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mmm m m n If ^ 1 I " Yes/' of Yor«, A niaUl of yont had Buitors eovon, Of low and hit{h doeree, And o( them all slio loved hut oih) ; This maid, oh ! ely wan Kho, A task Hliu Hut thorn all to doâ€" A garoiuut each U> fraiuo or liqual aiz«i and numborod aoamH. To work they joyous camu. Thortyiufj needles nUe would thread, ThuH aid ulikt) tbo baud ; And whoso llnisliod lirHt his vdIim Should claim by rit;ht hor hand. ThuB in and out thu fabric wovo Tho H))iuiu|{ I'oiutH of Btu(d, Kat^h buariuK well its linen loud Ah loDf^ BA it could rod. liut ono thoro was whose bodkin oft Kho slyly fillod the whilu Of threadK as lou^ by only half As woro the rrst in Kuilu. T'.-UH soon triumphantly iiroso, This youth, and jiroudly laid Tiiu Ki^ruient faiihiontid thus cnuiplcto, And woQ thf wily uiaid. So llfo i;ontinuoH to this day, Men dui>od by woman's art'<, .N.)"(*r droaniud that shn hurnijlf, am liit'y, KinoHse the trump of hunrt;;. SHIELEY ROSS : A Story of Woman's FaitbfubesB. "Gay. whocanthink you bo;" shouBked, li£tin(!lier head, and lookinfj at him I'.roudly. "Thousanda," ho answered. " ily dar- linf!, think ! You, in your faith and trust, have never doubted nie for a minnteâ€" you boro noble witness to that effect to dayâ€" but others will not believe in my innocence. My own, do you not see that to many the motive for such a criino is evident in my love for you .' Ilia life, poor fellow, was the only tiling to stand between iisâ€" be- tween you and me. Shirley, it would have been easier, Ueaven knows, to me to die than to see yon tried as yon were tried to- day. My poor girl, if I could havt spared it yon 1" "Andâ€" and"â€" the lovely face was full of an unspeakable horrorâ€" "do they sayâ€" do they think you killed Hugh to â€" toâ€" oh, Ouy, I cannot say itl" She Bonk down in an afjony of pain. Bomsbow this thoui^ht, so intensely horri. bio to them both, had never struck her ; but now it lilled her with an uiintterablo abamc and anguish. Was this what they wire saying of theui ? Was this what they believed.' Uh, it was awful! No shamo could equal this â€" no disgrace waB ever so great! Guy was grieved otfect ol Ilia words, trembling with an ho was powerlo^s seemed to have died out rested against his breast ; beyond meaanrf at the She lay in bin arms, intense suffering which to control ; all the life (jf her face as it her brtath .ame in i|aick faint gasps ; for a moment he thought Hlie was dying, and wotild have summoned assistance, but she stopped him. " Call no ono ; let no one sec,' tihe said, with stiff white lipa ; and ht waited aniioiisly until the terrible einction i!»d in some degree passed away and a faint shade of color had stolen back to her lips. " I have startled youâ€" forgive me, ' the said gently, disengaging herself from his arms , and moving a little way from bim »he sat down in a low chair ; and h silence fell between them -a ailnncu of strange fni barrasHiiient ; a silence so intense tiiat one could have heard a pin drop in the room. "(iiiy, is il true?" Shirley asked at length III a curious strained voioe. "That they will say so? I fear so indcod, love," he answered tenderly. " Hut"â€" he liioved to her side and bent over h»r " need we mind tliat Shirley ?" She looked up at him with a blind, be- wildered expression in her ha. tl eyes, an expression which lillod liiin with pain and (ear for her. "Darling," he said softly, kneeling down by her xide and encircling the trembling form with his arms, " you will come tc mo now, will you not .' Not ijuite d;rt.;tly perhaps â€" I would not ask thatâ€" but in a fow minitha. Kimomher how long 1 have loved you, how much I have suffered from our long and cruel separation. There is nothing between lis now. Forgive me for speaking of this, my darlingâ€" it ia soon, I know, and Hellish to urge my wisties on you , but, Shirley, all this time 1 have longed for you, and it has been very hard to bear." " Very hard, Guy," she repeated, softly, looking into hia face with earnest, tender, sorrowful eyes from which the horror had all departed now, leaving only intense sad no33 in its place. "They have been such weary years, my own," hi- went on huskilyâ€"" those years of wandering and strivingâ€" linw hard Heaven only knows 1 -to forget you; but your face was ovnr before my eyes, your voice always in my iarii, the touch of your dear fingers always lingering in my baud. Once, when I was viTy near death â€" 1 liml met with an aocideni and fever had enouia i thought you wero etanding beside me, 1 thought that i prayed you to put your lips to mine once and kiss me before I died. Shirley, my o\.'ii, would you have oared so much ?" " I wonder 1 wonder if you can guess how ranch, Guy ?" " My darling I" He clasped her to him with sudden paa. sion ; but she disengaged herself gently but firmly from tho tender anna, having her bands in his as her eyes rested npon him with an intense love and sadness, an agony of rennnciation and woe which he would not, h-j dared not, understand. "Oh, Guy, poor fellow 1" she iiiurnmred softly ; and the tears gathered slowly in her oyos. How changed ho was - how terribly changedâ€" and how greatly he bad snfferedl It broke Shirley's heart to add to that snf. foring ; and yet how could she go to him, bringing with her a eonlirmatiou of the horrible suapioion which people had enter- tained ? How could she marry him when (Jio niarriftg" would bnt conlirm his guilt and ahaine ? Yet, reading the agony ou hia face and feeling the acute pain of her own aching heart, how could she send him away ? Ho had left her when his love might have brought with it ahaine and dia grace. Did she love him well enough to ask bim to leave her ? Oh, the weary struggle which eosned in tho sorely tried heart â€"oh, the agony of oonflicting doubts and feara 1 Had she any right to send him away when she loved him 80 paasionately, and when she was free to return hia love ? Had she any right to add to the unhappy, solitary, loveleaa yeors ho had already spent? Had she any right to make I do so. him suffer further torture and agony ? And yet to add to that anmerited shame which had already fallen upon him ! Could she do itâ€" she who loved him ? " My darling" â€" how tender his voioe was now in the new dread which had come apon him, and which be would not let her see ! â€" " you must not lot the past trouble you any longer. It is all over, and together wo will forget it. You look so frail and white, Shirley, that I can not be happy antil I see some roses in your cheeks, and until these little hands"â€" kiaaing them softly aa he spokeâ€"" have a little more flesh upon them. You have been very ill, they tell me." " Yoa ; but I am quite well now, Guy," she answered tremulously, and hid her face upon hia shoulder, as he knelt by her side, to shut out hia pleading face, so worn and haggard, yet so full of tenderness and love ; and he folded hia arma round her so gently that the pain at her heart deepened, and she dreaded with a yet more earnest dread what was to come. " Do you remember, Shirley, one night long ago at i'airholmo Court, that some one â€" I forget who nowâ€" sung some lines about the ' radiant grace of to-day,' beg- ging the present to remain, and asking â€" What future can restori*, whue thou art llowu All that 1 liold from thee ami call my own '.' I remember so well thinking that, happy as the present was, it was the eve of the day wliich was to give you to me, my dar- ling â€" that the future would be yet happier, that it could hold no great grief for us eince we were to share it together. But the groat grief which came to ua ere twenty- (our hours had elapsed we could not bear together; wo had to bear it apart. Now, my dearest, there ia nothing to separate ua. Looking far into th-- future, I can see no shadow of another parting from you, my own." "Can you not, Guy.'" she whispered softly, still with her eyes hidden. " I cannot, darling, save for the few months which must elapae before I come to you and ask yoa to put your hands in mine and come to me, my darling, my wife I But this will not be like a parting ; it will bo but for a short time, and we shall be able to see each other often, dear." " Guy " â€" she spoke still with her face hidden against him, but now she lifted her hand and rested it fondly and caressingly on hia shoulderâ€"" Guy, could anything make you doubt my love for you ?" " I think not, love," he answered softly, drawing her closer to bim. "Even i( I were to hurt you ?" " Kvon then, Shirley." I " Y'ou would knowâ€" ah, you would bo sure, would you not, that 1 did hi only out of love to you, and b â- i:ausu I knew it was best for yon .' " " I would try to lliiuk so, my darling," bo answi-red softly, a sadden dread chilling him as he listened to the words which seemed so difli.ult to utter, spoken as they were so slowly and brokenly, with tho fair head bowed upmi his breast. " You would try.' Thank you, Guy. Oh, my darling, my darling I" -she clung to him now with sudden passion, her bead pressed against him with a convulsive strengthâ€"" won't you help me ? 1 cacnot say the words, but â€" butâ€" you can gueas them witiiout my saying them." " What wor.ls. Shirley ?" His voice was very low, as he bowed his head over her ; and, rising to his foot, he lifted her and supported tho beautiful head resting heavily against his shoulder, aa she stood trembling in every limb, prevented from (ailing only by the atrong arms which en(olded her. " That â€"oh, Guy, I cannot tell youâ€" do not ask me ' Help me help me '." There was a moinent'a silence, (iuy Stu.irt Imd no need to hear the words to know h.r meaning, and yet he could not, he would not, understand. " What is it, .Shirley ' Tell me, dear. You are breaking my heart with this sus- pense," he wliispered huskily. " What can It be that you tind so dillicult to tell me ?" " I 1 :ve you â€" I love you I" she niDaiiod feebly. " la that - ) hard to say, Shirley " he said, a faint anule parting hia lips for a moment, " Not that, not that, hut" Uor head sunk yet more heavily against him, the breath camofrom her lipa in heavy gasps, hut her brow was damp and cold : she was physically unable to tell him, she had strength only to suffer and to cling to him with trembling \seak little hands, as she rested against him. Hut in all her misery she was conscious of the loud throb Ikng of his heart, of the unsteadiness of his liaiuls, and she felt with a strange in- tuition the look iu his eyes which she could not meet. 'â-  Well, diiar .' ' Guy said softly, although her evident agitation cut him to tho heart. " Guy, you niuatâ€" " " What must I, my dearest ?" " You must - oh, Heaven, thia is horri- ble !'" she moaned in Ikt misery, suffering too greatly now even to think of his pain. " YoH inuat u;3 away and â€" never â€" aoe â€" mo â€" again !" The words came aa if each reejuirod an effort, and, low aa her vo^pe was, each syl- lable was distinct and clear. " I mnat go away and never see you again '." ho echoed, forcing a smile. " What folly is thia, my little one ?" " It ia not folly," she said faintly. " It ia the truth, Guy." •â-  That I am to go away," ho questioned, trying to lift her head and look into her face, " and never see you again, Shirley ? Lot me look at your face and see if your eyea tell me the same foolish thing which your lipa utter." She lifted her face and looked at him, and Guy knew then her determination, and felt that slie wouKI hold to it if it cost her her life. Her face was ghastly pale and drawn with suffering ; but in the dim eyes which met hia for a moment there vas an expression of agony, renunciation and angniah which he never forgot, 'â-  1 do not nnderatand yon, Shirley," he said gently. " Why ranat I go ?" " Guy, dearest, do not make It so hard for mo, " aho answered pitifully. " Can I â€" can I add ahaine to your name ? " " My name ! It is dishonored already," ho said pasaionately. " For Heaven's sake, Shirley, let there bo entire frankness be- tween us now. Ia it that yon no longer love mo .'" " Ah, how soon you doubt me I" she rejoined, with a smile sadder to see than any tears. " And only a (ew moments ago J on said that nothing could make you " Hut, my darling, what am I to think? he said hoarsely. " You must think " â€" the sweet voioe was low and broken and faint, but so full of music in its tenderness â€" " that I love you too well to bring disgrace npon you. Oh, my love, my love, think ! Could we â€" could we give the world what they would call a certain proo( o( â€" o( our â€" guilt ?" " What does it mater t" he asked, bitterly. •; They will think me guilty. Shirley, 'if you love me, you will not send me away." " Ah, my dearest, it ia because I love you that I send you away I" she murmured faintly; and, with a sudden anger flashing into his gray eyea, be removed bis arms from around her and half turned away. A little cry of pain broke from her, and she slipped down upon her knees at bis feet, bowing her head upon her arms in an agony of grief and shame. Guy stood look- ing at her for a moment in silence ; then, turning away from hor, he threw himself into a chair and covered hia (ace. After all ho had suffered, after years of desolation and loneliness, after shame and disgrace and misery, thia was the end ! A (oolish scruple, a regard (or the opinion o( the world, was to come between him and happiness. An intense stillnesa reigned in the little room ; the lire was dying out, and it was beginning to (eel chilly and cold. Aa she crouched on the rug, the steps o( the passers- by in the street beyond the little garden reached Shirley's ears and seemed to (all upon hor heart ; and, when a coal (ell (rom the grate near her, she atarted and trembled. It seemed as i{ death were in the room, the silence was so heavy and oppressive ; and it appeared to Shirley aa i{ death indeed were tbere â€" the death o( her hope and o( Guy's love, which were to be buried with all the bitter past. Was he very angry with herâ€" very grieved ? Did he think she did not love hira 1 Ah ! how could she hurt him so when he had suffered so much through bis love for her already, and yet he had so much to suffer? How her heart ached (or him. She dragged herseK across the room, on her knees, to his side and li(ted her little" lingers and tried to remove his hands (rom bis face. "Guy?" she moaned pitifully. "Guy, won't you speak to me â€" only one word, my darlingâ€" only ono word." " What can I say ?" he said huskily, re- moving hia bands and looking at her with eager, passionate, 8orrow(ul eyes. " What can I say, my poor child? Perhaps you are riyht. But, Shirley, let people say what they will ; if we are happyâ€" you and I together, my ownâ€" we can give tho world the go by. We can go abroad, you and I, where no one will know us ; in happier climes we will forget all this misery, and we will not mind that here in England they say that you have married the man who murdered your â€" oh, great Heaven, it is too horrible it will drive me mad I" " Guyâ€" oh, Guy, my dearest, hush I" she implored, seeing how agitated he was. " Oh, my poor darliug, I wishâ€" I wish wo had never met I' The words wore wrung from her break- ing heart as she stood, trembling and pale, watching tho strong man's agony. What after all was her suffering to his? What could her pain bo to that which brought such a ghastly pallor to his face and such drops of agony to his brow, which made him Btaggar as be eroMsd the room to open the window and lean out into the cold night- air, for he felt stilled and choking in the little room ? After a fow minutes be came back to where she stood and took her once more into hia arms. "Shirley,"^ he said very tenderly, and with the weariness of a great suffering on his face, " wo will not discuss this any more now ; we are both unfit for any far- ther agitation, and wc cannot talk thia over dispassionately and calmly to-night. Besides, it ia getting late, and you want rest, my poor wounded bird. But at another lime, my own, you rauat let me persuade yon that you are wrong, that there ta no trouble, no disgrace, no shame that cannot be lesaened if you share them with me. And I do not thiuk it seilish in niu to urge you, dear, because, even if you share the disgrace and the name 1 offer you is a dishonored one, I thiuk my love is groat enough to make up forit all. And now " â€" his voice, grave and weakened by suffering, faltered a littleheroâ€"" I will say good-night, my own love, and leave you to your rest." He stooped over her with a tenderness which almost broke down the composure she had striven so hard to attain; and, lift- ing her hands, she clasped them about his neck. "Guy," she whispered, "you will do something to please me, will you not ?" " What is tiiero I would not do, my own ?" he questioned gently, smoothing the soft hair on her brow, and looking down with intenae love into the sweet, changed, lovely face. " This will not bedinicult,"sheianswered, smiling faintly. " It is onlyâ€" Do you sleep well at night, Guy? Your eyes look so tired and worn. Are your nights bad now ?" " I have been rather restless lately, dear ; bnt of course that was only natural." " .Vnd to night you will go straight to bed and try to sleep?" " Are those my darling's orders ?" " 'They ate my entreaties, Guy. I cannot bear that look of unrest and suffering on your face." " It will not bo there long, Shirley. Do you over think of the sadneas on your own, dear? It ia the saddest, loveliest little face in all the world 1 And now"â€" be drew her closely to his breast, and, as she stood, she could feel his heart throbbing against her shoulderâ€"" I must say good-night, my dar- ling." " Goodnight, Guy. \'ou have not given mo your promise yet." " What promise, sweet ?" he said, his eyes lingering over the earnest (aoe aa i( they could not tear themselves (rom it. " That you will have a good night's rest." " That I will do my best to obtain one ?" ho corrected, smiling. " Yes." " And that you will try to (orget all tho trouble of the past, Guy, and to think only of the mercy which baa been over us all through it all." " ' Our darkness bnt tho shadow of His wings,' " he quoted softly. " Ah, darling child, how often that linebelped me through all this troubled time I" His face was beautiful now with the sud- den light which came into hia deep gray eyea aa they looked into hers, and Shirley's sweet pale lips parted into a little smile. " 1 often forgot it," she whispered. " But I know you never did, Guy. And now good-night." She unclasped her bands suddenly and releaaed him ; but Guy held her firmly and tenderly. "Are you sending me away thus?" he said, with a smile. "Do you think I will submit to such treatment, my own? Have you no other good-night for me, Shirley ?" She hesitated (or a moment ; then she lifted her handa again and clasped them about his neck, and drew the tall head down to hers with a audden passionate ten- derness. Their lips met in one long kias, then she gently disengaged herseK, and, without a word, he passed out, leaving her alone with the memory o( that close kiss upon her lipa as she sunk down upon her knees by the table and hid her face upon her arms. And thus Lucie found her half an hour later when she came in gently to tell her that it was almost mid-night, and that they were waiting to go to bed. And the face Shirley raised when the gentle hand touched her chestnut hair shocked and pained Lucie more than it had ever done in all that time of misery, and it haunted her often afterward. CHAl'TEB XXXVII. The promise Guy had given was hard to keep, for he felt anything bnt inclined to rest when he and Oswald left Mrs. Jack- son's cottage and walked toward the hotel where they had put up. The streets o( the old-(a8hioned town were perfectly quiet then ; for all the crowds which had thronged them during the earlier part of the day had dispersed homeward. Oswald glanced at Stuart more than once with an earnest pity and sympathy on hia face. "You (eund her changed, Stuart?" he asked, as they walked on. " Terribly changed, poor child!" " Ah, but she has been ill! Shewillsoon look like herself again." " Ueaven grant it !" Guy said earnestly ; but the dark shadow was not lifted (rom his (ace, and the yearning sorrow in his eyes only deepened ; and, when they en- tered the sitting-room together, the langonr o( hia movements rather startled his triend. " Do you feel ill, old fellow," he asked gently ;' " or are you only very tired ?" " Only very tired," Guy answered, forc- ing a smile â€" " so tired that I (eel as i( I could willingly lie down and sleep the rest ol my li(e away i( I could. But I do not (eel at all sleepy ; my brain ia on tire, I think; it burns and throbs incessantly." •It is from want of rest and from an.x- iety," Oswald answered gently ; but in hia eyea there was a pity and fear he did not dare to put into words. "And you have hadâ€" perhaps it was imposaible but that you should have hadâ€" a painful interview with Shirley. Do you know, these last daya seem to me to have passed like a dream. I have been speaking and walking and writing in a kind of mechanical man- ner ; but I have not realized yet, I think, that poor Glynn ia gone. Stuart who could have done that evil thing?" ' How do yon know but that I am the guilty one?" Guy said, restlessly pacing up and down the room, pushing back his thick dark hair from his brow, with a feverish gesture of pain as his troubled shining eyes met Oswald's. " How can you tell ? I hardly know myself sometimes! It is all 80 strange and unreal! Uow was it they ac<|uitted me to-day, Fairholme 7 Uow was it ? I don't know !" " There was no proof against you, old (cllow. Don't talk of it, Guy," Oawald answered gently and gravely. "How could they bring you in guUty of a crime that yon never committed?" " They »C(iuitted me because there was not aufticient proof against me," Guy answered, with a deepening of the pain and shadow in his eyes, " not because they did not think me guilty â€" 1 saw and (ell that. In the eyes of hundreds there is no more guilty man in England than myaeK." " All those who know you, Guy, have not doubted you for a moment. You have not forgotten the testimony your friend aud brother-otVioers bore for you to-day." " That was more tiprit de i\>rps than real belief in my innocence," Guy said earnestly and passionately. " They were concerned about the disgrace which would (all upon the regiment it I were convicted." " You no longer belong to it." " Ah, but I did belong to it 1" Guy said quickly. " Fairholme, 1 tell you my life is blighted and dishonored. Never more can 1 walk among my fellow-men save with the brand of a cowardly murderer, one who decoyed a defenceless man to take a lonely walk and murdered bim in revenge for a wrong done years ago. Ah, if 1 had killed him then in my lirst passion, they would have excused it. But to wait to feign friendship and" " Stuart, for Heaven's sake, cease I Y'ou are feverish aud excited and overdone. In he morning," Oswald added earnestly, " you will see all this in a different and truer light." " Shall I ?" Guy said wearily. " Ah, no, old friend ! My eyes are open now. That poor child saw it too. She understood that Iâ€" But I promised berto try to sleep," ho added. " And you are tired, Oawald. 1 was not to keep you up." " You promised Shirley?" Captain Fair- holme said gladly. " That is good news, Ouy, because you will keep your word." " If I can," Guy answered, smiling faiutly. " W'hat a trouble I have been to you, Oswaldâ€" almost ever since we met I Goodnight, dear fellow." Their hands met in a long claap expres- sive of earnest friendship aud good-will and kindness ; and Oawald left Guy at the door of hia room to go to his own, almost too anxisua to sleep, fatigued and worn out though he waa. And, in his own room, lighted by lire and lamp, Ouy Stuart threw himself into an arm-chair and bowed his head upon his hands, and sat there while thehours passed and the night wore ou, sleepless, restless, fevered ; anon rising and pacing the room with ((uiok atepa, then tnrowing himself upon the bed to try to keep hia promise to Shirley, then rising once more aud going back to his arm-chair by the tire, to sit there staring with wide weary eyes into the dying glow, only to riae again and resume hia perambulations. He could not reat ; hia brain was throb- bing and excited, hia eyea were sleep- less and burning. An intense weariness was npon him ; but it was a weariness which repose could not lessen. He was weakened by anxiety and confinement ; the strain had been too great even (or suoh a powerful frame aa his. For nights and nights ha had not slept in prison. It was not his own (ate which had troubled him ; it was Shirley who had filled hia thoughts ; that her sorrow and anguish shoold be made public, that the love which he had buried so deep in bis heart should be brought to light again, had tortured him with an intensity o{ suf- fering which bad worn oat both body and mind. And now, thoagh the ordeal was over, the suffering remained. Although he had been pronounced guiltless, the shadow of evil had fallen upon him, foul suapicioa rested upon him ; he was blighted, dishon- ored, shamed ! He felt to the depths o( hia soul how true Shirley's shrinking (rom him had beenâ€" that she was right when she told him that they ought not to meet again ; that, if they married now, the evi- dence against him would be infinitely stronger, the suspicion o(his guilt intinitely darker. And yet it was very hard, bitterly, unapeakably hard that they should suffer ao intensely when they were innocent o( all wrong ! The fire died out unheeded, the night hours wore on, but no reat came to the burning eyes and throbbing brain. Guy Stuart sat and thought and thought until thought became an unmeaning chaos, and his brain grew con(used and bewildered. Chilly as the night was, be (elt stided ia the room ; he went to the window, stag- gering slightly as he walkedâ€" (or he waa weaker than he was aware â€" and, throwing it open, leaned oat into the night- air, look- ing with blind unseeing eyes at the silent deserted street, where the gas-lamps wer« flickering somewhat in the wind which had risen during the last hour. Besting heavily against the window (rame, Guy Stuart let the 8o(t breeze blow upon his burning brow and cool his aching eyes. He remained there (or some few minutes, the reaction after his intense excitement creeping over him slowly. As be stood, a man passing by in the street glanced ap at the window and went swiftly on bis way ; but Guy staggered back with a hoarse cry of terror and pain, pressing his bands to hia eyes, as i( to shut out some horrible vision, and shaking with a fear which waa new and strange to him. When, a minnte later, he glanced out again, there was no one in sight ; and he went back to the hre with the wild troubled leok deepening iu hie eyes. " la my brain going ?" he murmured, half aloud. " Am I going mad? It was o( coarse a delusion of the brain ; but " He fell back in his chair, covering hia face with his hands once more, and grad- ually his great exhaustion conquered thoaght ; bis eyes closed, his aching limbs stretched thomaelvee out to rest, aud a heavy sleepâ€" the sleep of intense fatigue â€" fell upon him. The night wore on ; the dawn came, and the aun rose high in the heavens, but the sleep- heavy dreamless sleep, like that ob- tained by a narcoticâ€" still held him in ita stupor. ' Wnen he awoke, his eyea, opening slowly and bliudly, (ell on Oswald's anx- ioua face, as he stood beside bim holding a letter. " Stuart, how ia it with you?" he said. bending over him ; and bewildered still, Guy held out his hand (or the letter. (To t>« contlnaed.) ^ Feiulaiue F«r«ouala. Poverty parties are the latest rage, and are greatly enjoyed by those who wear patches aa a "joke." A pretty table decoration consists of an oval basket lilled with snowballs aud (ringed with white lilacs. Mr. aud Mrs. Daniel Salisbury, o( Big Stone City, Dak., have been married seventy-seven years. The husband ia 'J9 years of age and the wife 'J7. Cuban ladies and gentlemen, when travel- ling, dress precisely as if for a promenade â€"that is, with great richness and extra- Tagauoe. Jewellery is profusely worn. Just before selling the furniture of an old lady at liyde, Eng., the executor examined an ancient bureau and discovered a secret drawer in which were upward o( 1,000 sovereigns, closely packed. A CalKornia widow had plana made (or a JoO.OOO monument (or her late departed, but when tho lawyers got through fighting over the estate tho widow was doing house- work at i'S per week (or the man wha draughted the menument. Nancy Hanks Lincoln, the mother of Abraham I.inooln, is buried ou the out- skirts o( Lincoln City, Ind. A plain slab o( marble about four (eet high, almost cov- ered with grass and dogweed, marks her grave. On the stone is the inscription : " Erected by a friend of her martyred sou, 1879." A rich North Carolinian put his lOyear- old daughter in charge of a young divinity student who promised to see her safe to a boarding-school. The school was reached on time, but a telegram was sent back to the parent saying that they had stopped at a way station long enough to be married. Mrs. Charles E. Williams, of Westfield, Mass., arose in her sleep tlie other night, went to the window of her room on the second floor, raised it, opened the bliuda and stepped out. When she struck tha area below she awoke, and was consider- ably frightened, but that waa all the harm her fall occasioned. Mrs. Cleveland receives hundreds of letters daily asking for her photograph, (or flowers aud crazy -ciuilt patches from her dresses. For all re^iueata there ia tha stereotyped reply : " Mrs. Cleveland wishes me to say that, while it would affard her great pleasure to gratify your desire, she is obliged, owing to the largo number of similar requests, to refuse." These notes are written on the official letter paper of the White House, and are signed by Colonel Lament as Private Secretary. A Little Boy's Heroism. The inqueat at Bristol last evening on the body of Frank Jenkins, aged months, moved the jury to a vote of admiration (or Johnny Jenkins, aged 4 years. Frank, having been left to play with a lighted lantern, set himaelf on lire, Johnny, who waa in charge, took the baby out of hia cradle and dragged him downatairs, ahont- ing (or assistance. A neighbor who came and put the flames out was too late to save the child.â€" iVt-w York Sun. It has been estimated that alter a laj^ae of 10,000,000 years the sua cannot giva out sufficient heat to support li(e on tha earth. tK