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 STELLA; OK, AT CROSS PURPOSES. CHAPTER VI. (Continued.) THE INMATES OF WKEXHAX. " I think you are hard upon poor Finchy, sir," said Nortnan, kindly. " I am sure Lily is a very nice girl, and so pleasant and pretty, anybody would be glaid to go and see her." • Umph " grunted the old man. " Let her go and see the girl alone then. As to you, Norman, I want you at once in my study, please, as you seem to have done your breakfast, and we will leav6 Mrs. Finch to her tears. I hate tears " he add- ed, viciously, as he rose from the table "they make a woman's rose red and they never have the siightest effect upon my feelings. Come, Norman. Norman followed his grandfather out of the room, and Mrs. Finch was left to her- self. No sooner had the door closed upon them than she dashed the handkerchief away fn m her face, and shook her fist furi- ously after the old autocrat. " How I hate you, you horrible old man, with your bad manners and your coarse speeches Oh why am I obliged to submit to all these insults meekly if I wasn't pDor and your paid servant, I would tell you what I think of you to your face as it is I can say nothing â€" 1 can only cringe, and smile and bear it all. But take care you dreadful old vulture. I will manage to pay you out for it all some day. We will see if all your fine plans will succeed. It is not for nothing that the poor cousin whom you insult daily is living in your house you shall get it all back some day " Meanwhile Mr. Kiug was telling his grand- son about the black-edged letter with the French postmark. " It is from Stella Kirg," he said "and her mother is dead. The girl writes me to know what she and her sister are to do." •' Dead Mrs. King dead Good gracious it must be very sudden " " Yes, it seems she had a fall, slipped down some steps or something, and injured herself internally. The question is, what is to be done about the daughters " •'They must come here, I supfose." " Not a doubt of it but if they do, some- thing definite must be settled about the fut- ure." "You mean about my marrying one of them, sir " " Yes, you know that is my wish. I was very much disappointed that you were so unsuccessful last year when you went over there. I have explained to you my reasons at some length, Norman." " Yes, and 1 am quite prepared to do what you wish, sir, if it is possible. But I really must decline to make any further propositions to Stella King â€" I assure you ihat the girl has the temper of a wild beast." "Ah so had her mother, I remember. Well, it is a matter of indifference to me which^you select, let it be the younger one if you prefer it." •'I have never sem her," said Norman, doubtfully. •' So much the better." " She is a mere child." "All the more easily moulded. I shall make her understand directly she comes that she must consider herself engaged to you there must be no mistake about it. I can't leave my son's children destitute, and 1 don't want to rob you it is the best way I know of, of being just to all my grandchil- dren, and of uniting the place and the money. There will be a small portion for Stella but that will not make a very sensible difference to you. By the way, Norman, I wouldn't go running after Lily Finch, if I were you." " I assure you, sir " began Norman, earnestly. "Well, well, I don't say you mean any harm but I think Harriet Finch is deep enough to try and catch you for her daugh- Norman laughed. " My dear grandfather, suoh an idea is ridiculous I have only tried to be kind to poor little Lily I think it must be very hard work to be governess to all those noisy children. I really don't think Finchy, poor old soul, is capable of such deep-laid schemes as you give her credit lor.'" " My dear boy, a woman is capable of the most of things. When you have lived as long as I have you will never trust one of them further than you can see them, young or old! 1 am only giving you a warning. Har- riet Finch is a compound of falseness and duplicity. If it were not that it amuses me intensely to torment her, and probe her weak places," he added, smiling grimly, "I should have sent her away long ago." "Poor Finchy, what would become of her " said Norman, rather pityingly, for he always felt that his grandfather was hard »pon the houaekeepar. "Exactly. She would starve. I know that. Nobody else in the world would pay her a hundred a yerr for ordering dinner and prying into everybody else's concerns. How- ever she amuses me, and so she shall stay but keep clear of Miss Lily, my boy. Be- sides, I hardly think that old Lady Dyson would thank you for your attentions to her children's governess." Norman had looked a little bit shame- faced over his grandfather's accusations con- cerning pretty Lily Finch, for he was rather fond of wasting an hour or two occasionally in the school-room at Barfield when he had nothing better to do. But the matter seem- ed 80 unimportant to him that he did not take his grandfather's hints in a very serious light. He was about to assure him laugh- ingly that his cautious were superfluous, when the door was flung open, and Mrs. Finch rushed excitedly in. " Pray forgive me, my dear cousin " she cried out, breathlessly, " I would not have interrupted you, but this has just arrived, and I felt sure it mast be of importance," and with trembling and agitated hands, she held forward the dirty orange envelope of a telegram. CHAPTER Vn. Cecily's determination. It will be necessary to return to the two sisters at Valency. Whilst poor Mrs. King lay dying, and her elder daughter was watdiing day and night by her mother's sick bed, kind Madame Halevy from the floor below, had taken pity upon the disconsolate yoong sister. " Come and sit with me, my poor child," bad said that motherly woman to her, as she met her wandering aimlessly and miserably in the passage outside her mother's room, wheuLT the doctor had banished her by rea- son of her youth and inexperience. _^ " Come in my rooms and sit with me, and Cecily had been glad enough to go. It was wretched upstairs in their own apart- ment. The sitting room looked empty and deserted, the little maid was too busy nin- ning backward and fcrward between the doctor and the ohenaist to have time either to tidy or dust instead of the bunches of fresh flowere, there were the empty glasses and the medicine bottles upon the lables, and the trays of cold, untasted food, which the sick woman was too ill to eat. Cecily could do no good*, she could only sit miserably by the fire, and wish the wretched state of things would end, and that her mother would get better. She was not very unhappy about her, not until the last day of all; when Stella came out of the room weeping, and told her there was no hope. And even then Cecily, though she cried too, and turned pale, was, perhaps, more frightened than unhappy. TVuth to say, Cecily King had no very great depth of af- fection or feeling. She was a selfish little woman, popular because of her pretty face and her light manner but she had not the sensitive disposition and warm heart of the elder sister. As long as things went well with her own self, Cecily King cared very little even for those to whom natural affec- tion bound her most closely. She was practical, decided in will and opinion, and rather heartless and worldly in tendency. She made herself happy in Madame Hal- evy's drawing-room down stairs. She got a novel and her fancy work, and she ate her meals with her French friends, and chattered to them merrily enough all the day long, and it did not weigh very heavily on her mind that her mother was seriously ill, and her sister was worn out with anxiety and watching just over head. Of c»urse, when she really understood that her mother could not live, her tears flowed fast and freely, and Madame Halevy soothed and comforted, and kissed her, and thought what a charming, sweet and tender-hearted girl she was, for Cecily had always been her lavorite. Very soon â€" as soon, indeed, as decency would admit of after her mother's death â€" Cecily escaped from the dismal dreariness of the silent, darkened rooms above, and took refuge again with her friends down stairs. "Sweet child!" cried Madame Halevy, dissolved in tears herself, and gathering Cecily to her portly bosom, " how dear of you to come down to your old friend for comfort Ah that poor mamma, how sad it is How I wish I could be a mother to you in her place," and the good old lady wept copiously. As to Cecily, as soon as she decorously could she crept into her corner by the win- dow, and furtively took up her novel again, in order to»resume the thread of the tale which she had been obliged to leave yester- day, when she had been hastily summoned to her dying mother's side. " After all," she said to herself with a cer- tain amount of shame at what she was dying; " what is the use of sitting doing nothing it can't do poor, dear maaama any good now. I might just as well finish the book as sit with my hands before me and, oh, dear how tired I am of having to be miserable. I wonder If it will ever be al- lowable to laugh and be happy again " Madame Halevy uecame more and more accustomed to the presence of the pretty girl, with her slight, graceful figure, and her fair hair, and more than once she said, sigh- ingly, to her husband "Ah! If heaven had only given us a daughter like that, how happy we should be!" ' ' I wonder what will become of the poor girls I" answered her husband, who was as soft-hearted as his wife. " I dare say the poor children will be thrown upon the cold charity of their unfeeling English relations, who have hitherto never taken the slightest notice of them." And then the worthy couple held a long and deeply-interesting discussion, of which Cecily King was the subject. "Well, we shall see what they propose doing," said Monsieur Halevy, in conclu- sion. " Wait a day or two and see what will happen before we speak to her." So the matter was a lowed to rest. It was the day after the funeral that Cecily came into her old friend's room, with tears of real despair and mortification in her eyes. " Oh Madame Halevy, Stella has written to our English grandfather, whom we have never seen, and she says we shall have to go to England to live with him. Poor mam- ma told her to write to him, she says, and that we are to go there it he will take us in." " My dear child, it may be very much to your advantage to go and live with your grandfather." " Oh, no, it will be terrible It is a great empty house right in the country, miles away from any town â€" poor mamma has often told us about it and there is nobody there but this bad-tempered old man. We might as well go into a convent at once," For Stella, ia her wisdom, had thought it better at first to suppress all mention of Mr. Norman Allingham. It was better, Stella argued to herself, and believed herself to be perfectly sincere in her arguments â€" it was better, if Cecily were destined to marry her cousin, that she should encounter that young gentleman with perfectly free and unbiassed mind. The result, however, of her caution was that Cecily absolutely and totally declined to go to live with their grandfather. Then came Madame Halevy's coup d'etat. Taking the young girl's hands imploringly within her own, she told her that if the prospect of going to England was so very dreadful to her, there was yet another plan open to her, if she would only consent to it. She and her husband were om and child- less, 'hey had money enough and to spare would Cecily remain with them and be their daughter Ceeily expressed herself surprised and grateful but she wa^, evidently doubtful. The fact is, that the idea of a perpetual ex- istence, at Valency, alone with these old people And without Stella, did not at once present itself in a very attractive manner to her imagination. Would it not be almost bettor to go to England And then Madame Halevy. seeing that ahe hesitated, began to paint her scheme in the brightest »»««• " My dear, we will only hve for your hap- piness, my husband and I we will devite ourseWestoyou. We wUl leave Valency, if you like, aid go to Paris. You shall go out into society and be admired as much as you deserve, my pretty one; ^nd we will find a husband for you who shall be worthy of you. WUl that suit you T' Yes, that would suit Cecily King v^^ell indeed. Paris, that el d6rado of all French girlsâ€" the aim an i end of every hope and desire -gUttered temptingly before her eyes. To be well dressed and admired, to «» 0°' *» balls and to drive in the Boi»-7all that would be delightful to Cecily decidedly, it would suit her v«ry much better than the dull respectability of her grandfather s coun- try house. J For once in her life Cecdy was truly and sincerely grateful. She flung her ai-ms about the old lady's neck, and embraced her rapturously, vowin? to b-j a daughter to her and her husband, and to love her as a moth- er with the prettiest and most graceful man- ner, and in the best chosen words that could have possibly been selected. But Stella, when she was told of it, was horrified. What was to become of the scheme of marrying Cecily to her cousin and how was she to fulfil her mother's dying wishes if her sister persisted in being adopt- ed by the old Halevys In vain she argued, entreated, and prayed â€" in vain she pleaded her own affection, her own dismay at being parted from her sister, the duty which they both owed to their mother's last desire, and the deference which it was only right they should pay to their unknown grandfather. Seeing that no arguments had power to move her, St«lla at length confided to her sister the scheme which their grandfather had laid out for the future of the two sis- ters. "One of them,,' ths told her, "was des- tined to marry Norman Allingham, their cousin, in order that their grandfather might leave the money and the estate together, and at the same time make a sufficient pro- vision for the other sister." Cecily pondered a good deal over this communication it evidently produced a great effect upon her. "Well," she said, at last; "it will be best for you to marry him." " Oh no," cried Stella, blushing violent- ly. "I assure you that poor, dear mamma wished it to be you, Cecily." She would not own to her sister that she had already seen and refused her cousin, and that it was he who was the hero of the fancy dress ball ad- venture, for the whole world. " 1 might not like him," demurred Cecily, " Why should not you have your chance " Stella could not confess to her that the chance had been already hers, and that she had lost it. "Well, I will tell you what I will do," said Cecily at last, " I will stay with the Halevys tor six months in Paris, and then I will come over to England and join you. In that way I shall be able to tee if the Halevys can find me a suitable husband as they pro- mise to do, and you will see if you care about the cousin he is probably a dreadful cub, with no manners â€" and then, if nothing better turns up, I will come over to England and join you. But go to Paris with the Halevys I must, for I shall never have such a chance in my life again." It will be seen that for seventeen years of age Miss Cecily King had tolerably advanced views of life. "After all, my dear Stella," she added, laughing, seeing that her sister looked rather grave over her worldly-minded speculation " after all, you and I have got our way to make m the world, and only our faces to do it with. You can tell our old grandfather that I will marry our cousin if you like it will not prevent my marrying some one else meanwhile if I choose, but since it grieves you so, I will tell the Halevys that I cannot live with them for good. I will only pay them a long visit." And from this determination Cecily was not to be moved. The Halevys began to make acti\ e prepar- ations for moving to Paris at once, for Cecily managed to make them believe that she was so much upset by her mother's death that nothing but an immediate change of air would save her from being seriously ill. It so happened at the same time that one of the professors of the ladies' college, where the two girls h-dd been educated, had occa- sion to go to England rather suddenly upon a matter of business. The gentleman; who was white-haired and eminently respectable, ahd had, moreover, a middle-aged wife and several grown-up daughters, offered his ser- vices as an escort to Stella, who, he was told, was shortly bound to return to her na- tive land. So good an opportunity was not to be neg- lected, and Stella made up her mind not to wait for her grandfather's letter, but to start at once for Wrexham. She bade an affectionate and tearful fare- well to her sister and to the Halevys, and set off upon her travels, telegraphing before she did so to her grandfather in these words • •'I have found an escort, and am coming to England at once. My sister cannot come remains in France with friends." And when Mr. King opened thU telegram he was very angry indeed. CHAPTER VIII. VAEIATIONS IBOM "nOBMA." " One, two, three, one, two three B flat Maud, in the bass oh 1 that is the second false note you have played in one line • please repeat the passage over again." ' " How you worry me. Miss Fmch," said t."d^?*°' u^^S ^^" shouWers sulkily. ^^ l^"" 7^^ seven jitnes six " Miss Fmch, how is anyboi^^ find out the velocity of a falling body by reducing 4^® f^^L u '^°°"^^ »°d multiplying the height by the square of the number of «conds It breaks one's head only to think FrZplJ^^w""" '"'^^ the King of France who shut up somebody else or o^er « an iron cage where he coulL't s^d up- Lily Finch turns around from her place Mau5!.?r"",^^"^?*^« ^- auperintenK Maud s slovenly practising, andfaiesDatipnt ly to answer the three clamoring ypS be hmd her. She forces her mind fuISvelv from the multipUcation table to tKS of mmg bodies, and then on to the kfn« o^France and their doing,. She mZSs g give somekmd of an answer to iSSfbS she is not quite sure in her own mind that her answe^ are right, for how is one to be a walking encyclopedia upon every subject under the sun at twenty years of age and all for forty pounds per annum She turns back again to the piano and siehs a little wearily. WUUe, Tom, and Alice behind her, go on murmuringly and groaningly with their re- spective studies Maud, who is the eldest of her pupils, who is fourteen, torments her more than all the other three put together, strums away more vehemently than ever at the airs out of " Norma " which ahe is prac- Lify glances away longingly out of the window, where the sun is shining bnghtJy over the park, and leafless trees, and the white sprinkling of hoar-frost glitters like a shower cf diamonds all over the grass. Lrily wishes she were free to ran out and take a long ramble by herself across the fields. She ii a pretty, graceful girl, with soft large eyes that have a gentle pleading look in them, and smooth brown hair twisted up into a tight shining mass of plaits her sen- sitive lips have at times a httle tremulous quiver that reminds one of a little child m trouble, the lower part of her face is perhaps altogether rather childish and wea^, and wanting in decision, and there is a timid, almost frightened expression in her soft eyes. She looks very frightened just now as a shadow crosses the window rapidly and a man's face from without looks hastily into the room out of the sunshine. Lily's delicate hued face reddens suddenly, and her hands tremble upon her knees. " One, two, three," she repeats nervous- ly, concentrating her attentions back upon the variations from "Norma." "Maud, dear, do be careful with those chords in the bass " but her voice shakes a little for all her efforts, and Maud hear* it. In another minute the door opens, and a man looks into the school-room. " Ain't you children going out this fine morning " There is a general uproar from the three younger children at the table. " Oh Edgar, do beg Miss Finch to let us have a holiday " says Willie. "Mayn't we have the pony and go to Datchley Woods " imploringly from Tom. "Do ask Miss Finch to let us off French dictation, Edgar " cries Alice, clinging to hor elder brother's arm. Sir Edgar Dyson looks at Lily. There is something more than ordinary interest in his brown eyes as he looks at her. " Do you think Miss Finch is going to be very hard-hearted this morning, Alice " he says in answer to his little sister, as he strokf 8 her curly blonde head. "May we not all have a holiday " " I â€" I am sure I don't know whether Lady Dyson would approve," stammers Lily, con- fusedly, without venturing to meet the brown eyes that are fi.xed upon her so search- icgly. " I am quite sure nuimma would rather our lessons were not interrupted," says Maud, pursing up her lips primly. And Lily looks more frightened than ever. "I think it is better not," she said hur- riedly. " As Lady Dyson is away to-day, it will be better, I dare say, to make no alter- ation, as Maud says." " I think I am a better judge of what Lady Dyson ifiight wish than Maud can be," answers Sir Edgar, lightly, "and I have decided that we are all going down to the farm to look at the new machinery I have bought. Stop that horrid row, Maud," turning rather sternly to her, " and go and put your things on, and off with you, child ren, too, and get your hats. Leave all your books as they are. Miss Finch will be kind enough to put them away for you, I dare say. Make haste and get ready every one of you.' " Hurrah " from the two boys, a frantic hug from Alice while Maud, who does not dare to disobey, rises slowly and reluctantly from the piano and follows the younger chil- dren out of the room, Lily looks ready to escape too. Sir Edgar Dyson places himself before herâ€" between her and the door. " Please don't be in a hurry, Miss Finch," he says, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes " are you not going to put away the children's books?" " Please, Sir Edgar," she begins piteously, trembling, poor little thing, before him, but not daring to look. "Lily!" Then she looks up, startled and terrified, into his face. " You poor little frightened thing, your eyes are like the eyes of some ot those pretty antelopes I have seen in my travels, Lily why do you look so terrified, child? Do you think I am going to hurt you " He had hold of both her hands by this time, and was drawing her towards him. He was a strongly- made, broad-shouldered man, not quite handbome, but with such a brave, honest face, that it came very near it "Oh please. Sir Edgar " " If you call me Sit Edgar, I shall-kisa you 1" ^^ " Oh " with a sort of gasp. There is a moments silence, a Uttle soulHe, a Uttle fluttering sigh, and it is to be imagined that Sir Jidgar Dyson has carried his terrific threat mto execution, for a minute later. LUy, as red a rose, wrenches herself violent- ly away from the baronet's encircling arms You have no right-it is very wrong ^rchHf"" very cruel." stammers tS poor child, almost^in teal's. "Forgive me, Lily, I have frightened you • donjt^cry, child. I wouldn'o velyou foJthe tremblii'g.""' "" "'""'" "^^ """ " I confess I fail tb see the enormity of the offence, answers Sir Edgar, boldly, "if 1 kils Jou 1^** ^°" ""^^ '°" *^y °^y »«* •' You must not speak to me so," she says S^offiewl^.' *°««"^-' "« L^y ' ^«tj[.ady Dyson does not know." tell hlr fi,^®^v. " " ""yo^e ^«" to teU her, thmk how angry .he would be -she would send me away. " "In which case I should come after von i "?f yo^back," retorts Sir eSJ^. hia^e! " " "yâ„¢ onceXre to (TO BE COKTIKUKD.) CB/kSH IN "iZSi °«» HOn Famine. Dfipression. »«- c Mr. HB. Joseph, one oTth"" by the Austrian k"*Pi8sh, .from Cape Tow'" an^'"' T commission, dealer in ri* a wool, etc.tells some distal """ c- sufferings in Cape CoC't^^f^ country, he says, there has W^'^»ttt! three years, and the vwr,^ '^^kt The condition of affair j?!,^ Ci^ Kimberley, and Du Toiu P ^*P«C fields), the I-ydentJg'Sfhed^^^ worse *^-' â- ^~ "fronnrt'.^' It I Orange Free States, aud'suSn?"' ^k.] What adds o the general dS^^^' J^ i quent on the failure of the crnr, â-  co^^ at the great diamond mine?.'t*'"«J 600 miles up from Cape Town I ""S ' Natal. The mine is 380 f^t^*^ ^^ ^l mile in circumference Th r P- ^d 1; I fallen back into the mine in b!, J """« ki that It is esitmated that IS mnnfT'*«i« required for its removal T'n ' *illb, tons fell within 24 hours Xq* ' "' ^â- ^ calamity can be judged bythe fSf' celebrated mine has yielded af^^-'^i' I diamonds a year. The effect aTcâ„¢"' I disastrous. Therele^^ has been most: „,, fallen off 50 percent., and th.l ""' have gone down 7r' n»' ^^!5""i"g5 have gone down 75 per cent ^-^^ I mated, said Mr. Joseph, that it 'n" £250,000 to clear the min; Th f V' «« I price of diamond shares' has J^?.'*» tragedy. There are 05 dtmond " companies, with a Rubacrib^rf " £7,000,000, and of these coXaSri^' fourteen are paying dividends L' th^e_ mmesare within a radus of ij^ and at Town an average of GOO miles fmn,7^ I _. .The extent of the S!mi vulsion m Illustrated by the GreS Diamond Company. It hari :. Ti, ' capital of £900WandpaS4: 15^ 000. Two years ago the shares were t^" £360 each, but to-day they arrworff £80. The Freres' Diamoud S Vj I panyatDe Beers, a quarter of a niLT' the_ Kimberley mioe,\-ith S capital of £130,000-£100 in shart* been sold out by the shenlT for £15 om' rates owed to the Minin- BoarJ v Herm Wilegroot, a leading merchan't U, out his brains on account of all these '4 bles, and two weeks afterward Mr J i Schonz, resident magistrate, killed hinu't^ Altogether there have been ten suicides oi leading men caused by the commercia' d^ pressicn. The most terrible stories oU-jt vation come from the copper region f^ pecially from the neighborhood of tUe m- Manamaculaud mines. Capt. Segarich said that commercial circles in Cape Golonv a.-^ so greatly depressed that many oi fe colonists a. returning to Europe, and es- pecially to England. He said that lie coild have brought many more passengeri i: he had had room. The Cape Ajjux just to hand, does not contain (|uite such depressing re- ports as those quoted above, but it recoroi the attempted suicide of Mr. E. Josephs, a member of the Kimberley Mining Bjara, and corroborates the statement that a senois slip of reef has taken place at the Kimberier mine. The Kimberley correspondent of tie Argus also goes to show that atiairs at tie diamond fields are not of the most sparkliit character. The A rgus correspondent says- Since my last things here are much oi s muchness, not any sign of improvemeEt, bet the tendency seems rather to be the other way. We find creditors suing and taking out executions on a more extensive scale than usual Last day of term pro- visional day in our High Court, the Standard Bank prayed for and obtained judgment, either provisional or final, to the tone of £23,950, Bank of Africa £12,881, Cape of Good Hope Bank £950 â€" not by any means a healthy sign. Auctions are the order oi the day. Insolvencies increase, and conse- quently stocks are thrown, or rather forced, upon the market to such an extent that legitimate trade is entirely in the back- ground. Goods, good and sound, may be purchased at auction at prices for which the same article cannot be bought in England or manufacuring districts. Such ttogs a clothing, boots, haberdashery, etc., etc, are, so to speak, given away. Our popnla lation is decreasing every day. The dm country mule-trains always leave loll oi passengers, artisans, and others who caimot find employment here any longer, They all must have a certain amount of money, which of course goes out of the country with them. It is much to be regretted that em- ployment cannot be found for such people, so as to keep them in the country. 1"'^* are still here hundreds of people who aie out of employment, and many «"'" families, having spent their small ^â-  ings, in a starving condition, unable to hni work. Piinoess Victoria's Reception In BflriU' From time immemorial no foreign clement had found its way into the Prussian co^ It is not surprising, therefore, that *|i* !f not welcomed by what one calls "society » Berlin with the same unbounded joy as the middle and lower strata cf the pcpn* tion. U she was proud of her British haoit- and descent, so were they of the """.„ Prussia had obtained in the world, o*^* not a little to their prowess and nae' Her references, however made, ^^'^\^ manners and customs were constnicte^^ criticisms of those In her new fatlier-i^' This habit of fault-finding amoni; 'be npFJ^ classes it has taken a quarter of f^Lj smooth over, whilst the lower orders b found her throughout axactly ^hat ' â-  had expected her to be when tirst she ca ' viz., a person of truly high-bred simpW' 'j of warm sympathies for all the sorrows^, joys of her fellow-creatures, of gently^ ning ways, a friend of the ^i"""^]'^^, helpless, a believer in man's laimorta' Her house *t the end of the l^f^\\l instinctively know to be not a ' house ided against itself." but the home ot complete harmony as is rarely ^^^^'L:^^ in married couples whatever their ^r. ^ji life.â€" Gkorgb vox Bu-vsex, m "' Magazint for August. â-  moils" .A Bordeaux merchant owns a w „ mastiff called Lion. Walking w'"' " jong, the quay, there came a little mad dog ^^ followed by an excited crowd, l^ion it by the ne*, leaped into the water. ^^^ held it under water until drow"""' jio" wu excellent, and Lion received an o ^^. but as Lion subsequently deve o^o ^i enoy to do the same by aU smaU dog. w aane he has perforce been muzzier ^a for winter wheat ^^ -Vi« A clover soc ^^'^^Toi well-rotted ^•^.TuBder. Muchde yowo**; seed wheat, thei firie^" If there is danger Jje "'^^^ be well to defer sc bo"' »nw Oat or barle; be "O*?" rich can be tu ^ef^ rix hundred bushel, r**?^ Sr ax:re..-.Now t"' reclaim waste land. f^lh will rarely sprout af "^fJeTpened, where .two may ft^s on the land at J " h^tto clear thorou, ""^«iifitbeonly a r»%te land, and thus a^ J^t of half reclaiming '^Sa^oH-titnefertilize, '^ve good returns on graa ° Stable ma"'^- Fort " S Boread from the w ^CKe «*^Wes can b f^nck. with a scraper o I^' bed to some dry place. fe dry out, after which It testable or store-room. I w bv •' weathering, Ideayear's supply cons I Fall plowing for spriE ir'^fit of fallow to 8om( rJlt it is done, the bet Ir ' clav land more than f'*7n a?ime of drouth, h l.i'sDiing8oranyindicati' by ffipen wells whi iScient water... -^^eed ISwed to go to seed. It li them up, as the Reed ISdU ripen and propagate looly safe method is to Itbrowing them on the mar {creases a good seeding. Live Stock in Mi This is a trying time fo; animals; pasture, are u Lain is high, and then Condition for feeding. It i most of wooded pastures, can enjoy the shade dunn set a part of their living brush. A good supply ot I to keep the cows up tc milk, and the other live st and flesh.... Horses are noyed by flies, especially I pasture. It is best to Ie1 dark stable during mid-d; out near nightfall. Hors need the protection of a easily made, and prevent; Lambs are now separat and should be pa.stL;red sible. Place son-c wet;-, to lead the flock, and i: will be entirely weaned fall market need to be with abundant feed at apple orchard makes a tin The falling fruit is usuail pigs, in eating it, destroj to the mutual benctit of I orchard. The Fruit Garcloi As soon as the raspberr the stems that bore tl the new stalks .... Blact long before they are ripe near market, let them b' ped to a distance, they i away all suckers not need vines for the first si^us o: sulphur hand-pick th' caterpillars keep the la leaving one leaf of tho u shoots which start wLen ed keep bearirg shoe Strawberry plants lave set out. Can or dry Bui August WorU in the cultivator, whei garden, has never a sea: there is any month, which work is the least sent. Recreation may One may recreate both various ways, as with camping out, etc., withi rest and change. Exct or to the sea-shore â- Â« niany. A profitable ki viot the orchards ani reUef from home cares is may be learned, 'u! gladly welcome others the same pursuits tos should not be lost the local fair by compe aoy are awarded, be pioney. Nothing dc interest in the fair so who do not think they decline to take the aw; five cents, take it ai Newly planted trees ninlch keep oti late i low weeds to grew.. "UB month. Keep a pickers.... Early appl "Wre profitable than li I»ck them in attrai ""plus fruit, and use press for vinegar. Kitchen and a