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 STELLA; OR, AT CROSS POJffiPS] CHAPTER XIV LADY HOKOKIA. ^1 Lady Honoria Eosett had arrived, bag and bajj^age, at Barfield House. She was what is called a thoroughly " jolly " woman indeed, that expressive, if slightly inelegant adjective, is the only one that can fitly be applied to her. She was ull, dark, and large-framedâ€" everything about her was big and pleasant. She had big black eyes, that were always wide open and always full of merriment a big mouth that was perpetually laughing, two shiny rows of white teeth that were white and regular. She rode well, she danced well, she talked rather loud, and laughed louder still, bhe did not care very much what people thought of her but she was decidedly popular for all that. She was full of energy and life she was never sick or sorry nothing ever vexed or tired her she had an inexhaustible fund of good spirits and good nature, and never aagginc vitality. Such was tie woman whom Lady Dyson had selected to efface from her son's mind the sweet, gentle image of low-voiced, soft- eyed girlhood, that was, however, more deeply impressed upon it than she had any idea of. He was, however, exceedingly polite to his mother's guest. The first day of her visit he was seemingly quite delighted to go with her out riding, and he took the greatest pains to select a horse for her from amongst his own, which she would like. It took, it must be confessed, the strongest-backed animal in his stables to carry her comfort- ably but when once mounted, nobody could have looked better or managed her steed with greater grace and dexterity than did this large-framed Amazon. Sir Edgar, who admired beauty in any form, could not help thinking her very handsome, and she was so good tempered aud easily pleased, and could talk so well on any subject, that he was guilty of no treach- ery to Lily in owning to himself that he re- ally enjoyed his ride with her very much in- deed. As to poor Lily, when she appeared as us- ual after dinner that evening in the far-ofi' comer of the drawing-room, where she was accustomed to sit silently with her needle- work until the clock struck ten and released her from her weary bondage, she felt her heart sink within her as Lady Honoria, fol- lowed by her hostess, entered the room from the dining-room. Lady Honoria was dressed in black satin with crimson roses in her dark hair, and at her bosom â€" it would have been impossible to imagine a finer mace or more striking-look- ing woman. She came in with an easy air of self-pos- session which is natural to a woman whose position in the world is undoubted, and who is certain that she is popular and beautiful. "How pretty your room is. dear Lady Dyson, it reminds me so of Hallerton Castle. I do envy people who have taste I myself have none whatever, not in furniture at lejist. But this room is so beautifully ar- ranged, anybody can see at a glance that the taste is your own, and not the upholster- er's." "Indeed, Lidy Honoria, you flatter me too much, for it I chose the furniture, it is Edgar who arranges everything â€" it is he who has the taste." "Ah! really," looking slowly about the room. •' By the way, how altered he is Do you know it is seven years since we, last met 1 think it was at the county ball I was just out, I remember." " Surely not so long ago as that?" de- manded her hostess, politely. " Oh, indeed, it is quite that â€" I am twen- ty-five and look every hour of it," she said, laughing merrily; "and your second son was there too â€" by the way what has become of him?" "Curiously enough, I have just had a letter from Walter by the evening post. He is coming home almost directly, so you will see him he has bjen in Paris lately." " I am glad I shall see him I think I liked him the best of the two in those days," she said, with blunt frankness, and Lady Dyson murmured something about his being of course a "dear fellow," but not equal, she feared, in steadiness and good conduct to his brother. "I always like the black sheep of the family," said Lady Honoria, unabashed, and then for the first time she perceived Lily. " Dear me who is that young lady " she asked, quite aloud, whilst Lily bent low over her work. " Oh it is only Miss Finch, my children's governess," answered Lady Dyson, careless- ly- Lady Honoria immediately walked into the corner where L'ly sat and held out her hand. "How d'ye do, Miss Finch? I did not see you when I first came in," and to Lady Dyson's intense vexation, she Sat down by Lily's side and asked to look at her work. ' ' What are you making â€" a woollen quilt is it Oh I wish you would teach me that stitch, 1 do so want to learn it, and I have never met any boJy before who could do it do let me try â€" you pass the wool over this finger and take two stitches with the right pin " and when Sir Edgar came in he found the two girls seated thus on the distant sofa, with their heads close together over the knitting-pins and the scarlet wool, and he felt that he liked Lady Honoria better than ever. "I hope you will give us some music. Lady Honoria. Will you not play or sing ' ' said Lady Dyson, who naturally was any- thing but pleased by the lesson in knitting, and inwardly determined that there should be no recurrence of it. Lady Honoria rose smilingly â€" of course she would play or sing â€" was she not always ready to do anything that anybody asked her to do? She went to the piano, and Sir Ed- gar followed her, whilst Lily was left again in the solitude. " She is everything that is perfect '" said the poor child soirrowfully "beautiful, clever, and oh how kind and good-hearted Yes, she is a fit wife for him, I can see that; she is worthy of him if anybody is, in every way. How insignificant and dull I must seem to him by the side of her But he could never mean to marry me, and now 1 see that this is the kind of wife he ought to have I ought to be thankful that she is so nice, and so likely to make him happy." net, tfiiie f«41 vSmt a^Mfciiitoar down apou her bri#t-color^d wool8»Ti»touat she made up her n^ to sacrifice h«r love in all unseltiahness, «Dd determined not to stand ever so little is the w»y of th story of fitting and appropriate affection, which was about to be played out under her eyes. "It is better so," the poor ch'ld said to herself; "he would not be able to marry me and he will never know how much I love him." The following morning she lingered a little in the hall on her way to her daily task in the Bchool-room, to watch Lady Honoria and Sir Edgar ride off again together across the green slopes of the park. Lady Dyson came up unperceived. "You are watching Sir Edgar and Lady Honoria, Miss Finch Do they not make a hnndsome couple " Miss Finch started, but answered quietly in the affirmative "I really don't think Sir Edgar could have dene better," continued Lady Dyson. "I am sure you will own, Miss Fmch that she will make a charming wife." " Are theyâ€" is Sir Edgarâ€" engaged to her " faltered Lily, turning white and faint in spite of all her brave reselutions. • N â€" no â€" not exactly yet, but something very near it, perhaps, pf course this is a secret. Miss Finch, you will let it go no further of course I treat you as one of the family â€" you will not mention this " " I should not think of doing so," she an- swered gently. "Thanks â€" lam sure you will not. Oh, by the way. Miss Finch. I dare say it is very dull for you to come into the drawing- room after dinner, unless I am quite alone and can talk to you. I think, whilst we have company, you will fiu^ it more amus- ing to stay in the school room with your books. You can always borrow any of the novels out of the box from Mudie it can't amuse you to sic by while other people are talking." " Very well. Lady Dyson " and Lily went her way meekly to the school-room. But she felt it hard that she might not even be on :riendly terms with the happy ^irl who was to be Sir Edgar's wife. The next morning came Stella and all her troubles about her sister aud Lily made that little expedition into Sir Edgar's lib- rary, on her friend's behalf, of which men- tion has already been made and when she came out of it again, back again to the school-room, Lily was not quite so certain that Sir Edgar would marry Lady Honoria as she had been when she had gone in. " You are doing very wrong. Sir Edgar," Lily had said to him, in answer to some in- describable proceedings on his part " it IS not fair to Lady Honoria, who seeme so hon- est hearted ana good." " What has Lady Honoria to go with me?" " Everything, I should say." " Really, Miss Finch What a remark- ably clever woman you are becoming, and how much you seem to know about every- thing " " You ought not to laugh at me. Sir Ed- gar. I can see how nice and beautiful she is and it does not make me unhappy â€" no, not at all." " You stony-hearted little wretch 1" " Please, Sir Edgar, don't hold me. I must get back to Miss King. Please let go my hands." There was an undignified little scuttle, and then Lily effecied her escape, very red in the face, but not so unhappy at her heart. Lady Honoria was the sort of person who never did things like anybody else when she found that Lily did not come into the drawintr-room in the evening, she invaded the school-room by day. She disturbed the current of the lessons considerably she made Miss Finch teach her the knitting stitch she helped Willie with his French translation, and Tommy with his sums she cracked jokes with the little girls, and made herself as popular in the dingy little back room as she was in the drawing, room. Lily became more and more convinced that she was the one woman in the whole world who in evory way was worthy of Sir Edgar â€" it would break her heart, of course, whenever and whcever he married â€" but it would be the best and happiest thing for him to please his mother and to marry Lady Honoria, and she told herself that she would resign him to her patiently and even thank- fully. It was in the evening of that day â€" the same day on which Cecily startled her sister by suddenly appearing at the windows of Wrexham Hall â€" that ^Iaud came running late into her governess's room. " Walter has just come home " she cried excitedly "did you not hear him arrive, Miss Finch? and he ijays he has brought presents from Paris for each of us, that he will give us to-morrow. Oh, I wish to-mor- row were here Good-night, Miss Finch." " Good-night, Maud," said Lily, uncon- cernedly. She did not know Walter Dyson or care that he had come home. cor-J^heep? Who told^ you that?" she added, two^^i^ shortjy^^ ^^^, rly violets, and Stella could not see her ' ' Mrs. Finch said so, I think. " " Mrs. Finch is an ignorant, lU-naturea woman. I wonder that you listen to her Stella!" said CecUy, quite viciously, putting her violets t(«ether in a Uttle bunch. "I don't Ustento her oftener than 1 can help," said Stella, laughing, "for I do not like her at aU; you can't t^ink ^o?^ '*»™J- ent her daughter is from her. By Ohe way, it is LUy Finch who is governess to the young Dysons you are sure to like her, sue is so gentle, and lady like, and ncettv. and and pretty, "Pretty, is she?" interrupted Cecily, quicklyâ€" '• do you really mean that she u "" Yes, certainly," answered Stella and she was a little bit surprised at the eager- ness in her sister's manner. "Have you aoy objection to her being pretty!" she added, smiling. "It is a mistake for a governess to be good-looking," answered Cecily, vaguely, as the stuck her violets in the front of her dress and Stella could not help fwicyingâ€" although she could not imagine for what reasonâ€" that she was decidedly annoyed to hear that Lily Finch was anything but plam and uninteresting. Just then Mr. King opened the window of his library, and called out to Stella. " Come here. Spitfire " it was his favorite name for her. " I know you like arranging books." " How can you know anything about my tastes, grandpa?' " Well, I don't know much, I confess. 1 know that you are rather fond of contradic- tion, at all events. Do you like arranging books " "Not much. But I don't mind arrang- ing yours, if that is what you want me to do." " Come in, then, and help me. " Will you wait for me, Cecily," said Stella, turning to her sister. "Selfish old man!" grumbled Cecily. " Why can't he leave you in peace No I'll go for a walk by myself in the shrub- bery you won't be free for an hour, I dare say. Stella went in. There was a whole pile of dusty volumes on the floor. " I have turned them all out," explained the grandfather " there are all sorts of odd volumes that have got mixed up together. Get a duster, and wipe them all, and then sort them and put them all back again in the order of the volumes." "It is like the task that Fairy Crabtree set to the Enchanted Princess," observed Stella, as she sat down on the floor by the side of the heap of volumes " as intricate, and nearlj' as insurmountable." " What task was that Was it to keep her temper 5" said the old man sharply. "No, it was to sort colored straws in a tub," she answered, beginning her task amongst the books. Presently she said to him. "Do you think me bad-tempered, grandpapa " " I am told that you have the temper of a virago I" he said, with a sort of a chuckle. Stella colored deeply, but bent over her task. She knew very well who it was that told him that, and she felt deeply hurt and wounded that he shauld have done so. Why did he try to injure her in her grandfather's opinion He must hate her, indeed "There is such a thing as righteous an- ger," she said, in a low, pained voice. Mr. King glanced at her sharply. " Was yours righteous, Stella?" " I think it was deserved." "Hum â€" I should not be surpirsed if it were," he answered, half to himself. "I hope you don't think I have this dreadful temper that â€" that " she said, timidly. " 1 have never seen more temper about you than I like," he answered kindly. She looked up at him gratefully, but Mr. King's face was turned away. There was a long silence. Stella worked away at her dusting and sorting, and the heap of books gradually diminished under her hands. Mr King leaned his chin on his hand and seemed plunged in thought. At last he turned towards her, looking at her steadfastly severcl minutes befdte he spoke. " Stella, do you think it is quite hopeless It up " he nev# uev|r afi^tioqately. CHAPTER XV. lECILY S VIOLETS, ' ' Are there not some people named Dyson in this neighborhood " ' Certainly they are our nearest neigh- bors. Why do you ask? Have you not heard of them " ' ' No only that grandpa said something about some Dysons this morning," answered Cecily, carelessly. The sisters were wandering up and down the garden walks together on the second morning after Cecily's arrival at Wrexham. "Are they nice people?" questioned Ce- cily, presently, " Nice is a comprehensive term," said Stella, laughing. Lady Dyson is certainly not 'nice ' she is rather disagreeable. Sir Edgar is â€" well, oh I nothing that could be described by that much-abused adjective, and as to the children " "Never mind the children. I meant, of course, they are in a good position in the county " " Of course how odd of you to ask " "I don't see why it is odd â€" it is mere curiosity. By the way, is there not a second son " " Yes a very black sheep, I have heard. But ho»v stupid I am Of course that is how you have heard of them. Mr. Walter Dyson has been in Paris you must have met him there 1" " As if I were likely to know every Eng- lishman in Paris What a childish idea, Stella What makes yon say he is a black prom- but I below his to stand for you and Norman to make asked almost entreatingly. She turned scarlet there rushed rapidly through her mind the recollections of her last interview with her cousin. She remember- ed that she had spoken harsh words to him â€" words such as no man, she felt sure, would forgive. He had thought her violent and ill- tempered before â€" he must think her ten times worse now 1 " Yes," she said sadly "it is quite hope- less." " Then it must be, Cecily," he said short- ly and again there was a long silence. " It is a pity, a sad pity I would have liked to have dealt justly to them all," he broke out again presently. "It would have been better to have been just to them but I cannot let her suffer." He spoke more to himself than to her, and in a tone of such deep regret, and almost of sorrow, as filled her with surprise and distress. With a sudden impulse of affection to- wards the strange-mannered old man, whom she had really learned to love and under- stand, Stella flung her arms around his neck. "Grandpapa, dear grandpapaâ€" don't be vexed about the future let Norman and Cecily fulfil all your wishes. I know all that you have settled, and believe me, I am more than grateful for your goodness and gener- osity towards myself, it is far, far more than I deserve or even thought of." He put her from him quietly, almost cold- ly. " Go back to your tub and your colored straws, child," said this strange old man. "Yon are like all your sex, foolish and ig- norant, and you jump at conclusions. You know nothbg about my will, or what I am going to do for you, although you think yourself so wise." She went back to her books hurt and wounded by his repulse, and spoke not one single word more to him For nearly an hour she worked silently at the task set her and he, all unknown to her, lay back m hU chair and watched herâ€" she tnought he was asleep. When she had finished she rose and would have left the room but his voice arrested her. "Stellar " Yes, grandpapa.* "GSve tui a kiss, asked her ib kiss W: spoken to h«h so «eo*ly^\..„.^ u „ ,^ij ^e bent over his chair a^d kused h m, and the orphan girl's eyes filled wUh sudden tears a^ she did so. But wisely she f orebore Slpeak to him, and slipped away silently and gently out of the room. .^u • Meanwhile Cecily was no longer either in the gardens or the shrubberies. At the pre- cise moment that Stella was leaving her grandfather's presence ou her way to seek her sis er, that sister was standing m a dis- tant corn;r of the park, sheltered by a small clump of trees and bushes with her head upon a youDg gentleman's shoulder, and his arm disposed about her waist. "This state of things is dreadful, Cecily You really cannot expect me to stand it long," the gentleman was saying to her; " how am I to go on like this ' " I thought you premised to do as I told "Yes I suppose I should have ised anything then," significantly, ' feel it hard to bear now." ^, r "You must bear it, Walter just think of what there is at stake After all, it cannot be for longâ€" he is very old and feeble. 1 don't believe he can live many months. "And what are you going to do mean- while?" '• Why, of course, I am to be engaged to my cousin Norman " she answered laugh- ing, "Good Heavens I" he said breath "how do you expect I am it " " Oh, youâ€" you can flirt with your sister's governess I hear she is pretty. ' " Take care you had not better thrust me into that kind of a temptation. I have not a very consUnt dispos'tion. If you were to be open and honest, and let everything be known at once " " Yes, and starve with you upon two hun- dred a year ever afterwards " sneered Cecily " you don't suppose I am such an idiot as that, when, with a little patience and in- genuity, I shall be able to command wealth. It is as much for your sake as my own." " Am I never to see you a' one " he said piteously. "Oh, yes, we can meet sometimes by ap- pointment; but don't make me jealous, Walter, or I warn you, I will turn the tables upon you, and make love to my cousin in right down earnest." He looked very black as she said this but there was no time for more. "Good-bye," she said suddenly in a whis- per. "I hear somebody coming." And tiiey parted hurriedly and quickly. Five minutes later Stella, wandering hither and thither in quest of her sister, was very much surprised in a narrow path through a wood, to meet a young gentleman whom she had never seen in her Ufe before. He was tall, and ratL-i- handsome, and his face was very much fl-whed. Stella had not time, however, to rem trk this all she did notice, as he stood aside to let her pass, was that he wore a bunch of violets in his button hole. Not many minutes later she came across her sister leaning against a tree. ' ' Oh, here you are, Cecily I have been hunting for you everywhere." "I had lost my way," sa'd her sister, going slowly towards her, "Did you see a gentleman just now," in- quired Stella. " I came upon a perfect stranger five minutes ago." "No, I have not seen any one at all," an- swered Cecily, uninterestedly. "I wish I had one might as well be in a desert as here. I have been horribly dull whilst you have been away." "Cecily," said Stella, as they walked to- wards the house, "your violets are gone." " So they are," she answered carelessly, putting up her hand to her bosom. " I sup- pose I must have dropped them." CHAPTER XVI. AN ENGAGEMENT. " You have now been nearly a week in the house with your cousin Cecily if you and she get on together you may as well speak to her and settle the matter," said Mr. King to his grandson. "Yes, sir, if you wish it," said Norman, listlessly. " You like her, I supposeâ€" you have no objection to her?" 'None whatever. She seems a charming girl. I am quite ready to do as you wish, sir." "You don't seem very keen about her," said the old man, unreasonably. " I suppose one doesn't care so much when things are arranged in this practical manner," answerecT Norman, carelessly, " You ought to be very thankful to have things practically arranged for you," said Mr, King, testily. " Yes, sir, I know that, and I assure you I am not ungrateful," said Norman, earnest- ly for, after all, he could make no objec- tion to marry a pretty girl and to be made rich in consequence. " Of course you know that I shall provide for you both " said Mr. King, and Norman smiled. It struck him as odd that his grandfather should mention such a sumptu- ous disposition of his worldly goods as Farm Work f«r] ^^ .The fitting of the m^., of the most importaS r^'anycf, sown tl.is month, rednir!" 'â- 'HtJ Well-rocte.1 man;:':^':^^"^^^^! °r afte^ mixed through ihe soil ii,!"' •« young grain will u^uiaVZ "^^i The harrow and roller ne.rf '"«»o all the clods have l.een ,1^ ^^m Thero*r should not Z^"N sown, leaving the surLJ nf'««*: which state it will cru,t over'^^'*^ V rain ' ' "=f dtt*.,. ., "â- Â« the r»ti "ed^Jl^^ykBtf'bespai • gbam, England, le1 r ,k Times says I ne^^ ° in the "iron regioc â- without recalliu] dTtoon of the two wre Xet boys saying to ^. •'Please, sir, amtv enough to be takei few of those rt**?^. hellish If a â- 4un The somewhat ridged i i'p^tohoidti;- gram drill ako hdpfto 2^' tj and prevent wmter-kilhng nlnmn rrr-iiirto ^f ., °" honi u« who are so eager to " " "by adding *^^"'=T/^ barbarism would or hen of plump grains of a superior vJ? ""ti should be sown. It is profita\ f^ °' » times the market price for .rP^ytsZI seed. The amount to be ^[Tt"'i pends much upon the thorouaK^""" paration and the .r.J°TS^" Under the best "f^Jwalk across the "Blac "'^^^rmetimeago-from I did Bo»,_„ ^.„ tijat of CI on thi FarJrickshire to that of CI the '^â- [^ngth ot the quarts of seed are needed ' ' rule, a bushel good drill. A IS sulfijieut, iight coat 'f soffef, 0; rich and:; divided manure may be placed* n face after sowing, with excellent .?" heavy rain may closely follow a'^^ n out thee" field comiit, ing, and therefore plou for the water at once. The work in the root keeping the ground free f,om v^,' pulling the superfluous roots forth! The great error in growirg tâ€" â- ""I etc., is in not thinning thei White turnips may sttif be ground IS rich. Potato stubble with fine manure, will us ing crop. Eirly-sown ioil ,_ their eyes open LTqnite enough to coi T,. Moomy title is amply de "*« S a plenty of the England " who stenc teaching fuUy as m Hon of the Ganges or th( %g war of labor and capi I Mt upon many divers- v,M it chosen a spot more than the scene of the 1 Birmingham and \\ The line of the Great \^ from the Mersey to the T.a " e and ending with tr to its most charming 1 I like Bunyan's pilgrim, "L» *hP. Shadow of Deat sown ii ' f^^ yield alJl matt|| overt s SJOiJl may be harvested this montL roots in long heaps, with straw and afterwards take them to the roi,t • â-  ' or cover the heaps with earth, to, r'5 the roots from freezing. Ihe roots' '" not heat at any time while stored ..Cut Buckwheat before the frost iij- It. The grain shells easily, therefor .J crop should be cut when the dew « I After curing for a few days, the corn is^l, to be threshed. Buckwheat, as it ;3 from the threshing machine, will heat"i'J if placed in large heaps therefore r:Ij| the grain over the barn floor or othe-'^- face to dry. Beans are injured by anl rams, and should be pulledandstaeke-J soon as they are ripe. In pulling, leave'J vines in rows for a time to cure, as^ird storm approaches, they can be plaad J stacks around poles driven in the rc-jicf A straw cover should be placed ov'er si; stack. The earliest varieties of tield coniw;;;i(| ready for cutting this month, Com saij be cut so soon as the grain is glazed; titl stalks are the best for lOdder if cntattiiiil time. Seed corn should have been nkm before this, but if not, let some of the ssl stalks stand imcut with their ears o: ar.! for future planting. The shocking need: !(| be done with care. If the stalks are js;; ly set and improperly tied, the shocks iL the grain and fodder both suffer, aod;]! husking is more dithcult. Willow or oik twigs may bs used for securely tyiaj iiil shocks of corn. Potatoes are best dug so soon as rip: left in the earth, they may start into groc I or become affected with the mnch-dreaiK rot. It is well to sort the potatoes as are gathered, excluding all unfit for table, â€"Am. Agriculturist. 'of the Shadow rinff you are among gree Hn^ dotted with grazmg fhedgero'^^ and clustering nrelimpse of ancient Che °|ith its grim old ramparts athedral tower upon the br Dee, Then com of S f.ET Wrexham Hall, and tw o thirds of his large fortune as "provision." He was about to leave the room, when a sudden thought struck him, "You will excuse me speaking of it, sir, but there is Stella. I hope you will be good to her." " What do you mean "" rather sharply, " You will, I hope, not forget to give her the share yon spoke of. It would be sad if she were left unprovided for." " Go and find Cecily, my boy," said the old man, wavmg his hand with a short, an- gry motion; "that is your business, and pray don t bother me about Stella." Noraaan retired discomforted, fearing that his kmdly remembrance of SteUa's interest might have done her more harm than good. (TO BE coyriNuaD.) ^il? .^."«*^ of Friends has repealed the prohibition of the marriage of first cousins and now for the first time in nearly two hundred years a bashful young Quaker can enjoy the placid and unexciting stagnation of marrying one of the family. Yonnjj maiL no matter how much the law may pefmit it! doE^t do It. Think of an aunt for fmother- Aerlal Navigation. A certificate of incorporation filed in the oldce of the Secretary of Sat] of Illinois for -the "Aerial Navigitioi Company of Chicago," the object of tneii; corporators being "the transportations; passengers and freight through the ai. It is asserted that the machines to be muJ- factured by this company are a perfeciioi of the one tested at Hartford, Conn,, several years ago, which, at the time attracted c:ii' siderable interest. Probably this refers M several trials of a balloon made by Mr, L F. Ritchel, ot Bridg(port, Conn., wboei. hibited in Hartford, in June, lS78,abilto with propelling apparatus attached by whici the upward and downward movementaci the balloon could be governed, aw q which in calm weather its course C'^ala M The balloon was a horizontal cylinder oi silk, twelve feet long and twenty-four mcja diameter, capable ot containing absuto.P feet of gas. Suspended to it by conisaM steel rods was a flit frame of brass piE«. pointed at each end, aud havmg a seat o^ the operator. In front of the seat wa-^ gear wheel with two cranks, coDMc^a a vertical shaft and a horizonta stall two propeller wheels, one at the lower of the vertical shaft under the frame. »" the other in front of the operator, ana w wheel was attached to the shaft by a u versal joint so that it could be tamed a t^^ tance of about thirty degrees 1â„¢"" j^; in a horizontal plane by the feet o. aeronaut. This wheel was the prope^^^^t power and also the steering devwe. levitating power of the balloon «;" " ' sufficient to raise the apparatus and ik' the vertical propeller assisting i' » j^j rise was desired, and bringing tne" down without emitting any of the^g»^' At one trial, on a calm day, of t^® J, ;i jnd dark woodlands .r and the houses of quee the city of the " proud ng themselves along the aig its winding river, ou y. Ive centuries ago, Pr and Falstaff jested, i and Hotspur died. It as soon as you begin to n. all the freshness and bri dies out of the landsc the reeds and grass w he Dead sea by the Jordai ^rish the moment they tov I^thnesB of the lake, Kv aly sunshine can not pierc veil of smoke which is t by the iron king over his The whole fifteen m ^rhampton and Birmingha sooty, filthy, hideous tow y, Tipton, Smethwick, Wednesbury, form a eont itposts, so to speak, bet% central camps, and froii never once escipe from .th of blackened b^ricks changed inc. 'ed is South this particular district linoe the far-off days when with its roaring fires i, was only the iuiet lit wickam, whose name still le suburb of West Brom ipular corruption of Birn imagem, old joke of the ill-favo: mis;hty good-looking in too sadly true of this d only time to see it to ad when all the filth anc sn, and when the transforn a ghastly picturesqu ite himself. The midnig with countless furnace ilare of which the tall fact out blaok and grim, w pools around are changi and the weird, misshapi and repass, look quite i that infernal splendor, eary landscape lies unrei vage deformity Hug 1%, grimed with soot an ihunneys, outlined in a s against a smoky, iS of broken timbers, re th black dust and cir arth and filling the ve: ditches festering under ws of tumble-down ho and rents scarring th ions cranes and pit-sea d mountains of rubbish skeletons of primeval i where, as far as the e above and ashes below, looks (as its ragged ci; ith grim, unconscious ith the fire burnt out." rose from the baseball grounds ^.^^^,^ ^^ thebaic at Coif Meadows, Hartford, passed over Co"' J^ tory, and nearly over the Connecticut » turned about and returned, dewf'"'^^ the ground at the place from J^hicn " ^^ ed, the distance being probably M';^ and return, the balloon's height «Wj^^ from the earth varying from 3W to or thereabout. At another trial, on the succeu ^^ with quite a stiff breeze bloff'pK, i ^^^^ naut was unable to turn his baHoo" ^^, :eding'5»^' WORDS OF WISD persity exasperates fools Idraws out the facultie pduBtrious, puts the mo trying their skill, nd makes the idle iudu â-  actions of men are like ' they point out what i; ithem.â€" ^cZdison.. tion often puts men i " offices so climbing i ne posture with creepii frates called beauty a s ' Plato, a privilege of '^^ a silent cheat Th '«judice Cameades, a " Uomitian said that no' F'" Aristotle affirmed 1 "»an all the letters o a the world; Homer, P jgift of nature, and "«« it a favor bestowi "^e Italian. bede- i ballo'l"' or to stem the wind, and was tance of nearly nine miles,_ffn= scended and came back, with n ^^ ^^. by carriage. But on this ocoasw ^f scended once on his trip to the ^^L^^t a farmer, procured a glass of ^f^ tea re- weU, and rose again, hopmK to turn trip, „^e o' "" No accurate test was ever " ^^.^ propelling or lif tin? power of tne ^^ ^^ but they were sufficient, ^^^^\^^a,'^l repeated experiments, to J^'^^^'^n ffin* steer the balloon except »° "!^ the r*** the operator rotating thejranK8_» ^^^jijg, of 100 revolutions per by means of pinions, a fans of 3,500 turns per minute IWh vanities and fopperi it is the greatest. ' from nature, not fro; .may be purchased, b '"» that makes the V minute,; pfj'-^ftbf p.boyB,"8aidaSunda **8 trying to impi "tsnce on the clas K, *â-  1 have told yo r Wd then went and » uL**^ best thing he ^8»og himself " K ^® could have ., °y in the class " w A fact.