The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

“We "alcohol the I'd] known v ~ reader and actor. will a m u r. [arean the stage next Inns: Fargo? .1“, h" h . - - meetxn in Australia, 5 rmumml‘mefiu "rd. proposes soon to Mk. ssn Mus. W. part from Iomfou far If. They will bring P13" for their next J. fumzvcs: will de- tlns country on‘Jnly vnth them three new American season. is Pyg, slates” H of Roland." The “3:! 32.33?me mlsptation of M. de Bornier's drama. “Ls' Roland." Bath-selectionsue ex- Sln. szrn', it is understood has ‘ plisz a work on which he in. beer: c.8523. for some time put. his first ' concerto. with orchestra, and will p ace it during tlicr'ulumg'leamn. He is passing the sum- met at Oanea, Conn. studying a number of companions which he will add to his al- readv extensive repertoire. A Guru incur: human, sayss new iork letter. Will sail from Europe for home the latter part of this month. and after spending the summer in resting. she will start out once more in the United States as a prism donna. Her success abroad has been great. and she returns with the knowled c that she Is ap recanted in the Old “'orh as well as the . ew. Who will he her manager next season In yet a secret. but it is understood that her terms will be higher than ever. 'Tuzn'z is no doubt now that Adelina latti wdl leave on October '2': for America, Where uln- intends giving at least forty con- certs. she takes a barytonc and'a tenor l with her. A yonnr lady. Miss Ho- heusclnld, is engagel as contralto. and Mdlc. Castellane as violin solo. The price of. seats for the concerts-3lme Adelina will not appear on the stage in the United Materâ€"is 8‘20 for the first rows. But even these will not go all to the trade; half of them will be reserved to be sold at auction. lursnuzx are more numerous among the actors of’America than their assumed names only indicate. George Clarke's real name is 1) hell; Frank Mayo’s is Maguire; James A. Hernc's is Ahearn; Robert E. Graham's ls Magoo; John Thompson's is McGlory: l)an Bryant's was O’Brien; Edward Leon's is' Glasse ; Horace Vinton's is Far ; \lm. J. I'lorence’s is Conlin; Barney W’il- lianis' was Flaherty; Frank Little’s is Ker- rigan; Ton Hart's is Cannon; John E. brush: is Mn cahy ; Ernest Lindcn's is Hans mgan, and John 'I‘. Raymond's was O’Brien. until he lately had it legally changed. .....-._... p...‘--_.. ... â€" PIOUS SMILES. 'l‘us Old Testament will not be revised for three years yet. People will have to break the ten commandments as they are for the present. A MAN lately confined in a Scotch jail for cattle-stealing managed, with five others, to break out on Sunday. snd being captured on one of the nei libonnu hills. he very gravely remarked to t re officer: “I might have cs- cnpcd, but I had conscientious scruples about travelling on Sunday." A asvsussn gentleman in Aberdccnshire, having been summoned before his presbytery for tippling, one of his elders, the constant participator of his orgies, was summoned to appear as a witness against him. “ chl, Jo m."said a member of the reverend court, “did you ever see the accused the worse of drink 2" “ \Vch. I wat no," answered John, “I've mony a. time seen him the better o’t, but never seen him the waur o't." “ lint did you ever see him drunk 2'" "That's what I‘ll never see," replied the older; “for: long before he's half~slokcncd I'm aye blind fou." A clerical rcntleman. formerly settled in the far nort of Scotland. had occasion to speak to the fcrryman over a somewhat dangerous bit of sea of his habits in respect of a too free use of whiskey. In the course of their talk, he said: “But, Donald, do you not think, now. that you would be better without it altogether, especially as you have to be out so often when the sea is so rough?" "Well, I diuna kcn ; but. Mr. .\l'.. will on no' be sometimes taking a dram yoursc ’ ?" “Oh. yes," said the minister: “I do occasion- ally. But. Donald, I have been thinkin I seriously about this dram‘drinkin I. and PI tell you what I will do. If you w: I promise to uvc it up altogether. I will." “Ay weel," rolilicd Donald : “it is very kind of you, I'm sure: but if I would rive you a promise. I an: feared that 1 war no be able to keep it; and. on ace. it micht be a long while afar-c I wa be sccin' you, and I wad bu sorr to think that you wadna be guttiu' your ( ram while I was takm' mine." â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"‘<.‘. An Electrical Speech-Recorder. A curious piece of apparatus. not likely to he of practical use. but showing considerable ingenuity. has been devised by )I. Amach Gentilli. of Licpsic, for the purpose of giving an intelligible record of speech. The natur- al movements of the mouth in speaking are employed to roducc through delicate lovers a series of c cctric contracts. and thereby sundry combinations of signs on a moving band of paper. similar to those of the Horse alphabet. The transmitting portion of the alphabet is based on a careful study of the motion of If and tongue in s aking with an objcct ho d botwocn the feet I. The work- ing parts are mainly nrran rod on an ebouitol plats», from one end of wbic l projects a piece 1.; be taken bctwccu the teeth. whercu u tho mouth-levers coma into position. 'he “ml pnll'in sounding m and n affects a special delicate organ. There are eight clcctro‘mag. nets in the receiver. each of which, when actuated by s current. causes a line to be formed on the paper. It is mentioned by M. Gucmut lwno describes the apparatus in La Lulnierr Electriqur) that tholettcrs g) and p. .1 sud l,haadn f. r. and M. which are prtxlucud by movements very slightly differ- out. are represented by the same signs. Thus of these letters the alphabet 00mph” only 1,, r, b, and}: Further. r. :. and I am to wounded by u and ya. The spparatus will. “mpg, be shown at the forthcoming EL .ihition in I‘m HI: “ Would you like tosttead the opera. birdie, this evening 2" She : “Well. [should gently twitter." .-\ curtail! musical critic is so full of music I»: he finds it in: blue to est his meals Ln. with A tuning fork. h pays to advertise. A Yorkville man: “werth for s loot pocketbook. and when 3; was returned to bun It confused over twenty dollars more than he lost. A xlvun'n‘ man wholnsd the. contribution but “shoved under his just after an . pal tasch to anth in at the straight pg... said be supposed they wanted tornake “n. of the gate money. "\ybgn i “‘0. prowl l cram" W“ ‘5 oxelsingl Fogg. in Um, . how 3 t was it rhstdxa prepared that sunroof-It‘d you “ 3.. {s “Al‘s FRI“. ‘ H W to tR‘s canqu in 1‘- wrible MW s remarksbl Mr. Gushucl , ' m' wss suir lashed I'i' tickdol- y John Mel‘ik- buith ‘7 . “ What ’s . itber' ‘_ Kits].- “LLâ€"4.. , VOL. Ix. “1'83 XONOLOGUI Ol’ DEATH." [These Ilna. spoken by the Spirit of Daub. in the guise of n “whlte a tragedy. ulled ' e “’bife m.” are altered from ‘ and ted for the first time In their prcsent onnJ Miscall me not 1 much; Men have miscalled me Have fiveu harsh names and harsher thouzhts to me. Reviled and cvflly entreafcd me. » Built me strange fem les asan unknown God: Then called me Idol. And to rude Insult bowed my Mlncall me not I for men form. And thoughts Have coldly modelled nu‘ of their own clay. Then fcardto look on that themselves have ma e. Miscnll me not! Ye know not what I am. But ye shall see me face future. and know. evil. unclean thi glmdhead own. are marred my I take all sorrows from the sorrowful. And teach the Joyful what it Is to joy : I gamer In in laud-locked harbor's clasp The shatte vessels of s vexed world; And even the tlnlcst ripple upon Life. Is. to my sublime calm. as tropic storm. \Vhen other leeclicruft falls the breaking brain, I onl . own the anodyne to still Its dies Into visionless repose; The face. distorted with Life‘s latest pang. I smooth. In pnssln . with an angel-win - : And from beneath t e quiet eyelids sum The hidden glory of the eyes. to give A new and noblcr beauty to the rest. Belle me not 1 the plagues that walk on Earth. The wastln pain. the sudden agony. Famine. an War. and Pestilence. and all The terrors that have darkened round my narnc~ These are the plagues of llfkthe are not mine; ‘ ex while I tarry. vanish when comc, Instantly nieltlnglnto. rfect peace. As at If s word whose . faster-s irit I am. The troubled waters slept on Ca llee. \thn I withdraw the veil which hides my face. So melt I, with a look. the iron bonds 0f the soul's jnller. hard Mortality. Gentl -â€"so cntlyâ€"like a tired child. Will cnfol thee: but thou canst not look U n my face. and stay. In the busy haunts 0 human lifeâ€"In the temple and the street. And when the blood runs fullest in the veinsâ€"- Unseen. undresmcd of. I am often by. Divldcd from the giant In his strcngf I lint by the thickness of this misty vcil. Tender. I am. not cruel: when I take The sha most hard- to human 0 13s. and pluck The lift 1: baby-blossom. ct unb own. "l‘is but to graft It on a kindlicr stem. And. leaping o’er the perllous years of growth. Unswc t of sorrow, and unscathed of wrong. Clothe t at once wlfh rich maturity. TIs I thatglvcs a soul to Memory: For round the follies of the bad I throw The mantle of a kind forgetfulncss: “'hlle. canonlzed In dear Love's calendar. I sanctlfy the good for everrnorc. Mlscall mu not! in generous fullness lcnds Home to the home css: to the fricndlcss.irlcnds: To the starved babe. the mother's tcndcrbrcast “’ealth to the poor. and to the restlessâ€" Rest. -â€"I(erman C. .IIerimle in the Spectator -.-.- “Nobody Asked You, Sir,” She Said. 1!}. (hr Author of “Murmur: IN BLACK,” “Ann-m; on, Love 'rni: \VINNER," “Tun ROMANCE or A Ross." “ AT Ilsa limos.“ “IN lloxouu Itorrsh,” &c. CIIA I’TER II. Cox'rrxrrsn. “It is a gloomy old den; isn’t it?" Bulwev asked, following her look. “Yes,” the girl said. “There are gloomy associations attached to it. Three men have been murdered there within the last five years." “I know it," llulwer said, a shadow cross- ing his face. “And yet you came!" “I came because no one else would come, and because I wanted to put a stop to it. If you are going into the Globe, Miss Power. I think I will say good-bye to you here.” “So you have turned into a heroine. Greta !" “How ‘3" Greta inquired, looking up from her shirt-making. “Wh ', by what you did yesterday, to be sure." uric said. “Joe says the child would have been drowned but for you." “I think he probably would have been drowned." “You'll be the most popular person in the country now. There is such a clan of Phe- nixcs at Cappagh, and the boy you saved was the only one' that poor widow Phenix had left. Joe says they could all have kiss- ed the and under your feet yesterday." “Tcl us all about it. Greta." said Mimi Grant. . Greta rave them a very slight sketch of the iucil cut. dwelling as little as possible upon her own achievement. “My dwr,(lreta." Fanny Reeves said. coming into the room in time to hear the brief recital; "do you know that you did a most desperate thing? I have heard of ever so many people being overtaken by the tide in that very place." “I could not stand by and see the child drowned." rctunicd Greta calmly. “And did Mr. Bulwcr see the whole pro- cccdin ?" Laurie asked. ashadow of jealousy in her due eyes. “I an )poso he did. .-\t all cvcnts they saw me louudcrin ashore." “How do you Ii '0 him, lrcta?" “Like him! I don’t like him. fond of having his own way!" “How do you know? You had not much 0 portunity of discovering that trait in his character while you walked up from the shore to Drumnahrcczc!" "Yet I discovered it." said Greta. “Are you really going to look for mushrooms, to- marrow. Fanny? For. if you are. I shall get up early and come too." ' lie is too CHAPTER III. Long slanting shadowsâ€"the light coming low from the east. A strange stillness on the road when! thc. crows hopped about an- distnrhodmthc first faint curl of smoke from a cottagl: chimney here and there; here and there a homer crossing the fields to his work. or a woman milking. her shadow and the cow's shadow stretchin far across the level pasture land; the milk rothing into the pail and the soft breathing of the patient animal the only sounds which disturme the sense stillness. the fsir fresh sunny quiet of the early ~ The sheep-park at Drumnabrccxe was a huge field surrounded b ' a narrow belt of fir plantation. A truck w ich muld hardly be called a th lcd obliquely across it from a stile lm ing into a lane on Kincora. to a gate leading into the hack avenue st Drums nsbreeu. These troopropertiss adjoincd each other at the buck the Glebe. In one corner of the field a group of girls were filling luskebs with mushrooms as fast as they could gather them. Higher up. on the pathway. Greta Power stood talking to 3young llulwer. a basket filled with mush- ! rooms on her arm. "aids scotch quack doc-i ye msunsyo be swfn‘ , Even I once rude s; Me. I was standing bin. 1 l f --‘l‘£.‘;.u it robbing!" “You must rise very surly in this part of the country." he was saying. with an amus- ed look into the girl’s dark face. “One must rise very early when one wants to oue's neighbours." Greta answered. "Loni Brier-narer might call it robbe ‘ if he as: as carrying Insksts «sfâ€"what l I call themâ€"fungiYâ€"oa‘ bis premises." name. I think.” "He would scarcely call it by so harsh a In the earthâ€"bum greatness of their roast them for your b to have some when we “I am afraid I shoal it," Bulwer laughed: “baffles, I am not go- ing back to the house for ever so long. I am going down to the shore. " “To gather cockles!" “Noâ€"not to ther cockles. Gathering edibles of any escription is not one of my weaknesses. I am going down to the shore to look at the cliffs! “The clifi's don't look particularly well at this hour of the mo ' ." “But I particuhrly wishfio’lga them at this hour of the morning." ‘ t, . “ But is this the way you always go to the cliffs! I should call it rather a roundabout way. seeing that the cliffs are in front of Drumnabreeze House and the sheep-park be- hind it.” "You are ve ' quick," he said. laughing. “What then 0 you suppose took me up here at this unearthly hour?" “Perha you knew we should be here.;' Greta sail , with careless audacity. "\Vell. yes, I did.” “Not really?" the girl asked. opening her great calm brown 3 'es at him. “I did. I hoan Miss Reeves say so yes- terkay." “Laurie?” Greta inquired. with a glance at a blue speck far away in the field, yet not so far away as it was five minutes ago. “No; her sister." "Oh!" said Greta, mentally acquitting ho l Fanny of all malice repense. “I suppose you wi I tell me I had no busi- ness to come?" ' “Did you come to catch us in the act of picking and stealing?" “No. I cameâ€"" He stopped short. “'hy he stopped he hardly knew. \Vhether it was something in the girl's face or in his own heart which stayed the bold words on his tongue, the sentence wrm never finished. “I am glad I came, whatever brought me," he said a moment later. “that is, if you are not vexed with me for comino." “Vexed!” cried Greta. “It is nothing to me. How could it vex me?" “I hope on are none the worse for your adventure, ’ he ventured, looking down into the unconscious face. “The boy you saved is all right. The caretaker at Drumnabreeze is a relative of his-an uncle or something. I don’t much fancy any of the Phenixes I have come across. Do you?" “They have a bad name," said Greta. “For quarrelsomeness. or what?" “Ror- taking what does not belon tothem. That boy’s father has been in gao twent times for stealing; and there is an old Nic ' l’henix down at Cappagh who was a notori- ous smuggler in his day." “I suppose there is no smuggling carried on here now?" “I sup ose not, since the Coastguardsmcn were esta lished here." “I don’t think old Grant is much good. He says his men keep a sharp look out all along the coast here! But I fancy there cool be many a cargo run without their knowledge." “Have you seen any ghosts at Drumna- breeze yet?" ' “Why do you ask?" “I am sure I don’t know. Because I want to know, I suppose. I don't believe in ghosts myself,” she added carelessly; “but something or other does haunt the cellars there." “Yes?” Bulwer said, with some curiosity. “Mrs. Forster saw it herself. One night her baby was ill, and she went down to the kitchen to get some hot water." “What did she see?" “A ghost. or a white figure of some sort. It went on before her down the kitchch passage, and disappeared at the head of the cellar-stairs." Bulwer laughed. Greta looked offended. “Oh,” she said hotly, “one can laugh at these thin out here in the broad da light! But Mrs. Enter told Mrs. Reeves :11 about it herself. and I am sure she would not say what was not true." “I am not doubting the lady's veracity for a moment.” Bulwer assured her. with a smile; “but I cannot bring myself to believe that it was a ghost." “No, I don’t think it was a ghost," Greta allowed, mollified; “but it is odd that sev- eral people have seen the same thing. They say it is the host of a very wicked old Lady Evremond w l0 lived at Drumnahreeze more than a hundred years ago." Bulwer shrn t ed his shoulders, but he did not dare to long I. . “I did not know there were ever any very wicked Evrcmonds," he said. "Well. there were; but I must go and gather mushrooms now. Good morning." “Won't you allow me to walk across the field to wish the other ladies ood morning?" She could not very well re use to let him walk across the fields with her. So they trod the soft turf together, the morning sun- shine full on their faces. A few minutes later Greta had said "goor ~ bye" to the rest of the party, passing through the gate leading into Kincora. Bulwer re- mained a few minutes talking to Laurie Reeves. “Miss Power does not seem to have snfi'sr- cd from her immersion in the water," he said. looking after her. “Not she! Greta is as hardy as a flint." “She is very courageous. She ought to have taken the Drnmnabroezc agency. ’ Bul- wer said, smiling. “Only I think she is a little too honest to escape a bullet." “Honest?” Laurie repeated, opening her blue eyes. “Yes. The only one of Lord Evrernond's a 'cats who died in his bed was is dishonest o d rascal who layed into our enemim' hands. I have uscovcred as much since I came to Drumuabreese." He wished the girls good-b gate lesdin intospsd ock 'nd the Globe, and walkct on down to the shore. The path led in a very rig-rag fashion down the face of the did; but in five minutes he had reach- ed the ridge of pebbles washed up to the foot of the precipice. with its ooatin of half- dn'ed seaweed. dead starfish an broken shells. Down here under the cliffs the heat was already intensenfor it had been 'an unusually late summer: and now. in the beginning of September, the weather was warmer than it had been in June. Looking seaward. there was nothing but the sands and the blue line of the sea, with a white or a gray sail here and there, or the smoke of a steamer. look- ing landward. the village up far ofi'st the other end of the alive, 0 line of clifi's stretchin brokenly from the village to A sharp blu . which shut out all view towsnls the right. In the face oftho cliflthm were as: 3“ “°‘ '“W W” “if P” ' ther so at ' water: but it «mixes caves a tly which hsd brought Mr. Bulwer own tothe shorest this early hour of the morning; for it was st them he looked now, and not at the village or the sen. Crossing the mound of water-washed b- bles. out of view of the village, he ed st last intothe lsrgest ofthe cave-sud found himself in s rather spacious cavern. floored with the same mural clean-lookin pebbles. ping up gradually to n ‘ her e! than as: “$3; .2? a. 5......" ‘35." '33; - n . p ; roof was lowsnd grotesquely grainecfiliks an uncouth The morning light came 0 at the little fess saficiustly into it to show its entire extent: and. after one glance. Mr. Bali-er turned on FENELON FALLS, ONTARIO, SATURDA makesbadhandof i his heel sad walked out again. and into the next. This was lower and darker. and half-filled with fresh wet seaweed spangled with shells. But it was obviously of still smaller size than the first one, and the roof 510 down on every side to within a few inches of the and. Bulwer saw nothing to detain him ere. and very soon left it for the third and last cavern, nearest to the projecting bluff which shut out all view to the right. Thisseemed tobe morethana msrecon- cavity in the face of the clifi'; but, from the nature of its formation, it was not so easy to explore as the other two. It ran obli nely into the land. turning away from the gist at almost an acute an le. Following the bend of it, Bulwer con (1 not for a moment see where he was going. But, as his eyes _ew accustomed to the obscurity, he could tmguish the rocky walls, the low unequal roof, the little springs tricklin from ledge to ledge, the tiny grottoes fill with stones and shells along the sides. He was obliged to stretch out his hands as he walked to pre- vent his coming full tilt against some rocky buttress, or perhaps the original wall of the cave; but, though he went on for a good while. nothing rose to bar his progress; it al- most seemed as if the passage cw more spacious as it grew more dark. at. just as he thou ht it would be wiser to turn back while t ere was a limmer of daylight. he touched a solid wal of rook, which seemed to close up effectually this whole up 1' end of the cave. He struck a match; at the feeble glimmer was only enough to confirm this sup itionâ€"it fell on nothing but the face of t re scurped rock.solid, frowning. and im netruble. \Vith a. short exclanmtion, Bu \ver turned round and made his wa back into fresh air and daylight. with n liafiled look on his face. “I will come again with a lantern of some kind,” he said, lookin back at the low arch- ed entrance. “At big 1 tide the cavern must be filled with water. the high water-mark on the face of the cliff being several feet hi her than the mouth of the cave. I will get ' ack Power or Joe Reeves to come with me, and we'll explore this subterranean passage some night w on the coast is clear." CHAI’TER‘HV. September air, full of the sweet smell of newly-sham stubble. of ripe grain, of sun- burnt leaves _and es. Jack Power standing among the sheaves in the middle of the great stretch of upland corn field over Kincoraâ€"a boyish looking yoiulg fellow in an old brown shootin -coat, with a. sunburnt straw hat on his dar ' head. Just now he was standing, with his back to the busy floup of rcapers and binders, talking to 1 rd Evremond's agent. Far away across the big slo ing pastures to the right, running round 1: a mountain, appeared the blue line of the sea; nearer la the dense Drumnabreeze woods, nearer sti l the shadowy lanes about Kincora, the old house itself appearing, among its ruddy horse-chestnuts, a quarter of a mile away. Even from this distance it had the inexpress- ' ibly drea look of a human habitation which had een allowed to fall into ruin “all ' ." It was ten years since Fitzger- ald Power had moved his household goods from Kincora, lest Kincora should involve them and him in one common ruin. Since then the summer sun and the winter snow, the heat and frost, the ni ht dews and the morning mists, had found rec ingress from attic to basement; the walls had settled down, the staircase had fallen through, making access to the upper lloorsimpossiblc; the windows were shattered, the hall door awry, the hall doorsteps disjointed as if up- hcavcd by an earthquake. Jack Power was not lookin at Kincora now, nor was he thinking, as e sometimes did think, of Laurie Reeve’s mocking voice and laughing light-blue eyes. He was lis- tening to Lord Invremond‘s agent, his hands behind his back, and a comprehensive look on his handsome dark boyish face. “I dare say you are right,” he said atl last. “It never struck me before; but I their real motiveâ€"it was always a puzzle to me why they shot or O'Connor, who was as goo -heartcd a ellow as ever breather ." “It will always be a subject of keen re- morse to me that the step; I am taking were not taken long ago." ulwcr answered, frowning. _ “T e thought of so much blood- shed. when a little determination mi ht have prevented it, is horrible to me. It as made me hate Drumnahreeze." “Lord Evremond knew so littleâ€"only what the papers told himâ€"we knew so lit- tle ourselves," Jack Power said. all we could at the timeâ€"my himself very much. But you know that to look for the author of an agrarian murder in Ireland is like looking for a needle in a bun- dle of hay." “These were not agrarian outrages." “\Vcll, we thought they wereâ€"everybody in the country thought they were." Bulwer shru down at the dark stretch of the Drumna- breeze woods. “Here is your sister," he said suddenly. "I shall say cod-bye to you now. Power, or rathcrg morning. If anything new turns u , you will see me again in the course of the ay.” “Greta is coming to order mo in to break- fast;" and Jack smiled. “Come in and have some breakfast with us. Bulwer. You said the other day you had never tasted stir- about." Greta came up tothem while Lord Evre- mond's agent hesitatedâ€"Greta, bare-headed. in her brown holland gown, a couple of scar- let field-poppies under her dusky round chin, her dark hair sleekly combed over her forc- land, almost tnto her grave Eg ptian eyes: A glance into the same eyes added the question of breakfast at chora, if Bulwer had ever seriously hesitated; and together they crossed the stubble-field to the gate in- to the lane. The lane. offer two or three tumings, dc- bouchcd in front of a wooden gate. This led into a plot before a lon r. low thatched cot câ€"â€"-a cottage with mur walls and deeply-sun en windows. acottage which had been originally a cabin. occupied by one of Mr. Power's herds, but which had been altered to accomodatc “the family" on its exodus from Kincora House. Some of the windows had been enlarged, a room or two had been added, the interior had for the most been coiled and boarded; but the cottage still retained many of the character- istics of its first estate. thou h the low mud walls were covered with fnc ‘ andja n- ica, and neat flower.sz ran the w ole length of it under the deep over-shufowing eaves. There was no apology in ("ireta’s face as she before the two young men and led the wsy into the cottage. no conscious- ness of anything needing apolo'gv. though the proudest of all the pron 3 in Powers of hincorswss not more proud than she. Nor did JsckPower make any rennrk shout his surroundings: he was Power of Kincora. and it msttered very little whether he re-j ceivedhis tiascastleorscsbin. Nor did itseem to be of much consequence to Mr. Balm, has? from his en‘ t of sbrfihstof _ '. the was y a preliminaryâ€"s break as m lysu'vodsnd ssplentiful sshsd ever-bun notes: at Kinoorn in its polrniest days. Old Mi- Posrer. Greta's grand-aunt. did the honours with the mil courtesy which sometime. indeed always. remainsto s high-bred woman who has been a gm! Y, should not be surprised if you had hit upon I closed the door after her. lman’s heavy step following h i “We did ' father exerted l . get clear of the gged his shoulders. looking. I AUGU U) T 6, 1881. lbeauty in her day. long after that beauty is lathing of the past. Bulwer admired her almost as much as the silent girl beside her; and he made himself very pleasant to every body, with the air and manner of a man who had seen a. good deal of the world. If the elder Miss Power was afraid that Jack's gout would dadee about Kincora all the morning. she was agreeably mistak- en. Jack carried him away with him the moment breakfast was over, to her great contentment, she having some old~world ideas as to how the earlier hours of the day ought to be t. But, if she got rid of him in good time on this particular morning. she was fated to enjoy a good deal of his ccmpany during the days which followed. the warm lovely September (In ; for young Bulwer lingered at Kincora, irting a little with Laurie Reeves. whom he often found there, looking at Greta, smoking with Jack under the t atchcd eaves, or sauntering with him about the farm. And old Miss Power, though she did not quite a prove of such intimacy with an “ineligiblb,” still welcomed him in her graceful statel ’ fash- ion, only hoping that foolish Laurie eevcs would not make a fool of him, or of herself. As forJack, he watched Laurie with cquani- mity, knowing that while she lived she must make herself charmin to every man who came in her way. and ily confident that. if he were in a position to marry her him- self. she would come to him the moment he held out his liand~knowing too that Bul- wer was at least a match for her, mischiev- ous little coquette that she undoubtedly was. ' One evening. late in Se bomber, Bulwer brought Jack back with rim to dinner at Drumnabreeze. Jack was generally so tired at the end of the (la ' that dining was an abominationto him; ut to~day Bulwer in- :istcd on his walking back with him, saying that he had a reason for wishing him to spend that evening at Drnmnabrecze. They dined in a small room called the study, Bulwcr never having had the strength of mind, as he himself confessed, to face the dreary expanse of the dining-room alone. The house was badly furnished, in an ugly, old-fashioned style; but this room was com- fortably carpeted and filled with comfort- able old-fnslnoncd furniture; and tonight 0. good wood fire burned on the hearth. Phe- nix, the caretaker, seldom came up-stairs; but his wife waited upon them, a quiet sub- dued-looking woman who seemed to avoid giving a direct look or a direct answer when- ever she could ossibl help it. Her at- tendance was be our criticism; but the din- ner was not badly cooked, and consisted of a boiled ham and a plump pair of grouse of Bulwer’s own shooting, washed down by whiskey-nnd-water, and wound up by a ipeful of better tobacco than Jack Power rad over smoked before. “Do you know why I particularly wanted you to spend this evening with me?” Bulwcr asked, when they were sitting in great arm- chairs at either side of the fire. smoking the aforesaid tobacco. “No,” Jack answered, removing his eyes from the back of the chimney to look at um. “Because Phenix and his wife are going to a wake in the village." “And you were afraid to stay here by yourself?" “Well, no, that was not the reason,” Bul- wcr laughed. “In fact, I hope you will be- lieve me when I tell you that that reason never entered into my head. But, this be- ing the first time I have succeeded in getting the coast clear down-stairs, I wanted to ex- plore the regions, and discover if possible where the Drumnahrccze ghost lives when he is at home.” Jack Power nodded, his eyes on the back of the chimney again. “Are you game?" said Bulwer. “Need you ask?" “Ive”: “‘7 "inc °‘°l°°k we “'i“ descend“ returned to the house within two hours. I tile "Men‘cnt.st9r3" “‘1' PM" “'9 hue 8”“ We first represented ourselves as health of- t‘fied 0‘“ cunosltyr we W1“ Come ba‘v‘k hem: 'ficers, who had heard there was a. man in and You Shall brew 9- tumbler 0f "381 Irish the house who had died in Havana of yellow 5' mum to know “may fever. They said it was untrue ; that ho had punch. I wish vcr how you do it." Jack laughed, but grew door opened and Mrs. I’ head. “If round. lenix put in her on lease, sir. we‘re going out now." rig it," Bulwer said, without looking “I will bolt the door when Mr. I 1“) Power goes. And, remember. I shall expect~ . a few you back before breakfast hour tomorrow." The woman murmured something and They heard a crs across the hall, evidently li htencd as much as possible out of respect to is surroundings; and then they both went out at the hall door and clos- ed it behind them with a muflled slam. “\Ve will give them twenty minutes to place," Bulwer said when the steps had died away on the mossy gravel under the windows. “I don't want them to think that I sus- pect anythingâ€"that would be as good as signing my own death-warrant. And, if they saw a. glimmer: ,of light in any of the windows down-sta’ .they might fancy I was poking round their own particular pre- mises. than which nothing is farther from my intention.” He gave them a ood twenty minutes, and ten more on to t t. and then he rose l from his chair and Jack Power rose also. “Nine o'clock," Bulwer said, looking at , his watch, "and it is high water to-uight at . ten minutes to nine." “‘WellWâ€"and Power looked at him. i “Come along." Lord Evrcmond's agent ilaughed, utting up his watch. “You take that cam c in your hand and follow me. and. remember. whatever you do, don't talk. A spouse might prove fatal to nsâ€"don't forget t at." He spoke jestingly, but there was more ithan jestin in his voice, and in the grave l nod with w ich youn Power answered him. I And then they ope the door and walked out into the hall. (10 as L‘osnxvzn.) l l . l - t Irish Bauer. The buttons of Ireland. as seen at the lead- ing shows, will not suffer by comparison, all things considered. with those of Ingland. or of the countries of Northern Europe. That there is a larger proportion of inferior butter made in Ireland than in any other country ,which reckons to he s dairyiog country at all is probably true, but it is equally true ,- that some of the best butter in the world is It is merely a question of care i made there. and cleanliness. At any rate a collection of l Irish butter shows more bod '. substance. :aud general quality than we vc found to be the case in other countriu. At the same 1 time we must admit that the src less skill- fully msde and less neatly nished off and resented than. for instance. the butters of k or of Finland. Passessingsn in- herent superior quality, the loss the adv-n- tsge in not being so skilfu y made. With one of the finest climate: for dairyin pur- :withssoil and h e whic am not easily «lulled: with s breed of cows excellent in many respects. and still improv- ,iug; and with milk precniineutly suited to butter-nukingâ€"more so. perhaps. than the milk of an other country in the worldâ€"tho Irish poop e are provided with the first re- fluisites for beoonnngthe leading butter-pro- uciag natim in Europe. But tosttain this position requires. in our opinion. the untit- mg industry. the scrupulous cleanliness. the brilliant thought, and the inhwors w are s unon e to an an conspicuou g l i pm": 383i“ "-5 the ' us to examine the body. Then I told the I l SHUGGLEBS‘ TRICKS. Dm' ands Bid tn Dutch Cheese â€"Customs Inspectors Who Yield to Woman‘s Wiles. “ There is no end to the means smu r vlers employ in their business.“ one of the o dest custom house inspectors said. “I have known them to bring diamonds from Hol- land nicely packed in the centre of the cele- bratedcheesc of that country. and silver- ware, silks, laces and diamonds from England packed in bales of hops. Laces and dia- monds have also been brought into this country tightly packed in the centre of iron tubing." “ What be smuggled 3" " Laces and diamonds. There is nothing that occupies less space than they do. They can easily be concealed in false shoe soles and heels and wigs. Notice of the sailing of smu lers from the other side is often re. ceive( here. In such cases they seldom evade having their stufi' confiscated on ur- riving here. The professional. as a rule. has a con ederate, who is ready to jump aboard at the first opportunity. The two meet. go to the state room, and while they are to all appearance effusiver showing their gladucss at mectin each other again. one is passing laccs or (iamonds to the other. It is as often while surrounded by a crowd." “ Who are the best smu vlers 1'" “ Women as a general thing. “'hy 2' lic- cause the manner in which they clothe themselves enables thorn to conceal many things from the most argus-eycd searcher; because they can call tears to their aid at will. and turn, as perhaps you know. are a mighty powerful argument with men, and, goods can most easily for that matter. also with women; bewnsey the ' are full of blaudisluuents and taking litt 8 ways, which. particularly if they are pretty, a fellow With any kind of a soft heart can‘t resist. Now. just you take a handsome woman, handsomely dressed. with fascinating conversational powers and mau~ ners. By jove! if she doesn’t get the host of a male inspector I’ll give it u . She’ll first deny she has any contrabam goods, and play sweet on him. If he proves obdumtc. and, for exam le. insists on examining her trunks, she'll cgin to cry. assert her inno- ccnoe of anything at all underhand, and tell him how distressing it is for a lady to be subjected to such an indi nity. \Vhat does he do? If he is hard- carted and inscri- sible to the charms of women, he will pro- ceed with his examination of her luggage, and hand her over to a female searcher. If he is susceptible, the fair one will gain her point. “Ci av smugglers are troublesome. A great cal of ingenuity was displayed ten years ago by some professionals I manned to catch. One day what purported to be a dead body was removed from one of the Havana. steamers. It was stated that the dead man‘s relatives were Americans, and, desiring to have him buried here. had gone to much expense in having the body brought to this country. This statement was made by one of two men who had the body in char e. I have asplendid memory for faces, and recognized one of the twoâ€"or thought I didâ€"as a. man I had caught smuggling cigars about five years ago. At any rate, my suspicions were amused. I came to the conclusion there was something wrong about that body. \thn an nndertuker’s wagon containing the body drove mm from the wharf Ijumped into a cab and ollowcd it. directing the driver to keep it in sight, but to drive past it when it came a final stop. The cabman had done such work for me be- forc, and knew just what was wanted of him. The wagon pulled up (its house in Greenwich street. The body was taken into the house, and I drove down to the custom- honsc. Accompanied by two inspectors. I died of heart disease, and refused to allow two smugglers that we were ovemmcut officials, showing my badge. am I believed the coffin was packed full of cigars. ’l‘hcy finall caved in. " nothcr ingenious ruse was discovered years ago. As I presume you know. cedar is quite lar rely imported from Cuba. Small-sized logs oia this wood were vocurcd by the smugglers, which they sawer , or had sawed. into boards, leaving, however, one end of the logs uncut. so that the plank would open like the leaves of a book. Part of the interior planks werecarcfullyremoved. leavin a hollow space. This space was filled with tie finest brands of cigars. naked in boxes, and the logs then careful y tied to- gether, giving them the appearance usual to cigar- )ox lumbersawed into planks. The nature of this cedar would not have been discovered had it not been that while bcin removed from the vessel licrc one of the logo was thrown heavily on the pier and its con- tents dislod ed. If I remember correctly there were fty packages. Since then in~ s ctora have always carefully examined uban cedar imported in such a shape." _____-_-<-....'._â€"___.. The Early Religion. Ibo Dste of Arxyn. II tbs Conn-pony ksvisw 'We have found in the most ancient rc- cords of the Aryan language roof that the indications of religions thong t are higher. simpler. and purer as we go back in time. until at last, in the very oldest compositions of human s -h which have come down to us, we fin the Divine Being spoken of in the sublime language which forms the open- In of the Lords Prayer. The date in ab. sofute chronology of the oldest Vcdic litera- turn does not seem to be known. Prof. Max Muller. however. considers that it may poo sibly take us back 5,000 'cars. l’rof. . Io nier Williams seems to re er the most ancient Vedic hymns to a period not much more rc- moto than L500 years II. C. But whatever that date may be. or the corresponding date of any other very ancient literature. such as the Chinese, or that of the oldest Egyptian pspyri. when we go beyond thcsc damn we enter upon a period when we are absoluuvly withoutanyhistorical evidence whatever. not only as to the history of religion, but as w the history and condition of mankind. We do not know even spproximak-l the lime dur- ing which he has existed. \ 'e do not know the place or the surroundings of his birth. “'e do not know the steps by which his knowledge “grew from more to more." All we can see wrth certainty is that the earliest inventions of mankind are the most wonder- ful that the race has ever made. The first beginnings of human speech must have had their origin in powers of the highest order. The first use of fire and the discovery of the methods by which it can be kindled: the do- mestication of wild han'i‘rnsg‘s; and. above slll‘, the prone-es w ic t e various cores were first develoypal out of some wild esâ€"these are all discovories with which in. ingenuity and in importance no subset uent discoveries any oonipsre. They are a 1 un- oosrn to h’ â€"-sll Irnt in the light of an edulgeat dawn. In speculating. therefore. on the origin of these things. we must make one or ether of two assumptionsweithcr that man always had the some mental faculties and the some fundamental intellectual oun- stitatiou that be has now, or that there was s time when these faculties hsd not 'ct ris. en to the level of humanity. sad It en his mental constitution wss matinlly inferior. ._..___.._... HOW TO CANS A POI-AR nun. Improved Appliances for Proonrlns Steaks In the Arctic litigious. :m the Sc: Miss nus-ck " l dos.» pity those men the Rodgelx ‘ remarked Mrs. Max. passing the Major the honey. which he always insistel on having \\ It}: his riu- cakes. “Yes. indeed." l’l‘plftNl the Major. who runs a trifle cynical that morning. Inning burned his mouth with mfl‘ma “ Yes. inâ€" ‘decd. my dear, the life of an Arctic explorer , must be haul. They areso isolated from the Iworld. Just imagine, if you can. the horror of‘ living for three your: out of the dust and wind and fog and rain of our glorious vli~ mate: of not mectinr all that time the man at your club who thinks the oftcner a story IS told the better it is ; of being without the consolation afl'onled you by the busted stock operator who knows you am glad of an opportunity to lend him a twenty; of . being where ruillinery and Japanese decora- gtion stores do not daily eutrsp onc's wife: 'of bein -â€"â€"-“ z “ Why. Major. how you do talk 2 I was 'oulv thinking of the horrid things the f Rov gors’s crew will have to do to gut their I bear steaks." i “ How‘s that 2" asked the Major, instant- :ly interested over the subject of steaks. l which he holds of much greater importance than the Irish land troubles. l “\thtl know about it." resumed Mrs. '.\Ia.v. “I read in a fashion paper. and it l ought to be true." i " It certainly ought to be. Mm. Max. if I only on account of its old a re." l " Well. the article said. ’ continued Mrs. i Max. pretending to ignore the Major‘s slur ‘on her favorite reading, “that Awtic ox- ploncrs. when they want to kill a polar bear. plant a big knife in the ice with the blade ,sticking up. They daub the blade with I blood, and the bear comes along and licks it and cuts his tongue. It is so cold that he jdoesn't feel the cut. but. tasting his own 'blood, continues to lick the knife until his | tongue is all frayed. and he bleeds to death. lsu t it dreadful ‘.'" “Quiet your foam, my dear.“ said tho I Major when his wife had finished. “ That Iis the way they killed the boar when that istory was first published, but in the last ltwcuty years an improvement has been Emade. w rich I will tell you about. if '0“ will kindly give me just a drop more col ‘00. with cold milk. this time. l‘hc,\va_v the thing is done now isns follows : \Vhon L‘s ll. Berry of the Rodgers wants a polar bear luv dinner, he gives u midshipman a co ) )cr bed springnnd a chunk of fat pork. ' ‘ :0 mid- s iipmau compresses the spriugpcrfcctl ' flat. wraps the pork around it tight. and ho (Is it .so until it freezes solid. l‘hcn the frozen pork. smiled with the bed spring. is thrown out to the nearest iccbcr , where it is promptly swallowed by a polin‘ bear. “'hen the heat of the hour's stomach thaws out the pork it releases the spring. which flies out. and the boar soon dies from a pain in his side." “Major.” said Mrs. MM. with nmch warmth, “ I don’t believe that story is true." “ No, my dear, and you won't. until, in a few years, you see it some fashion paper, and then you will swear by it.” H- A Dancing Procession. A corresponding of a contemporary writing recently says :â€"-Not far from those places of rendezvous for all nations of tho civilised world a spectacle has been attract- ing the curiosity of thousands which leads us back to the depths of the Middle Ages. al- though it is repeated ycar by year. I am speaking of the village of Echternach and its far-famed dancing procession. From 15,000 to 20,000 pilgrimsâ€"I could not obtain more accurate information about the numbersâ€"â€" assemble on some meadows within Prussian territory, but close to the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. The inhabitants of different villagesâ€"qnen and women apartâ€"collect bc- hind their clergyrnen, and a‘band of musi‘ cians is laced m the front. As the clock strikes vc on Tuesday morning in “'hit- suntidc a priw walks up the stops of a rude wooden pulp , and thence addrosses the multitude, then already swollen to an in- credible extent by sight-scorn, who come by special trains and every imaginable vchich- to be present at the pcrforrnauccs, ’l'hc communit which happens to bc nearest the road stanIIi-i forth, preceded by their priest, who, however, does not dance. Two men or two women hop away first two ate in in ad- vuncc, and then one backwards, tic band playing a most monotonous tunc. “Abru- iam had seven sons, seven sons; scvcn sons had Abraham," arc the words to this tor- riblc melod . which each successivc set, as they join tie procession, take up with in. creasing vi vor. Hour after hour passes away before the ast people havc started on their miles of way to tho of the Church ofSt. \‘I’illcbrod, whence tic go up fifty steps round and round the a tar. and finally do- sccnd the fifty stops. Nothing can exceed the excitement and exhaustion among the dancers, old and young. Grcat arc the numbers of those who, in spite of an occa- sional draught of water offered by charitable bystanders, sink down on the grass or on the dusty road not to rise for hours. The « ucstion is naturally asked “What docs all t is mean? The answer is: It is intended to perpetuate the remembrance of a frightful epidemic of St. Vitus's llancc, which carried oll‘hundrcds of victims in the neighborhood referred to some time during tho fifteenth century; to offer up prayers and vows to the patron saint ; to recognise a miraculou» cessation of the epidemic, and it is a fulfil- ment of vows thcn madc that, in gratitude, there should be yearly dances pcrformcd~ ~ two hops backward and one forward. as closely rcscmblin the visitation from which Heaven had ilelivcrcd them as rhythm and oed taste would allow. During the Franc occupation in l793 the procession was forbidden, but the can ~goin Dutch Government of Luscrnbour iavc a owed it tobc revived. 'l‘o judge rorn what could be seen this year of the drunkenness and do- bauchcry in thc numbcrlcss public-houses frequentod by the pi! rims sftcr their loo futin and exertions. Iain inclined to thin it won d have better to have continued the prohibition. ._._ .â€" ~.w’. .....--.... Travelling costumes are made very short. A young lad in New York has appro- priately nam hcrdog l'cnny bccaume it was one seat to her. Mn. l-Zimr'sn Avmux. tlu: L’OIIIIXMI‘ of “ Olivctw,” is said who rs short.stout man, with small, ikc eyes. a tum-up nosc, fiery red hair, a min ip. and a unrbunclc on In» neck. L’AAIA'IIJJC deacon ~Nu, We wouldn't put a stick in the Sunday School lcmmiadl: ; keep it for yourself. And don't start a dog- fight to mouse the children. Just get tlw dogs around and leave. it to the boys to rub their cars and set 'cm to drawing mud: other. “ Well. Charley, what art- you ruuling‘r” saida father to his Mill last Sunday. “Oh. I'm reading ‘ llanii-l in the Lions lien.‘ ' Father goon. over and icks up the hook and finds it is a dime nove called ‘ l‘cfm June» in Africa." " “'hy," says he. “this a dimv novel." “No, pa. that‘s only flu: ‘ rrviuul‘ of ‘ Daniel in the la'ous' lien. " “I 113'? think that all sinners will he lost." said Mrs. Nirnbletnug. "There's my husband, now. He's a bad man «a very bad nun; but I trust he will he saved at last. I believe he has suffered his due share in this life." "Arnen!"shouted Nimblctung from the back seat. Mrs. N. gave him such I look, but said nothing. The Swear-old Betty attended Snails « school lately as an observer, and during )1! rather long prayer kept her head reverently bowed in 1!!th of the «maple of her older companions. During the singing of the following hymn she turned to her companion. and With gravity whispered: “ Don't pray again; I'm tired of it." A I about one hour old was found on mfltyb‘yst North Aulcborn reanatly having '1: there during a terrible storm. He had no covering and was kicking lustily. How he got thercis s ray-u: . Rained down, perhaps. ‘I’Ileb'priugftlr llrpublkan.