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"2 .: i4++++++++++++++++i + 9 “t g pa thirst; + . + giantess 3:; ++++++++++++++++++++++ “Well, Canham, I congratulate you You are one of the lucky ones.” “Oh, as to that, you know, I think I’ve got my head screwed on the right way. Of course, Joyce is a very pretty girl and all that, and I’ve always known that she was fond of me, and when old Marlow made such a pile of money in mining shares I said to myself, ‘George, my boy, go in and win.’ ” “And you went in and won?" “Jumped at me, my boy. Welcomed me with open arm’s and all that sort of thing.” “And when is the wedding to take place?” “Oh, in a month or two. I'm not going to tie myself up in a hurâ€" ry. I’m off to Scotland for some shooting first." There were but halfâ€"aâ€"dozen mem- bers in the smokingâ€"room of the Byâ€" croft Club, and as they all listened with some amusement to the sel‘~ conceit and complacency with which George Canham announced his enâ€" gagement to Joyce Marlow, there was not one of them who did not feel inclined to kick him. 'lh'e conversation was interrupted by the entrance of another member. “Halloa, boys! Heard the news?” “No; anything startling?” “Rather; John Marlow has come a cropper." “What?” “An absolute smash. Liabilities something like a hundred and fifty thousand. Played for a big coup on a rising market, but the Beckstein gang were against him. Prices fell with a crash and wiped him out." Amid a painful silence they all looked at George Canham. White to the lips, he had risen from his seat. “Oh, I’m sorry, Can-ham; I did not know you were there. This will be rather a knock for you, won't it?" “By George! I’ll see about that. I’m not going to be made a fool of by John Marlow. He'd no right to accept my proposal for his daughter when he knew that he was on the verge of bankruptcy.” “My dear Canham, three days ago Marlow was a rich man, and no more contemplated 'ru'in than the Bank of England.” , “I can’t help that; if he’s gone under I’m going to take jolly care that I’m not dragged down with him. I’m not rich enough to supâ€" port the whole family. “Don’t. do anything rash.” “Ilash! What rot! I’m off now to settle it at once. I’ll let them see that I'm not going to be fooled with.” In a white heat of righteous in- dignation at what. he termed “ll'larâ€" low’s duplicify,’: he enter-3d a hanâ€" som and drove to Berkley Square. John Marlow, a strong, handsomeâ€" , looking man of about fortyâ€"five years of age, received him in the libâ€" rary. “Ah, (lanham, I am glad to see you. I was just about to send round to your place.” “But, I say, you know, what’s all this in the paper toâ€"night‘? It isn't true, is it?" '“I am very sorry to say that it is. The. lleclvstein lot wore too much for me, and I’m afraid I lose every- thing.” I “But it’s not. right, you know; it’s precious hard lines, I call it." “It is the. fortune of war, or. Ira-- ther, the Stock Exchange. Up~ to- day, dowu to-morrow.’: “Oh, I Wasn’t thinking of that. It's rough on me, I mean." "On you?" “Yes; you allowml me to be enâ€" gaged to your daughter, knowing all the time that in a few days -vou migit be a beggar.” IV “I see; and will that. make anv difference between you and Jovce? I understood you to say that you had an income of two thousand a year.” “And I mean to keep it, too. No fool speculations for me. 'hit don"t you see that while your name is beâ€" ing bandied about in the news- papol‘sâ€"â€"” “You do not care about marrying my daughter. .ls that it?” “Well, you seeâ€"-â€"" “Mr. Canham, you bro one of those men who not. only reconcile us to our n'iisfcrtuncs, but make us asâ€" tually Welcome them. find it not been for this trouble you might have married my daughter, and We should have found out your true character when it was too late." John Marlow touched a bell and a servant appeared. “Tell Miss Joyce that I would like to see her in the library.” “Oh, I say, I don’t want to up- set. Joyce, you know.” i “My Wife died a few hours after my daughter was born, and for eighteen years Joyce has been my constant and confidential companâ€" ion. I think I know how much voui will upset her.” ' I At that moment Joyce Marlow (-nâ€" tcrcd the room, a fairâ€"haired of striking beauty, hazel eyes. "Joyce, my fuear, George -‘as come . to see us in our trouble." “Ah, it is kind of you, George. knew you would not delay in bring- ing us your sympathy." with wonderful don’t blush, go and 300 your paragon to-day, and see I you or not." “Oh, as to that, you know, Joyce, 1â€",! “One moment, please; allow me," said Mr. Marlow. “When this gen- tleman, a few days ago, did us the honor of proposing for your hand, I understood you to say that you loved him.” ‘ “Why, of course, I did, dad.” “You thought him honest straightforward, and chivalrous;and I must. say that I had a somewhat similar opinion myself; but When trouble visits us we find our friends. Joyce, We have lost. our money, and I am sorry to say we have also lost. the respect which this gentleman had for it." “What do vou mean, dad?" “I mean that since our fortune has gone Mr. George Canham declines to associate his name with ours." . For some moments Joyce Marlow stood in silenceâ€"like a beautiful pale statue. . “lsâ€"is this true?" “Well, you know, I don't 'want toâ€"” “Deny it! deny it! Let. me from your own lips that it is un- true. I have always looked upon you as a true man, a man to be proud of, a man to love, and I gave you my love freely and unreservedly. I cherished a regard for you, and placed you first in my heart. Have I been mistaken? Are my fa- ther’s words true?” "I always knew that you thought a lot of me, Joyce, and I think we’d have got on capitally together, but ” “But now that I would be coming to you emptyâ€"handed you find that your love for me was merely affecâ€" tion for my gold.” “I don’t want you to fret about it, Joyce.” “Fret. about you! Had you been taken suddenly from me Without this revelation I would have been heartâ€" weary with grief, but if I shed a tear now it will be one of joy. When I think about you in the llltlll'), if hear I ever do, it will be to laugh -â€" to laugh with delight at having escap- ed fhe machinations of a fortune- hunting knave.” “Oh, I say, you knowâ€"" “A true friend is a mainstay in the time of trouble, and not an evil thing' that comes hot-foot to in- crease our sorrow. I only ask one thing, and that is that I may never see your face again. Now go." Mr. George lanham. with ruflled dignity, seemed prepared for arguâ€" ment, but Mr. Marlow inserted his hand down the back of his collar, lifted him to the door, and thrust; him, not too gently, into the hall. For all Joyce’s brave words before George Canham, it must not be thought that she did not suffer. She had loved him with all the passion of a first affection, and his sudden appearance in his truo colors woundâ€" ed her deeply, but for all that she put on a brave face before her faâ€" ther. The next few weeks were full of anxiety and worry; everything had gone in the crash and the house in Berkley Square was sold up. Then an offer of employment came to Mr. Marlow. “Joyce, my dear, I have had an offer to go out to Australia prosâ€" pecting for gold. It is a good chance and I think I must take it. The life would be too rough for you, so I think you' had better go to your aunt’s place at Little Willoway and stay until I can send for you. .‘She writes that she will be glad to have you, and I think it will be better if you take her name for a time.” After further conversation, so it was settled. John Marlow sailed for Australia and Joyce found her» self established with Mrs. liirfield, her widowed aunt, at. Little Willoâ€" way. ~ . Mrs. Iiirfield, afthough fairly well off, had found time hanging heavily on hef‘ hands. and being of an enerâ€" getic nature sought to make it fly more 'apidly by opening a small general shop, to which in due course the post-office was added; and it was something of an event in the village wmn .Ioii'ce Marlow came to assist in its management. She (lid not care very much for her occupaâ€" tion, it is true, but it kept her from thinking. ‘ The Principal landowner round Lit~ tlc \‘i’illoway was Mr. Godfrey lleid, a Vlt'llllllfy' young fellow, just a few years p2 st his majority, who lived with his sister Muriel at Willoway Hall, and the young squire was one of Mrs. Birfield’s numerous friends, who liked to drop in occasionally for a cheery chat. Mrs. lirfleld noticed, after his introduction to Joyce his visits were more frequent, and the quantities of fishing tackle he pur- chased Were prodigious. The trend of his thoughts may be gathered from a conversation he had with his sister one morning during breakfast. “I s.y, Muriel, you’ve often want- ed someone io come and stay here as your companion. Why don’t you try Mrs. Birfield’s niece?" “Didn’t know the had a niece.” “Oh, yis; been staying with her for six or seven weeks.” “Pretty?” “ll’mâ€"wollâ€"yes, rather. I say, isis, she's the most beautiful girl I girl lever saw in my life." “Ha, ha! I thought so. Now, my dear boy, and I'll whether I ought to encourage And the upshot of her visit. was however, that lsuddenly tired herself installed in very comfortable quarters at Willoway Hall as comâ€" panion to Muriel Reid. To Joyce the change was a Welcome one from the humdrum shop, and Muriel in a short time fell as much in love with her as her broâ€" ther had unmistakably done. In their daily companionship and friendly intercourse if is not to be. wondered that Joyce began to find herself taking a more than usual inâ€" terest in Godfrey Reid, and, alâ€" though she had made up her mind never to marry until her father had cleared off all his liabilities, she could not help the. young squire takâ€" ing first place in her heart. Godfrey Reid, however, knew noâ€" thing of her resolution until one day .he boldly put, his fortune to the touch and declared his love. I-Ier re- fusal was gentle, but firm. “I am sorry to have to give you pain, Godfrey, but as things stand at present I can never be anything to you.” “But youâ€"you love me, Joyce?” “I do not wish to deny that. You are the only one in the world I care about, except my father." “Then whyâ€"" “I will tell you. A few months ago we were very rich, and then misfortune overtook us and my fa~ ther failed. I have resolved never to marry until all his liabilities are paid off and our fortune is rebuilt.” “But where is your father? I have more money than I know what to do with. Let meâ€"-â€"” “Ah, no; he would never do that, although it is kind of you to sug- gest it. He is abroad at present, and I have every confidence that he will achieve his object.” - “Then if I ask you again when your father returns successful, what will your answar be?” She looked up at him shyly, her lips half parted in a happy smile, and he read his answer in her eyes. With a laugh of jOy he took her in his arms and sealed the compact with a lover’s kiss. As the time went on Godfrey Reid and his sister made preparations for their usual stay in Loudon during the season, and wished Joyce to ac- company them, but this she declined to do. “I do not wish to see London again until my father returns, and I shall be much happier here looking after the house and the servants, if you will allow me.” To Godfrey, of course, her slight-- est wish was law, and he left her at Little Willoway, reserving to himself the right to run down and see her occasionally. So Godfrey and Muriel threw themselves into the gaicties of the London season, and were soon surâ€" rounded by a number of friends and acquaintances, and amongst the lat- ter Mr. leorge Canham contrived to make himself particularly agreeable. And, as the season progressed, the outcome of Mr. Canham’s attentions to Muriel was recorded by Godfrey in the postscript of a letter to Joyce:â€" “Almost forgot to tell you that IMuriel has done it, and fixml it: up to marry Mr. leorge Canham." Godfrey Reid and Canham were in the Rycroft Club one afternoon, and Canham was reading the “'l‘imes.’: “Heard about this new gold~mine they’ve found at Wallyborro? Seems to be one of the richest ever discov- ercc.” . “ll’card about it?" answered Godâ€" frey. “I should think so, seeing that I am half owner of it.” “You?” “Fact. Got a cable to-day to say that everything was fixed up. It happened this way. You remember a man named John Marlow, whc went smash some time ago? Well, he'd bccn very kind to me in many ways after my father died, and help- ed me with my investments. When he went down I offered to help him, but all he would allow me to do was to send him to Australia pros- pecting, and if he found anything I was to finance it on half shares." “And John Marlow?” “Owns one-half, and is likely to become a very rich man.” George. Canham's cupidity was aroused. Why had he been such a fool with regard to Joyce Marlow? He was not much in love with Mur- iel, andsshe had no fortune except what. hc-‘brother chose to give her. It. was not too late, and if he could only find Joyce he flattered himself ‘fhat he could make it all right with her. His opportunity came sooner than he expected. Muriel and Godfrey of London and re- lsolved to give Joyce a surprise by irraturning unannounced, taking Canv ham With them. When they arrived at the Hall, however, Joyce was absent on a visit to Mrs. Birfield. It was grow- ing dusk when George Canham lit a cigar and wont for a solitary stroll in the park, and suddenly he came face to face with Joyce. “Joyce! Have I found you at last?” “I do not understand you, Mr. Canham.” “Ah, Joyce, do not turn from me. If you only knew how I haVe suffer- ed sincc last we parted. I was mad, a fool then, Joyce, and did not know my own heart, but I have learnt my lesson since then, and cannot live without you. Let me hear you say you forgive me. Joyce.” “This is an insult, Mr. Canham, not. only to me, but to Miss Muriel ,that a. few days later Joyce found Reid." "Ah, you have heard that, but it is all a mistake. It is you I want, Joyce, and you only. Muriel is' no- thing to me." ' “I am glad to hear it, for-her sake. Perhaps you will have the manliness to tell her so.” “Pardon me, Miss Birfield. but 1 think the explanation is due to me," said a voice, and looking up saw Godfrey Reid and his sister standing before them. “Miss llirficld! You are. making a mistake, Mr. ltied; this lady is Miss Joyce Marlow, and my betrothed.” “’l‘he mistake is yours, Mr. Can-â€" ham," answorcd Joyce. “It is quite true, Godfrey, that my name is Marlow and I was once betrothed to Mr. lanhani, but when my father lost his money he declined to marry me." “What, you John Marlow’s daugh- ter? ’l‘hen, J oy’Ce, I have good news for you, and claim your promise. The wheel of fortune has turned again, and your father is on his way home a rich man." “Oh, Godfrey, at last!" He drew her towards him and kissed her. Muriel had stolen gpiietâ€" ly away amongst the trees, and. Canham stood there the picture of baflled rage. “As for you, sir, you are a conâ€" temptible scoundrel, and I advise you to clear out at once, or my serâ€" vants shall horsewhip you from the place." Thinking discretion the better part‘ of valor,,George Canham took the hint and slunk away. “Joyce, my love, this is a night. of happiness ‘for us, but we must not forget, in our joy, that it is a time of sorrow for Muriel. Run in, dear heart, and let your womanly sympathy comfort her in her trou- ble.”-â€"-Lon(lon Titâ€"Bits. +.__â€"â€"aâ€" l’ROFITED BY EXPERIENCE . How a Prussian Officer Got Evan With a Jew. A Prussian' army officer stationed at, Berlin frequently had occasmn to borrow money from an accommodatâ€" ing Israelitish friend, who only chargâ€". ed 3 or 4 per cent. a month. As a general thing the officer, Baron v0.1 Pump, was able to meet his obliga- tions, but on the occasion to which we allude he was not able to do :0. | Moses Levy was promptly on hand to collect the money: He called on the Baron von Pump in his room and presented the note, but I have 2-30 money to pay this one. You will have to wait.”- “I don’t vait at all. Von you don't pay dot note right. avay, I goes and prings dot note to a shustus of c’er peace pefore, and sues on der spot!” .laron von Pump quietly locked the door and put the key in his pocket, whereupon M'oses' legs began to wobble about and his eyes to pro- trude with anxiety for he was afraid of personal violence at the hands of his cre:.itor. The llaron produced a pistol focusml the unhappy Israelite. “Now, - fir. Judas Iscariot, you take that note of mine and eat it.”- “Scheneral, I vas shoost joking wit. you; I can vait so long as you vants. “I can take a joke as well as any- body, and now it is your turn to take a choke. Chew up that note and swallow it, or you are a dead man," said the officer, and he pressml lightly on the trigger. In vain did Moses protest that he. didn’t feel like eating. and that he was in no hurry for his money. “Down with it!’-’~ thundered the of- ficer. Although Moses was in no danger of perishing for lack of food, he clearâ€" ly perceived that .he might prolong his life by the collation to which to was so cordially invited. lIe chewed up the note, principal and interest, and C‘aning out his neck he managed to get it down. “Now you can go and bring suit on that note if you feel like it. Per-- 1 l hops the clerk of the court will put you on file if you tell him where the and note is,” said Baron von Pump. A few days afterwards the Baron received some money from home, with which he promptly paid Moses was due to him. “Scheneral,” said the immey-lender, “tier next times ven you vants der moneys, shoost come to your old friend Moses Levy, who vill never go pack on you.” “All right, Moses. Next time I. need money I’ll let you know." Not long afterwards Baron von Pump needed money, and notified Moses to bring the desired amount to Having counted over the money the officer took a sheet of paper and began to write out his note for the. amount at ninety days. “If you please, Scheneral, shoost. put that right may. I Would not have dot.” . From under his coat he drew forth a huge cake of gingerbread and held it towards the Baron. “Now you shoosl; write dot note out, on dot gingerbread, so ven I has to eat him again I vill not suffer so mooch as I did ven I schwallowed dot oder note.” w mt his room. ___.._.._. .A,._._ ..._._ There is but. one method of great- ness, and that is hard labor. l a... l When the American troops enteredl .Manilo, on August 13th, 1898, theral 'were fewer than 800 schools on the; island. ischools, with more than 200,000 pupâ€" éils. 'l‘here are 3,000 Filipino teach- 1ers in these schools, and more than $1100 American teachers. English is taught and spoken everywhere. ! Itrimonial schemei. ilt firmnnn II-ITENSELY DBA'MATIC SCEIQ‘E AT THE ALTAR. â€".-_. The Man Who Yawned at His Wed-dingâ€"Bridegr 0 0111 Who Came Late. That the matrimonial cup may come to grief even at the eleventh hour has often been demonstrated, but seldom under such exciting cirâ€" cumstances as at. the recent Wedding of a young Belgian named Dencck. Deneck and his bride, Celeste Vols. in, the pretty daughter of a Bethune Deasant, were standing before the mayor, with a crowd of attendant rc‘ latives and gUests, when, just as his worship was about to pronounce the words which would have made them man and wife, the bridegroom yawn- ed. The mayor, surprised and indig- nant, immediately stopped the ser- Vice. TDeneck yawned again, and. while angry mutterings were heard among the relatives, said, “I have thought better of it, and I 'don’t think I want to be married at all.”â€" But he had reckoned .without the Voisin family. 'As he made for the door Celeste rushed after him and soundly boxed his ears with her dim- pled fists, while her three brothers fell on him and pommelled the recal- citrant lover until he began to shriek for mercy and to beg to be allowed to marry the girl. When he was fin- ally rescued by the mayor and his clerk he was in such a sorry plight that it was found necessary to take him. to the hospital, where he has had ample leisure to reflect sadly on the indiscretion of yawning at his wedding. Curiously enough, on the very same day a pretty wedding that was. ar- ranged at Nevers, in France, ended in disaster from 'A VERY DIFFERENT CAUSE. The bridal party had for some time been assembled at the church, when the bridegroom made a tardy apâ€" pearance, to find the bride full of tears and reproaches at his dilatoriâ€" ness. This stormy reception was so little to his liking that, without a, word, he turned on his heels and walked out of the church. It is but a short time since the curâ€" tain was rung England church on a drama of love and revenge. A year or so earlier the marriage had been arranged and every preparation made, when on the very eve of the wedding-day the brideâ€"to- be received a curt note from the lover informing her that he loved an- other better than herself, and had no intention of appearing with her be- fore the altar. The wedding was tancelled; for a time the girl went away to hide her grief and her chagrin, and returned to find her fickle lover had already jilted her successor in his affection and was anxious to return to his former love. The opportunity for revenge had come unsought. She en- couraged his advances, became engagâ€" ed to him, and once more the weddâ€" ingâ€"day was fixed. The church was crowded with spec- tators, and the ceremony had reach- ed the critical point when the priest. asks the bride, “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, etc, so long as ye both shall live?” For sevâ€" eral seconds the question remained unanswered; then, turning a look of scorn and contempt on her false lover, the lady answered, in a voice that rang through the church and thrilled the spectators, “Never!” And as, with head erect, she walked down the aisle followed by her bridesâ€" maids there was heard A MURMUR OI" APPLAUSE from the hundreds who knew richly the man deserved this humiliation. There was a touch rather of humor than tragedy in the climax to a re- cent rustic wedding in the North of England. On their way to the church. the bride and bridegroom had had a squabble, begun in jest and ending in earnest, as to which of the two should clean the husband’s boots, and the subject l‘ankled in the laiter's breast after the service had commend: ed. Determined to have the matter settled once for all, before answering the question, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy Wedded wife?" the man turned to the lady and asked, “Nor,r is ta going to clean my boots or isn’t La?" “Not I," was the defiant. answer. “"l‘hen I’se off home," said the man, and away he walked; and it was only when the bride followed him and with tr-ars protested she was quite willing to attend to his footâ€"covering that he consented to return and complete the ceremony. To give but, one more. of these stor- ies of Weddings that fail, only a fur months ago an indiscrect glass of whisky drunk by :1. man on his; wed- ding morning proved fatal to his ma- had bush :1. condition-of the engagement and in: r- riage that the lchr should promise never to touch intoxicants, for which he had a dangerous weakness. Just, before starting, fol-the church on the wedding morning, howcvvr, his best man insisted on a “farewell ;___‘:-- togcther"â€"â€"an invitation \vh‘ch bridegroom, after 'vaiu protest, cepf. ed. That one final indulgence was f .tu ; for the ceremony had barely begun when the bride detected the odor of spirits. She immediately stopped the ceremony. and declaring “I. can- not marry a man who drinks or who breaks his word," she left the church how public 'l‘oâ€"duy there are over 2,900 :,with her friends. The habit of strenuous continued labor will become comparatively easy in time, like every other habit. mu 'down in a West of, ‘ whaA’-" u (.mwlfin': 4. or was -. .-.. . .n m >- ~ fl-mm r Mv~“~wwxamwwwmwl «mung-.ms. w. "it"n’m/v -~.«..-.:r-4...~ u. -. ‘a':1.’¢‘."‘-‘\;'. ’ ‘ e: vz-wa-nmw. s-IIW1V V~va¢ “amt-nu. n “we.” A “atriu'yr‘ktgm . ‘ w. t . i I IW‘:: m" V A- ' “4;” “AA. Jaw,