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I ....nil I III.. Not what w* would, but wht we uiuit, tffckr up (be luui f living ; Beaveu in bulb more or leu thau jait ID taking *u.l in K>''"K- C wuriUcU'kvt: tu tiatuU that aooght the piou;; Anil laurt'ln uiiui tbu aultiiar'* brow. 3*ar country bouie ! Canlfnrxel The ]rtu-i nt thy wet yifltr ' 1 frwiiulow VIUBI-. which clamber yet, Wbooe bluom* th* \tu Mill i ru- .' Tbe rcii.lM.U I'luckbcrrlea. mowing iip, And iu the woo Jb tbe Indian ||> '.' -lrry tin' nun who tills tb field, C'miu m with runic labor ; Earth ilovt to b 1111 bar fulu*nyu'ld, Hap what way to bit neighbor. Well dayi. sound ui|ibU-O can there b* A life wore rational and fre* '' Dear country lite of child and man ! For both the bet. the trougeBt. That with Uia earliMt raoe begau. Thai haaouilivo.1 tin lunm*t. Their citiM i>rrisbeil long ago, \Vbo the first faruiurb were to know. I'erhaps our Babel*, too, will fall ; If o uo lamentatiouf, For Mother Karlb will tbelter all, And feed tbe upborn nation* , VtM>, aud tbe .wur.U tbat uiiuaoe now Will tb*u b* boateu by the plough. PHYLLIS. BY TBB DOCHBS8. author of "Holly bawn.' "The Baby," "Airy Fairv Lilian," etc., etc. " I think you muat be raving," sayi Duke, his own vehemence quieted by mine "A letter- yet stay," a look of intclli genoe coming into nil faoe ; and, goin,; over to a drawer be rummages tbere for a moment, aud at length produces the very three-cornered note that ha* caused me so many jealous pang*. " I* this the note you mean ?" " Yes, it i*," coming eagerly forward. " I now recollect finding this in my room, when 1 returned from shooting yester- day. She ask* me to do a commission for her, which, a* it happens, quite slipped my memory until now. Take it and read it, and see bow just were your suspicion!*. A* I put oat my band, I know tbat I am acting meanly, but still I do take it, and, openingit, find my three closely written page* bavs dwindled down to half a one. Five or six lines, carelessly scrawled, are before me. " Arc yon satisfied ?" aaka 'Duke, who, hal (sitting on th* table witb folded arms, is watching me attentively. " Yes," in a low voioe ; " I wa* wrong. This is not the note I saw with her. I now understand she must bave meant t'uil on* for for somebody else, and, knowing I saw it, sent tan to yon to blind me." " Uori suspicions, Phyllis ? A* to what other charge* yon bave brought against me, I can only iwear that when I told you a year ago you were tbe only woman I bad ver really loved, I spoke tbe truth." " From all you have said to me to-night, I can scarcely imagine you would now repeat those words," I say, in trembling tone*. " Ye*, I would. If I live to b* an old man, I shall never love again a* I bave loved, and do love, yon." " Yet you are always meeting Blanche ; yon are always with her. Only tbu very morning I found yon both together in tho nnrrulor u> -> conversation." It was quite by aooidoui w* met . I ha* no idea she waa there." ' 8be wa* speaking to yon of me ?" " Hbe *aid something about your manner toward* Oore tbe night previous. It was something very kind I remember, but it angered me to think any one had noticed you, though in my heart I knew it must be so. It was too palpable. She meant nothing hurtful." " The wretch ! 'Duke, listen to me and believe me. If I bad not felt positive that note," moving a little nearer and laying my fingers upon it, " wa* th* on* I aaw witb her, I never would bave acted toward* Mark Gore a* I did last nigbt. But I felt wounded and out to the heart, and tried to torture you a* I wa* being tortured. It was foolish wicked of me, I know, but it made no one so miserable a* myself. ' " But then tbe rink." He speaks very quietly now. but be baa aome off tbe table, and ie ctanding before me, one hand resting on it very close to mine, bat not touching. I am gazing earneetly into bis faoe with large, willful eye*. It wa* the earn* longing ler revenge made me go there nothing else. I bad tried to make up witb yon by asking you to take me to tbe rink in tbe evening, but you would not ment my advance*, and answered me very cruelly. ' My Up* tremble. Your words restored all my anger. I was deter- mined to show yoa I could go tbere without your permission. Sir Mark wa* on the epot, and asked me to go with him ; it WM all tbe same to me long aa I could defy rbom yon, I went with, so ana I agreed to accompany him not, aa you thought, because I wished to be with him, bat only to vex you. I thought of no one but yon. It would not trouble me if I never saw Hark Oore again. You believe me, 'Duke I never told you a wilful lie, did I "' Twi_ heavy tears, long gathering, roll down my cheeks. " Never," replies be, hoarsely. Bilenoe follows hii laet word. We stand very near, yet separate, gazing into each other's eyas. Presently, impulsively, hie and moves, and elosee firmly upon mine For an instant longer we gaze, and then I am in his arms, crying aa if my heart would break. " Von don't care for her . tay you don't eare for her," I sob, entreatingly " Phyllis, how can you aak me ? To care for tbat worldly-wise woman, when I havi you to love, my own darling, my angel !" This is comforting ; it almost sound* at though be were calling her bad names, and I sob on contentedly from tbe shelter of bis arm*. " And yon will never speak to her again will you, dear 'Duke?" " Oh, my pet ! Yon forget she is a gueit in the house. How can I avoid speaking and being civil to her '.'" "Of course I don't mean that. Bat yon will have no tru-a tttet, and yon won't be so attentive to her, and yon will be very glad when she goon away 7" 11 1 will, indeed, be most sincerely de- lighted, i( her staying causes yon one moment's anbappineea. Bbe speaks of leaving next week ; let us be polite to hsr for these few remaining day* poor Blanch* I -and then we will forget she ever lived ." ' Yes. I aeqoieeoe, and then there it a pause in the conversation, la be not going to touch DU tbe other cause of war ? For a little time I am filled witb wonderment ; then I aay, shyly, You do not ask me about Mark Oore?" " No," replies he, hastily, " nor will I. I understand everything ; I believe all you aid. A misconception arose between us ; now it is at rest forever, let us refer to it no more. Now tbat it is at an end, I feel rather flattered at your being so jealous ; it telle me you must be getting to care for me a little." Ob, caring is a poor thing. I think now I love you better than any one in the world, except " ' Billy, uud Holy, and mamma," be mimics me, laughing though be bite* his him, " the old story." Wrong ; I waH going to say mother only. Somehow, liilly aud Roly of late do not seem BO dear aa you." I stroke his [ac* patronizingly. Only mother !" be saya, with a gay laugh (bow many weeks have passed since last I heard that laugh !) " why, tbat is much better. Billy always appeared tbe most formidable rival. I am progressing in your good books. In time I may even be able to vanquish mother." I am so glad I made tbat onslaught on your door a little while ago," declare I, mer- rily, " and I think you were very undecided about letting me in. How good it is to be {uttt friende again ' and we have not been tbat for a long time. Oh, is not jealousy a horrible paiu ?" And to be wroth with those we lov* Dull work like uiadue* op the brain. juotes 'Duke softly. It all be Kan by Mark Qore telling me ,ou were once engaged to Blanch Going." What a lie !" ories 'Duke, so eagerly that 1 cannot choose but believe him. "How often am I to tell you I never loved any one rat you .'" 11 Tbat ie another thing. Hen always magioe when they form a new attachment .hat the old one contained no real love. Wbat I should like to know is, how many you aeked to marry you." My words are uttered jestingly, yet his face changes, very lightly, ever so little, yet it certainly changes. Only a little pallor, a little faint contraction nothing more. It is gone almost aa soon AS it is there. I never asked Blanche, at all events," be laughs, lightly. And not until many lays has come and gone do I remember lia singular hesitation. CHATTEB XIVII. Two days have passed two days that lave brought back to me all tbe light and ife and gladness of my girlhood. Never inoe my marriage have I been so happy aa now. Marmaduke and I are tbe beat of friends, here it not so much as a shadow of a cloud between us, and I have convinced myeelf that, as I was tbe most foolish girl n the world, so I am now tbe luckiest, and nat 'Duke is tbe dearest old boy to be ound anywhere. If I still feel guilty of aving no passionate attachment for my uabaud, I console myself with tbe thought hat I am probably incapable of a grand and that happily I shall get hrough life all the more comfortably in consequence. Harriet and Bebe notice the new rela- ions exulting between me and mv busbaud with uudiauuiaed pleasure, but wiaely make no comment. Rir James seen it too, and once, in passing me, smiles, and pals me approvingly on tbe shoulder. Dora and George Astiurst are too much taken up with each other and their approaching nuptials to notice anything bat their own tastes aud predilections. But Blanche Going sees it with an evil sneer. It ie :! o'clock in the afternoon. Outside, tbe world is looking cold and uninviting ; is warmth and apparent oou- inside all tentmsot. Some of as are in the billiard-room, knocking about tbe balls, but doing more talk than honest work. I for my part am starting for a brisk run to tbe gardens, with a view of bringing Cummins to order. Cummins is an ancient Scotchman, old, crusty, and valuable, who baa lived as head gardener at Strnngemore for more years tban be can remember, and who has grown sour in the Carringtod service. Having made himself more than usually obnoxious to-day, and declined to part with some treasured article any one's benefit, ot the appealed to me, and I exert myself and ooax 'nto giving me some of his cook rearing for baa tearfully have promised to my own gardener my own property. Throwing round me, therfore, a oozy shawl, - ' * '---- my head with the own, I sally forth, 'ur- lined, and ooverii warmest velvet hat bent on oonqueet. Tbe air is keen and frost bitten. A* I uurry along one of tbe smaller paths, Hedged in on either aide by giant evergreens, with my chin well buried in my fur, I come suddenly upon Sir Mark Oore, leisurely trolling, and smoking a cigar. Kv-er since my explanation witb Marma- duke I have carefully avoided Sir Mark. Not once ha* b* bad an opportunity of speaking with me alone. Not once have I suffered him to draw me into personal con veraation. Consequently, I am doubly put out and annoyed by this rencontre con- science telling me be care* mor* for me tban is at all to be desired. rieeing me, b* fling* the cigar over the hedge amd come* more quickly forward. " Oh, don't do that," I aay, ae uncon- cernedly aa I well can ; " yon have reck leaaly wasted a good cigar. I am in a des- perate hurry, and cannot stay to interfere with your smoking." " It is tbe simplest thing in the world to light another," replied he, coolly. But what a day for yoa to be out I I beard you say at lanob you meant going, but felt posi- tive this bitter wind would daunt you. May I accompany you in your desperate hurry ? la it an errand of mercy a cane of life or death ?" Bis easy manner reassure* me. " I am going to entreat Cummin*," I say, laughing. "Don't yon pity me? Cannot you understand wbat a difficult task I have laid out for myself ? No, I think yon had better not oome. I shall be able to nae mor* persuasive art* if left to deal with bim alone." " I would back yon to win were h* the King of the Cannibal Islands himself. If I most not witness your triumph, may I at leant be your escort to it 7" 1 can see he i* obstinately bent on being my companion, and grow once mor* dii- juieted. " Ye-es, if yon wish it," I say with obvi OUB onwillingnM* ; bat il IB such a little way now it scarcely seem* worth your while." "I think it very well worth my while and accept your jraciout permission," witb a quiet stress on the adjective, and a determination not to notiop my evident objeotion to hia company. Ho therein uc help tor it, and we walk on aide by side in silence. Presently, in a low voioe, b* Hay* huJ- deuly and without preface : " Why do you avoid iu, Mr*. Carrington ? What have I done to be tabooed a* I have been for the last two days ? Have I offended you in any way?" " Offended m* ?" I stammer (when peo- ple are unexpectedly asked au obnoxious question, wbat would they do if they could not repeat the questioner'* word*?). "Of course yon have not offended me. How could yon? What can have put such a ridiculous idea into your head?" " Your own conduct. Do you think I have not seen, and felt your changed man- ner '.'" He is speaking almost in an under tone. " Were I your greatest enemy, yoi could not treat me witb mor* diatant cool ne*8. Yon scarcely deign to speak to me your eyes carefully avoid mine ; you hard); answer when I addreaa you. Surely yoi muat have a motive for all this." " In the first place. I do not acknowledge your ' this.' Yon enly imagine my mannei changed. I certainly have co motive to; being rude to you." " Then I think you have treated me very cruelly very capriciously, considering al thiig." Tbe last word* are barely distinct ; he i* evidently using great self -control . but in m; present nervous stale, all sounds are ver clear to me. What thing*, Sir Mark?" I demand with an irropreecible touch of hauteur. Hi ie looking steadily at me so steadily tba in spite of myself, to my mortification am disguat, I feel I aui blushing furiously Still 1 bold my ground ; I absolutely decliu to let my eyes fall before hi*. " I suppose," s*>n Sir Mark, very quietly still, " when a woman has led a man on to love her until he is mad enough to lose hie head, and imagined he baa awakened in her mind some faint interest in himself she is not to be held responsible for any mischief that may come of it. I say I sup pose not. Bat it U, perhaps, a little bare on the man." " I do not understand you," I say, with aa much calmness as I can summon, though in truth, I am horribly frightened, and can feel my heart beating heavily against my side. " Do you not ?" exclaim* he with a rapid vehement change of tone. " Then I shall explain. I am not so blind but I can ace now all that has been happening here during tbe past month. Were you jealous of Marmaduke ? Did yon imagine be could love another, when yon were ever before him ? Did you seek to revenge yourself upon bim by turning your sweet looks and sweeter word* upon me, by ihoweriog upon me all tbe childish, maddening graces of which you are capable, until you stole the very heart out of my body ."' Oh, don't !" I cry, tremulously, recoil- ing from bim, a look of horrified ams/.e- ment on my faoe. " You do not know what you are saying. It i* terrible. I will not listeu to you." Ye* yon will." fiercely. " Does il hurt you to hear me ? Doee il distress you to know that 1 lope you ? I, who have never loved any ouev-lhat I love you witb a pas- sion tbat no words oou Id describe ? You bave ruined my life, aud now tbat you have attained your object, have aatiatied your- self of Marmaduke'* affection, you throw me, your victim, aside a* something old, worn out, worthless, careless of tbe agony you have inflicted. It is cold, cruel, innocent children like yon, who do all the real mis chief in this life. Do you remember those worda of Moore's .' they haunt me every time I see you : Too lirighttti'l fair To let wild paaiioni writ* One wrong wish there. I believe you are incapable of loving, though so loveable in yonrielf." " You bave said enough ; i* it manly of you to compel me to bear euoh worda ? Surely yon must bave exhausted all your bitter- ness by this." Heproacb i* infinite and knows no end.' Yet of what use to reproach yon ? Yon have a heart tbat cannot be touched. Possibly you do not even feel regret for wbat yon bave done." Sir Mark, I entreat I desire yon to cease." Yon shall be obeyed : for I have finished. There is nothing more to be said. I wa* determined you should at least bear, and know what you have done. Now yon can go borne happy m the thought tbat you bave added one more fool to your list. Yes, I will cease. Have you anything to say ?" " Only this ; I deure yon will tear* my house without delay." My Up* are while and trembling, but it i* auger, not nervousness, tbat affects me BOW. " Thi* moment, if yon wish it," with a short laugh. " No ; I will bave no comments made You can easily make a reasonable excuse out of your letters to-morrow morning. After all you havs said, I hop* I shall never see your face again." " Yon never shall, if it depends on me." " I regret that I ever " " Ob, pray leave all tbe real nnaaid, Mr*. Carrington," h* inlerruple, bitterly. " I can fancy it. You regret, of course, you ver admitted iuoh a fallen character within your doors ; I have insulted and wounded you in every possible way. 80 be it. Yoa say ao, therefore it mast be true. At the same time I would bave you remember, what i* lo true, that I would die to save yon from any griaf or barm. If," sinking his voioe, and speaking in a slow, peculiar tone, " if yon are ever in deep treuble, and I can help you, think of me." I am impressed without knowing why. It i* as though some one bad laid a curse upon me. I grow a* whit* as death, and my breath come* from m* in *horl, quick gtspa. At this moment, a deadly fear of something intangible, far off, of something lying in tbe mystic future, passe* over me like a cold wind. Sir Mark, raising hi* bat, drawl near. He take* my chilled, glovele** hand. " May I ?" h* asks, humbly, and with the natural grace tbat belong* to him. " It i* a farewell." Oppressed witb my nameless terror, I cannot reply. I scarcely bear him. Stoop- ing, he lays hi* lips lightly on my band. The touch recall* me. With a shudder I match away my finger*, and drawing back, sweep past bim in eager baste to rid myself of him and tbe evil tears to which his word* have given rise. I hurry on with parted lips and trembling pulses, anxious to escape. Croi-mnx the rustic bridge; tbat epau* a email stream at the end of a pathway, 1 glance instinctively backwards. Ho in Blill standing motion- less on she exact spot where we parted, hi* arms foldi !, his bead bare, hi* even fixed upon my retreating form. Again 1 shudder aud baaten out of sight. I bave laid, " I will never see hi* face again." To carry out this design I determine ou ut'tenng from headache for once in my life, and by this means absent myself from dinner. Armed with this resolution, I go swiftly to nay room as the early nigbt closes in, having lingered in the gardena as long as prudence would permit. Throwing myelf upon a sofa, I sum- moned tbe faithful Martha, and declare myself unwell. They hardly constitute a lie, these word* of mine, a* my temples, through excitement and uneasiness, are throbbing painfully. I feel feverish, and miserably reetlesa, though my foolish super- stition of a few hours since ha* resolved itself into thin air and vanished. Still, bow can I draw breath freely while " that man" continue* to haunt tbe house ? " Dear, dear me, m'm," say* Martha, coming to tbe front, a* usual, witb mourn- ful vehemence, and an unlimited supply of remedies. " You do look bad, to be sure. You really ehould get advice, m'm. There is young Dr. Mauley in the Milage, as is that clever, I do hear, a* b* can our* any thing ; and yon are getting them headache* dreadful frequent. Only two day* sine* 1 used a whole bottle of odyoollun upon your i ore forehead. But vinegar i* an elegant thing, and much stronger tban the ody. Shall I try it, m'm No thank yon, Martha," I say, feeling hysterical ; 1 prefer the ' Ody ;' " where upon Jean Maria Farina is produced, and I am gently bathed for five minutes. Marmaduke oomea softly in. " A headache, darling," be says, witb tender commiseration ; " that is too bud Martha give me tbe bottle. I will see to your mistress. Tbe delioatest touch possible, if you please, sir," says Martha, warningly, who doesn't believe in men, as ahe leaves the room. She is dreadfully old-maidish, this favorite attendant of mine, but ab* adores me, and with me to be loved is a necessity. I have made up my mind to say nothing to 'Duke on the subject of Sir Mark until the latter is well out of the bouse. Bo for tbe present I permit my husband to think my slight indisposition about the worst of its kind ever known. " What can bsv* given it to you ?" he aays, damping my hot brow witb more than a woman'*, gentleness. I told yon, 1'hylu*, it was very foolish of you to ven- ture out of doors to-day ; I hope you have not got a chill." 1 don't think HO. I put on very warm things. But, Marmaduke, I would like not to go down to dinner. Do you think my staying away would appear odd?" " Certainly not, pet. I will n, lam to every one. Bed is the best place for you. Promise me you will go to sleep a soon as too can." A* soon aa ever I can. Oh, 'Duke, tlier not re i* a i dressed juarUr past chiming, and you yet. Hurry ; it will be dread ul if neither of us can show at tbe proper moment." " I won't b an instant." says 'Duke, and crambles through tbe performance with marvellou* rapidity, getting down to the drawing-room betore the second gong sounds. I have accomplished my purpose, and will probably, nay. certainly, not be called ipon to see the dreaded features of Hir Uark again. Early to-morrow morning, I rust, he will be beyond recall. It never occur* to me to thick what hours tbe trains ave Canton, which la our nearest railway tation. To-morrow, too, I shall explain everything to 'Duke ; to conceal the real acts of tbe case from him, even for so short a time, grieves me sorely. I begin presently to fancy wbat they may w saying and doing down in the dining- room ; and, so fancying, it suddenly come* o mr tbat I am healthy and decidedly lungry. When going in for a violent bead- ache, I certainly bad not counted upou this, and laugh to myself at the trap of my own making, into which I have fallen. Ill or not il, however, dinner I must and will have. I ring tbe bell and summon Martha. " Well, m'm, are you anything better ?" asks that damsel, stealing iu on tiptoe, and peaking in a stage whisper. " I am," I respond, briskly, sitting up , and ob, Martha, it i* odd, is it not, but I 10 feel eo awfully hungry." No, do yon really, m'm ?" exclaims Martha, delighted ; that's a rare good ign. I don't bold witb no appetite, myself, ie down again, m'm, quiet-like, and I'll >ring yen up a tray ae 'I tempt you in two minute*. A little bit of fowl, now, and a slice of 'am, will be the lightest for yoa ; and will yon take Moselle, m'm, or Cham- pagne ?" Moselle," I reply, feeling something ot word all tbat passed between Kir Mark and me, in tbe evergreen walk. "The eooundrall" says 'Duke, when, I have finished. " Yce, just ao," say I. " I really think he must have gone mad. However, there waa no excuse fur it, so I simply ordered him out of the bouse. He looked dreadfully unhappy. After all, perhaps he could not hsJju it." "Duke laughs iu spite of bis anger, which il f xtmne. " Of all tbe conceited little women !" he says. " What gave yon the headache laet night .' Wae it his conduct ?" Well, I think it waa founded on a deter- mination not to see him again. But I wa* afraid to tell you anything then, lest you might refuse to sit at the table with him, or be uncivil, or have a row in any way. You will remember your promise, Duke, aud let him no quietly away. An explan- ation wo'.id do uo good. Onoe he i* gone, will n ol signify." " He used to be snob a good fellow," say* 'Duke, in a puzzled, provoked tone. Well, he i* anything but that now," reply I, with decision? " If yon go away DOW, 'Duke, I think I will get up. I dare say be will be on bis way to London by the time I am dressed." I get through my toilet witb a good deal of deliberation. I am in no great hurry to liud myself downstairs ; I am determined to afford him every chance of getting clear of the premise* before 1 make my appear- ance. When dreeaed to Martha's satisfaction, I go cautiously through tbe house, and, con- trary to my usual custom, make straight for Marmaduke'a study. Opening the door without knocking, I tind myself faoe to faoe with Marmaduke and Sir Mark Oore. I feel petrified and somewhat guilty. Of wbat use my condemning myself to solitary confinement for o many hour*, if the close of them only bring* m* in contact with what I have ao striven to avoid i Marmaduke'* blue eyee are dashing, and uis lips are white and compressed. Sir Mark, alway* dark and supercilious, i* looking mnon the same as usual, except for a certain bitter expression that adorns the corners of hi* month. Both men regard me fixedly aa I enter, bat with what differ- ent feeling* ! Marmaduke hold* out hi* band to me, and the flash dies in hi* eye*. Sir Mark'* lipe form the on* word " false." No, I am not false," I protect, vehe- mently, patting my hand through Marma- duke'* arm, and glancing at my opponent defiantly from my shelter ; " 'Duke i* my husband ; why should I hid* anything from him ? I told you I would conceal nothing." " Wbat charming wifely conduct '" says Kir Mark, with a sneer ; " not only do yon confide to him all your own little affair*, but yon are ready al*o to forgive him any peooadilloea of which be ha* been guilty." I feel 'Duke quiver with rag*, but laying a warning preeiur* on hi* arm, I succeed in restraining him. (To b* continued ) i n I HOY. the pleaaureable when Billv used excitement to smuggle of long ago, eatables into m; chamber of puniabment ; and Martha, if there is any orange pudding, or ieed pod ding, yon know, yon might " " I'll bring it, m'm," say* Martha. And presently I am doing full justice to a* dainty a little dinner a* Martha's love could procure. I Bleep well, but permit myself to be penuaded into staying in my room for breakfast. After that meal downitairs, Marmaduke come* tramping up to see how I am. It i* 11 o'clock ; rarely Sir Mark can have made hi* xonae* and taken his de- parture by thm time. " I* be gone '.'" I aak, in a hollow whis per, a* 'Duke enters my room. "Who?" " Mark Gore.' " No, not yet. Did yon kiunc be wa* going '."' looking much surprised, and seat ing himself on tbe edge of tbe bed. " I did. I dftired him to go. Shut tbe door clone ; and I will tell you all about it. But, first, 'Duke, before I say one word, make m* a vow yon will not be angry with him or take any notice ot wbat he ha* don*." II What ha* be tone ?" demand* Duke, growing a trifl* paler. I No harm to any on*. Make m* your vow flrrt." I 1 vow, then," Bay* b*, impatiently. And I forthwith repeat to him word for Wlik- All III. mull* H> !. Ilia* Mill." Wbat an honest animal a boy is, anyhow, ays the Burlington llatckrye. Wbat mean thing* h* can do ; what cruel tricks be can play on a fellow . bow geuerous are bis im- pulse*; bow brave and manly tbe better id of bis nature ; how much of bu badness 1* pure though tl*s*ue*s, the h*edle**n**s of a young colt . under his uoisy, rough, boisterous, turbulent surface wbat a sensi- "ve. shrinking heart tbere l>, proud, ambi tioun, timid, foclishly aabamsd to show its better impulses, fearful that yon may dis- cover its ambitious dreams; be loves a boy who can make the longest jump and run tbe swiftest, and be hates with equal lury a sneak and a bully ; be will throw off bis coal and jump into a fight and take a "licking "any time for a friend, and will walk around two blocks out of hi* way rather tban meet a girl to whom be will be expected to apeak ; aa different when you get him alone from wbat he is in a crowd, tbat you think b* may be two entirely different boys. A strange, honest, caprici- ous, tender- hearted, tyrannical, loving, cruel, thoughtless, dreaming, shouting, complex animal, this boy of our*. Often badly taught, won* trained, half dlaoip lined, whipped and petted, scolded and caressed, he trie* our patience, deetroys our quiet, wastes our money, wring* our heart*, neglects us, loves us, understand* u* better many time* than we understand him, and we abide him to hi* fan* and praise him to our heart* ; w* follow bim, humor bim, pray for him, and lov* bim, love him, love bim God bless tbe boy, bow we do love him ! , H.MU IB Ilk One of tbe most notable discussions OB the substitute* tor the human milk in children's diet i* tbat which took place at the forty-fourth meeting of German naturalist* and physician*, at Salzburg. lay* tbe Boston Olabt. A communion had been previously appointed to prepare paper*, the dwonssion being directed to two point*, viz., first, the substitution of natural, unadulterated animal (cow'*} milk tor the human milk, and It* production ; second, the substitution of artificial foods, witb or without milk, for the natural milk their nature and value. After earnent discussion for two day*, the conclusion reached in regard to artificial foods wae xpreeeed in a unanimous resolution, " That these preparation* can in no way b* subetitnted for mother*' milk, and, as exclusive food* during the first year, are to be entirely and completely rejected." Cow'* milk wa* declared to be tbe only snbatitut* for human milk, and every effort should b* made to insure its purity and goodness. On* of Oov. Cleveland's sisters ha* been a missionary in Ceylon for thirty year*. Tur shipment of buffalo bone* from the plain* to Eastern phosphate factories has largely increased lately, beoanite of tbe re- duction in freight rates. Thousand* of buffalo ikeletona are gathered from the valley of tbe Arkan***. A single Pbila- delphia manufacturer ha* received during tbe summer more than 300 oar load*, pay- ing $25 a ton, delivered. The horn* are used for umbrella tip* or to decorate fan*. A portion of the bead is in demand by chmi*t* for gin*, and the iboolder blade- and ueok bone* are fanhioned into hand some and arti*ti buttons.