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! " Qo»d-bye." t< Uiia kfi&iii to night, that same sad toellog Ti.at luiiij aiju 1 thought bad yitmaed away : T!^" t oao uld wound that still reuiuts all hvailnK ; â- kThat Mio Bot wan tiaia oao quite allay, trhc inuta closo in, but faintly tfarougn them etealing 1 cc^tch an echo whieta will never die ; 1 . ;, all the muuiorioe of the past uosealinK, Come those two toarftil words of ben, " Oood- bye t" • . ; •-. A toiiirh f'f hau.lB. fow, hasty words, in partingâ€" i ^.'e and hoar it all aitaln to-nicht : A host of recoUoclions now upstarting Kcioathewhulaecoaa agaia bafor* my sight. (,r>o<rhyu I" The low sweet voico that spoke It faltered; 1"::" t'yt»s were dimmed that sUoue so bright ftnd shy. ii'beuieuuty of those words liaa u«ve( alttredâ€" Tl. rifo two sad whispered words of hers, " Uood- hye I" \VI< it might have lioeu I (iod only knows; wu novur n draw the curtains from tkedlqi unknown : And yet, and yi't.lwfore lue risaaeTarâ€" l( r fainter Hiuco the Bliadows deeper grown ll/i.c fallen on my hoart and broUKlit it na'l- n »f;H â€" A vision of her face, the ooo strong lie 'J li:i' uairius with it somewhat of tliu gladnois 1 ::iii)w before thoite words of hers, " Ciood- bye 1 â-  » 1':'.r uiuhic in my soul can never biluhten ; 'ih'i luinor chords are all that sound to-dav ; Ar.i mournful blrains, which nothing seems to lightou, ti'.v lifK, my soul, my very being away. 'i '^." haniiouy in incomplete : her Angers CiMld loticu the chords and swell the music blgb; h >'.v , in the notes a painful discord lini;or)<, Ko: the sweetest atring was broken 1>> those wurda, " Oood bye I' J. Wi."- riiiioi' Lovi;i.*Ni>. I SHIRLEY ROSS : A Story of Woman's Paithfulness. It wna •!â-  unutterable relief to the weary woman to find herself nione in a second- ch33 compartment speeding away from the fiie\t wilderneaa of London, where she had Known 60 mnoh misery â€" away from the gtiuu and dust and hot sun â€"away from the smoko and dirt, the noise and wretchL-dneaa of the bouse where she had lodged. â- ' It will be easier and pleaaanter to die in the coautry," she said, half aloud, with tk faitit little Hmile, " under a bins sky, and it will be easier to sleep in fields than llC'.re." bhe ghudJerud a little as she thou^jht of tlic roi'iM she A^onld not uee again, although a'l h'jr worldly possessions were in it, and tUeu leaned buck in her ooroor, reftii.g )ier lieAi afjainnt the back of the carriage and looking out of the open window, through • ^-hi ::h, as Loirion was left behind, the soft tresh air came in with each pleasant refresh- ment. liie rest and ipiiet and so'.itudo were in- e:cpre«3ibly welcome to her ; (be wild, limited expresnioii died out of her eye^ as ebo leaned back on the padded Hjat ; and now, with bur veil thrown back md the weftry Uuch smoothed from the still lovely face, oil'; who had known liur in former duyduiighfrparlupa have oedogniiud in Mrs. Grant the rejected applicant of the ajjency cnico, the terrified- fugitive, the once bril- liant and Ijaaatiful and admired and envied Iiady Oivun. GHAl'TKlt XXXIX. Tile rays (f the sun, settiiig aver the western hills beyond the pretty village of Kriudale, seemed to linger tenderly upon tlieacane of unusual beauty whioh they were liliing with golden light â€" green fields, fresh and fragrant, studdi^ with yellow Jbattercups and silver daisieii, fall-leaved tree*, • wood in the distance, the village l^ing in tiie valley with its pretty cottages, "knd the iiuaint led-brick sohool lioiiae S'-aiiding on the hill. Down the luad was thu pretty gray-stone lodge at the gates of Kriudale Park, where the only great peo- Jile in the village lived -the Sijuire, Sir 'redcric Oliphant, his wife, the gentle, kindly, Htately lady of the m&nor,*and Miss Madge, their only daaghterâ€" sweet, bright- eye 1, uiadcap Madge, who could be so full C? fun and yet bo full of tondernesH, who bad uaver had a care of her own in the World, but who could nevertheUts dym |jatlii^e with the careK of others with a ((cutleuess which was ao great t oouiolatiou t3 them a!!. Not that there was much care or trouble at iirindale. The villagers were cliielly well to do, and those who were not ho re C'ivid such help from the iieople at th;; Ifall that they never knew thebitiog misery of want. JSot many villages, ovoo in " mer ric l-Jngland," were so greatly favored as Kriudale, for i: was not only bsantifully • lid healthily bituatei, and tio blessed by Kature, but Sir Frederic, who bad a hobby for improving, bad brought all kinds of modern innovatiops to bear upon the land • nd the cottages, so that it might wall hava liassed for a model village. . If Sir Frederic had a hobby for improve- inauts, Lady Uliphant had a steed of her own likowise. Uer hobby was the village B.:hools ; and she devoted much time and niuney to them, and not only lime and money, but a greit deal of good sense whioh â- aw that the children's iustruotiou (on sistnd of those branches of education whioh were 1ik<:ly to bo of (me to them in their tntnre lives. Altogether Krindale was a modal little â- cttlemant ; and the Uliphaiits Hp«nt Doarly the entire year at home; Lady Oliphant being lisrdly strong cuoukIi for travelling, and Bii I'raleric and Madge both preferring l^riudalt: to every other plaoe on oarth. The r<:,l light of tha setting sun which full upon the little ivy-grown lodge and down tha road with the tall leafy hedges on eltlicr a: le, fell also on a pretty little pony- carriage containing two ladies who were driving slowly homeward. Lady Oliphant and her daughter were aloneâ€" they usually ^rova oat unattended in the golden suuinKir eveningsâ€" and the girl was chattering gayly, «9 wan her wont, while Lady Uliphant was listening and smiling indulgently at Madg^^'s merry â- potches. "Th^re is lUrs. I'ord at the gate, inauima," Madge said, as the lodge oame Into view. 'â- . She loo|s3 very important, lam enra aha has somclhihg to tell ds. I wonder what it can be? Biiil'. I drive blowly to have th3 iileasnreot trying to guess what it Is, or shikll I drive fast and so spare myself the ag juy of suspense and the pleasuro of Rntioipation?" •' I think I shoa'.d drive fast," Lady Oliphant said laug;hiugly, "unless the nlcasures of anticipation are greater than the agony o( suspense." •â-  All I" Madge ejaculated. " 1 am afraid, inamnia, thai I am very curious and in Qulsitive; so I will drive on. From whom could I have inherited that little failing? Not from papa certainly, beoaose he is the least inquisitive of mortals." "Baucygirl ! Ah, Mrs. Ford, what a plea- sant evening ! Were you waiting for little Joe?" "No, my lady," said the lodge-keeper, oourtesyiiig, "Xwas waiting for your lady- ship. I was hoping you would return this way, as you wont out by the other gate." " You wanted to see me?" " If yon please, my lady. If yon and Miss Madge would be kind enough to get out and come in for a moment, I have something to show you." " Of course we will get out," said Madge quickly ; then, tnruing to her mother â€" " What did I tell you, mamma ? I said narse had something to tell us or some- thing to show us. Take care, dear" â€" oare- fully assisting her mother to alight. " That's right, Joe ; stand at their heads. You need not touch them. Stand still, my beaatiesl" And, with a parting pat of her little gloved hand on the ponies' heads, she followed her mother into the lodge. The lodge door opened into a comfortable little sitting-room, famished in a rather heavy and substantial manner, a room where Madge had spent many a pleasant hour in her childhood, for Mrs. Ford had been her nurae, and had married from the Hall, where her buabaiid, Hince dead, had been coachman. She was a kindly-looking woman, plump and short, with a pleasant rosy face, which wore a very pitiful ex- pression juat now, as she bent over a woman lying on the horsehair sofa, faer head rent- ing back apon it, her eyes dosed, and her face as pale aH death itself. Lady Oliphant stood looking at her in silence ; Madge drew nearer the sofa. " What a lovely face ! Who is she, nor. sio ? Mamma dear, what is the matter Is she asleep or has eUb fainted?" " I think she is asleep now. Miss Madge, half asleep and half stuiietied," Mrt. Ford said. " Bhe looks very ill, poor pretty I" " Very ill," Lady Oliphant said. " How did she oome liere, Ford '/" " I will tell you, my lady. It was this morning, just as little Joe was coming home from school, he ran insayingthcre was a lady sitting by the roadside who seemed very tired. I went out to her and asked her if she would come in and rest a little. When I spoke to her, she looked up at me with such pitifal eyes, my lady, and she said in such low faint tones that she could notâ€" she was too tired. Bhe was that ex- hausted, my lady, that I was obliged al- most to carry her into the house, and she dropped down there on the sofa just as yon â- ee her. I a<ked her if aiie haa been ill, and Ahe ^hook her head ; she had walked li long way, she said. I brouglit her aonie bread and milk, and at first aha draiifc so eagerly andtried to eat thatâ€" oh, my lady, it seems straoge to say it and she ao uicely dressed, but I think she had not tasted food for a long time I" •• Oh, nurse ' ' Madge said tremulously. " It's true. Miss Madge, I am afraid; bat very little satisfied her, and thtn she fall back and looked round tb« room, as if the Wondered whore the was, and was be- wildered like, then closed har ayes, and over since ^o has remained like this, my lady, just aH yuu seeber." "Poor thing"' Lady Oliphant saidgently. ' She looks like a lady too. I wonder who she is. and wbati:oald have broaght her to such a condition?" " She looks well-nigh starved," remarked Mrs. I'ord, with a tremor in her kind voice. ' Jost look at her hshds, my lady. " " Mad({e detkr, take care," her mother said gently for Madge was kneeling by the sofa now and touching the slet^ping woman with gentle lingers, raising her a little, and patting her more comfortably on the sofa. " I will not wake her, mother. Poor thing, how ill aha looks!" Madge's sweet voice was full of pain. " She it almost like death, is she nut? bbu ought to be in bed. Mamma, ahall wu take her home .' " My darling, she will l>e better with nurse," Lady oliphant said. "None will take care of her until she is better, I know, and â€" " Kho broke ofT, for there was a perceptible <|uiver of the heavy white lids, and the ttraugcr opened bur eyes and looked about, at tirst dreamily and wondecingly, than with a sudden light of recognition, as they rested upon Mrs. Ford's kindly facu. " I have been asleep," she said faintly " Forgive mo. 1 am bettor now, and 1 will g"" -' You will not stir," Madge said, gently putting lier back upon the sofa, and bending over bur with her sweet, coaxing face. " Yon are too tired for anything bat rest. Nursia, liavu you any tea made.' lam sure she would Ilka some tea." The sweet wondering eyes went to Madge's faoe wistfully, then passed on to Lady Olipbant's. " Von muiit not thiuk of stirring yet," Lady Oliphant said. "Perhaps you are a atrangur in this neighborhood. If so, it will be better for you to remain here with Mrs. Ford for a day or two. " " Yon are very good, butâ€" " " I shall have much pleasure in writing or telegraphing to your frien^B, if yon will allow ma," said her ladyshipt "1 have no friel^ds to whomâ€"" The alow teara rose heavily to her eyes now, and her lips cjuivered ao that speech was al- most an impossibility. Madge, coming to her aide with some tea and a slice of delicately cut bread and but- ter, stopped her gently. " You must not talk," sue said. " You must drink thisandlie still. Thereâ€" there, poor thing!" Hhe put down the tea hastily, and caught hor in her strong, young arms, and the pas- sion of tears which followed were shed upon Madge Olipbant's shoulder, while Lady Olipliant, her own eyas dim, took the little wasted hand, and stroked it gently. ft was pretty to see how Madge soothed hor and laid her back on the pUlows, and held the strong, fragrant tea to thoparobed, shaking lips, and waited on her deftly and tenderly, all her warm girlish sympathies enlisted in behalf of this poor, solitary stranger who was so lovely and so fragile. And it was touching to see how the wist- ful, yearning eyes followed Madge as she moved about the room, and how the little lingers olung to her hand when Lady Oli- phant rose and said gently that they must leave her to hor rest now ; but that they would see her in the morning ; and, while she wont out to say a law words to Mrs. Ford about the poorwaif whom she had succored, Hhirley--for it was she â€" tried to thank Madge with shaking lips. " How good you are! How can I thank you?" ahe said unsteadily ; and Madge smiled and kissed her, and told her that she would see her in the morning, and went back to her own happy, lazarioas home, her thought and heart full of the poor stranger who was so lovely and so sad. Mrs. Ford assisted her gaest up the little narrow staircase, and andreseed her and laid her in the soft lavender-scented bed in the little spare room. Shirley was weak enough to be helpless as a child in her strong motherly hands ; and when she had drunk the hot drink Mrs. Ford prepared for her, ahe lay back on the pillow and slept long and heavily, awaking when the son was high in the heavens, to partake of some tea and toast which Mrs. Ford broaght to the bedside, then sinking to sleop again â€" the long dreamless sleep of exhaustion and prostration. It was evening when she awoke, and she was alone in the little room. Bhe felt stronger and better, aud getting ont of bed, managed with alow languid movements to dress herself and creep down stairs to the little sitting-room, where Mrs. Ford greeted her with a cry of surprise. " Dear heart alive 1" she exclaimed. " Are you better ? How pleased Miss Madge will be ! Bhe has been down two or three times to ask after yon, aud she and her ladyship will be back here on their way home. " How can I thank yon for all your kind- nes]?" Shirley said tremalously ; and she went up to the good woman and put her arms round her neck and kissed her. "La, my dear, there's nothing to thank me far," said Mrs. Ford rather unsteadily. "One as would not do a kindness for another is not fit to live, in my opinion, and her ladyship and Miss Madge are that kind that they'd make one feel ashamed not to be so Eumetimes when occasion offers. Yes grand as her ladyship is, she's never grand with as poor folks; and she'll be good to you if yon need it." Shirley smiled faintly ; it was all part of a terrible dream, she thought. Surely she would awaken some day, and find that she had been ailcep a long, long time, and had dreamed that her husband was dead, and that he had been murdered, and that Guy had been tried lor his life for the murder, and that she had come away in the dawn, and had walked many miles to tho next station, so as to avoid the chance of Guy's following her! A dream I Was it a dream ? Had those long weeks in London, those bitter winter months when ahe had scarcely left the mis- erable lodging where she bad taken refuge, not really existed ? Had those spring day s, with their winds and long interminable 'evenings, passed only in her imagination ? Ah, DO â€" they wore all realities ! Bat that suffering was over 1 She had left London far behind on that July day â€" was it a week ago ?â€" when she had taken a ticket for Uuruford, and left the train whan it stopped at a little station on the lino ; and then she had wandered on her way, sleeping under the blue sky, under a tree or haystack, eating a bit of broad as loug as er uiouey â€" one shillingâ€" lasted to procure it, and then sinking down wearily by the road-side, to die, as she thought, of want, uf sheer hunger, of starvation. Ay, aud Hucb would have l>een her end had it not been for the good Samaritan who had taken her in and fed and sheltered her ; and the hazel eyes went gratefully to tho portly figure in a lilac print gown and snow-white apron whioh moved about the room on hospitable cares intent. And yet could it be posaiblr .' It must be a dream '. That she who had been used to such lavish expenditure, who had had the command of more money than she oould throw away on her whims and extravagances and pleasures, should hava been brought to snob want as that she should be starving, dying for the want of a bit of bread â€" it mast be a dream ; it could not be true. Three or four times ahe had felt the same onfusion in her mind ; ahe could not think connectedly, she oould not remembur the names of the villages she had passed, ahe oould not remember her brother's address in India. She thought she might venture to write to him now and let him know where she was, and ask hiui if he could cumo to b«r. But what could she say to him? What address could she give him to write to her? I'oor Jaok, how grieved he would be if he know how ill and solitary she was, and how â€" "Drink this, honey," said Mrs. Ford's kindly voice, as she brought a buain of beef- tea to her side. "Miss Madge won't be glad to see aaob pale cheeks. "That's right ; that'll hearten yon op a bit. And this is a glass of Sir Frederic's own port. Miss Madge carried some down herself this morning. Nay, you must drink it every drop; and then you shall sit by the window and watch for th«m." "Thank you," Shirley said gratefully, as she obeyed ; and, leaning baak in the old chintz-covered arm-chair by (he window, she looked down the road, whioh was Hooded witli the golden light of the setting sun. "Miss Madge is such a kind young lady," Mrs. Ford resumed â€" ahe was never weary of singing her young lady's praiseâ€"" and that thoughtful and considerate I And she'a so gay and bright that to see her ooming along the road smiling at one is as good as a ray of sunshine on a winter day." " Bhe is very goodand sweet and pretty," Shirley answered, in a tone of such heart- felt gratitude that it pleased Mrs. Ford, and she continued â€" " And, although they have a visitor at the Hall, she was down here the first thing to know how you were. She says you have the loveliest face aha ever saw," she went on, with an approving glance at Shir- lay, whioh at any other time would have made her smils. " She'a not abitstuck up, isn't Miss Madgs. The gentleman who is visiting at the Hall is oourting her, Collins saysâ€" Collins is Miss Madge's maid â€" and, although I think him much too old and grave for Miss Madge, I can't help sayin' that he's a fine man and a real gentleman â€" and he seems that fond of Miss Madge that he worships the ground she walks on." " He will be a very fortunate man to win snob a wife," Shirley said gently. " Miss Madge deserves to be happy." " Ay, that she does I" was the warm an- swer. " Besides, she is a great heiress is Miss Madge. Sir Frederic's property does not go to his male relations ; it will all go to MisH Madge. Bat it is not hor property this gentleman wants, for they say he's as rich as a Jew- At the same time," contin- ued Mrs. Ferd, in a lower tone, " I should not give taim Miss Madge it I were the squire." " Why hot ?" Shirley asked, absently. " My reasons is good ones," Mrs. Ford answered rather mysteriously. " But I keep them to myself. Hcrvsver, Sir Fred- eric is the best judge, after all. You'll see him presently, Mrs. â€" Mrs. â€" " She hesitated, looking at Shirley inquir- ingly. " Grant," Shirley said faintly. " You are a widow, I sappose 7 Ah, poor thing, it is a sad thing to lose a husband I I've been through that trouble myself, so I know what it is." She shook her head sorrowfully, then resumed in a brisker tone â€" " "Well, Mrs. Grant, you'll see him presently, for he's out driving with Miss Madge and her ladyship, and Mias Madge is coming back this way." " I shall be glad to have an opportunity of thanking her," Shirley said gently ; and Mrs. F'ord left her by the window. Presently the quick trot of Miss Oli- pbant's ponies was heard, and the pretty dainty little oarriage appeared in sight. Madge was driving, as usual, and she was turning her fair face backward to look at a gentleman in the back seat, who was bending toward her and smiling at some- thing she was saying to him â€" a tall man with a gray, haggard face, whom Shirley recogni/.cd at once. Miss Olipbant's suitor was Guy btatrt. CHAPTER XL. For a moment Shirley sat watching the approaching vehicle, taking in clearly the tenderness in Gay Stuart's face as ha bent toward Madge Oliphant, the bright smile on the girl's fair face, and the ijoiet pleasure on her mother's; then, with quiok, frightened steps, she ran up the little nar- row stairs and into the room where she had slept, bolting the door beliind her, in a paroxysm of terror. What could she do ? Whither oould she go ? That she should have come here, of all places in the worldâ€" that Guy shoald be at Krindaleâ€" that this shoald be the end of all the misery she had endured- that, after all her wandering, he should find her hero '. How had he found her out ? Who bad betrayed her to him 7 How could she es- cape? She glanced wildly aronnd her ; then she remembered Mrs. Ford's words that the gentleman who was courting Miss Oliphant was out driving with her ; and she breathed more freely. Ho did not know she was there ; she might still conosal herself ; she might escape after all. And yet to go out once more into the world to face the same misery again ? How could she? Ah, why had they saved her for this ? Why had they not let her die by the road-aide? It would have been kinder ! The death-pang would have been over now ; and what had life for her that she should ding to it ? Composing herself somewhat by a strong elTort of will she stood waiting, wondering what was coming next. Bhe heard Mrs. Ford's exclamations of surprise as she en- tered the little sitting-room to f^reet her visitors, and Madge Olipbant's bright voice mingling with the deep rich tones she knew so well, and wnich thrilled her through and through even now. Then she heard the pony-carriage move on into the park, and she peeped out of the window. Ouy had taken Madge's plaoe and was driving away, and Shirley sunk down by the window-sill, holding it with trembling Angers, utterly unnerved at her narrow es- cape from discovery. A light knock at the door made her start up ; and, when she opened it, Madge was standing on the little lauding, suah a pretty pioture of youth and happiness and beauty in her dainty white dress and a^nre-bluo ribbons that Shirley's eyes brightened at sight of her. " May I come in ? N urse told me that you must have only just come up," she said, in her bright girlish voice. " You are better? I am so glad!" Bho had taken Shirley's hand with a pretty pleasant cordiality, and drew her toward the window, where the light would fall upon her, looking at her with gentle, compassionate eyes. " Yes, you are hotter ; but you are very pale still. I shall not be (|nite happy un- til I see yoa growing roses Uke mine. Tell me, are yoa feeling stronger 7" " Much stronger," Shirley answered, in her sweet, unsteady voice, whose low, pathetic tones contrasted as greatly with Madge Olipbant's bright voice as the frail alender woman in black, with tho white face and weary eyes, contrasted with the bright golden-haired girl in her embroidery and azure-blue ribbons. "Much stronger!" Madge repeated, smiling. " I am afraid not much ; still I think you are better. You had suoh a nice long Bleep, it ought to have done you good." As she spoke she had gently forced Shir- ley to ait down on the low window-seat, and, still keeping Shirley'a hand in hers, she knelt down by her side. There was a brief silence, which Shirley broke by trying to return a few words of thanks for the kindness she had received ; but Miss Oli- phant stopped her at once. " I do not think you want to hurt me," she said, with a gentle seriousness whioh sat charmingly on the sweet young face ; " but you will do so if yon talk in that strain. Mamma and I were so glad to be of any service to you," she added, wistfully, wishing this beautiful stranger would be a little conliding, and tell her what the dread- ful trouble was that was looking out of the great sad eyes and trembling on the sweet lips. " You have been very good," Shirley an- swered, gently, as she caught the pretty fingers and pressed them to hsr lips. " And you are very naughty," Madge said, shyly, coloring all over her sweet face, as if tho oatesa had oome from bearded lips instead of from a woman's mouth ; " and I would scold you, only you are fit for noth- ing but to be petted just now." With a pretty shy grace she put hor charming faoe down on Shirley's hands, and left a soft kiss there. When she lifted her head she took the slender wasted hands and oarossed them softly. " Bach little thin fingers !" she said, smiling. " I must see them much plumper than that before I let you leave asâ€" al- though," she added eagerly, coloring a little, " mamma and I both hope you mean to stay with us." " Yon are very good," Shirley answered, tremulously, " butâ€" yon seeâ€" I must find something to do, and â€" " " Oh, I am so glad I" barst out impulsive Madge. "I was afraid you were notâ€" I mean thtd I feared you were not obliged- very stupid at expressing myself," she said, laughingly ; " bat indeed I am selfish enough to be glad that you want work, be- 3 cause now we shall keep yoa here !" " Bat â€" " Shirley began, unsteadily. "'But me no boMil'" said Madgs, brightly. " Yon must not try to oppose me, Mrs. Grant. I have set my mind on keeping you here, and here you will stay, because I am a spoiled child and always have my ewn way. And this bright, sweat air of oars will maks yon quite strong again." Shirley shook her head sorrowfully. How coold she stay where she ran daily riak of meeting Guy ? And yet whither could she go ? (To beoootinued.) \'- Latest Scottish News. The Wallace statoe, which is to be un- veiled at Aberdeen by the Marquis of Lome on '21st Jane, is 17 feet high and weighs 1^ tons. From the great snocesswhicb has hither- to attended the Glasgow Kxhibition it is calculated that at the close there will be a surplus of at least XSO.OOO. Rev. Mr. Jack, parish minister of Kingol- drum, formerly assistant in Townhead Parish Church, Glasgow, has been decerned to pay £1,000 for breach of promise. Lady Butler's picture, " Scotland for Ever," has been presented to the Leads Art Gallery by Colonel Harding. Tha Colonel paid Lady Butler 1 1,000 for it, which will thus have produced the painter £4,000, i:3,000 having been paid for the copyright. Mr. John Clerk Brodie, of Idviea, W. 8.. died at his residence in Moray Plaoe, Kdinburgh, on the 27th ult. Mr. Brodie belonged to the family of Brodie of Letheti, in Nairnshire. His father and grand- father, like himself, were members of the Society of Writers to the Signet. Tha directors of the North of Scotland Canadian Cattle Company, finding that the Dominion farmers in Ontario do not oars to part freely with their growing cattle till pretty welt advanced, are speaking of bringing a cargo of oxen and cows from Jutland, in Denmark. The funeral of Oharles Alexander Keid, maxter mariner, Castlegate, aged 8'.) years, took place at Berwick on the :-ll3t ult. He was the oldest Freemason in Berwick, and one of the few surviving persons who went through the form of marriage at one qf the scenes of runaway weddings on the Bor- deru. The Giltillan Memorial Church, Dundee, which has been erected by the congrega- tion worshipping under the Rev. David Macrae, was opened en the 27th ult. Tha building cost aboi^t IH.OOO, of which £7,1)00 haa been raised hy the congregation. Mr. Macrae has decided not to occupy the pulpit until the debt has been extinguished. On the 30th mit. tha freedom of Inver- ness was conferred on the Rev. Uastavaa Aird, Creich, Moderator of the Free Assembly. The oereraony was performed in the Town Hall by the Provost, Sir Henry Macandrew, in presence of a crowded assemblage of ladies and gentle- men. Ur. Aird, having acknowledged the compliment, was welcoaicd with prolonged cheers as the youngest bargesa of the High lai\d capital. The many friends in Canada of the late Mr. David Kennedy, who, with his talented family, delighted his oountrymen in all lands by hit gift of Scottish song, may be interested to know that a massive stona has been erected over the gri^e in the G range Cemetery, Kdinburgh, a nttlo to the east of the resting- plaoe of Dr. (luthrie. The stone bears the following inscription : " David Kennedy, the Scottish Singer. Bom at I'erth, l.'ith April, lH-2.>. Died at Stratford, Canada, l.'Ub October, 188C. ' We'll meet and aye bo fain lo theLaad o' the l,eal " Itit«re«tlnK Phenomena at |i«a. The Anchor Liner Anchoria, just arrived from New York after a <|aick run, reportn as follows : About 350 miles east of the American coast and on tha trardors of the Gulf stream, the vessel passed through phenomena whioh, although freiinent ou a small scale, are extremely rare on such maximum grandeur of scale as that whioh enraptured the observers on the Anchoria. After the vessel had been ratming over twenty-four hours in a dinae fog, the water around suddenly became so laminoas that the mile-long shoals of small fish darting troand the vessel seeking refuge from the sharks and other devouring enemies, gave the sea the appearance of a vast cauldron of boiling jewels, wbile the furrows of foam from the great ship's bows rolled in such blazing masses of light violet tlame as rendered the smallest thread in the ship's rigging as clearly visible as the bright sunshine, and enveloped tho vessel in such a mass of dazzling light violet- colored glare, that the engines had to be slowed a few hours imtil a storm of wind, bursting out from the northwest, cleared off tho fog and broke the whole visible sur- face of the ocean into Hying crests of flamc- liku foam of such brilliancy that the whole ocean seemed ablaze with tleeting, Hashing llame, the whole horizon line having tha api>earanoo of an immense belt of light-blue fire. In short, the whole phenomenon was such a one as is rarely seen, the oldest and widest travelled seamen and officers never having seen anything at all to compare with it. This beautiful pyrotechnic dis- play of nature lasted from 11 p. m. until 3.H0 a. m., until lost in the eclipsing light of uawn.- Gfa<i(;oic Herald. Muriaon Habits In the Mortliwest. The Latter Day Saints of Lse's Crock. Alberta, N. W. T., use neither liqnor nor tobacco, and they never indulge in tea or coffee. Dancing, except the harmleaa quadrille, is strictly prohibited. No ono is allowed to remain poor, tho relief aociety taking up and dealing with every case of poverty as it arises. Having no particular vices, the community haa not many cases of poverty to worry about. The rslief com- mittee have therefore a ainonre. Dr. Annie Pomberger, of I'hiladolphia, bears the enviable distinction of being the first woman in America who was granted the degree of D. D. S. by a dental oollcige. Bhe looks hardly older than 25 ia thoroughly womanly in her ways and eama an annual income of 96,000 by her profea ion. The Princess Regent of Brazil, who is now making a favorable impsasion aa administratrix, is 42 years old. She never signs her fall name whioh is Isabella Chrisitne-Iieopoldine Augustine MiohelU- Gabrielle ilaphaelle Qonzague Pciooeas of Brazil and Countess d'Eu. .', .\.lv