LOVE A LA MODE.

'" Mi dear Monty, how glad I am to see you ! It does seem such an age since you were here, although we've nothing to amuse you, for do you know the Halketts have gone ? Mrs Halkott's grandfather must choose to be taken ill—tiresome old man ! And not content with rushing off herself, she must needs drag her sister^away—Celia Young. You remember I wrote about her ; a charming girl! And here we are left ■with nobody out Carrie and Hatty Went -worth. I. don't know what you'll say." " Say that I'm very glad they are gone, my dear Fanny. My only regret is that Miss Wentworth did not accompany them." "Monty!" and the speaker shook her head regretfully. " Not that really anyone need mind Hatty, for since that ridiculous notion of hers about Tom Carlingford throw ing her over, except to sit and abuse all men, she might as well be dumb." The gentleman addressed as Monty curled his lip disdainfully. He was evidently ■ about to give vent to some cutting sarcasm ; but, apparently recollecting that the subject was not worth the trouble, he headed instead a very profound sigh. " I'm sure you would have liked Celia Young, Monty, and she was expiring to •meet you." " Thank Heaven, then, for sending her a ■disappointment! Fanny, I see you don't believe.me, but I give you my solemn word thai I have dons with women £or ever. One has managed to completely blight my life, to break my heart and half kill me; and I think, if you ask me, that is about enough." " Unfeeling, heartless girl !" was mur mured sympathetically. "How you must despise her !" " I ! What, because I discover that she has been dealing falsely with me —trifling with me—do you suppose that I can cease to love her? On the contrary, the hope lessness of her ever being mine but adds fuel to the fire find increases mv torture. As long as I live I shall never cease to wor ship that girl—never !" and making a great display of a cambric pocket-handkerciiief, embroidered with a most elaborate initial, tho disconsolate lover .sank back in the car riage as if thoroughly overcome by de spair. Fanny, otherwise Mrs Stanhopo Rodney, sighed audibly. Monty Curzon was her most petted cousin—one of the best-looking men about town, universally spoiled and hitherto the greatest adept at ft flirtation to be met with in the United Kingdom. For years he had carriedeverythingbeforehim— had raised hopes only to scatter them, wounded hearts which he left for others to spread salve over ; had come, seen, and conquered ; loved, laughed, and ridden away. All at once Fortune had refused him her favour, just when chance had thrown him in the way of more thin his match in an nrch-deceiver, who was not only wily enough to lead him on, but she called " Dilly-dilly-duck" until she actually effected his capture, and then, with Qaptain Curzon at her feet, was never more surprised than to find that what -she had meant as play he had taken as ear nest. Naturally xhe had preferred him, because he had seemed to prefer her; but setting aside her engagement to Moss Oolding (which she thought everybody in the world knew of), how was it possible to conceive that, after having been told 60,000 times that Captain Curzon never meant anything beyond a flirtation, she was all at once to suppose he intended any thing more with her. Captain Curzon's friends said that Miss Lyster had behaved abominably ; the strictures passed by the ladies were particulary severe The men took a more lenient view of the matter ; some were even heard to say that he had been only pud back as he deserved to be. However, as it seemed to-be insisted upon, Captain Curzon was regarded as heart broken, and this forsaking town and burying himself in the country was a certain proof of his sufferin<; and his despair. The short drive from the station accom plished and Captain Curzon put in pos.se." ?<ion of the cosiest of bachelor apartments, Mrs Rodney hastened to the boudoir, where who found her sister Carrie—a kindly, mid dle-aged spinster—and Hatty Wentworth seated together. "Well, he's come '." she said, excitedly. "I've brought him back with me, but oh, so altered ! \ou'd hardly know him for the same !" " There wasroomfor improvement, wasn't there?" asked Miss Hatty, ironically. Mrs Rodney treated the question with be coming contempt. "You have never yet met Monty Curzon, Hatty," she said, crushingly. " Oh, yes, I have, though ; only I was never enough talked of to make it worth while for him to want an introduction to me." "My dear, don't be spiteful ! Besides, in the present case it is really most unfeel ing in you. The poor fellow U crushed— absolutely heart-broken." Miw Wentworth laughed derisively. "Really, Fanny, it is too absurd of you ! Heart-broken lAs if any man had a heart to break. The whole of them are altogether made of cast iron." " As I have told you before, Hatty," Mrs Rodnoy delivered herself sententiously, " it is a pity to judge all by oue bad specimen. However, you're certain to alter your opin ion before long, for I suppose you don't in tend to be a apin3ter for ever ?" " Heaven forbid !" cried Miss Hatty, tragically. "My only regret is that lean only marry one man. I should like to have the tormenting of thousands for all I am being made to suffer." And having de livered herself of this exalted sentiment of humanity, without waiting for a reproof, ■which she foresaw was in store for her, the young lady boat a hasty retreat from the room. "Oh dear, dear ! What a pity it is that •girl makes herself so silly," exclaimed Mrs Rodney, irritably. "I do wish that Stan hope hadn't persuaded me to ask her here. I'm suro it was very ill-judged, Carrie." Miss Wentworth, a cousin on Mr Rod ney's side of the family, was a pretty girl, with a great store of attractive power, which had never failed her except in the in stance of Tom Carlingford, who, having been played fast and loose with by her for an indefinite time, had at length grown res tive and escaped this tyranny by removing his allegiance from her and placing it ana his hand and fortune at the disposal of a simple, unattractive country girl, thereby, •according to Hatty's showing, wrecking her peape of mind for ever and setting her at variance with all mankind. " I do hope she won't make herself disa greeable to Monty," said Mrs Rodney, con tinuing to address her sister. "Not at all likely, unless he interferes with hey." " Which he is quite certain not to do ;he knows too much of her already, and the way she has behaved to dozens of men, es pecially to Roger Cotton. I believe he quite dislikes her ; he told me some time ago that she has everywhere the character of flirting most abominably." " Then I can quite understand thegrounds for your apprehension." "Vyhy? How?" "Simply because two of a trade seldom agree." In the drawing-room the lowering of :the lids over eyes which did not deign to look at him was the only acknowledgment

Miss Wentworth vouchsafed in return for the unnecessarily profound bow made by Captain Curzon to her. That it might be perfectly understood that no further inti macy was desired, the young lady, last to put in an appearance, crossed outside the cirolo made round the fire, and drew over a chair close to the window, at which she sat looking out until the announcement of dinner,' '■ I give myself to you, Monty," said Mrs Rodney, rising. "Come along, Carrie," said the host, cheerfully; "Hatty will have to bring up the rear." Miss Wentworth rose so slowly, and trailed herself after them so languidly, that on reaching the door of the dining-room she perceived the party already seated, with a chair left vacant for her—it was placed opposite to Captain Curzon. " I wish somebody was here to take a bet that hell eat a capital dinner," she said in wardly ; "it would be something new to see a man's appetite affected by anything but his liver. I'll just watch him." And when Captain Curzon, who was really very well disposed toward the ex cellently arranged menu set before him, having finished his soup, looked up from it, his eyes were met by a pair which seemed to promise their owner gome amusement, in taking note of him. "Confound that girl !" he thought. "I wonder whether she means to sit staring at me all through dinner ?" and in order to Rodney. " I hope you've brought down a little ap petite with you, Monty," she said, implor mgly- , " Oh, but certainly I have. To-day I in tend to make an extra good dinner, for I have not had much beyond a cup of coffee since yesterday." Mrs Rodney shoo"k her head to show how deeply this announcement pained her. " Isn't it at Malta where, tomoveyourpity, they say that they haven't eaten anything for a week or a fortnight ?" The expression of Miss Wentworth's face as she asked this question was a stndy. Captain Curzon, feeling the thrust and hoping to give it back again, answered her quickly that he had known the beggars there to say they had been a month with out food. What made Miss Wentworth think of the Maltese? Was she interested in anyone at Malta ? The Sixtieth had gone from there. The Sixtieth was the regiment of Roger Cotton, Miss Wentworth's old admirer, and the young lady—reported to have treated him very badly—perfectly understood the allusion. "Oh, are they ?" she sa!d, feigning great interest in the matter. " Then the sea has put a further distance between England and your friend, Captain Cotton?" "My friend ! Was he not yours also ? I have heard him talk so very much about you." "Really ! have you ? I wonder now if I ought to feel flattered by what you tell me 1" And the eyes of the two speakers mea sured swords so openly that Mrs Rodney, who alone had been listening to them, has tened to throw herself into the breach. " Oh, come !" she said, " never mind now what anybody else said of anybody, let us talk of something more general. Stanhope, what are you saying to Carrie ? When the party is email the conversation should go round the table." "By all means, my dear. I was asking Carrie what was Giles's reason for not giving the old dun cow Thorley's 'Food for Cat tle ;' now give us your subject, and we'll choose between them." But this arrangement not being satisfac tory, Mrs Rodney said they were not talk ing about anything at all, "So now let us start some thing fresh." " Decidedly," said her husband. Where upon a dead silence was maintained by every one, and when that at length was broken, conversation was only kept up spas modically. Captain Curzon, deprived f' of the en joy - ment of his dinner," each dish of which was made bitter by the consciousness that Miss Wentworth was watching him, felt in a horribly bad temper ; his hOBt was disposed to confound the fellow for not being as usual, "good oompany." Soon after the ladies left the table the two gentlmen joined them. '; That's right, Hatty," said Mr Rodney, seeing her go toward the piano, " sing us something, do." Miss Wentworth had a charming voice, which she was dying to make heard, and though she feigned a reluotnnce, she was anything but sorry that Stanhope had asked her. "Hatty, I bee of you be careful what you sing," said Mrs Rodney, in a whisper. Of late songn had been descriptive of the most harrowing agony. "I would not for the world have you sing one of those dreadfully pathetic things." "Why r f said Miss Wentworth, audibly. Mrs Rodney frowned ominously and then with her eyes Intimated the hoart-broken Curzon. "Oh, I understand," and while seeming to saui-oh her memory, Hatty played a rather stirring prelude and then burst into a popular comic song. " I say, Hatty," Mr Rodney was laughing heartily, "What on earth made you sing that? I didn't think yon oould do any thing but pile np tho agony." " Surely, this stylo must be much better suited to Miss Wentworth," said Captain Curzon, maliciously. " I feel duly grateful for guch a flattering opinion," said the young lady, "quite un merited by me, for I chose the song out of regard to somebody to whom pathos is ob jectionable apparently." "If I stay here any longer I shall say something rude to that girl, thought Cap tain Curzon, rising hastily. "Fanny," he said aloud, "tho moon is shining gloriously. Are you afraid to venture on a turn in the garden with me t" "It was just what I was wishing to do," and with a look intended to annihilate Hatty, Mrs Rodney and her cousin stepped out through the window. Does not everyone know how events always happen—that the thing you wish most to avoid is almost certain to take place. The next morning there lay Mrs 'Rodney distracted with neuralgia—utterly unable to lift her head from the pillow—the result of that moonlight ramble last night; her husband off to the meet, notexpeetedback un til to-morrow ; and Carrie, who really might have some grain of sympathy in the matter, refusing to put off her visit to a sick relation because she had written to say she would come by an early train". Oh, well, what might happen it was impossible to say. The bare idea of Monty Curzon and that Hatty Wentworth having to sit down to breakfast together—alone, with nobody else with them—reduced poor Mrs Rodney to utter despair. "I can't help it," she moaned; "Davis, you must go down and tell Captain Curzon that just at present I am notable to raise my head from the pillow, and ask Miss Wentworth if she will oblige mo by having her breakfast in her own room." " But, ma'am," began Davis. " Don't talk to me, I can't listen; go and give the messages as I tell you." Davis, who had but intended to explain that she fanoied Miss Wentworth was

already downstairs, -went off rather huffily. Of course, if her lady wouldn't listen, there wa« nothing left but for her to obey, and she therefore walked straight into the morning-room, at the far end of which —divided by the greatest space possible— two persons were standing, " Breakfast in my own room ! Why ?" "I can't tell, Miss, I'm sure; that was the message given to me ; and if you please, sir, Mrs Rodney is very ill, not able to raise her head from the pillow, she told me to say." " Where's Miss Carrie ?" was asked in dis may. "She went by the early train, Miss, to see Lady Maudsloy. Master drove her so far as Hatherley, or she wouldn't have started so soon." "Then isn't Mr Rodney here?" "No, sir; he has gone hunting to-day; Groves took the horse over on Monday." Davis disappeared—two faces were left staring blankly at one another. "Breakfast is on the table, if you please," said a voice at the open door; "I won't ring the bell because of disturbing mis tress." "Really, I don't know what I am ex pected to do," said Miss Wentworth, who did not choose to remember that this was the first morning she had ever been down so early. "Mistress did not know that you'd be up yet, Miss " —the butler at once grasped the situation—"Davis is gone to tell her no^V," Sncl he stood w/iiting. whilfi r?n.n tain' Curzon assumed an expectant air that Miss Wentworth would lead so that he might follow. "Coffee or tea do you take?" Miss Wentworth was seated behind the urn. The servant had left them together. "Thanks. Tea, if I may trouble you." "Milk?" "A little." "Sugar?" "Not any." " What may I give you ?" It was Cap tain Curzon's turn to make the offer. "A piece of dry toast." " Nothing more ?" "Yes, a small piece of butter." And then silence, except for the ticking of the clock and the purring of the big cat curled up in front of the fire. Five minutes passed ; long enough, they both thought, to seem an hour. Vexed as she was, Hatty felt an irresist ibledesire to laugh—the effort tocontrol her self was almost painful. Captain Curzon, who was so seated that he could get a per fect view of her face in an opposite glass, was saying to himself, " There is no deny ing that this girl is remarkably good-look ing." Suddenly she turned round, struck with the certainty that he was watching her. Yes, she had caught his eye* fixed in that direction ; but, equal tothe emergency, i Captain Curzon, although inwardly vexed, showed no sign of chagrin. " I was think ing,''he said, contemplatively, "how very different a face looks in a glass to the same face reflected in an urn." And Hatty, turn ing her eyes straight before her, saw a countenance depressed and its cheeks spread out until they seemed to cover the whole circle of silver. Try as she might, her mouth would quiver, and in another instant she had burst into an irresistible fit of laughter. The ice once broken, a thaw seemed to set in,and neither of the two showed any dispos ition to move, until Foster desired the young footman to go in and attend to the fire and bring out word what on earth they could be after. Having first expressed much satisfaction that the morning was so fine and it would be pleasant to sit quiet and undisturbed in the garden, Hatty went up to her room. Staring her in the face was the despair ingly dowdy hat she had during her visit adopted ; but, instead of putting it on, and, as hitherto, without a glance at herself walking away, she contemptuously flung it aside, and, diving into a draw set apart for that purpose, she produced a small coquet tish arrangement of straw, which, having placed on her head, she surveyed with un feigned satisfaction. Then she drew over a chair, laid a book on her knee, and, oddly enough, opened a big rose-lined parasol. The effect was perfect : a pretty morning gown, from which a foot neatly chausse was pointed ; the country straw hat—the becom ing shade from the parasol ; the picture left nothing to be desired. And thus armed for conquest, Miss Wentworth strolled down into the garden. Although standing close to the window, it is barely presumable that Captain Curzon caught sight of her, for he was busy donning another coat—the one he wore was a brute. Everything but velvet was objectionable. Those rough tweed things gave such a ruf fianly look to a fellow, He could not think why he had brought one there. At that moment he had forgotten that he had said anything would do ; what could it matter what he had on ? "I beg your pardon; I hadn't an idea that I should find you here. I hope I haven't disturbed you." Captain Curzon had unearthed the con templative fair one, who had betaken her self to a small, snugly arranged, out-of sight bower. Surely some knowledge of the habits of tho animal must have guided his instincts there. " Oh, no ; not at all " —having heard his footsteps, the start she gave was moat be coming ; "only I seem to be driving you away." "That is a very littlematter. I was only looking for a seat where one might sit un disturbed and quiet," and he sighed heavily. " I don't think, except this one, there is another to be found here; that is why I chose it," and the sigh hs had heaved was echoed back by her. "Itis so unfortunate that Fanny should have a headache," she continued, noticing that he seemed disposed to linger ; " she had looked forward to de voting every minute of the day to you." " Poor Fanny ! she's a dear, good crea ture, and I'm awfully fond of her, but you know, Miss Wentworth, she doesn't in the least understand one." , Miss Wentworth smiled. "Ah, yes," he continued, "I see you1 don't believe me." "On the contrary, I was just thinking that that was exactly my experience of her. I don't blame her ; she does not know what it is to .suffer. Fanny has always been happy." "Just so, and because of that she thinks one can forget at pleasure—that one's feel ings and affections are in one's own power." Miss Wentworth's pretty little head wagged itself in sympathy. " All, Captain Curzon," she murmured softly, "if such were the case, what a different world this might be." '' And yet," he said sternly, '' you women make it what it is." " That I deny emphatically; it is the men who are cruel, heartless, without the suspicion of what the meaning of the word love is." Captain Curzon held in his hand a cigar ; he flung it from him with a tragic gesture, stopped into the bowr, and with the air of a man who has a mission to perform, sat himself down on the little bench fronting Miss Wentworth's wicker chair. " I shall not leave here," he said, until I have convinced you, and perhaps the surest way of pointing out your error is to confide to you some of the misery that I have been, lately made to endure."

I amqvute willing to listen ; but, before 1 am made a convert of, in my turn there is something you will have to hear from me." At Mrs Rodney'B tho rule of tho house was to have luncheon at 1 o'clock, but 2 o_ clock had struck before there was any sign of Captain Curzon and Miss Went worth. Then they came strolling in to gether, and sat at the table so long that tho butler remarked it would very soon be time for dinner. _ Mrs Rodney, unable to bear the distress ing pain, had been obliged to resort to a composing draught. It was, therefore, plain that she would not be down thai evening. The rector, who chanced to make a call, left word that he should be pleased if Captain Curzon would dine with him. The jnvitation was promptly declined. The continuance of the conversation commenced that morning presented far greater attrac tions than anything the rectory could offer. The result had been an opening up ol confidences which threatened to establish the wannest friendship between the two who had up to this period professed to hate each other cordially. " Here, Foster"—Captain Curzon was ad dressing the butler—" is it a necessity to have dinner in the dining-room ? It seems such a wilderness of a place when there are only Miss Wentworth and I." "I had thought of laying it in tho morn ing-room, sir, but didn't quite like to name it. Master and mistress always dine there when they're two." "Leagues better. The morninf-room, then, let it be." And accordingly in that snuggery Cap tain Curzon thoroughly enjoyed a meal, which he could not help contrasting with the one they had both partaken of the even ing before. Never had the fair Hatty looked more be witching. Captain Curzon decided that his friend Cotton must have been a fool not to have secured her. Hatty, on her part, was saying, "If I had been Flora Lyster, I'd have thrown over fifty Moss Goldinfs for you." Already these two young people, equally expert at the game, had begun playing with the fire. The question was, whicS would get burnt—he, she, both, or neither ? Dinner ended, a whole evening was before them to compare notes, a?id to examine feelings, so that they mio-ht make sure how exactly constituted alike they were. Long ago they had discovered that of all the people living they alone possessed hearts which were capable of being broken. These hearts were shattered, never to be made whole again; but the delightful luxury of dissecting the agony they had endured was theirs still. "Counter feiting sweet woes, they suffered them again." The next morning both were down early, impelled by a certain sympathy, to taste the freshness of the morning air. From strolling round the garden they came in to breakfast together, and learned, with well assumed pleasure, that Mrs Rodney was feeling better and had sent down word to say that she hoped to join them later in the day. "Tell her," said Captain Curzon, to whom the message seemed principally ad dressed, "I shall be delighted to see her ; but I do hope she won't make any effort that might try her in any way." Miss Wentworth wondered if Fanny would like her to go up and sit with her. » " Will you ask her, Davis ?" she said. " Yes, Miss ; but I'm sure she'll say no. If mistress is down by the afternoon it's quite as much as she'll be able to do." In that case Captain Curzon was tempted to propose that he and Miss Wentworth should go as far as Abbott's Rest together. It was a lovely walk, and with the autumnal tints upon the great trees around, the ruins would be worth seeing now. His offer was accepted, and Davis had the satisfaction of restraining her mistress's well-meant efforts by informing her that the Captain and Miss Hatty had gone for a long walk, " so that unless_ you feel inclined, ma'am, there's no necessity to hurry." Mrs Rodney permitted herself to sink back upon the pillow, and then reflection came, and she told herself that Monty was so kind, no doubt he considered it due to her to sacrifice himself and be amiable to Hatty and she would accept the offer, hopino- to irritate him by so doing. "Davis, I "will get up," she said ; so that when the truant couple returned they found Mrs Rodney waiting to receive them. Needless to relate the mystification, the astonishment, finally the indignation which took possession of her. The two she had left crossing swords liad now taken up arms together, and their weapons were smiles and sighs, which they practiced regardless of her. The afternoon seemed very long. It was quite a relief when the tea was brought in, and Mrs Rodney noticed that neither Monty nor Hatty made any opposition when she proposed resting a little before dinner in her own room. " So you've had one of your bad head aches, Fanny ?" Mrs Rodney saw it was her husband speaking ;he had returned, had opened the door softly, and was bonding down to her. " Poor darling," he said ten derly. "If I'd known it I would not have gone." " Oh, you could not have done anything for me ; the pain was worse than usual; I had just to take a draught and lie quietly curled up until it was over." " And the Kilkenny cats, what did they do ? I looked about, but there wasn't so much as the tip of one of their tails below. What's become of them t" " Oh, I don't know—gone out to look at the moon, I shouldn't wonder." " Bat not together ?" Mrs Rodney's eyes were fixed on the fire; her husband stared at her in credulously. Shaking her head, she said: "I don't know what people are coming to; at all events, I don't understand them." " Why, what's the matter ?" " Nothing, only that I'm never going to mix myself up in anybody's love affairs any more. When people tell me they are broken-hearted, I believe them, and when they say they dislike any one, I think they do. I don't expect everything to be changed and forgotten in a few hours." " Whew !" ejaculated Mr Rodney ; " is it Curzon and Hatty you are meaning ?" Mrs Rodney's head gave the reply ; then glancing at her husband, "I see you," she said ; "of course you're laughing, as every one else will do—you call me a stupid, and I suppose I am one." "No, you are not anything of the kind, only you're a romantic old goose, who thinks everybody's heart is as soft as your own." "When I was in love I meant it," said Mrs Rodney, aggrievedly. "If you had deceived me, or anything had como be tween us, I should have died Stanhope, and I believe you would have died too " "Oh, but we fell in ilove in a very old fashioned way." i \ ' I» '' yike old,-, fas!»°ned vfcves best, if that is the same;" then seeing that she was beginning to smile, he addSi : " Don't you bother your headabout those two ; they Sm look after and take care of themselves-the rule of a good dea of what is called love in

Getting Information Under Difficulties.

I do not sco any peculiarity about ycur people," said an Eastern judge, addressing his travelling companion, a well-known Arkansas lawyer. "I have travelled quite extensively in this State, and have not, as yet, found that eccentricity of action and prevarication of reply that has often amused me jn the newspapers." "You have done most of your travelling by rail," the lawyer replied. "This is your first trip away from tho main roads, is it not ?" "Yes." "Well, I'll show you some of ourgenuine natives. Yonder is a house. Call the landlord and hold a conversation with him.'* " Hallo !" cried the judge. '.' Comin'!" the man replied, depositing a child in the doorway, and advancing " How's all the folks ?" " Children's hearty; wife's not well. Ain't what you might call bed sick, but jest sorter stretchy." " Got anything to eat in the house." " Ef I had it anywhar, I'd have it in the house." " How many children have you?" "Many as I want." "How many did you want?" " Want hankerin' arter a powerful chance,- but I'm satisfied." " How long have you been livinc here V " Too long." '' How many years ?" " Been here ever since my oldest boy was born." " What year was he born ?" " The year I come here." " How old is your boy ?" "Efhe had lived, he would have been tho oldest until yit; but as he died, Jim's the oldest." " How old is Jim?" " He ain't as old as the one whatdied." "Well, how old was the one that died?" " He was older than Jim." " What do you do here for a livinn-'" "Eat." 5 "How do you get anything to eat?» "The best way we kin." "How do you spend your Sundays?" " Like the week days." " How do you spend them ?" "Like Sundays." "Is that your daughter yonder?" "No sir; she ain't my daughter, yonder, nor nowhar' else." » " Is she a relative of yours ?" " No sir ; no kin." " Kin to your wife, I suppose?" " No kin to my wife, but she's kin to my children." " How do you make that out?" " She's my wife." " How far is it to the next house ?" "It's called three miles, butthemanwhafe calls it that is a liar."

" I've got enough," said the judge, turn ing to the lawyer. " Drive on. I pity the man who depends on this man for informa tion."—" Arkansaw Traveller."

The Granaries of Chicago.

It was once said by an eminent orator in Boston (and it is as true in Great Britain and Western Europe as in America), "There is not a man here the beef upon whose table yesterday was not the cheaper to him because these people laid out their world-renowned and wonder ful system of stockyards. There is not a man here the bread upon whose table is not cheaper because these people, in the very beginning of their national existence, in vented and created that marvellous system for the delivery of grain which is the model and pattern of all the world." Chicago in deed stands paramount in respect to its grain elevators, of which it has twenty, with a storage capacity of more than 16,000,000 bushels, and handling 160,000,000 bushels a year. One granary alone stores 1,300,000 bushels, and its yard holds 400 of the long and large American railway cars, which are unloaded by lifts, or elevators, running to the top of the building, 130 feet from the ground, where the grain is weighed and then sent down in spouts, or chutes, to its appropriate bin. Forty cars containing 140,000 bushels, are unloaded in an hour, and the grain stored. The process of shipment is even more rapid, since 180,000 bushels can be sent out in ten hours. The grain is taken by elevators from its bins to the top of the building, where the weighing is done and then long spouts lead it into the cars or the holds of the vessels lying alongside! The elevators are exceedingly ugly build ings, sombre and gloomy, with vast blank walls extending to a cathedral's height looking very dry and dusty, and covlred with dejected and melancholy roofs. Withal it is impossible to avoid them, so hugely do they tower over the tributary city, of which they are the raison d'etre. It would be .•esthetic death for Mr Ruskin to see one of these vast and ungainly utilitarian temples of Ceres ; but many a Lancashire operative <V»" London tradesman gets his flour several shillings a barrel cheaper, and can thereby have more and better bread, becanse they exist and are ceaselessly busy The works of elevating and ship ping are not the most important among those pertaining to the eleVators, which are store-houses, first and foremost where the grain product isheld for a demand or during the fluctuations, of the market ijnmarily, therefore, they are granariss, the chief magazines of the nation, the re servoirs which compel Dantzic and Odessa to be reasonable.—" Cities of the World "

Preying on Peculators.

A .swindle was lately devised by an astute American rascal, the novelty and ingenuity of which are not to be denied, fie sets himself up as benefactor to a special class of m™-, bf* clerks and others who had robbed their employers. His story, as told in circulars discreetly addressed after careful inquiry, was to the effect that a certain man who had committed a theft in early youth had subsequently grown nch. Remembering the aeony that he had endured, and feeling "that ho was not grossly culpable—he intended to retnrn the money he stole, and would have done so butfor extraordinary circumstances—he had left an immense fortune, part of which his heir, the sender of the circular, was to apply to the assistance of bank clerks who had sinned as he had done. Those to whom the documents were sent were invited to confess to the benevolent stranger's legatee, and he would enable them to mate restitu tion of the money. Sad to say, there were many answers to the circular. A number of clerks confessed to thefts, and made urgent appeals with cordial expressions of gratitude for the proffered assistance. _f "ere upon the swindler replied that he held their written confessions of guilt, and « *f®y did not make it worth his while to hold his tongue, he should certainly disclose the matter to their employers, no escape ; their own handing could be produced against them, and the chance was income out of. the terror «"•« ? victims, '

STAJR SA!

A.V STJiPPiEMENT, SEPTEMBER » XBBS.

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