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KERSHAM MANOR. (MAPI KKVI.-(C..NTixru>.) Mtt. K,rb*irn went away angry, saying that th>i D^iiison woman wai a proud, stuck up creature, wlio would loon have to et humble pit. But iliii did not prevent tier from coming ajain, when the I)enion were leaving \Voo ibury, and with tears and lighi and lament-Mion* thruiting a tea-pound note into Kilher's hand with injunction! to give it to her mother and ay nothing aUpul it to anybody else. She wan especially to be sure lint Mr. I) inifiii did not hear of it. The congregation iplit into two parties over Mr. Denisxw'* reliremnt. One, head- ed by Mr. Fairbairn and Mr. Neave, was lor cutting off ail connection with the here- tic at toon a* possible. Somebody (poke to Mr. Fairbirn about the niiniiter'i future life, and asked what were Hi proepecU. Mr. Fairbairn delivered hinuelf of an an- swer with a pithy promptitude which could uot be surpuije.i. " Prospects, my dear ir ?" he aaid. " I'roepecti ? HU prospect* are to go to hell." And with a wave of hit hand he dismissed the preacher to hU doom. But other memben of the congregation resolved to " stand by" Mr. Denitou. They liked hii preaching, and they liliccl the man. They were beaded by a grocer of oonnd- erable wealth, who had long pined for of- fice and influence in the nhapel. He called everal meetings of sympathizer* with the preacher, and led them to make a business like proposition to him. There wai a little diausetl meeting-house, oncn Baptist, once Unitarian, now almost in ruins, at a hamlet about two miles from Woodbury ; they offered to take it, put it into repair, ami guarantee him, at any rate, one year's modest salary, if he would become their pastor. " U e want the (jonpel, and we're willing to pay for it," said th* grocer, in- (latin;' hii manly chest. " I don t mean to go ID the chapel any more, to have old Neave and Kairbairu crowing over me. If you won't be our pastor, sir, I'll go to church." It was perhaps this dire threat that van- quished Mr. l)emon. He yielded, and thouffhl that he discerned the finger of (iod in the grocer's spile. He went to look at the hamlet, which was known as Kennet's Green. The Green was a rhomboid of com- mon, surrounding a yellow pond, where ducks and geeee disported themselves as they do iu Caldecott's pictures; pollard willow* bonier* 1 it at regular intervals, and behind the willows stood neat little houstt, in gardens bright with red and while daisies, yellow daffoJila, and wall do wen. Some of the houses were fairly large and some were mere cottagM. One of them, of me iium size, was empty, and could bo rented for twenty pounds a year, which Bingley, the grocer, offered to pay. Kcnnet'i Gieen wu not in Woodkury par | chapel. Those whom he carried away were for the most part illiterate men who saw a chanixtof miking ihemaelvei important. Ho the DeniiKu removed from Woodbury to Kennet's Green. They had not much furniture to put in their cotUigs,poor things. In their previous career uhsirs KM 1 tables had beeu always provided for them. But Mr. Hingley and his wife loyally did their best. They sent of their owu hoiuehold stuff all that they could spare, and others did the like. It used to make Mis. Deni- non cry when poor men and women, who bad "got good" under her huibind'a preach- ing, as they saiil, came with hunble oTer- lug) of pott and pans, rag carpet*, and cushions filled with goose feathers, a hop- pillow, or a darned and netted antimacas- sar, because they had heard of their minis ter's destitution. Mrs. Sims, tne char- women, brought a big wooden spoon. There were some costlier gifts, without nme, which Mrs. Denison fancied must have come from Mr*. Fairbairu ; but of this she could never be sure She returned the ten pounds which the corn dealer's wife had given to Ksther. She was a meek woman in appearance ; but she had her pride. She might take gift* from those who loved and were grateful to her husband ; but she could not take money froir the wife of her husband's enemy. She was jealous for his honor, although she did not sympathize with his peculiar views. Either and Phillis met no more for a time. Phil was taken away to the sexside by her grandmother, and could not walk ao far as to Kennet's (ireen when she came back. So the children's friendship slumbered, if it did not die. It was on a very wet afternoon in June that the Oenisons left \Voodbury. The rain had fallen all day : it came down steadily, penitently, ai if it never would leave oil The Penis jus drove away from the yellow- browr door of the narrow red brick house iu perfect silence. Kstner thought with regret of I he comfortable rooms, the garden full of roses, even of "the oroas cat " that she had tried to love. As the call rolled through the <|uainl \Voodbury street*, now half obscur- ed by driving sheets of rain, pail the square red chapel, to whieh they had said good by forever, Mr. Denison leaned back in his seat a..d put his hand over his eyes. A sudden fear assailed him. Had he been wrong or ngr t He could not tell. Kither was gsxing out of the window. Martsret Denison took courage, shi- put out her trembling hand and laid it on her husband's knee, in a muto caress. He took it in his own and clasped it closely, forget- ting to suspect her motive, secure in a new contciousness of her comforting pity, her hardly entreated love. His heart rose a little within him. Hardship and poverty they might encounter ; lull at any rate they were going to meet it hand in hand. life of courts, nothing pleased him better j said, 'And now, sir, suppose I pray with now than the Kentish meadows and hon- you?'" gardens, than the stitely quieti. "I hope he did," said Sir R iland "lil in mor lioueo, wliere life seemed scarcely laughing. to have changed for generations. Hi* he kith "1 Hon't know. Then be went i> old wo* fat from strong, and for this reason ho Mr-. I! T I, aud read to her, and Mr*. Hint's went little iulo society. At times, guests niece said to hci aun: that she ought to be rim.- to him from London and eltewhore : very grateful t > l..n for reading ;and what name* of great celebrities were spoken by . do you think the old creature sa:d T ' , him familiarly, a* he held their owner* by I the arm, or loitered with them over the ' velvet lawn* inside the high brick walls ; ' lint, after all, ii relapsed gladly into the I quiet studious life which suited him best. ish ; it formed part of the parish of Ker- ! He brushed a tear from Ins eyes and trie I *h*m, a village between Woodbury and to smile. Kennet'i (iroen half a mile only from the Green, liut a mile and three-quarters from Woodbury and it hvl no church of its own. The little deserted chapel stood in a hollow near the (ireen. It was a low- roofed, miserable- look ing place, overgrown with creepers, shadowed darkly by tree*, poisoned by i auk odors from a stagnant pond close by. To coins from the preten- tiou* roil bricked chapel building on the bree/y Woodbury heights to the tumble- down little Bethel In a miasmatic swamp was a fall indeed. Still Kennel'* (ireen was supposed to be a healthy plane. " You'll catch the Kerahain people," Bail Mr. Hingley. "There's a lot o! 'em don't go to Ksraham uhur.-h. Hut It's a harietooratio sort ot a place, i* Ker- shame ; the pore villagers i led by the nose, what with the Vicar, and the Squire, ri<l the doctor'* families, ami my lord I \ Ing close by. Lord Kersham, that is. Hi* i) 'ace is between Kersham and Woodhiiry. lie ain't at home much; but I.trty Kersham does ths soupeharity business ami visits the schools. Then there's the Squire Mr. Male!, he's a queer lot ; and hi* younger liroth-r, Sir KoUnd -o.i.I thini; fur tu younger brother to lie a Sir, and the elder one plain Mr., ain't it ?" "How is that T" asked *C\lr. Denison absent ly. " Well, Sir ItoUnd was a big pot out in India, and got a handle to his n \inelhere. Governor or something. I don't know no- think about 'em, except that they're a ekinny lot. A cousin of theirs a fellow that was always al their house ran away with old Xrav's daughler some years sgo, and then ilrser'ed her ; ever heot that, sir? That little girl was their child." " All ' Will t he Maleta provide for her?" Mr. Deinsun was iulerestod in hearing this tiioisel of gossip regarding the origin of rinlh.Wy.iM. Nut th,.y. Old Neave wouldn't take help from them, even il he wanted it. Hut In-'* a warm man, old Neave. ('lo*e-ti*ted tin, ami .'in hold hi* tongue. 1 don't aup- pnee tl>e Male!* even know that Hitrry Wyal','* daughter lives in Woodbury." " They are all church people, I suppose?" as if miking an acciuali n. " I. \i-ry man-jack ol them, air, They're a bigoted lot, and will huutus down if thuy pnesibly nan. I. ike the place, Mr. Drnisoti? VVe can do the chapel up a bit, you k'low. 1 don't liL>t to *ee the sanctu'ry in ruins. I lnt ws'll mend nil that" Mr. l>euiaon agreed with him. From that moment his fate was decided. Ken- nel's (ireen was to be his homo. I'Viun Ken- Dot'* (liOMi he would thunder forth the truth can MMMfsjTtssI world, nn < !o'y of li y pounds a year. The artuan'* ' ie was hencoforlh to I" nli-l the Parronage, and the chapel ili^mticd wi h lha name of Kv*ngi -lml l':nv. rsalis- ii.- rhurch. Mr. Ilinglry UMiMn.l upon t he <' names " You won't oatrh tin- p<.p i I. u ', sir, if yovi ilnu'i have a lug iounding n .in..," hn said. " II can't bt> loo dig and i' i*n'l d lo.i long for 'em. ' What'* in a JsmC* Wnk CHAPTF.K VII. \T Till IMWKH II il'SK. ' vv.- ni.i-t run gh: t. rinu like n brook In the open xuu-hlnc. or wo are unhloil: Tin) wualttik'U man among n-. lithe be*U" \Volllt4WOKTII. A nearly level road led from Kennet's (ireen to Kersham, between rows of tall L-lin trees and hawthorn hedge*, Itehm.l which a park on the one side, meadow* on the other, bespoke a tranquil solitude. Be fore entering tho villag* two large home* and their grounds were *een to face each other on either side uf the road. One, ihe smaller and sooner reached, wat of red I. rich, ivy and clematis draped; tho grounds w< re exquisitely kept, but screened from the vulgar eye by lolly palings and a hedge. Th* privacy of the other house was stil more ilricily pre- served. A high brick wtil hid il s plelely thai nothing but a row uf upper casement* and a sloping roof with slacked chimneys and dormer window* could l>e seen. Die high wall enclose I a courtyard, a small flower-garden beneath ihe windows of tin- house, and tne house Itself, behind which the grounds and park stretched away tor .mil" distance. Tin* houie, a red-brick mansion with while window*, was known far iiul wide a* Kersham Manor. 1 1 e smillcr biiildinii facing il wa* called Ihe Dower House and lielonged to ihe Malels, but wa* at present occupied by their coiuin, Mrs. La Touche, whose husban.l was at a military slalinn in India. Passing by Iheso house*, a iriangular opait space wo* reached, flanked by mull shops, the church on a piece of rising ground, and the churchyard. Ths base of this triangle was forme.! by .1 long white road, which in one direction went up-hill lo Woodhiiry, aud in other wound belween two lungstrazglmg I'D! oottagen to ihe open country. Build- ings wsradottedabout for some, dinance also along tne Woodbury road, but they did not form a uontiuuou* line. The. na.l.llcr's shop the blacksmith'* forge, the village achnols and a few uollagu* stood on Ihs one band : tho village inn upon the other, with gardnn .in I bowling-green attached. The larger shops adorned the ildes of the triangle; they were mostly red-brick building* of the pi.'u.lo-piciurciqni) order. In the village ulrcet* and back lanes the houses were of paler hu> and lea conventional pattern. The Vicarage stood on higher ground near the church, and scarcely a glimpse of it* rose-olad gray walls and brown roof could he obtained from the village street. From the height on which it stood a height crowned by a lir plintulion which gave the whole sotme a strong- ly marked background of shadow Kerhm could be viewed, lyingtnusjly in a hollow, with its warmly tinted, dark-red roof* embosomed In clustering greeu. Ihe church-spire seemed lo dominate the valley; them was a silvery gleam of water, an im- pre-t*ion of purple hill country in the dis- taii'V. It was a homely, sylvan oene.such as grows very dear to the heart* of those. you say, us Milton or snme of them whoM fathers have lived and .lied liunoath ,'*naid aforn you. Why, says I, every- nk's In A nanin. The people flock* to a natnn like Iliri lo a honry-|mu" 'I'm ,nriii. I 'lull ..li.iii l .111,1 iham so much ; Ihe ximile'* an ominnui one fur me," i4i.l Mr. Demion, with a mini., and a shake of his head. " N. ..r you nun I thxt al |ir*eiit, sir. I'll stai.il by yon, anil wu II *en wlui I m do, "said Mr. ltni,;liiy. He certainly meant bt a mighty pillar of the ncvilv lishc i And Mr. HeiiKon ai glad Mi. llmgley on hii i.lc. onoiijjl., oro.>ly one of the more educitml ninmiwri ol his thote humble roof*, and lie in serried rank* beneath tboshsdeottlieivy-nianlled church. 1 1 c tiled up i.b'.is of rent;, of per|H)tnitv. The whole w.irld might change ; kiin;.l..un he Ul ai .1 won ; liu'. Kersham would nl way be. the name MI Kolan. I Malot thought when he uanin liomii altar a nojourn of twenty years in Hi.' lar Ka*U He h<kd ju.lgui! ami gov- nrneil ; he had boon alumni .1 king in his own ilomaln ; ho ha. I written book* an I achieved a Kuronoan reputation ; and now !.. .'..I. -..UK Imck to his n.tlive (ml, lo the wh';i> he had neon bin, where his filers had hv,.l for gem-i .lion*. it serves lo pass ths lime. I dare say wc'ra both glad o' summit to do. ' " Mrt. La Toaclie looke 1 profoundly shock- eil. " What is the meaning of thissudden out- break of independent tcoughl in Ibe vill- age?" asked S r Kolond. "Oh," said Miu Meredith briskly, " it .. .... r must be lliat new man at Kennel's Green conflicts of public life, but he had been into who outrrelcd with his own congregalion the thick of them and won name and fame; ' at Woodbury, and has taken the little the time had come for him to rest. He was chapel iu Kennet's Lane and calls it the of a stndious, contemplative turn. Left to (Jnivenalistic Church. It's a Methodist him*elf he might have grown into oneof those split, I believe." intellectual epicures who spend life in *s- j " How disappointing for the poor Vicar," timating the choice aroma of a sentence, the said Mrs. LiTouchc. tUvor of { and smiled at the invitations lo saliy forth into the great blaring, flaring, boisterous world again. Sir Koland did not de*pis9 or hate the vor at an epigram. But he was forced out into the world at an early age, and the student had been merged in the man of ac- tion. On rtrirnt toujour*a V* prsmifri am our*. In later life he had become a stivlent again. Hence perhaps his predilection for quiet, sleepy little Kersham and Kersham Manor, where he wssr now living the life of a recluse. He was not the Squire of Kereham. There had once been three brothers, Stephen, Ro- land, and Uoring Malet, and of these three Stephen was the eldest and the owner of the Manor. His wife had died early, leaving him childless. Roland had never married. Uoring and hi* wife died young, bequeath- ing their only son, Sebastian, to his uncles' cor*. The squire wo* fond of him and, it was supposed, would make him his heir. Tho boy was brought up at the Kersham Manor aud treated a* the future masterof the place. At ten year* old he had been seut to school. Hut school was not thought to suit him, and he was taken home again and committed to the care of private tutors until he was thirteen. Sir Roland returned from India when the boy was thirteen yean old, and from time to time tutored him a little and made a companion of him a great deal. Sebastian was devoted to his Uncle Koland. He was very fond of the Squire too, a hale, whit-- hairtd man of sixty, a thorough country gentleman, wilh whom he had walked and ridden and hunted as lonj as he could re- member ; bnl his affection for Sir Roland was the adoring sort he believed in him, adopted hit modes of speech and thought, cluug to him with all the affection of his nr.lnre. It was always a dark day for the two men as well as for Sebastian when the boy had to go back to school after the holidays. And although neither of them would haie lifted a finger to keep the boy at home for his own pleasure mstevl of ssnding him to the place where he would receive education befitting hi* position in the world.each was secrttly d 'lighted when the doctor informed them lha Sebastian, alter tsvere attack o! ihe mea*le* and whooping cough during th- summer holi- days, would be better a', home for a few months than at school. He was not quite strong enough just yet for school life, the doctor said. Tho two uncle* could not but be pleased at the prospect of keeping him to themwlve* a while. So Sebattian was at home, not ill in the least, only "re- iniring care," which meant unlimited pet- "What wa* the quarrel about ?" Sir Roland inquired. H* wa* always interest- ed in 'odd teople ; it wo* one of the thing* that Mrs. La Tonche liked least about him. " Eternal punishment. The man couldn't make things hot enough for his congrega- tion at Woodbury, so ne had to leave. He has taken a little cottage on the Green ; his garden aljoins mine. The wife look* delicate, and so does he, for the matter of that. Heaven knows what they're going to live upon 1" " I* he clever ?" " Tiiey say so but on* can never t*IL He has a clever face. I believe he want* to again ?" oiked the visitor, holding out her hand. "Oh yes, we're begun," said Vina rather languidly. She wan a slender slip of a girl, with .1 moss of golden hair hinging loose over her shoulders. The sunlight seemed reflected in those glittering locks, on wbseV sh* and Mrs. i.a Touche only knew how much time and trouble were expended every day. Her eye* were large and blue ; ber akin had the hue and texture of the most delicately tinted rose-leaves. Mrs. La Touche looked at her anxiously, noting aa unusual increase of color in the fair, soXt cheeks. " You have been overheating yourself, darling," she said. " Take a book aud .it down in the shade." And wben Nina was oat o[ hearing, " I want lhal dear child to keep her complexion. Mine was like it when I was eighteen, but years and trouble soon rob one of iu freshness. I tssur* ynu that I take every precaution. Nina wear* a veil and gloves when she goes out in a morn- ing, even in the garden.' Cood heavens 1 Poor child '" aaid blunt Mis* Meredith. " My little Meibodist girl up at Kennel's Green doesn't do lhat ; but I warrant you she'll turn out as pretty M Nina aoy day !" Irs. La Touche was too deeply disgusted to reply. (TO H CONTI*riD.) erall> The inedectivenee* of media-val cavalry u shown by toe fact that it was always ike L I1UWU \JJ Vtiesj ISBlb VDSBb itj w SSM ssi.wsBj* huv get pupils-mathematics, literature all I . low moYiag p.,, of th , wrvioe, while that sort of thing ,j, aick moTeinenU were , IWM ted by foot- "Would he do for Sebastian * ' liny from all who knew him It was not to mean entire idleness, how- ever. Sir Roland said that the boy should things lhat bad come from Sntton's, and have a tutor. Hence camo a discussion in she was no end of use lo me. Oh, she's all " Oh, my dear Kolan \ !" eiclamiJ Mis. LaToache, "why, the man can't be a gen- tleman ! A Disienting preacher !" "Heseents to be suffering for conscience's sake," said Sir Roland, with some amuse- ment at Mrs, l.i Touches horror. I should like tojsjee the fellow. He must be in earnest. " " Don't say that I recommended him to you, mind, " said Miss Meredith. " I know nothing about him neither his morals nor his manner* nor bis matbematic* I dare say they're all shaky. Perhaps there'* drink or something of that kind at the back of it. I'm only sorry for the wife , who look* aijuiet, penned sort of perwn, and a rather nice little girl, who trots about the garden with a book, t spoke to her over the fence one day, and uike.l her what she was reading. You'll never guess. Mrs. LaTouche.' r " A lesson-book ?" said Mrs. La Tonche, ith her superior smile. " Not a -bit of if. CusJmers's Mental and Moral Philosophy. And the child'* not thirteen years old." Did her tathr make her read it ?" Not he. She said t^at she wonted 'to know things. ' I asked her if the never read story-books, aod she said yea, she had read Adam Beds and .lane Kyre." "My dear Mist Meredith-" Mrs. La Tooche looked metTibiy shocked. " Waere did th poor, nr.serable child get books of that character ?" "Out of the Woodbary Circulating Library, I believe. But she seemed a nice, straightforward lit'le thing ; nol at all un childlike, I was busy gardening, you know I can't afford to pay a gjrdener, so I have ti look after my dowers myself ; and she a*ked whether site couldn't help me. I jjst re-potting a whole lot of now thii shade of ihe beech-lree< on the Dower House lawn, one September afternoon. Mr*. L Touche liked lo have ie* out o'. loop*. She had a prelty gar- dun, and wa* alway* complimented on liur flowers. A ahaJy garden-hat be- came her, and a scarlet parasol sot off Ihe complexion alway* an advantage. Indeed there were many advantage* in having lea in a garden. One could stroll about, or isolate one's aslf with a congenial companion. Men were lets stiff out of loors than in a drawing-room. With a daughter growing up,lhe*e were, things to be considered. At present Nina wosonly twelve right : but I know nothing of the father." " She is probably educating herself," *ai 1 Sir Koland, " and getlinc a good education The bayonet was invented l .y the French in him, was given to all the Austrian in- fantry in 16SU, to the r*ru*sioni in lt>!M: the French adopted it in 17U3, the Russians la 17*1. The distinctive Roman arm was the pilum or spear, 4J feet of wood, U oi iron; it weighed Iu or 12 pounds, aud when thrown at ten paces almost invariably prov- ed fatal Athens had ten strateqi, or draft com - miseioners ; these levied the troops : and together wr.h the phylorcns.or colonels,aad taxiorcha, or captains, were elected by the people. A Greek army was composed of the hop- lit*, or heavy armed infantry ; the ihete*. or light infantry ; on intermediate clats.lne peltasloe. and bodies of mercenary slinger* and bowmen. The drill of the Roman soldier was ex- ceedingly severe. It comprised not only the use of weapons, but running, jumping, climbing, wrestling, swimming, both naked and in full armor. During the time of Augislns the Roman army consisted of twenty rive legions eight on the Rhine, three in Spiin, two IB Africa. Iwo in Kgynt, four in Syria, MX on th* Danube. Frederick the iireat revolutionized th* cavalry of his time. All evolutions were eieooled at lull speed, and (hechaiguigand rallying of the Prussian cavalry were deem- e>l miraculous. The equipments and arm* of all modern armies are substantially ibe same,,, with differences in material and workmanship, the Knglish, French and American arms being deemed the beet, After the time of Pericles the Athenian soldiers received two obnli a day as pay sad two more for provision* ; officers re- ceived twice this sum, cavalryineL three lime* and generals four tisoes as much. _ He'iookeA 1 thoJghtTu".. i . W r *f" PP~"1 * ihe lost time Sotnethmg had touched him in'^"""* the Persian invaston of Oreeoe. of the heterodo* preacher and T X * abandoned then because U* horse* got frightened, and ntnning away. often threw large bodies of troops into confusion. not a great age, but at seventeen a girl ] a girl not quite quite what one would ii certainly marriageable. M rs. La Touohe .1 Nina to many well, and marry early, mind* should be sullied before their time !" T.iere were ihree more girls coming on, Sir Roland, with a reotmured never, C'ecily, who was four, and the twius of two j here walked away, and Mm Mrrv.hlh could old, Dolly an I May. Her boy-babies j express her opinion with, sue ease that usually charact.Ti/ed her remark*. "\\eli, I tlon t know that I heir minds need be sullied by whatever they r- 1," she said. "I know I read any book I want- ed to when I was a child. I'm not aware that my mind is particularly sullied as yet." " Oh, but you dear Mis* Meredith you! " Words seemed to fail Mrs. La Touohe at thi* point but her lip* wore a smile of ineffable weelnoa* Then hurry- ing on a little, as If anilou* to change lit* subject, she resumed. "1 mean to take dear Nina up to London this winter for thuee char ring concerts in St. James's Hall en Saturdays. 1 see that Mada ii.l ill.' I, and four daughters, in these days, were really something of a luxury I Mrs. Lt Touche sometimes taid that positively ihe must have thorn all laught a trade, so thai they might never be a burden on dear papa. She was still a pretty woman especially in the evening. She looked well, too, a* she reclined in her basket-chair in the shade of the beech-tree, wilh her loss-lined hat drawn forward over her white forehead. she had very beautiful eye*, dark and velvety: but ths lines about them told a tale of years that she would fain have ob- literated. Her face was delicate, but *ligSl- ly wrinkled; her moulh straight * .1 line. in the process, he spoke, the picture i his lohely child. " You ilon't mean that, Roland I" cried hiscousiu. "Would you like Nina to b* educaiel in such a way ? For my part, I The flintlock wa* invented about I640*ad now scarcely ever read novels, they are w> | before tht end of the century was in graer- bad for tht mind. And for a young girl, > al use. Firing, however, was still very surely, of all books, George Kliot's shoaM j *low, and rarely more than twenty-live be kept upon the shelf. They are so dj* 1 shot* wen fired by a soldier in the court* " 'of a day. At th beginning of ths fifteenth century a marked improvement had been mad* in the infantry, which hod been so drilled to ma uuun slojulioeM thai it was somelimei able to reaiM s charge, even of the heavy cavalry. treatingly atheistic iu ton* ; and really for a girl not quite quite what one would wish. It is such a pity that young people's with colorless thin lips. Her dresa was be- j Schumann is to play. Do you not love " coming, and as youthful a* it could deoent- ly be made for a woman of her age. Lean- ing back in her chair and playing with the rings on her white finger*, or the ivory paper-cutter lhat lay between the pages of thii last Fortnightly (Mrs. La Tonche was nothing if ihe were not "advancwd" in a ladylike way), she looked the embodiment of peace and refinement, and an utter con- trast to the caller who sal opposite to her. Mm Meredilh was a gentlewoman of belter birth than Mrs. I.* Touch*: but she aclually love her playing? " " Never Ifeard her." said Miss Meredith. No Really, yuu surprise we ! I lliought that you heard everything. Her playing is so sympathetic. And then you feel thai she is a lady : nd it adds so much to one'* pleasure in htaing, to kcow lhal she is a lady, don't you think so?" I never looked at it in thai light ; per- haps it does," sai i Miss Meredith, with some humor " You are bringing Nina up to all the accomplishments, 1 see. Have had peculiarities of appaarance and perhaps ' you any plans for her? I see ' with a nod of disposition. She lived in her own house I toward the lawn "that young Sobaslmn is at KiMinot'iiOreon, and was fairly well off; alway* here. " Mr*. 1.% Touohe'* delicate skin suddenly re Idoued with anger. "Dear Miss Mere- .Irh," she said, with perfect sweetness, " they are brother and slater." " That's all very well while . ; pi 1 wiili turn I. ii iry ! Sia'eiman a* he b.t'1 I'Sen, and >c>l > j IU* he eooimniif.eil In dress, as gentlewoman living iu the country often do. She wore a mushroom hat ou this occasion, and an old cape, a print gown and thread gloves ; hut ahs was quite nnabaah- si by Mr*. La Touohe 's slegance uf dree* and demeanor, and was giving forth her ..pinions with detei iniu.t'.ion and energy. Sir Koland M*let sal near the iwu ladies, vuth a slight smile on hit tine, worn foot. He enjoyed a ch.il with Mm Meredith. He often ji-ine.l Mr. I, it Touche at i he tea- table, where, iho was alway* delighted lo see him. Th* little girl* were flitting abunt the garden, here and there, like great whi'.c liu'tcrfllo*. and Sebastian hd i Ihoiii al then play. ' Well," in I Mi*a Meredith, continuing a f.'iy thai she had liegun, "tin. Vicar called yiuici.Uv on i-ld Hall, and aft r talking to him a lutle, *ai>'. 'Would yon like, me to | r iv itli you?' Ami 1UII mul- dd an 1 the \ i 'ii iir.iye.l. I'.ul At lh>- en I of the prayer ol.l Ball turned round and they are chililmi, but u won't do by-and-by, will it " said Mus Meredith cheerfully. "Nina '-. growing up ; and if a gill sets her affec- tion* on any one" "In our circle," said Mrs. La Touohe, win . touch i>i ladylike severity, "MI our > young lady nsver give* her affec- tion until it is sought." Miw Meredith laughed. "And what about the hnmtn heart? Hut perhaps yon exclude il from your circle?' she aaid, faintly mimicking Mrs. La Touche s int. MI anon. She and Mrs. 1.* Touche seldom MI. -t it .out a skirmish. But at this mo- j mviit Nina wa* seen advancing, mil the . iw.i ladle* hastily changed the subject, " Nina i* growing very fast," said the girl'* mother. "How are you, Nina? Uegun IOMOUS $2OO Worth Of Other Modioln9 Failed Ju 4 Bottle* o/ Jfoo<rsSarJCai>ttl*> CwrrU. "It U with pleasure that I t-!l of tke treat eneOt I derived from HrMxI't Saraporllta. r'or o yean 1 have been badlr afflicted wits] braaklnj out with rniu I i..v uiv limbs tor 1 1 ing sore* durtn hot sosnsUme* aot been two iiHmlua U a time. . .1 eol v-' -|.i n*. eosMsMMM u<iim il: -Her. sul t . . eiie ix-ti." >-v- (.-> I'.-H. them during tue rk :K| W; 'k Two Ml Id* . more; took was able to de my wfcih I Xa. i'l i!one tor s'\ smew .p<-!-. -. :\;.iJ jc9\<n so nffltctnl I , Thtok f rtvommcud aay Hcod's . - rux .,,.*-.. > i f .,k ii .. Vss> MK<. II. IV VaT, .<. t .. > smv