. “may†. , THE ViCAij’é GOVERNESS. ‘GOr-d-hv, Clarissa." she says. a litâ€"311.15th delighted fashion to gaze round ' er. tie. sad lmplorimg mdenoe desolating her: ., “,8 not] . to the drawing mom: mm' i that is the most beautiful room in the " Until to-morrow," replies Clarissa, i worhld," says lrre reslii’blg Amy, who is s - » ' in er g ory, an w . avin secure “It? M “teng M gmety' Enough m ‘ the unwilling but thoroughï¬y polite reality the childs mournful ace is opâ€" ! Bill, is hold-mg mm in her arms' and Prehiing hir- Then 8118 WHEN!» the j devouring him with unwelcome kisses. ponies lightly, and disappears up the ‘ " ‘iou shall see the whole house, pres- , , .- - ently." says Clarissa to Georgie, “in- rold and round the corner. “ltb Bill. eluding the room I hold in reset“, for 88 l'm‘t‘m‘umuy grave ‘15 “sualv Sit†you when these children have driven you tli' b lt u ri ht beside her." ‘to desperation." "A ‘ p g " That will he never," declares Amy. The next morning is soft and warm, . . . . . .. f al kiss t t ex usted and. indeed. almost sultry for the time 92 “1: like her garage mugs], and of year. Thin misty clouds, white and ‘ always will, I know, because nothing on amnion-y, enwmp the fields and barren earth could make me afraid of her! " .. , 3 At this they all laugh. Georgie. I ghost-like trees and sweep across the think, blushes a little; but even the distant hills. There is 8- sound 83 01 i thought that she is not exactly all she coming rain,â€"a rushing and a rustling ; ought to be as an orthodox governess in [hp-naked woods ".1 sun Wild mu- . cannot control her sense of the ludi- . .' ,, ' ’ v . icrous. am is abroad, as though a storm is: "Cissy. when is your father,s 00m impending, that shall. rise at night and cert, to come off? " asks Clarissa, presâ€" shake the land, the more fiercely lie-1811“?- . - “At once, I think. The old 0 _ can“ 0f its enforced ï¬nance an thb g is unendurable. I do hope it will he ought to.he1p. I insist upon the county dad'- ia success. as he has set his heart on uttmg its hands in its pockets." ‘ igetting a. new one. But it is hard to But. now. atpoon. ,make people attend. They will pay Upon the 50mm)!“ Blde 0f the Slant 3 for their tickets, but they won't come. hills, E And, after all, vhat theâ€"the others And where the woods fence off the _ like. is to see the country;- northern blast... . _ 5 "Get Dorian Branscombe to help you. The scumn smiles. reslgnmg 1!“ its rage: ; Nobody ever refuses him anything." And has the war.th 0f 3111.“ '1th “\\'ho is Dorian Branscombe ?" asks . vault is blue, _ _ Georgie, indifferently, more from want \Vithout a cloud; and white Without a I of swimming to say then any actual spook. desire to know. The dazzling Splendor 0f We 808116 be‘ " Dorian?" repeats Clarissa, as though low. surprised; and then. correcting herself . ’with a start... "I thought every one The frost htls 80118. for the time be‘ knew Dorian. But I forgot, you are a big: no snow fell last night; scarcely stranger. . He is a great friend of does the wind blow. If, indeed, “there; ï¬ï¬gelzflgfyves near H113- and You must is in souls a Sympathy With 50m¢3-" I ! " Every one 'likes him," says Cissy. fear Georgie and Cissy and the children ! cordially. must be counted utterly soulless, as hgigriggggnGeorgie- "IS be they mu to he†the mbbmg Of the! "Oh, nobâ€"with a soft blush, born of oomingstorm. but with gay voices and! the thought that if he is not the rose gayer laughter come merrily over the he ISNGYY near to it. " He is only road to Gowran. Upon the warm 'su'l- my fnend' and a nephew 0f Lord 531" . . . . toris.†, len air the children's tones ring like "50 great as that?n_with a faint sweet silver bells. a griinace. "You crush me. I suppose As they enter the gates of Gowran, he will hardly deign to look at me? " the youngest child. Amy. “ms to the As she speaks she looks at herself side of the new governess, and. slips in an opposite mirror, and smiles a small coquettish smile that is full of her hand through her arm. †I am going to tell you about all the innocent childish satisfaction, as she pretty things as we go along." she says. marks the fair vision which is given back to her by this friendly glass. . _ . "I hope he won't look at you too patronizmgly, yet half shyly, rubbing much, for his own peace of mind." says her cheek against . Miss Bmughton's Cissy, at which Clarissa laughs again; shoulder. She is a. tall, slender child, and then' the children gettmg .lmpa' acid to do this she has to stoop a little. " You fairy,†she goes on admiringly, encouraged perhaps by the fact that tient, they all go out to see the pigeons and the gardens, and stay lingering in she is nearly as tall as her instructress. "you are just like Hans Andersen’s the open air until afternoon tea is an~ tales. I don’t know why." nounced. "Amy! Miss Broughton won’t like CHAPTER XIV. . . " \Vh‘ere music dwells Lingering, and wandering on. as 10th , ,, . to die. v 37°11 ‘0 Sfleak to her hke that! says 03‘ Like thoughts whose very sweetness 5y, 0010113133 yieldeth proof « But Gemgle laughs- That they were born for immortality." "I don't mind a bit,†she says, giv- ing the child’s hand a reassuring pres- sure. " I am accustomed to being call- ed that, and, indeed. I rather like it as naught in the e . - , . .. yes of the parishion- 110‘“ . I supp?“ I “ml V8.†bmau- Bl"; ers. in that it is devoid of an organ. N0 ï¬lming, anxw‘ml-V to C13†' “1‘1 Speak' sweet sounds can be produced from the “13 quue “5 Shyly as the Chlld Amy awful and terrifying instrument that .ha'd SPOken a . moment Since! “the†for years has served to electrif the 153' me to “'11th am “Qt Mcuswmed' cars of those unfortunate enouyh to ‘fggnlt $511121: Zhéifosrggg‘lï¬hmn" pgslsestsfsitltgigs in the church. t has " Oh. are you sure you won't mind '3†8' 03$ Sénioï¬blé â€"\Vor dsworth. The parish church of Pullingham is Sunday it groaned ! mp m8 13 P And it was then. when he was at hisibarren walls will fail to recognize it ; l wits' end, that Mrs. Redmond unexpe edly came to the rescue. It was the first and last time in her life she ever rose to the occasion; but this one soli- tary time she did it perfectly, and com- ing boldly to the front. carried all be fore her. . . She would undertake a. Singing- clam: she would arrange. and teach,’ and keep together a chair that should reduce to ' ' nificance the r tensions of a man like preâ€" ! you want no oncelsc. . them! ! itself. is very efficient: and if you must ct- ! in its new-born beauty. â€"â€" "Then. shall we name the 4th as the Inesqu of the ruin: eta Stupid knee with day i" savs the vicar. with some trepiâ€" i dation. It is now the end of January. i and he is alluding to the first week in l the ensuing month. " I wish you could sing, Clarissa! I dare say you would help me." " Indeed I would. proved unkind to me. But Nature has And. after all. The choir. in The vicar. dazzled by_ all this unlockedâ€" call for ‘ out-door relief.’ why. you have for energy. gave his consent to her scheme, and never after re nted it;! for in three short months 5 e had re gulated and mached a singing-class that uninlistakably outshone its Mathematical mm 5. And then came the question of the new organ. . “ \V'e have some money but not something should be done to bring want of an organ before the public." ket near her. "The "I think you are uite right to in- sist," said Mrs. Re 0nd, but how are you going to do it? “ " Let us give a. concert,†said the vicar, at last bringing his wife’s breath away. “Y , a con- cert, to which the whole country shall come and hear an ass itself." this bold proposition, but, finally giv- ' in. she consented to teach the choir. assiduously twice a week. all the quar- tettes and trios and solos she knew; while still declaring, ina dismal fash- ion. that she knew the whole thing would be a. dismal failure, and that the great cause would lose by it more than it would gain. Many days, many hours. has _Mr. Redmond spent arranging and disar- ranging all the details of the proposed ' concert. The idea is in‘ itself a. " happy. thought,"-â€"far happier than any of Bur- nand’s (so he tells himself); but a. con- cert, however un retentious, is a pro- d' ious affair, an not to be conducted by half a. dozen raw recruits. Besides, the county admires the coun- but the county ought to hear of it, and gling when in the least excited." i placidly ; ! Lady Mary. and the others. That fearful voting man at Bellew is a fortune in himself; and ‘.\Ir. Johnson makes every- body cryâ€"and it is so nice to cry." †Yes.â€"yes.â€"I dare say," says the poor vicar, who is somewhat distrait. and. to say the truth, it little'miserable about the whole undertaking. “Now, there is Sarah Martin. Do you think enough money." said the vicar one even- Sshe will pull through? On her I build ing, to the partner of his joys; "and 38.11 my hopes; but some inward doubt theiabout her oppresses me. iman has a capital tenor; but he and "I should think it must be sufficently 9 Sarah don't speak.â€"she refused him. I bro ht before them every Sunday," ! thinkâ€"and so they won't sing their said _ Irs. Redmond. triumphantly lay- } duet ing her tenth mended sock in the bus- ; Bealman, she might stand to me: but . . lshe loses her voice when nervous, and parish is all very well. my dear, ' has a most uncomfortable trick of gig- \V'illie Beal- v together. Then there is Lizzie' “Put her in the background.†says Clarissa. “She is of no use, except in a chorus." . "Her people wouldn‘t stand it. They ' 1 look upon her as a. rising prima donna. to the light of§ day his great project. that fairly took; I assure you, my dear. Clarissa." says the Vicar, furtively wiping his brow, " only for the sin of it, there are moâ€"‘ 3ments when I could wish myself be». . Death the sod. myâ€"nay, yourâ€"choir zmore than I can bear!" l The incessant worry is ‘ “011, now. dOn't say that,†savs Miss 3 rs. Redmond was struck dumb by ; Peyton, patting his arm lovingly. “It will be a great success. this concert; I 7know, I feel it will!" - i ! :is expected to pay a visit to England 'during the coming spring. ty, and would prefer seeing itself reâ€", resented on the boards to listening to the warblinigs, be they never so sweet, of an outsider. It is so far more delicious to laugh behind one's fan at the people in one’s set than at those outside the pale of recognition. And, of course, the county must be humored. ‘ . The vicar grows nervous as he mas- ters this fact, and strives diligently to discover some among the upper ten who will come forward and help to sweeten and gild the “great unwashed." The duchess, unfortunately, is from home: but Lady Mary and Lady Patriâ€" cia are at the Castle, and Lady Maryâ€" when she can_be heard, which, do her justice, is ’very seldom, even in a. very small roomâ€"can sing nice little songs very nicely. Indeed, she is fond of describing -her own voice as “a sweet little voice," and certainly all truth is embodied in the word "little." Then there is young Hicks. the surâ€" geon’s‘ son. who boasts a. good. baritone, and is addicted to Molloy and Adams and all of their class, and who positive- ly revels in Nancy Lees. and such gentle beings as those to whom the “Tar’s Farewell " may be gently breathed. Then there is the long gawky man staying with the Bellows, who can shout from afar. and make music of his own that will probably, nay, surely, myâ€. the. “Val! 0‘35?†‘Y‘th “a deep and aloudâ€"then squeaked mildly: crâ€"r-râ€"k O a 10118‘ way toward bringlng down .‘mdlsgulsed 31gb.“ “inef- ‘Veu' that i went something inside; there was a the house. as far as thefarmer class 18 8- 00mmâ€! 1‘ 15,911 I 03,11 do to mm.†! final shriek, more weird than the form- is concerned; and With him Will come “.83 yo!“ .mmm' 19“ $103 t 1901‘ 9' blt ! er. and then all was still! How thankâ€" Miss BelleW. W110 can prOduce 8: Very Pk“ 9' M15? Anyth‘ngv you know' 8‘an ful they should have been for that! respectable second in any dilet. and Who 620mb Sims 3'0,“ dow." to the ground- ‘ I believe they were truly and devout! is safe to go anywhere With the long Loqk: 100k! “19†.‘5 tn}? '3'?" Where 80. but love for the “heavenly maid " ga“'ky young 111811. if report Speaks the £81m“ dan at night" .crlcs Am-V- still reigned in all their hearts, and I‘uU- ' eagerly. her little, thin. spiritual face with joy they hearkened to their vicar Mrs. McConk-Le' from the neighboring arish, will lend a. helping hand, her magni icent oldoak tree that stands a art from all the others and looks as t ough it had for centuries defied time indeed to be given for the purpose of raising funds whereWith to purchase a new organ, or, at least, to help to purchase it._ The very. thought_ was enough to raise high jubilee ‘Wlthln their musical hearts. . Now the one good thing still belong- mg to Mrs. Redmond is the remains of what must once have been a very beau- tiful mice. \_Vith' this she possesses the power of immrting to others her own knowledge 0 music,â€"a rather rare gift. \Vith her own _ children, of course, she can do nothing; they are veritable dead-letters in her hands,â€" she.beii_ig one of those women who spend their lives admonlslung and thrusting advice upon the world. yet find them- selves unequal to the government of their own households. But with the Village chorr all is different; here she reigns supreme. and is ‘made much of, “\r‘ 3 I 1 u Th for Pulliiigham is decrdedly' muSical, -. L‘s l'rouf-r limbâ€"‘1 10m "‘ "glib ' and all its young men and all its young :i:..:-.:.::‘-:.z....?2 a: refinance think they _ _ ,- i - . A ' 0' ing 1 e Singing. pupll.. ‘iesl “Aell. the-Ere. 1!} that Tenors. sopranos. and basses are to Sl‘Oli '5 3 marble ELM-“e 0 3. “0"â€?- be me! williu‘ound every corner; the and underneath 1101‘ IS 11 Sl’f‘lmf- ‘ t , very air is thick with them. The Pull- Evotn!‘ Elle)“ 61:3; SQ igï¬rï¬qsï¬op inghamitcstxlxl-ill sing, wtliicther theytgan iii v tlssas.‘i'g .t ‘ :or no,w1 ago an agusto at 3:};«l‘_tl‘i)iik\v;int§{stlbiirgfa Jigs“; $313!} ! ipeaks.Evelllfoiitheir lungs. if a trifle ‘ . 1‘ ~ ‘v f ‘ . ' rvin"r o .10. is cners. for him. he was so good and noble. am j _'\'m-°a.l'music being the thing held 60“ ‘I‘v‘illli kflgvfldllllkllt lime ! t mt tell ; mtg-hes: \IP mam. im the Bieth‘mislt chhélpel' In ' .‘Q , ' ' u ‘2 ‘ ? w ierc . r. eat mm. 1 e " i et y " (Inst, gildï¬i‘iantligt staginkncw I parson. holds ungrthorfiox servlilces. many “‘3†" . i ' ‘ -‘ . " t 5939 ' “I didn‘t." with equal indignation: ii? joinL tifgsciigffnin tthee 'f"‘.“‘."_j‘.!‘i‘5‘1‘:“s' youlmlfhherl‘lmutl‘h‘é washed chapeh and shout the hymns tillli‘rrti: in mom- sm 110I 1mg 9- >°u of .Moody {Int} Sgiikey. Just at the com- :' “'01!- M 3'†“""ntsn" 533.5 aml'gie’ mg'uifiinsï¬Ã©sgmiisLit-sight: to breakin " the)†“ 1‘“? t3“) 0‘ l1!“ fireflies-E Smries Mr. Redniond's heart. The organ ha I “Y†{ward l“ my “‘9'â€! dont know failed him: it had wheeled, indeed, vali- Wlilxllo‘y'é‘iioiihitp{ggllefï¬e †breaks in ?nt(!{\: to the last. as though getermined Amy. hurriedly. feeling .it' is’honestly {Laid}, Efligii'itmbrgafih‘gd‘lizts iié‘i‘eéujr‘ii in: it? sari-assign!assume' 3:13.13: are“; allows refused to w r ‘ ~ . ‘ 3. no 10 o e. the Second the whole of one night what was to he done? The villagers but)?“ "3909“! if“? ,, . E h“ should and would have musnc at any hot Elm \\ [1018 Of ll. l)“ts 1“ t L - cost. and they never could be brought “ï¬f‘éï¬â€˜ll-l s“ m“. nus is mv gm" ! to see the enormity of worshiping in the at all‘hvems’wdeclares Amy .an‘srril‘v'I whnewasm‘l Chap“! Pb“. “'55- ‘md 15' "and I shall just tell it as I'like.“ :' $31253?pr 0‘ Banal m the eyes 0: "Poor King Charles!“ 883‘s GNE‘NG- It would take some time to procure Wilb 3 “‘an 1:; “chaff hi0 lift?“ funds for another and more satisfactory all the stories we ear. 'a ist I e'i'nie are“. In “I? meantime, the “.huom mftthï¬â€˜eharegvagsgts brat: [gemm choir _was falling to pieces. The late f tgamlg‘ won .t t as Cl . organust had accegeteda fresh andmore 0 min 1 5'“ “I‘m-g lucrative post: t re was literally no and storm, and proved itself "sole king of forests all.†“ livery night the fairies have a ball there," says Amy. in perfect good faith. "In Spring there is a regular wreath of blue bells all around it. and they show where the 'good folk' tread." " How I should like to see them!" says Geo ie gravely. I think. in her secret sou. she is impressed bv the child's solemnity. and would prefer to believe in the fairies rather than other- Wise. " Well. you ought to know all about them," says Amy. with a transient but meaning smile: " you belong to them. don't you? \Vell" Selmainily). “per- haps some. night we a all go out hand "in hand and meet them here, and dance ! . . . . , l llghtm- “1th eamesmess' pomtmg ma! when he suggested the idea of a concert ! with them all the way to fairyland.â€â€™ as they approach. but. seeing them.she head to the member“ togethen runs down the steps and advances what was to be done, W“! ‘9 meet than “ In desperation the vicar asked him- “f‘ome in." she says. How late you ecu mix. whue 100k; vainly round are! I thought you had proved "faith- for some one to he“, - drag hack kï¬â€˜Agï¬d“ï¬?‘ï¬gtuï¬mggï¬ .9} Fem, flofk from the vicious inflame o: . . - ‘ . ' ". mericsn son stem,“ as mos W- ‘5 um" "‘mr- “099m in ‘ chdd‘ irreverently termedg Messrs. M. and S. husband being a brother clergyman; and there is, besides, Mr. Hendley, who plays the violin, and Mr. Johnson, who can recite both comical and melancholy pieces with such success as to bring tears or laughter, as the case may be, into the eyes of any one with half a soul! As nobody will confess to anything less than a whole soul, everybody in Pullingham laughs or cries immoderate- . 1y whenever Mr. Johnson gives way to - recitations. And last, but not least, there is al- ways Sarah Martin, the leader of the village choir. and the principle feature in it, whose strong if s ightly earâ€" ierc- ing soprano must prove her wort y of a new organ. To the vicar's intense chagrin, Do- rian Branscombe is absent,â€"has. in- deed. been up in town since the day before Georgie Broughton's arrival, now ' a. fortnight old. Dorian would have been such a com- fort! Not that he sings, or plays, or fiddles. or, indeed. does anything in particular, beyond cajoling the entire neighborhood; but that, as it happens, is, in this case everything. To cajole, to entrcat, to compel the people to come ‘the Field-Marshal of J apani, is a. in and fill the empty benches, is all. the. vicar would require at his hands.- And Dorian could do all this. No one ever refused him anything. Both old women and young women acknowledge his power and give in to him, and hard» ly feel the worse because of their sub-r servience.â€"he havinga little way of his ; out: that makes them believe. whens they have been most ignominiously lie-i frayed into saying “yes†to one of his wildest propositions, he has been con- ferring a favor upon them. more or. less, for which he is just too generous‘ to demand thanks. But this invaluable ally is absent. The vicar. in the privacy of his own sanc- tum,â€"-where no one can witness the un- godly deedâ€"stamps his feet With vex»..- - r: as he thinks of this. and tells him- self he is unlucky to the last degree, and acknowledgesa worth in Dorian Branscombe never learned before! ‘ Clarissa is perfectly delighted With the whole idea, and somewhat consoles him by her ready offer of assistance, and her determination to step into the absent Dorian's shoes and make love to the country in his stead. _ She persists in calling it the "first mncert of the season," which rather alarm the vicar. who is depressed by his wife's prognostications of failure. and sees nothing but ruin ahead. She declares her intention of publishin it in all the London papers. and of era the whole of the winter conservatories to decorate the school-house (where it is to be held). so that those accustomed to the sight of its white and somewhat .do not, -used to leave the late Mr. Lowe and : of men ipor_taiice, and _ . lwhich they are interested is. perhaps, (To Be Continued.) ! ..-s.-._ PERSONAL POINTERS. Interesting News About Some onlie Great! Folks of the “'orld. .. The Princess of )Vales plays the or- .gan, harmonica. piano and zither. Signor Crispi, the Italian Premier,‘ Mrs. Ernest Leverson. who writes so " amusineg in Punch, is a. very pretty woman, quite young. and always beau- tifully dressed. Zola. who cordially despises _Eng- lishmen, will pay another visit to England next spring. He thinks _of writing a book dealing with industrial life as it exists in Birmingham and Manchester. ! Danjero, the most famous tragic actor in Japan, has received and declincda flattering offer for a series of performâ€" ances in Europe. He writes that he is too feeble, and addszâ€"“Sixtyâ€"four autumms have whitened my hair and weakened my memory." The Russian novelist Stepniak is preparing a, work called “ King Stork and King Log," which is said to bea true picture of national conditions in Russia as they are to-dayâ€"the names of his title standing respectively for the late Czar and the present one. Among the memoirs soon to be pub- lished are those of Admiral Lord Clar-r once Paget. now 84 years old. The.Ad- miral has seen a good deal of British public life, having served in the Cri- mean war and been Secretary of the Admiralty under Lord Palmerston. Annie Besant was a. religious enthu- siast in her early years, and was in- clined to become a nun, but compro- mised by marrying a clergyman. It was after her divorce, and after her association with Charles Bradlaugh, that she became a Theosophist. She was for a time a. pupil of Huxley. Isabella Bird Bishop is regarded as one of the most valuable members of the Royal Geographical Society. Bo- ing skilful both as a. photographer and a descriptive writer, she has sent home to England from the Orient much! novel and interesting material from the remote regions of China, Thi- bet, and Persia. . Miss Kingsley, who is conducting some extraordinary explorations in Africa, writes that she has been as- sociating with cannibals for months, and that one of the strange things she has seen recently was a number_ of human corpses hung up in a' Twage~ house like hams, to be eaten by the occupants! Mme. Oyama, the beautiful wife of: graduate of Vassar, and was vale- dictorian of her class at that institu- tion. She is an accomplished linguist, holds the position of chief lady-inâ€" waiting to the Empress, draws the highest salary of any woman at court and instructs in European man- ners and etiquette. The Rev. Peter Mackenzie, who .dicd last week in London, was once ‘stopped by a. highwayman. who de- manded money. The minister offered him half a crown, and that not be- ing accepted doffed his coat and gave him what the man now describes ‘as a "dashed good licking." The high- wayman subsequently became one of Dr. Mackenzie's converts. According to the London \Vorld, the Duke of Devonshire does not shine in; the reception of deputations. ’l‘hcy indeed, leave him as they the late Mr. Ayrtonâ€"with the aspect who have been kickedâ€"but they are profoundly dispirited. He manages to convey to them the im- pression that nothing is of any im- that the subject in of less importance than anything else. Somebody recntly reproached Prof. Max Muller for “wasting his time" on mythology. He replieszâ€"“All I can say is that this study gives me intense pleasure, and has been a real joy to me all my life. I have toiled enough for others: may I not in the evening of my life follow my ownl taste? I see much more in my tho- I y than appears on the surface. and- I gelieve the time will come when this is fully understood. And al- though I am glad to have lived Ion enough to Witness the triumph 0 some theories which, when first utter-l ed, were wide! and fiercely conw damned. I _hnl to my own belief that Truth is in no hurry. I 1 His Head Was Working. Cabby~Come along and get in, if you ' want to drive home. Tootsâ€"\‘Vait a minute; I’ve got to bring this lamp post along to hang on to when I try to get out. .tremo sensibility and ' character. on Brillia'ni but hinted. Heredity is a conspicuous feature in the theory of criminal anthropology' held by the school of which Lomhroso is the leader and Lombroso‘s Arrhivio di Psichiatria contains in a recent issue an article illustrating it. It is a story by Renieri di Rocchi of three gener- ations of an Italian family. D, whose family since the early years of the sixâ€" teenth century had produced only coni- monplace men and women. married U. ‘ whose ancestors. immediate and remote, had been brilliant men and womcu.with here and there a physical taint that often took the form of ophthalmic. and of a degeneration affecting the skin. v while others had exhibited psycho-ethi- cal anomalies. D was normal and un- disliuguislied. like all his recent ances- tors. and was manifestly the inferior of his wife. She inherited the brilliancy of her race, gathered about her an in- tellectual society, and sometimes wrote =verse. Her letters to D were clover and charming, though not marked with strong evidences of affection, D's chief defect as a husband was a certain in- firmity of temper. marked by occasion- al outbursts of anger. Six children were born to this pair. One son showed great hrilliancy and fondness. for study, so that he prom- ised to make a name in the world of science or of letters, but he was early overtaken by blindness through the ’nheriied taint, and he died at 60, un- uistinguished. The second was a “mat- told," in the language of Lombroso and his school. He was clever, but utter- ly without application. Satiric oetry was his passion. He took to drin and to play. thus exhibiting the psycho- etliical taint of his mother's familynnd. died at 50 from the result of overindul- gence in the course of a too rapid life. The father's infirmity of temper took with this child the form of marked im- ; pulsiveness. - THE THIRD CHILD, a daughter was distinguished for ex- sweetness of She was affectionate," char- itable, and self-sacrificing- She lost. her husband and daughter, however, with- in a. month, and became a mad hypoch- ondriac. thus exhibiting the mental taint of the mother's famil . Two oth- er daughters inherited the ather's nor- 'mal character and apparently not his infirmity of temper as they are dis- missed ivith a line. The sixth child, a. boy. inherited traits of both parents in a marked degree. He was warmly af- fectionate, and his normal sense was highly developed, but, like the father. he was irascible, and at tiiiies"drivcn to exhibitions of great anger b trifles. He developed palpitation of tie heart toward 30. The inherited literary bent of the mother's family took in him the form of graphomania. He married an unusually sweet-natured woman, not of Italian blood and died at 40, leaving a. son and a daughter of tender years. Here began the third generation. The daughter was a girl of rare intel- lectual gifts and amazing confidence in her own judgment. Premature old age overtook her at 20. She, too.'was a. graphomaniac, and before she was 25 years old she had written many ro- mances. for the most part politicoâ€"re- ligious. She wrote with no wish for fame, but merely to put into words her opinions and conceptions of life. She refused. indeed, to seek a publisher for her writings. The brother, before reaching the age of 18, had written many romances, dramas, poems, and smiological studies. He, too, was a graphomaniac, and he published noth- ing save a few occasional poems. 0f four others in the third generation one was gifted, but he became a drunkard. A second showed no marked anomaly. and a third was unintelligent and ab- . normal. Thus the marriage of D. the scion of a normal and stupid race, with the bril- liant but tainted U. gave to the world a. strange succession of brilliant eccen- trics, hypochondriacs, muttoids. and drunkards. Strange Occurrences. These incidents doubtless have often been recounted in romances, but in this story they are fact. While walk- ing .by the river bank abovc Niagara Falls 8. little more than a year ago Joseph Kreis, of Indianapolis, rescued from death a young woman who had fallen into the river, and was rapidly being carried to the brink of the falls. The young woman's name was Effie Comstock. and she was the daughter of a retired banker of Madison. Wis. Last \l'cdncsday Mr. Krcis and Miss Comslock were married at Indianapolis, and then they went. to Loirziiisport. to live happily ever afterward, as the couples in romances always do. ___._.__.__.._____.- She Knew. William. she said gently. and yet in accents of repmof. you remember that I gave you several letters to mail last wet-k, don't you! Yâ€"ycs; ! remember it. But this is the, first time you have rc~ membered it since I gave t icm to you, isn't it? 1â€"! must confess that it is. How do you know 1 I put. a postal card addressed to my- self among the lot, and it hasn't yet reached me. It only casts a cent, and I find that is a Very effective way of keeping check on the rest of my mail. Now, dear, if you will hand in the let- _ ters, I'll run out and post t em my- self. His Future. Mrs. Bingoâ€"I don't know what we will ever do with Bobbie. It seems im- possible for him to learn how to spell. Bingo-We'll have to make a sign painter out of him. â€"-â€"â€". It has recently been estimated that a November fog in London mats for elec- tric lights. gas. accidents, delays and. ldamages about $500,000. Four million lobsters were captured last season on the Main coast. This exaeeds the entire catch of all the rest of the Atlantic coast. from Newllamp- shire to Florida. . I ‘ M‘ .1&‘ WNW-W . A STUDY IN HEREDITY. ï¬g.w21i.i£flg~,g_ .._‘ ._....._.__. .â€"-â€"..â€"_.- -mgw new u... ,N.. I Fri.-.“ ' ‘A‘m’. :mrrr. l? .4, .