prac- tice. Let the man who admires the piece of pipe that does duty for a human body pic- ture to himself the waisted form and seamed skin. Most women, from long custom of wearing these stays, are really unaware how much they are hampered and restricted. A girl of 20. intended by nature to be one of her finest specimens, gravely assures one that her stays are not tight, being exactly the same size as those she was first put into, not perceiving her condemnation in the fact that she has since grown five inches and two in 'shoulder-breadth. Her stays are not toe tight, because the constant pressure has pre vented the natural development of heart and lung space. The dainty waists of thepoets is precisely that flexible slimness that is de- stroyed by stays. The form resulting from them are not slim, but a piece of pipe, and as inflexible. But while endeavoring to make clear the outrage upon practicil good sense and sense of beauty, it is necessary to un- derstand and admit the whole state of the case. A reason, if not a necessity, for some sort ol corset may be found when the form is very redundant thi: however, cannot be with the very young and slicht, but all that necessity could demand, and that prac- tical good sense and fitness would concede, could be found in a strong elastic kind of jersey, sufficiently strong, and even stiff, under the bust to support it, and sufiicient- ly elastic at the sides and back to injuae no organs and impede no functions. Even in the case of the yonn* and slicht an elastic bond under the false ribs would not be in- jurioup, but perhaps the contrary, serving as a constant hint to keep the chest well for- ward and the shoulders back but very stiff unyielding machines, crushing the ribs and destroying the fibre of muscle, will be fatal to health, to freedom of movement. an J to beauty it is scarcely too much to say that the wearing of such amounts to stupid- ity in those who do not know the conse- quences (lor over and over again warning has been given) and to wickednesi: in thos^ who do. â€" Tlie XiattKnih Coitiiri/, How Good Country Koads Pay. Very few persons take a correct v;c\v ,t the actual profit to farmers of good roads, or of how much they can afl'ord to pay for them. Our daih' telegrams from the We.st supply one hint. All along in Autumn, and not unfreijuently during the winter, we can read between the lines of these dispatches that business is active, the markets brisk, everybody cheerful and hopeful iu all de- partments of trade, mauuiactures, agricul- ture, etc., or the reverse of all this, accord- ing to the state of the country roads generally. It is a fact tiiat in some years for months together, the whole traffic of the country, and the activity and prosperity of all classes, are largely diminished, and the losses incurred amouunt to very many mil- lions of dollsrs, because the condition of the roads stops general intercourse, and practi- cally prevents the marketing of grain and other crops at the proper season. Another view. Take, for illustration, say the 700,000 farms in Illinois, Iowa, and Indi- ana. Suppose that, on the average, from one-half of them there are ten loads of grain and other products to be hauled to market, and of fuel to be brought back, a distance of ten miles on the average â€" we iucluds only half the farms. Call the cost per load only $2 for man, team, and wear of vehicles, when the wagonning is good. If the prairie and other roads arc soft, wet, and miry, only half a load can be taken â€" oitcu th« team can barely draw the empty waggon. If from the condition of the roads the number of loads must be doubled, the aggregate in- creased cost amoimts to $7,000,000 â€" or enough to make fourteen thousand miles of good roads at an average outlay of S-'iOO on each mile. Another illustration.' Take a township of the regular size, six miles scjuare. A road alons each section, or square mile, east and west, or north and south, would r€(|uire 36 miles. Suppose the town voted to ex- pend $200 per mile on these roads, and that this sum would make them fairly available at all seasons. This, if paid down, would amount to $7,200, or IS.J cents per acre for the township. Will anyone question that with good roads, available at all seasons for marketing and bring home fuel, for town and church going and other travel, all th« land in the region would be worth on th« average at least one dollar an acre more, or three times the assessment On a farm of 100 acres, the tax would be $.31. 2.")â€" not a third of the cost of an extra horse, to say nothing of his keeping. In fact, would it not pay well to expend $.500 per mile on all the leading roads, amounting to $1 an acre The annual interest on this would be but 86 or $7 for each 100 acre farm, and who would not pay that to have good roads always â€" Americai Agriculturist. J\Sceneia a chemistry recitation "Profes- sor â€" Mr. please give the non-atomi« list? Mr. Mercury, Cadmium, Zinc, and â€" and â€" (faint whisper from a fellow-stu- dent, "Barrium"). Mr. (triumphant- ly)â€" "Bay-rum." :i J If !v, n ml d=.r: 1 ' 'fri: â-  •