' " You aro very good," said Helena calmly. , ~. , "You must break just what you think lit to Mrs Spencelcy,' he added. ''There is no one but you to do it. and she will near it best from you. For her sake >ou will keep up this brave, calm behaviour till the worst is over." " Yes ; and thon ?' _ . , "Trouble yourself abont nothing to-night. I will see to everything until your brother comes back. I will stay hero air night. You need not leavo your room again. Helena roso without speaking; looked at him with an indescribable expression ; her lips moved, as if sho would have spoken; but without it word sho turned and went to lior room. Sebastian watched until the door had closed after hor, and that silence seemed to leave an enormous want in his heart. There was silence except a murmur coming from the supper room. That re minded him of his duty. With another earnest look at that closed door, he wont downstairs. , He made his way te Mrs Spencelcy, and asked her to go to her daughter m her room. With a deep flush of terror and fore boding, she went. Neither husband nor son was there to support her. A stranger took her to tho foot of the stairs and loft her. Sebastian's soul was quite possessed with tho idea of these two women ; ono telling, tho other learning, the extent of their awful calamity, so far as it was known. It haunted him, but he gathered himself together, and easily catching the attention of the startled company, he merely told them that Mrs and Miss Spenceley wished him to express their great iegret at having to leave their guests in consequence of very distres-ing news which thoy had just received. Frederick Spenceloy had had te leave homo immediately, and he thought ns it was already late, the kindest thing they could do would bo to leave the house as soon as possible.

Amidst a wild buzz of enquiries, sugges tions, and speculations, tho guests dis persed. In an hour the house was quiet, and Helena had gently told her mother the whole truth ns far as sho knew it. (To be continued.J

The Statistics of Church Sunday Schools.

The last report issued by the Committee of tho Church of England Sunday School In stitute contains a full and interesting state ment of the position and extent of Sunday schools in tlio Church of England, aud furnishes several interesting facts, as show ingthc hold which they have upon tho young. Tho parishes iv the diocese ot England and Wales which made returns wero m number 8,045. The number which did not mako returns was 0,054. The returns, therefore, apply to 58 of tho whole number, leaving 42 unaccounted for. The total number of scholars on the books of the schools in tho 8,405 parishes making returns is 1,289,273, giving an nvcrngo of 78 for each school. Allowing tho same average for the 6,064 parishes not making retains, the total number of scholars in Church of England schools is 2,222,891. The total number of tenchers on tho books of tho schools in tho 8.405 parishes making returns is 113,412, giving nn average of 6. S7 for each school* Allowing the same average for the 0,064 parishes not making returns, the total numbers in Church of England schools is 195,533. The number of scholars over four teen years of age in tho schools making returns, is 168,734. The number of scholars who aro communicants, 48.650. Tho number of teachers who were formerly scholars, 30,754. Separate services for children arc held in connexion with 2,709 of tho schools making returns.

Spending the Saints' Money.

FOR tho past week new invoices of costly furniture for the Amelia Palace have been arriving daily. Yesterday six loads of magnificent chairs and sofas were dumped down in the back yard. Every hour in tho day the hard-working, brohze-fisted tithe-payers stop in front of the palace and gaze upon those costly baubles and make mental inventories of how much they have delved and dug and sweated to pay for John Taylor's extravagance. There are sofas in the outfit which cost 150 dollars a-picce, easy chairs which cost 75 dollars, and carpets which cost 500 dollars for each room. Tho style in which Taylor proposes to live is in marked contrast with his humble cir cumstances ,1 in the years when he Elayed second fiddle to the. big boss righam. At that time, he had hard work to get along, and when elevated to the position of Seer and Kevelator, George Cannon offered him one of his houses to live in, because his houso was too poor an abode fer a prophet of the Lord, Since Taylor has been able to grasp tho reins of power, he has made hay at a lively rate, hut his grasping energies are not to the strengthening of the stakes of Zion, but to the vulgar accumulation of riches. The poor dupes of his doctrines wear shabby clothes and live in wretched adobe huts, that they may pay tithes aud enable the slook fraud, iwho rules the church and handles the ca9h box, to lounge amid luxuries which cannot bo furnished in Utah, bnt must of necessity be procured in New York. It is estimated that the furni ture cost 50,000d015, hut those who have inspected it say that the Palace cannot he furnished in the style Taylor contemplates for less than from §75,000 to §100,000., Tho question which the saints arc beginning to ask themselves is, '? Where docs: John.Taylor get all this money, unless he appropriates it bodily from the tithing fund ?"• This monoy, the Mormons think, should go to beautify the temples -of tho .Lord,^ instead- of being squandered on Taylor, who hasn't revealed anything; of;,any, account,.since ,he ; went into office., Taylor's excuse for this; course is that he is not fitting,jip; the .palace for himself, but for the Princes and Potentates of Europe, and Senators and Congressmen, who happen"to emigrate this way. -The cellar is to bp stocked the best cham pagne foi'-visitors. to. he. entertained with;; hut whan, John*Taylor -thinks- a, bottle is liable to spoil, he feels at liberty t to: slip dowiißtnirs.nnd>Bayo i th<rwinq.. The saints say that-' it, iajno^-wj'ndsr'jthat.ftiie.-ghosts, will-.not, leave tJiq ,palfy:p. ]a)oi.c.r**''Salt Lake Tribute."; ; ,,, rr; ~^K ' l t ■-~ -p_l j. UB ( ~p afora wolir. Iliw no.

A Mute Appeal.

Some years ago there lived in Philadelphia a thrifty pair. The husband's business was one his wife could assist in, so she was in every way his helpmeet, besides being his housekeeper and his saving bank. Thoy were happy and prospering in their own lit tle house—tho Philadelphia's patent idea of comfort, After a time the man grew ambi tious to get a more showy footihg. He took to politics—as is the duty of all citizens when tliisnieanspoliticsandwater. Unfortunately it was politics and whisky in this case—the sort ol ward politics that is carried on m the liquor saloons. Ho grow to; be such an im T po riant man in this " combination "that he could not attend to his private business any more,, If this were the story of," Mulhooly' tlio rest of it would be that,, in spite of his empty shop and unilhishcdordcrs.ho Wenton getting rich. But X. was not a hij-li politician of that kind. Ho was of the sbrttliat is used —not a master in the political trade. His wife.left alono in tlie shop.did her best; but from tho very fact that sho was alono, that he was never seen, customers began to suspect something. Orders tbat lie had taken went wrong ; complaints were made of lost goods that had been trusted to him. She had to make them good. Here again, tbe stoiy ougnt to turn that sho built up the businesr herself again, and put up her own name as a sole trader. But she was a poor, heart broken woman. She wanted to reclaim him, and not ovon the business was as important to her as what had become of her husband all tho days and nights that he staid away from her.' They wero half-starved, but sho kept up a decent appearance still, kept her children clean and herself tidy. One day a strange thing happened. This respectable, neat woman, with hor two pretty children, made her appearance in the tavern where this man spent his days. She did not make a scene; she did not come for that. She quietly took hor seat there and waited for him. People came up to her and urged her to go homo, saying that this low drhiking-place was no placo for her and her children. "Wherever the father stays," she replied, "is the place for his children nnd for me." Of course ho was ready soon to go homo. Somo men would have been brutal—havo struck or cursed at her for interference, but this man was only weak, not cowaidly. Tho next day lie went to another place. Sho followed presently with tlio bright little children. This was kept up for some weeks. The tavern-keepers grow uneasy. Thoy could not stand the mute witness of tho man's weakness. They could not complain of her, for she did nothing—only sat and watched. She did not cry or entreat whilo her husband lounged up to tho bar to drink. Sho simply sat by, pained and intent, witli the two children kept very closo to her, as if she would shut out from thoir eyes and ears such talk and such sights. No tavern keeper could stand it. One nftcr another refused to sell liquor to a man so guarded. Finally it began to tell on him—this gentle, faithful watch. He stopped drinking, dropped his '• political" associates that had led nim to it, and began to turn over a new leaf. He picked up his old business again, but finally concluded to move lo another placo and make a clean start. He is now prosperous, and his experience is not the least part of his gains. This was tho way one woman reformed her husband; with never a spoken word, she fairly shamed him out of his ruin by letting him see that whatever he sank to thero she aud the children wero bound to be, and that even in danger and foulness she still looked to him to protect them. For better, for worse, she haa married him, and even when he took the worse there would she and his children be. It was an appeal to his manhood, anil a very uncomfortable' appeal to tip* man hood of all who stood around, or wao dropped in to drink. Not a crying woman —not even a praying one, as any one could sec—but, by tlie mute appeal of her presence there, finally conquering for decency and happiness again.—" Chicago Tribune."

Feminine Brevities.

One of the wire-walking women carries her husband on her shoulders. Most- womon have their husbands under their thumb.

Several notable happy marriages havo been made on two hours' courtship, but it is a pretty safe rule to know the girl for at least three days and a picnic. A St. Louis man won't give up his seat in a horse-car to a lady, but he's perfectly willing to hoist out the man next to him to -nakc room for the lady, if she's good looking. >~. When nn Ohio man told his wife that he. had just traded for a new spring waggon, she replied, ,'" You dunce, you 1 why did you got a spring waggon in the fall of the year?" . -AS, ■ '■ Love impresses its tender image on all its environments. Even the scattered peanut shollsat the front gate Monday morning arc silent witnesses of its all-embracing sway.", ■,-'-'■: i"Can there be happiness where thorc is no love?'' solemnly' queries an author in a book on marriage. Not much happiness, perhaps, but if the girl is awfully rich there can be lots of fun.

An Illinois man, with a foresight worthy of a better cause, popped tho qnestion onn railroad train,- and now,the maiden is at a loss to decide as to which county she hud better commence proceedings in for a breach of promise. "Do you-reside, in this city?'' asked a musked man of a masked lady at a masked party the other evening. He felt sick when she said to him, in a low voice: " Don't be a fool, John; I know, you by the wart on your thumb."' It was his wife. ~ .. The Queen of England, is worth §80,00° 000. "It is easier for a camel to go thrv,tgh tho eye of :a needle than for a rich man to cuter the kingdom of; God. "; No wonder that they say, "Godsave the Queen!"-—" New Haven Register," . ■ i Fashions are changing,; it, is said, and ' iho brunette is going • out and the blonde is coming in. When the blonde was,voted Outof styleshe. looked Wack enough to pass for-a brunette, and now the brunette will perhaps, tuni white,with, anger,',-,', I Instructor hi -Latin— "Miss 8.,' of, what was Cores, the goddess?".!. Miss B.—"She- Was the. goddess ,of marriage." .Instructor t-"Oh, u nd;,,'of nagyie .lturc;" ~,;M is, iI, (looking perplexed)—"iWhy; I'm-sure my. book sjiys .slip" yras^tli. goddess o£, husi! bandryf.*?;,; „,,_,., j' .fcj-,,. }c ,,, M { M l?jinniio'» 1 ''.'S't-'i

Joan of Arc,

RECORD FOUND OF A CONTRACT BETWEEN " ROBERT DES ARJIOISE, KNIGHT, AND JEANNE D'ARCY, MAID."

Though Joan of Arc is a French heroine, in littlo danger of being forgotten, the citizens of Crotoy have thought fit to make assurance doubly sure by rearing a fresh statue to her memory. The Maid of Orleans having had the misfortune to be a sound Catholic sacrificed by a Bishop, the clericals and their opponents ' have seized the occasion for a renewal of their ancient combat : against' everybody < I and everything considered ' inimical: to the Warrior Girl of Domremy, The steryof Jeanne d'Arc's life, as conventionally re ceived, is a tragedy which'aptly lends itself to the legion of painters, sculptors,' poets and probers' who have chosen it for'the illustration of theitf genius or the demons tration of their dullness. But, in truth/ after an interval of four centuries'and a half, history is apt te grow a littlo mouldy, and though so orthodox a chronicler as M. Henri Martin, who > was chosen to nounce the Crotoy eulogy, might havo proved equal to tho demands on' his im agination, the least exacting of historians must now and then bo staggered' as they try to repeat the oft-told tale of the foundres of the noblo family of Do Lys. A career of nineteen years, so obscure in its beginning, so sad and yet so brilliant at its close, could not fail to enlist the sympathy and admiration of every age. Thus Jeanne d'Arc has been accorded an immortnliiy of glory and a wealth of pictures, statues, memoirs and epics such as have fallen to no other woman of her nation. Unhappily, we live in Philistinish times. The icono clasts of history delight in hewing down their fathers' gods. With such a spirit let loose among the records, it could scarcely bo expected that the Maid of Orleans would escape tho cruel investigations of the soulless critic. NOT BURNED AT THE STAKE.

It is true that, though there is a question how far tho fanaticism of Jeanne aided in routing our countrymen, no one doubts that they wore defeated. It is, therefore, need less revising the verdict then passed at the spcir point. But after a hundred works had described her death, and thousands of revorcut pilgrims have.wept ovor the scene of her martyrdom in the Place' de la Puccllo of Rouen, it was a shock to hear, not only that the English were hot respon sible for her martyrdom, hut that the heroic damsel was never burned at all, having lived to be a respected matron and well-to do citoyennc. That is, nevertheless, what Father Vignier asserts to be the fact, and M. Delnpierre has confirmed with docu ments regarding the authenticity of which there cannot be much soepticism. There always was a belief that tho woman execu ted iv 1431 was not tho real "Maid," and at diflerent towns during tlie subsequent years numerous impostors were punished for attempting to pass themselves off as the authentic martyr. M. Vignier, however, found in the arcllives of Montz a contem porary account of the arrival of Jeanne in that city on the 20th of May, 1436, and her recognition by her two brothers.

THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. This paper furthermore mentions that in due time she was married to a Sieur de Hermoiso or A rmoise, and though it might be admitted that the document discovered was a modern forgery, it is certainly staggering to disinter from a family muniment chest of a M. des Armoise ;of Lorraine, a contract of marriage between "Robert dcs Armoise, knight, with Jeanne d'Arcy, surnnmed the maid of Orleans." This also might have been a coincidence, though a ratherstriking one, but among the archives of the Maison do Ville, of Orleans, under dates of 1435 and 1430, are records of certain payments made to messengers bringing letters froth " Jeanne, the Maid," to her brother,' John dv Lils or Lys.. Now, this surname is'well known to havo been that under which, as a reward for long sen-ice, the-Arc family are ennobled. So here—unless we. at once cut tlie knot hy declaring the entire mass of documents (those in Mentz, Lorraine, and and in Orleans) to bo gross forgeries, which has not yet been attempted-^-is a curious network of facts, out of which it is rather difficult to escape from the .con clusion that there must have been some mistake abont the Maid of Orleans having been incinerated in that lively icity on the the Seine, in which stands one of her many statues erected to attest the truth of the event. Most curious of all—M. Delapierre in his "Doutes Historiques," . adduces numerous other data tending in tbe same direction—in the Orleans accounts, under dateof August 1, 1439 (eight years after she.ought to have been dead), there is an entry of .210 livres presented to Jean d' Armoise, by the Town Council for services rendered by her at the siege of 1429.' It is difficult to.get oyer these facts. : -'■' ' '

The King not a Gentleman.

On a memorable occasion the Duke of Wellington ■ went ,to Brighton, - r where George IV. was at the time, to urge his Majesty to appoint Mr, Canning to", the Secretaryship of Foreign Affairs, "Good God, Arthur," the King said, "you don't mean to propose to me • that fellow as Secretary for Foreign Affairs; it is''lm.: possible! I said, on my honour as a fcntleman,: he should never bo one of my linisters again. You hear, Arthur ; on my honour as a gentleman!" lam sure you will agree with me that I can't do what I said, on my honour as, a gentleman, I would not do.", " Pardon- me,,' sir; I don't agree with you at all. Your Majesty is not a gentleman." The King started. "Your Majesty, .I.say," continued the duke, "is not a gentleman, hut,:the Sovereign of England, with duties to"your people far ahovc any to yourself; ; and these duties render, it imperative;,that you, should.at this time employ, 'the: abilities of .Mr Caniiing_,". ; ■-" Well I"' drawing a long breath, "if Lmust,';l must," was finally the King's reply. ~.'

Tho proportion of population :to railways open in Now. Zealand is, classed,as,follows/f isays the " Post" :—Auckland,! a mile;.of i workinfffj railway.-:to. eyory ~7ls'upfcrsons-: • Wellington, Taranaki, and:Hawkesßay,,-a , milo.of iWorkiug railway. Io , every'Bls'.po.v sons'* Marlborough,rNelson; andWpstland,i aniile of lineto each.S92npersons.!;iCan'ter- ' bury and Otago a mile to every .10,personsi | il' yljtb f.id :■:■» Ii o*B3 r, tionsnl .sniq Ivml-

Foreign flews and Gossip.

The unveiling of the statue to Lord Byron was to take place at Athens on October 9th. - Preparations are nearly completed for lighting the principal thoroughfares of Liverpool by electricity. By a recent census the population .of Prussia is set down as 27,278,395 souls, of whom 1,122,340 live in Berlin.' King George of Greece, with his Premier, has been visiting his newly-acquired provinces.' His army is about .to be re duced to 30,000. ' ■■'■ •■•■ i"",-:','".;"

The small farmers in:Germahy;'catmo't hold their o\vn. Nearly 4)000 farnis were offered.for sale last year, and 1,000 foundno" purchasers.' 7 '.-'■.' .'.''"•'.'"'!,_. -. Wolves'have appeared this fall In great; numbers' in tlie East of France. .A; pack_bf; them recently devoured fifteen1 sheep and a' goat in' a; field close by .a gentleman's house. ■"■'■ • '■'■•■ .. '.' i!,; .. '"" ■'a_! !'

j About three 'weeks ago two Parisian women were arrested at Vincennesl on. a charge of fighting a dtiOlj at which both were wounded. i The women's husbands acted as their seconds, and were aho arrested. ""

The Bishop of Manchester has written a letter to contradict a s'atement that he had' expressed approval of "cards or other games with a small stake attacked" being introduced into working men's clubs.' . '■''-'■ A pauper died recently in an English work-house infirmary whose housa; when searched, was found to contain property, in money, bank deposits, bank notes, shares of Peninsular and Oriental Steamship rom-' pany, jewellery and trinkets, worth in the aggregate many thousands of pounds. ~ Edmund Yate», speaking of , tipping waiters at Paris hotels, says the most generous guests are the French and those. English (Americans of course) "who speak through their noses. Of the French the most prodigal are the Bordelais, the Toulousians and the Marseillais. The Ger mans, he says, are the most niggard with the smallest coin. ''-':• "■'v'"'.

Bismarck weighs himself solemnly every year at the Kissengen baths, but the keeper of the scales doesnt tell what the result is till after the Chancellor has gone.. This year's weight is not yet reported, but last year he weighed 237 pounds, or thirty more than in 1874. 'J he weight is by no means large for a man of his great frame. Davidson, of Tulloch, who died last month in Scotland in his eighty-second year, was the Count d'Orsay of Highland life fifty years ago, a wonderfully handsome man, and celebrated for his good luck. - He was married five times, held a commission in the Grenadiers, and was once a member of Parliament. For several years before his death, however, he was living in utter penury at Brussels. There are reports in German journals of many emigrants who have been starting out for America with only means enough to ?et to Liverpool or some other seaport, 'here, utterly destitute, they have been subjected to much suffering, and have finally been assisted in returning, to their homes with public funds, merely to prevent their becoming permanent burdens on the public charities. These poor people set out with a vague notion that they would in some way be enabled to complete their journey. Paris has more poor than any city in the world. The number of registered poo r who have received relief during the present year reaches the number of 354,812, of whom 200,000 receive outdoor relief.. The number sopported wholly by charity is over 150,000. In 1789, every tenth person was a confimed pauper. The annual poor rate'bf Paris is 114r. per head, or £2o per family.- Paris supports 28,000 orphans arid foundlings, pays the expenses of 15,000 mothers too poor to defray themselves, and has -.the names of 50,000 poor families on its'official lists." *;". ."'" '

Liberty and Law.

Liberty is not an end in itself. No one has so much liberty as the wild Indian; yet who would be like him!' Before there is liberty there must be government. " Only in the circle of law," Goethe tells us, "is true liberty possible." When law isfirmly established then we may a How liberty, and more and more as people become fit for, it. Even then political liberty is not to be sought as an end; it only seems to be so, because the more liberty a political subject has the hotter is he able to cultivate, him self, to develop these various faculties which must be developed if he is to live a healthy and complete life —" Temple Bar.''; . .

Lord Derby on the Land Act.

Lord Derby contributes to the October number of the "Ninleenth Century" ah article on "Ireland and the Land Act."l Speculating on how the Act will affect land-; lords, he maintains that the large absentee owners will suffer very little, if at all, theirl estates being generally low rented, and they themselves being indifferent to such loss 'of power as is involved in inability to.substitute one tenant for another. The change will be to them nothing. The real sufferer Will be the small needy proprietorsand landowner-* who valued their estates chiefly as a,' trust put into their hands to improve and de velop. The former class wouldhe ruined;: the latter would find their1 money Wasted and their occupation gone. The Landr Com issioners arc absolute as no other set r of men in the British Isles are. They have no'law to guide them, and there isno appeal" from their decisions. They-are not likelyl to require the reduction -of any rents that i have not been raised lately, and this would be the case over one-half or two-thirds of .Ireland. As regards the effect' on the in-' -terests of the tenant, all that iscertaiti'iS' that" he will have less done for him,; arid i will be more free to do what he ban for him self. The iinproving laridlprd-will:disap : - pear, and capital and skill 2 will he'-scire .' Lord Derby considers that the befits pros- ,pect for the Irish peasant lies inithe'dfrec''' 'tion of emigration. He ■' is. not'^sangiiirie enough to suppose that the Land Court will I satisfy, popular expectation.so Thoughl he believes the Act will fail as a measure of' conciliation, it will probahlyi effectually cheek the spread of anti-Erighshfeeling'in' .Ulster, and detach many adherents from; the Nationol causei But the principal* gain is'oUtside: of Ireland,--for the Government • will havo satisfied every reasanahle^nmhtiin7 ; England and Scotland!that tltev.Utniost r lumt&of just and reasonable''conce'ssionl to'i . Irish demands haveiboenireachetU uomrfehm I'■ od'ir ,01.,",." ;«.:. r. h-.ssii-.i_ r.:..l ci.!« Aibtf

His White Hair.

" How did my hair.turn w hite ? Well, sir , if you will sit down I will tell you.1,1. _, | A yoiing man of "splendid physitiue'aud" $ handsome features ■paused long i enough to» 1 jask his visitor to. be seated and wait till he: 1 •was through with his work before explain ing why h> hair was of a colour so, out of' IS keeping with his age.,.,1 had passed' the- " ; man one day on the' streets of Bradford,and 1 a friend had pointed to him as a man . ith ; a history. Having'busmess on the Moody . .tract a few days, ego, 1., paid the stranger, jMerritt Wa'lace, a * short visit' and had a I jpleagiiotfaTkivitli'him;''-' Jsxmu yon ! There was a long peiiodof silence after he m • s ,t-,flo^nj andknowing we. U the, nature, |Of'- i;l ~ jdnUer-vil- gave-him his owm.time.j (At. 1 'lengthi Wallace;spoke,' slowly' and,,wi th_ . eyident hesitation*. .••■-•'. •,..; i\s ,'j liri . 1 I'" And, so, you want to know (how my, hair ir- ■■'. turaed/yrtute l Well,l don't,know il don't- H tell the i story iyery,. of ten, but if Boylston'. sent-.youthere to see me,-1 'guess, it's.,all*-_H right, a-. I was originally a Bostbnian,jhav ing been raised.at the Hub. ' I thought of- 1 the oil country as a place-where barbarians lived, and. where a good smart man could I make a fortune in three weeks. ,It is need., i les to say I was greatly fooled. ■",% I came to- :'i. the oil country fresh as a! daisy, and before living in it two, weeks ; I came. to the con- I elusion, none the less sure because it was ■ ' forced, that I was more fit to drive a team or j saw wood than I was to be. an-oil king. I', ' knewhowto handle horses, for my.father-na kept, a first-class carriage,; and as I was; ' strong, and,healthy there was no. reason'" 1 why I should go home a failure. 'Now, I. am head driller On this well," and?l,,am '*' striking back at misfortune; as. yigourosly as it bestowed sledge-hammer blows on me', , two •nr three years ago., I don't-looli as, though I were .Faint-hearted,.do I|t| Aliout* | two years ;ago I was in hard luck,;for6ome'! - j reason or another, and as it never Tains (but, it pours,.! had all sorts of misfortunes,*the.- ' moat remarkable of which turned. my. hair, from a colour- moderately black'.,to the' silvery whiteness you see now., Therehad. been a heavy storm, one night about mid night, and,: as usual, with the oil country r residents, I- arooe : and looked, from tlie' window to see if any tanks had been struck,' by lightning. A bright glare in the sky con vinced me that a large tank of ,cril> wps on fire a few miles distant, and I went back to. sleep determined togo the fire ntinponand,, . ~ see the first overflow. You know that when , a 25,000-barrel iron tank of oil has been on fire for twelve or fourteen houra the barn-; ing oil will boil up and flow over the sides . just like a kettle of soap." Well,;about noon, in company with three or four ypung fellows, I went to the fire.;, Hundreds of, feet in air hung a grand pillar of blackest - smoke, and from out the huge tank fierce.. flames were shootingnpward asiftoburathe vaidt of Heaven. ' "At 2 o'clock- the first grand overflow occurred. Aslstoodon the hillside pick-;-:^ ing wild berries,;lheardaman;shout.'she's coming,'and saw.pipe men running away,;.'!§ from the tanks for their lives.' (I .heard a ' rumbling sound inside the. tank and didn't know what it,meanty hut ,a fe"y lf ,seconds:f ||| after I saw fully, 500 jharrels.of burning oil;, j| shoot up from the .tank;and , ; hoil oyer Ihe sides. It was grand beyond description, aud I stood and watched it in silence. The-, burning oil, floated,down the, creek,for a-, mile, burning a sawmill,- numerous oil wells ■ and tanks, buildings and everything within, reach of its devastating hreath. ; , 0 "When the flow had hardly snbsidcd.it . was found that:a second,2s,ooo : barrel iron tank had been set on fire by the overflow of ,; -burning oil. ; Beingsomewhatiinquisitivel ventured down behind the burning tanks to;; get a better view from, tho tower side. , While trying to avoid a pool pf burningoo r * I fell into a mud hole or sortof quicksand and: stuck fast. My,utmost' endeavours,- r were of no avail in extricating.iyself from.; Hie hole.- I yelled at the,top of.my voice,; but so great was'the,'ro^,of; ; flieiburaing ■ tanks that my voice sqiinded, andfar,j away. .1: struggled until .exhausljed and_j then I lay backland rested' HoWibeautiful the g^eat pillar of hlackseemed jnthe clear blue sky. Great billows of smoke would go surging upwards hundreds of feet and float, away into space, their, sdmbre,.hues turned r to snowy whiteness." That is'string^; but gg if you have seen Jan oil j fire you will-know - it is the case/, From the tank a column of inky smoke towered hundreds of feet, in air, , and away Up.'near the top the",.edges w ere • tipped with silver, and farther,."upithe.gi cat black cloud f was transformed, as if by a magician's wand," ( to. billows of white. Little "biixLs: attracted by the smoke flew _ into the burning tank and were burned to ' nothing. I remember now'that.l thought- | the birds sang beautifully in ,the ( trpes, and that' the sunlight and the great fleecy clouds aboveime were lovely beyond,human eon- , cOption.". A. vague thought of the'.iw'ssi- ■*• bility of not; being able to get out flitted through my brain, biit it stayed only a ; .. 'moment. I thought the hoys would miss-, me and search;for me. i<_ _ -i,-'i'..J'' "Sudddehly I.heard «the soundi pi a .cannon, .md sajtvVa column; of flame r .and smoke shoot up. from one of ; the ? tanks. The truth .anie'iupon nic. like a/bolt pL, I lightning, and I was almost stricken sense less t hy-the thought., The .United Pipe : Linemen were firing cannon balls through, r first tank to, draw; off theloil and pre- - vent 'a seporid overflow!, -Great God 1 what,j 'a. convictioncaiue upon me!" The . burning, ,oil wouldißow down upon me 1 It ivas a ; matter.of seconds.,' Itried'.to,aiout,(.Dut_< the words' would; not, come..'' Wiethe.. strength of despair I .struggled .to.got .free. ; Tlie quicksand .held. me with' the grip ot 'ten thousand devils. /All at once I saw a little''stream■ ' of t .]burning oil run -.slowly - down'towards :me.'. My .time had come, 1 thought,'and I'taiusl lie", burned to death by inches'.,.;1' The earth was deai\.to me then,,, dearer' to me than ever before, and 1 turned to get' a 100 l . ,at the sunlight., and. , :th'e bright YoHd()fie?':mo*-e, ) The horror,, 'and'fear passed away arid! I ,was ready to,, 'die.. ;The stream,of burning oil,.now grown larger.I' -iva^ almost upo'u'jaie, but I did, not,, . seem to care. ' I sqvr it as in ii dreaip. The , •earth and all-things earthly,faded away,,l _. I '{Wjien 'I 'cfime.baqk'to' consciousness.l wSs lyingiii'mv'bvyn 1 Coin"withihyfriends ,r ' Around inc., fhe l*oys saldt^at^fQlfOW; 'ing'.tbesulSosed'com'so oi ihe overflowed,. 6ivthe^fcMie.W6n* nlc'i.ul..rescue^ me._ 1 jnst~aßvtKh 'buniui^ sti< mi v s about, to v 'aiisfiMblr2fie'i', 1 Araslsick/.-t^long^jyhuc,,,! and'^liphTg6ir f;weli'tlffflpCM umffiffl ; 1 astfptfaS yon'¥e'6,'itgSbsK,'.' W$a AW_& \ 4att'itHks-'M'sfellfiWortW titiAi $%;%$_ m '

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT,'] I>ECMBE£ 3, -'JBBJ.

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