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.1. .,:.... flaws .. H . 5 it Am. Vy .. , A, f;_“a’l a» a veg-ma; u “ . “may”: .._.., J THE DEAN AND HIS DAUGHTER casprsa Xiv (Continua) the foreman's face before he delivered it for himself and his companions. They found that I had been guilty of adultery with Mr. Sabine on various oecso sions, and more particularly on that when I had visited the yacht. And the judge: without any comment, gave efl‘ect to their finding in what Mr. Wylie told me were the usual terms. I felt stunned, and just remember Mr. Wylie giving me his arm and leading me out. of Court. Here I was a divorced woman, ruined and disgraced for ever, a thing to be shun- ned and avoided as if plague~stricken, and yet, as I shall have to answer for it in the last day, and in a Court where all hearts are open, as absolutely and wholly innocent of the foul charge brought against me as a child could be. I only just remember being helped into my brougham and driven rapidly back with Mrs. Fortescue to Sackville Street. The next thing I remember is waking up as if from a long sleep and seeing that the room was darkened and that there were medicine bottles about, and that Mrs. Fortescue was seated by my bedside. ,, “Now, you are to be perfectly quiet, dearest child," said she ; " and you are not even to talk to me.. If you do, I shall have to leave you and hand you over to a hos- pital nurse, which I’m sure you wouldn’t like. So lie still and keep quiet.” «A, I smiled languidly and tried to sit up in bed, but found I had not the strength. Mrs. Fortescue, however, managed to prop me up with pillows. Then she spouged my face and hands with Fan de Cologne and water, and gently curled my hair, which I noticed had been cut to about a'third of its length. Then she gave me a glass of champagne and milk. av of,“ . “This is what you have been living on, my swaet, for nearly a fortnight,” she said "and now you must lie down again." , Just as docilely as a child, I did exactly as she told me, and so lay for some hours, as it seemed to me, watching the pattern of the wallpaper and counting the tassels on the fringes oi the bed hangings. M... Then a stout tall man came who felt in pulse and smiled pleasantly. “You will soon be able to be moved,” he said. “I think we must send you to Torquay, or, at any rate, somewhere south. Meantime you must be kept quiet, and you I must drink champagne whenever Mrs. Fertescue here tells you to do so. We all want to get you away from here and to see the roses in your cheeks. But we can’t do that until you are strong enough to be moved.” I must indeed have been terribly weak, for this pretty little speech seemed almost as interminable to me as the summing up of the judge himself. It quite tired me out. I remember Mrs. Fortescue handing me a bunch of violets, which I smelt, and then kept in my fingers. "They come from Nice my dear," she said, “where we will go in the winter, if you will only do as you are told, and get strong again. As soon as you can be moved we will leave town, and the sea air will bring back the roses." Then she sat down and took up a book, nodded at me kindly over the top of it, and began to read, or pretend to read, with admirable industry. I was now sufficiently recovered to real- ize that I was indeed far weaker than I had supposed. So I allowed my eyes to close dreamily, and from weakness, for it could not ssibly be weariuess, fell asleep again. I Kund afterwards, what I did not then know, that they had saved my life by morphia, which had been actually forced into my veins through a tiny little syringe with a point no larger than a needle. I found also that for some days my life had been despaircd of; that Mrs. Fortescue had never left my bedside that Mr. Sabine had called twice and sometimes three times every day ; and that the Very Rever- end tho Dean had left town for the Cathedral Close on the evening of the trial, and the Sunday after bad preached a most affecting sermon, in the delivery of which his voice was frequently choked with emotion, while the eligible widows and spinsters, who formed the bulk of the congregation, had sobbed andibly. The sermon \vas afterwards printed by special request, and my father had actually the assurance to send acopy of it to myself and another to Mrs. Fortescue, with his own precious autograph on the title page. " A signature, my dear," said M rs. Fortescue, “ which before he got his deanery, the smallest money-lender in England would not have touched with a pair of tongs.” And I could not help laughing, for I knew that. when we were living at Ossul- ston. my father was perpetually writing to advertising money-lenders, who never so much as condescended to even anzwer his epistles. l CHAPTER XV. We found Torquay a place perfectly in- tolerable, filled with rich pervenus, andl oppressive with its lare of stucco. We! were told of pleasant aces inland :Totness amen others, and aignton, now a mere‘ subur of To pay, were both mentioned. Then glowing eacriptions were given us of the magnificent scenery of the Dart and of Dartmouth Harbor. Ultimately we decided upon giving atrial toa place very little known,but certainly none the less desirable on that account. We pitched on Lvdall,an extraordinary little vii age on the Cornwall coat, somewhere about ten miles distant from the nearest railway station, The houses in Lydall are built of - stone, and roofed with slate, both Cornwall pro- ducts. The walls ace of stone, for there. are no hedges Vicar, who is rich on sixty pounds a year, a stone house, and an acre of salt marsh known as the globe, is the only man of lord of the small inn, who is also proprietor of one or two shabby stone villas, which he I ennui ma thg "mike of an jury in lets furnished for the season at a very fair rice. - F To Lydall according we went, and there I once again began to myself. A_pony carriage, much as I should have enjoyed t, was out of the question. The Cornish roads would kill any decent pony in a week; but there was the Cove, always leasent and beautiful, and as entirely lan docked as the Bay of San Francisco. We used to saunter about the lanes, and sit on the beach and distribute figs and sweetmeats among the children, who were grossly ignorant and poverty stricken, but in vi orous health. On y fancy village children, who have heard the cuckoo all their lives and do not even know its name. “ I have found, my dear,’ said Mrs. Fortescue one evening, “ two exceptions to the uniform and monstrous stupidity of this place.” “ Who or what are they 2" I inquired. “ They are the ostler here at the inn, and an old vagabond who is strongly suspect~ ed of being a poacher, but who is one of the most amusing rascals with whom I have ever talked. The osller is believed to know rather more about French brandy than be generally cares to own. It may be a scandai,for ho is a very civil man indeed; but the fact is not a secret here. They say that he was once a gentleman, but be him- self is very reticent with regard to his past career.” - And so our days passed pleasantly enough. We lived, so Mr. Fortescue declared, like duchesses, except in the one matter of salon accomodation, and we lived for next to nothing. ‘ " We arenot saving money, my dear, we are almost making it,” Mrs. Fortescue used to say. “ It is a. place of enchautment and of perfect solitude.” We were standing, as she repeated this, in the little garden outside our house,which was devoted according to the season to roses, hollyhocks, mignouette, sweet peas, and almost every variety of garden pro- duce. Suddenly we became aware that Lydall en masseâ€"tlie men, women, and childrenâ€"â€" was making its way down to the Cave. “ It can't be the Plymouth boat, Miriam,” said Mrs. Fortescue. ” That doesn’t come 10-day. Come along, get your hat." I did as I was told, and we hurried down to the Cove. A steamer was perceptib'e nearing straight for the narrow channel. As she grew nearer, we could see the white ensign. The solitary Coastguardsman politely offered us his glass,and lowered his shoulder to afford a convenient rest for that weather- beaten instrument, which, if villa e report were but half true, had more tfiun once served him in good stead as a useful and handy substitute for a constable’s trun- cheon. Mrs. Fortesaue took the first peep, and without comment handed the glass to me. I looked through it, and saw standing erect in the very bows of the vessel, and scanning the shore through a field glass, no other person than George Sabine. â€" Mrs. Fortescue took my arm and tried to hurry me towards our house. " We shall havo to meet, dear child,” she whispered; " and the thing had better not he done quite in open vestry. Let us avoid the parson and the clerk, and the church- warden, and all the other old women as long as we can possibly do so.” But a strange fascination rooted me to the spot, and as the vessel steamed through ,the narrow little pass between the cliffs into the Cove, I heard the words “let go,” called out in a voice that I knew only too well; and immediately afterwards the‘ puff of the engines ceased, and the click and rattle of the cable struck my car as distinctly as the tick of a large watch. “ \Ve must go in,” said Mrs. Fortescue, “ and we must leave word or send down w0rd which will look better, that you cannot possibly be ‘seen until eleven o’clock to- uiorro iv morning. Eleven o'clock is always an excellentftime.” W's went- in and gave our instructions. It was exactly as Mrs. Fortescue had pre- dicted. Before ten minutes had passed, Mr. Sabine had called at the house, had had his answer, had left his card with Yacht Evangeline R. Y. S. in the corner of it. and had made his way back to the Cove. “ The village will talk, my dear,” said Mrs. Fortescue; “ but it' will all be about the yacht, and everybody will be mad for permission to go on heard her. They will be rowing round her till sunset, and with daybreak tomorrow morning, and they will be trying to sell him eg s and butter, and poultry and meat, and al that kind of thingâ€"all of which he will probably have on board. I should not be surprised if the innkeeper did not go alongside with some bottles of British brandy, and his Gospel oath in his mouth that they had never paid duty, which would be strictly true, though not exactly in his own sense. And now you must go to bed at once, or the Cornish roses inyour checks will be fading to-morrow. Come along, I am lady’s maid." Next morning at eleven we were in our little parlor and seated at the window. Within a minute of the time, Mr. Sabine came swinging up the road with the same long, lithe, panther-like step. His immense boarhound slouehed along after him, and as the master passed through our garden gates, tlic hound in obedience to a gesture coiled himself u outside them, and lay down with such a angerous look about him that the crowd of village child- ren and gossips melted away. I rose to meet him as he entered the lroom and held out my hand. I was ha py and glad tosee him,and I know my ace must have told him as much. Then he greeted Mrs. Fortescue, and then he somehow settled himself in a wicker- work chair. “ The sea has thrown me up," he said, “ high and dry in this curious little neck. I am told that there is no doctor within five miles,and no lawyer within eight or ten. Also there is no local reporter. and con- uently no list of fashionable arrivals. We might almost be at St. Helena or As. censlon. ltis delightful to be for once in a way in a pretty lace, and to have it all to divide the fields. Thc‘to yourself. Mrs. ‘ortescuo, Iam shocked were you here. You ought by this time to have bound the Dean to your chariot v tools. and to be driving with him round superlative. W“ "W exception 11' ‘50 ‘afl-l- , the Cathedral Close," And then we all laughed. a hearty, genuine laugh. that did all of us good. Presently it was settled that we should take a stroll, and as we out through the street we found that public curiosity had subsided. Everybody had gone down to the Cove to store at the yacht and her crew, and to drive little bargains with them, if possible. And so, as Mrs. Fortescne de« clared herself unequal to a tramp through the. chalk, Mr. Sabine, and I, and Serge, sauntered up the hill together. Presently we reached a large field of green wheat just beginning to show streaks of gold onthe lightsoll under-the keen sun. "Waves of shadow" passed over it, and all Nature seemed alive aswe crossed over the little stile. A lark was singing lei-lonely, hovering over its nest. A black 'rd darts-dent from the hedge with its noisy shriek close under our feet, and right across our path. Then a shy little field mouse showed itself scut- tering about between the ears. And in a beech tree overhead a bright-eyed squirrel sat up and looked sauoily at us as he went on shelling his mast. The twitter of the small birds would have seemed petulant but for the drowsy ,hum of the insects and the strange whirr of the corncrake, now hear, now distant, and obviously trying to lure us from the vicinity of its nest. ‘ We rested at last on another stile which led into a hayfield, that made the air heavy with its wealth of clever. I sat down almost out of breath on the step. Serge coiled himself up at my feet. Mr. Sabine leaned against the top rail shook himself much after the manner of his own hound, and then lit a cigar. “I am glad to see you," he broke silence ; “looking better than I hoped. You must have had a terrible trial, and a wretchedly dull time of it . We have not, however, long to wait. My lawyers tell me that we can be married on this very day four months, which will be the day after what they call the decree is made absolute. Four months seems a long time when you are waiting, but it passes rapidly enough. I suppose it would have been more prudent not to have come near you. But in the first place I could not possibly keep away from you, and in the next place i. wish you to know once again from my own lips, that I shall come to claim you. Meantime 1 would hurry you away with me from here to the South, but I am resolved that no one shall have the chance of speaking evil of your ’ name with the shadow of truth behind it.” “You are very good,” I answered chok- ingly, “far more good than I deserve.” And then I burst out crying. Well, he comforted me, of course in his own way, as tenderly as if I was some little village maid who had fallen down on the hints, and torn her_clotlies, and cut her hands. and knees. And when my tears were’dri'ed and I had stammered out something about being foolish, and not feeling very strong, and the heat, and so on, saying just what- ever came first, he gave me his arm again, and we strolled down the hill back to the village. A journey seems always short when it is downhill,and shorter still when it is happy. Mrs. Fortescue had spied us, and was in waiting for us at the little cottages by the Vicarage corner. Then of course, conver- sation began at once; It was commonplace brisk,and cheerful,and principally sustained by Mrs. Fortescue herself. No power on earth, she declared, would make her go on board the yacht, or allow me to go. It would be unlucky. The gig might come next morning and row us round to the little island, if Mr. Sabine likcdhand we could picnic very splendidly. Meantime lunch “as ready, and we must come in. It had been waiting some time ; but luckily, that didn’t matter, as everything was cold and the ice hadn’t melted, for the very simplefandsufficiout reason that there wasn't a knob of ice as big as a walnut for all the Cornish arms to melt. So we- went in and lingered over lunch, and were really as happy, and I can honest. ly say as innocent, in all our happiness as children. How the time passed I cannot tell ; but I know that the shadows were lengthening rapidly, and the swallows flying low as we sauntered down to the Cove. We-saw the boat pull off. W6 watched Mr. Sabine spring on to theqdeck, and we waved our farewell to him from the sands before we turned back, "You ought to be a very happy woman, my dear," said Mrs‘ Fortescue, as she sat in the twilight in her chair before the empty hearth, with her tumbler of brandy and soda-water. “I am tired' of telling you that I wish I were half as happy as yourself. You are rid of that insufferable old prig, Sir. 1 Henry; you are rid of that cauting old humbug, your father; and there is a, man madly in love with you, of whom any ‘woman might be proud, and for whom nine woman out of every ten would give their heads and ears. I shan’t alter my opinion, and I can’t add to it : and I've finished my brandy and soda, and it’s high time for all good people to be in bed.” (so as coxrmusn) KILLED BY A TOMBSTONE. Enslaehc ltoblllnnl Meets With a Horrible Death at Ottawa. An Ottawa. despatch sayszâ€"Eustache Robillard aged 20 years, who lived with his mother and brother at Janeville, met with a horrible death about 10 o'clock on Friday morning. For seven years he had been a carter for B. Brown, proprietor of the marble works in George street. On that day he had to take a heavy tombstone to Bearbrook. Near Blackburn -a traveler found his horses standing still on the road and Robillard dead, his head sticking from between two spokes of one of the wheels and his body caught in the wagon. His neck was broken, and from the appearance of the road it was deducted that the horses had one some yards without the wheel, in whic the deceased's head had caught, turn- ing, and had then stopped, owing to the heavy strain on them. Deceased was sub- ject to fits. ~_â€".â€" Nd C entials Needed. Maidâ€"“Gentleman in the parlor wants to see you ma’am. " hire. De Avnooâ€""A gentleman f" Maidâ€"“0h, yes. ina'am, he's a real gentleman. He chucked me under the chin, ma’am.” Poets’ Corner. For Her. For her the sweetest blossoms should breathe a perfume rare. For her the tendered music should come float. ing through the air: For her chorcest treasures should deck and pave the way, ‘ And in the brightest beams of sunlight at her feet in g cry play. For her the blushing rosebud should discard its cruel thorn. And for her heaving bosom other eager searchers scorn: For her a pure contentment should throw strong arms about And circle her, while pleasure shuts all care and sorrow out. For her I'd make the journey through this land of bitter tears. A lasting day of smiling love, devoid of doubt and fears: - Her faith should glow resplendent, should be a lovelit dream. While ’round her rays of happiness forever- moro should gleam. They Are Dead. (From Outlook). There was aman who never told a lie- But he‘s dead: Novogsaid it was wet when the weather was ryâ€" ' Never said Ho (1 caught hsb when he hadn't can ht one. Never said he’d done something that o hadn't done Never scolded his wife. and never got mad, And go‘iiildn’t believe that the world was so a . 7A respecter of men. a defender of woman. \Vho elieved the divine, and in that which was human : Heck as Mosrsâ€"ho never was understood, And the poor man died of being too good. And he's dead. There was awoman who never had gossiped a bitâ€" She's dead, too: Who hated all scandal, nor listened to it: She bcl cved in mankind, took care of her car, Always turned a. deaf ear to this story or at: Never scolded hei- husbandâ€"she never had one; No sluggard was she. but rose with the sun: Never whispered in meeting, didn’t care for a v Donner. ‘ Or enter the feathers that one could put on 1 . Never sl‘it with the choir, nor sang the wrong no 0: Expressed no desire to lecture or vote : For the poor soul was deaf as a posh-also dumb; You might have called forever, and she wouldn't have come. And she’s dead. â€"_ Alone. Alone when the day is dawning. Alone when the night deWs fall: Under the veil at the bridal. Under the gloom at the pail, , Behind impenetrable barriers To work out its life of dole, From its first faint cry till the hour to die Is the doom of each mortal soul. First tender thought of the mother Who brings us forth in pain, As she looks in the eyes of her offspring Some clue to its soul to gain, “ Of what is my baby thin kin g. \Vitli that gaze intent and wise 1” But over remains the mystery, And never a voice replies. Alone is the child in his sorrow Over the broken toy. Alone is the stricken lover, Mourning a vanished joy ; Alone is the bride at the altar, Alone the bridegroom stands. With his hidden life between them, That and their plighted hands. Alone lies the wife, with the canker Of blighted hope in her heart; Alone is the bus and dreaming 0f balked mnbition's smart; And so from the birth to the burial, From the first to the latest breath, In crowded streets on lonely steeps. The soul goes alone till death. The Flower of Sorrow. Tho ashon flower of sorrow springs Regardless of degree; . ’Mid golden pumps and glitterings It b come with pallid glee. The tours that fall on laces line A pang far hcener know 'l‘han those on beggar cheeks ushino. Or over rags allow. And Love the comforter, alas, With healing on his win , The lordly palace door dot pass To root he the beggars stings. ._..â€"___.â€"â€"_-â€"_. An 111 Wind, etc. The present condition of the coal indus- try in the United States has no doubt been the cause of agreat deal of trouble and loss, but on the principle of the old proverb about an “ ill wind that blows nobody any good,” it has at any rate been the means of drawing attention to our Canadian re- sources in “black diamonds.” Au illustra. tion of this is seen in the increased activity of the mines of the Nova Scotia coal district. Despatches show that the rich J oggings region has come in for a good share of orders from Boston and Portland, its natural field of export and the probability seems to be that the coal famine in the Stateswillgive a finalimpetus to Canadian coal such as has long been desired. Nova Scotia has a good home output, but the position she is now taking in the American market gives her a fine opportunity of demonstrating the superior quality of her fuel, and the wedge thus inserted will not bewithdrawn. â€".â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€" A DESPERATE AFFRAY. floss Fight With Scythes and Pltchtorks Around aCorpso. A Dublin despatch says :â€"â€"An old wom- an who owned half an acre of ground at Nenagh, county of Tipperary, died Friday without leaving a relative or specifying an heir. Her neighbors quarreled on Saturday over the ion of her land. Some 30 men fought with scythes and pitchforks round her but. Eventually they broke down the door, upset the body and beat each other with the candles, which had stood round the body. When the ii ht was ended two men lay dead at the oorstep and five others were too severely wounded to walk from the scene of the conflict. A farmer named Dwyer, living near Neuagh, was killedln another agrarian quarrel on Friday. ._...._._.‘â€"___..___._ Mr. and Mrs. Cane of Newmarket, re- cently celebrated their golden wedding. Detroit firemen offer the use of their fire- The new steam tug John J. Long was :1} t0 Willde Whenever it- may be need- aunched at Collingwood last week. LEGS NOT A NECESSITY. - flue lotu- Cyele. Drives Itselfâ€"A Galle- of Coal on Throws uncle in the Shade. The latest conception of the inventive geniuses who cater to the requirements of the wheel world is the motor cycle. The novelty is intended to take the place of- buggies and carriages and is designed to be of service at all seasons of the year and in every kind of going. The tires are fully four inches in diameter and vibration is reduced to a minimum. The motive power is produced by coal oil, and as soon as the rider takes his seat so. curely the machine does the rest. A gallon of oil will drive the single-seat motor ‘200 miles, while twice the quantity will send the new four~wheeled contrivanee a similar distance with three passengers aboard. r a: FOR. ONE TO RIDE ON. The four-wheeler seems destined to a long lease of popularity. It practically consists of two ladies’ bicycles connected by a carriage seat in which three passen- gers can seat themselves comertably. The speed can be controlled at the operator’s will, but just how fast a “ scoreher" may send it along will not be known with any degree of accuracy' until the practical speed trial is held on some date in the near future. A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO. The designer has been long before the public with his air-sli'p theories, and now that he hits got down to term firms the chances are that his ideas will be found of practical utility. ~Experts who have exam- ined the two types of cycle shown in the accompanying cuts think they are destined to play a prominent part among the sea- son’s invontions. Should a tithe oi the in- ventor’s ho es be realized, the public must be preparer; to see citizens gliding along with far less waste of energy than is requir- ed to climb an elevatorstairs . With a motor cycle, a gallon of coal oil, and a box of matches, the veriest cripple will be able to hold his own with the most muscular pro- digy bestriding a wheel. â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" Beneath his Dignity. The churchwsrdens of an English village had placed an organ in their little church, and in the delight of their hearts they told the archdeaoon what' they had done at his next visitation. He fell in with their enthusiasm, and advised them to have a grand opening, at which Doctor C.â€"a well-known musicianâ€"should be present. 7 The advice was easily taken. Placards were posted, and the service was advertised in the local papers. The all-important day arrived, and with it Doctor 0., who was at once shown up into the singing-loft where stood the instrument in a case brilliant with glided pipes known to the profession as “ dummies.” _ “ But where is the keyboard 2” inquired the great man who had already been some- what disconcerted at the size of the organ. “ 0h,” said the churchwardcn, “ we turn un round wi’ that there,” pointing to the handle. The amazement and indignation of Doc- tor C. were beyond words. He had been invited to open a hand-organ ! Death of the Sultan of Morocco. Muley Hassan, Sultan of Morocco and “Prince of True Believers,” has gone the way of all flesh, and his ofttimes obstrepe- roua subjects, instead ofmourning his death seem disposed to fight over his throne. During his life he was a fine specimen of the Oriental despot, a stalwart. handsome man, wearing “the shadow’d livery of the burnished sun " with imposing and re al dignity. His court ceremonies were 61 ed with barbaric splendor,and his authority was absolute over all his dominions so far as he was able to enforce it, his actual power over the more distant of his tribesmen ' being extremely vague. This condition of affairs was the cause of constant complications with the foreign consuls, who held him res- ponsiblefor all the excessesof his uncontroll- able subjecu. What effect his death, violent or otherwise, may have upon exist. nge international conditions remains to be iseu, but it seems robable that “the Morocco question” wi 1 again come up for he consideration of the powers of Europe- Spread of Tuberculosis. It is hard for an old-fashioned farmer on an isolated farm to bring himself to believe in the widespread prevalence of tuberculosis among cattle, and still harder for him to realise that fatal germs, that will eventual ly car 03' tender infants, can hide them- selves n the innocent looking milk. But not so very long ago a dairy. not far from New York city, was sus cted of the infec- ti0n. Specimens of mil from twelve out of twenty-five cows were found to contain tubercle bacilli, and rtions of this milk was injectedâ€"with t orough aseptic ro- portionscâ€"into a healthy Guinea dp . he animal aduall emaciated, an 1: three weeks led. be autopsy showed cheesy tubercles at the centres of the mesenteric and inguninal glands, and the liver and s leen were teeming with miliary tuber- was romptly condemned by the Health Board). c es. The dairy from which that milk came .- «1 y en... mun: am m masâ€"u... momâ€"’C‘MWo‘mwdflW‘WM“ .‘w. I .w,