THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVENBER 5, 1887.

(§tP^I3^NTJ

Ruby's Reward.

FJ^Omiß SHELDON.

t (<The Forsaken Bride," <P ■ Boffdy," etc. CHAPTER XLVI. tf < B EOASE EXPLAINED. f? Awhile the officer was speak-

»' .übeffasbedgedaboutonevery known, and it would rf from Mr Conant t0 throvv \ *° ta await a trial upon charge 8 'rble to result in a sentence of ' **. for perhaps twenty years. preferable to that; his ■* • -i could never brook confine raiD g his white face to the .first," was the relent ■* wher word, the young man *a{*m,er pocket a small Russia <**"jSSt and taking from it a Conant. *^ffit and after a moment's ex- number it 805." Sftt took from the table near *•* Zidine a small package of "ifpassed them to Mr W^ffintention of robbing you, 'jS&Theequivalentof this bill ■ Mto the officer as he spoke, and 6%Hreff>mlich t0 Edmuud Car ffi same moment a door on the of the room opened, and he fKold lawyer, Mr Fairbanks, fnlteedbyMrsCoxon. Sell enough what this arrival ffi lS overcome by the evidence plntoaohair, his spirit of defiance j^in by the table -i gj a document, which he unfolded, fW°ter> I received this instru *tt morning 5 it is your-it is Mr aLnter'swill, which, at the time r,T i A yas snre'existed. As the in it are present, I JSqnested to read it here and rtdedtodoso, and it was found S^Garpenter had divided his jjLjUy between Edmund Carpen &*r Richardson. M contest that unjust will—my .ssaihave'been demented when he g|aa outrageous thing," cried op crimson with anger, $ clause, was read. Isa; do not think <■ that would be a fora number of reasons," sanded the lawyer, glancing sig- M him over, the top of his spec 'ißstwsit; perhaps yon may be iiochsnge your mind after you hear Bjater's explanation and reasons for Eg his property in this way. ■diviiiflD I make because both are Kiirayawtt 80ti8i Such astate- Kj&widEfrtagely at first, and es jg.,. r.iiiu'nl, who, doubtless, will «■■-■»■ hi i most o"nlaccount"ol"kin ■M'wk-n ho knows —as he must aba other papers which I inclose ■I will —that he is an adopted

Btya!!'' cried the- startled man, jßitettfflawyer read on as if he had jwacimidersteLat once why I ™jaHin"bequeftthing the half of my |3»Ba tothuson of one who was very 3|;:;in early life, and who would |Bi tee been my wife but for my |5 JKiisa^and unreasonable pas- B^'jciilowed & clear, statement of JJB^tith two or three small be lafefelepe, with the will, there was §ftj i Kitifiate of the adoption of ¥mtjd ft'iles' by Ralph Carpenter and jjgj''- fyMli'-r with an account of the ■aMJ.tf Carpenter had travelled a pHPWag:their early married life, ißPi'iffle' in'tho far south-west, they gßteicraap little child who had been M l}Wflg district. The mother had |»fife the .birth of her boy, and he |gfi ''It to the doubtful caro which jaßr^"^ ' n that wild region. • Mre Wltf, M.become immediately in p^^tWiiil^and proposed to adopt pM aiafa's .consent could be gained. |sp at a very difficult matter, and ?■* wyiras taken to San Francisco, t by Mr and Mrs iUbjUi 4^'' *° aye kee" born, and iffljE CTer known until now that %m jTa"Bmut!') s«rprwed as anyone ar,*pected disclosure, and, under MJ (scam^tances, he would have ll»ur ltir rPenter for having made «MIP* He could now realise sHiwiiiP?'' a^le-hearted man ißbiJ^- c rPtutn which '«l ?', to' ldGl for all fcllf3 pare and M . N lavished ihotj him; and Mi,,";1" m &mtn'\/A his own rii-rl tchdor at ■ij?™ 6'Niffeltaewav^-almoet ■RjT'^w? rendered speech afej Je kd heard. It was a f*ved .to crush him MftStfWtf n°ta word further H "'tt«on to the conditions of the rM^^-V^trdine: your adoption, W.-^y^Jiaadsatonce?'; Mi «^W^'- and JIOW tb's will *ilVlslonof ail that yon «^»ined ); among our «N2* -^hm been turn «"'®f^• m!°-Int%i withthe |C 7 qmttin^ t'^ Qountry. ■^•SnS1? y °Ul" late father haa «taW*' mu»t all be re- W^^J/^nds andl-will see W^.thiii!" lf~no*. mark you «^W a Very im Portant con lKNf4^Danilnotlß one.in my ■^H&^- *° this and ye ■fe£fment' n° proceedings «^£ you >as Mr Richardson MM; *lc' Sr- R measures .fflK^ols^'ff-^ng sustain, ed the •W J».It hlSbeloved benefactor. fL 188 tothe notoriety Wb is fe ft« you have done 'Wm, t ■"~(lci y°« agree to our |W^!S<* Carpente/S in HSl^ """r-'vni'n° a wiU "ot afc" ;fflK^^"'.BßP^li -to ; ,prevent ■ffl^'X °f y°Ur Presence

was regarding him with real pity and Borrow ; then his eyes rested, for an instant with a sort of despairing tenderness upon Ruby s averted face, after which he turned ?£ 1 quietly from the room, too thoroughly vanquished even to care to keep up the appearacne of defiance. It may as well be stated here that he was closely " shadowed " until he delivered liali his fortune into Mr Fairbanks' hands tor Walter ; which, since it had to be done, fu 7v. sea"c b' do immediately, and after that he suddenly disappeared from the city and was never seen there again. Years afterward, when Walter and Ruby were travelling abroad, they heard of him as living a dissipated life at a noted gamb ling resort, and fast wasting the noble be quest which he had received from his adopted father.

Now we must go back a little to that ad venturous afternoon when Mr Ruggles and Annie Partridge learned the secret of Euby's disappearance. Mr Ruggles proceeded directly to Mr Conant's office, where he was fortunate enough to find that gentleman, he having been obliged to remain there on a matter of business before starting upon his own search for the missing girl. With great excitement, Mr Ruggles re lated to him his discovery, and then to gether they hunted up Walter, who nearly lost his self-command upon learning that his lost darling was found. All three gentlemen at once started forth, secured the services of fcvo trusty officers and a couple of carriages, and immediately repaired to the house of Edmund Carpen ter's " particular friend "the physician. All this transpired in less than two hours after Ruby had thrown the message to her friend Annie.

When the carriage stopped before the door, a man was seen standing at one of the lower windows ; bufc upon one of the officers alighting from the first vehicle, he suddenly disappeared, and the policeman's ring was answered by a meek-looking servant-girl. The man entered the moment the door was opened, and, producing a search warrant, commanded the girl to tell him if Miss Ruby Gordon was forcibly detained in the house.

To his surprise, she at once answered in the affirmative.

But she explained it afterward by con fessing that her master had told her, a minute before, as he fled from the house by a back way, "to make no resistance, the game was up, and the girl must be released.",;

He could not be found afterward ; his family remained there, living very quietly for a little while, then they too suddenly disappeared. Walter and Mr Ruggles followed the officer into the house, and the girl conducted all three directly up stairs, to the room oc cupied by Ruby, and there they found her lying upon a sofa in a half-conscious state. She had fallen fainting to the floor after throwing her note from the window ; bufc after a time she had revived sufficiently to creep to the lounge, where, her strength all aine, she could only helplessly pray that deliverance might come to her soon, for she felt that she could not live much longer in that way. When the servant opened the door, Wal ter was the first one to step within the room ; but Ruby thinking it was only the girl, did not have strength or interest enough to turn even her eyes in that direc tion, and was only conscious that she was rescued when she felt herself gathered into a pair of strong arms and her head lifted to her lover's breast.

The joy was too much for her, and with one fond look she gave a glad cry, and then fainted dead away. When she came to herself again she was lying in a beautiful room in Mr Conant's own house, and found Walter and Mrs Conanfc bending over her, tenderly chafing her hands and bathing her face. • The sense of safety wb'ieh: she at once ex perienced was a good restorative, and it was not long before she was able to take some nourishment and to tell them something of what had occurred since she had i)een, so cunningly decoyed into the trap set'^for her.

When Waiter told her that his trial had been deferred until the' next day, her joy knew no bounds.

"Then I can save you !" she cried, almost hysterically, " for. oh ! I know all about that miserable plot that has been laid to ruin you. I have been nearly wild all day thinking that you were being tried and would surely be convicted. But " suddenly breaking off and looking him over —'* what suit have you on?" " My best one of course, as I desired to make as favourable an impression as possible in court," Walter replied, smiling, but wondering at the apparent irrelevance of her question. " Then go and exchange it and let me have it at once," Ruby said, excitedly. " Why, Ruby ! what can you mean !" " Oh ! 1 do not believe that I ought to tell you—l am afraid it would not be best for you to know just yet. Send Mr Conant to mo—-I will tell him, and I will bo governed by what ho says," Ruby replied, with a troubled look. Ever since she had known that the dia monds were concealed about his clothing, she had thought if she could only secure them without his knowledge, and return them to her sister, Mrs Gordon could swear that he had never even seen her property, »nd the affair could be hushed up without bringing her to shame. Ruby could not endure the thought of having to betray Estelle's complicity with Edmund Carpen ter, for she was her own brother's wife, and her good name was dear to her for his sake. Walter began to suspect something of what was in her mind. He starter! and grew pale as it flashed upon him that; he had worn that very suit out to Forestvale that night, mi that he had fQund his cpat, lying upon the floor the next morning, instead of upon the chair where he was sure he had hung it. " Ruby, you cannot mean he began, excitedly. • "Don't ask me just now!" she inter rupted, pleadingly. "Let me tell Mr Conant first." . ~ , . ~He said no more, but went immediately to comply with her request, every nerve in his body tingling as he thought that perhaps at that very moment no was can'ying those stolen jewels about with ™ut where V Surely they had searched every pocket thoroughly as soon as they had 'begun to suspect foul play. But Mr Conant went to Ruby at once, and she told him the whole story. Walter's lawyer was then sent for, and it was repeated to him, and he commended the young girl warmly for her thoughtful ness. j ■»»■• "You were very wise, my dear Miss Gordon, not to tell Mr Richardson; it is fir better that he should not know the circumstances until after the trial, es pecially if we desire to hush the matter and save your sister's reputation. _ . "It must be saved for my brothers i sake," Ruby said, with great agitation I , cannot bear to appear against her I would ! rather that the villain should go un, ! punished, and I am sure Walter would t S with me, than to have all this miser lable story come out. Don't you think it can be arranged in some way?" she con agree to'do fee right thing, though I^m not sure that you are not letting her off al to^ rifw a Tno y t ß 'omu6h her fault, after all- she was almost forced into-it, you all depend upon herself; she will have to keep the particu lars from the prosecuting attorney, and be Sverned entirely by me," returned the %S^t gadS " we must first find

the diamonds; we can do nothing without them."

Mr Conant went to Walter arid made him exchange his clothing for a suit of his, and carried to the other room the three gar ments Walter had just taken off. Then there was an exciting search after the miss ing diamonds. Ruby herself was the successful one, and with a nervous laugh she proclaimed : " I have found them ! bring me a pair of scissors quick !" The missing gems had been sewed into the thick padding at the top of the sleeves of the coat—one into each—and so carefully imbedded in it, and so neatly^done that no ene would ever have suspected their exist ence, without some previous knowledge, or that the coat had been tampered with. " Let me rip them out for you, dear," said Mr Conant, gently, and trying to take the garment from the young girl, for she was very much excited.

"No! no! I must bring them to the light. Oh !to think what a vile plot it was !"

_ They let her have her way, though her ljttlehands shook like leaves in the wind as she ripped the lining away, drew forth Mrs Gordon's jewel's, and handed them to the lawyer.

Then, with a glad burst of tears, she lay back among her pillows, feeling weak and exhausted, but as if her troubles were all at an end.

There was general rejoicing over this dis covery ; but Walter, although he wf course suspected a good deal, was told nothing be yond the fact that he had nothing:to fear. Mrs Gordon was sent for at bnge, and while they were waiting for her, Ruby told about the finding of Ralph Carpenter's will, and where she had concealed it, whereupon Mr Ruggles. taking an officer with him, posted off to Forcstvale to secure it.

He found Mrs Coxon still there. The purchaser of the estate was not to take possession until the first of October ; mean while she \yas to remain there and get the furniture in proper order for an auction sale ; so, as yet, fortunately, scarcely any thing had been disturbed. The good old housekeeper was simply horrified upon learning what had happened to Ruby, but she was overjoyed to know that she had discovered the long missing will.

It was easily found and Mr Ruggles re turned in triumph with it to Mr Conant's.

Meantime, Mrs Gordon had arrived, and the moment she espied Ruby, she rushed forward, sobbing hysterically, and threw herself upon her Knees beside her.

" Estelle," Ruby said, gravely and some what coldly, "I want you to compose yourself, for I have a great deal to toll you, and we have much to arrange and there is no time for sentiment now."

She then related to her all that she had overheard under the great oak at Forest vale, and Mrs Gordon seemed crushed and repentant as she listened.

Her indignation at Edmund Carpenter's treachery was unbounded, and she readiiy agreed to be guided by Walter's counsel regarding her evidence at the morrow's trial.

Wo already know how well Mrs Gordon acquitted herself, and what the result of her evidence was; but, as soon as that exciting interview with Edmund Carpenter afterwards was at an end, her strength failed her, and she was borne from the court-house really ill from shame, grief, and remorse over her share in the wrong which had come co near ruining the name of a noble young man as well ac her own, and wrecked tho happiness of her hus band's beautiful sister.

It was a glad day to Ruby and Walter who had a few hours to themselves in the afternoon, which they spent in rehearsing the exciting incidents of the weeks that had elapsed since they last saw each other. During this time Mr Rugglea was engaged upon a pleasant errand. , He di 9 no!" forget his promise of %\\t> pre vious day and went to make his call upon Miss Annie Partridge.

He took along with him a pretty velvet casecontaininEracharminglittlewatchjWhich after explaining to the young girl and her mother something of what had occurred to Ruby during the last few weeks, he pre sented to Annie, and requested that whathe had told them might beconsidered as strictly confidential.

Thus all scandal was avoided, and bufc very few ever knew of thei romantic events which had occurred in the very heart of the delightful city.

CHAPTER XLVII. CONCLUSION.

"Can you ever forgive me, Ruby? My worldly ambition, my pride and love of money, have nearly proved my own ruin, as well as yours. I deserve your supreme contempt instead of the gentle care and kindness which you are giving me."

This from Mrs Gordon, who had been ill for nearly a week. She had been taken from the court-house directly to her former boarding-place in the city, whither Ruby had insisted upon accompanying her, and where she had been unremitting in her attentions, and as gentle and kind as if her sister-in-law had. never done her the slightest injury. " Of course I have forgiven you already, Estelle," Ruby answered. ". I will confess, though, that I felt forlorn enough when I found that you were in league with Edmund Carpenter, and determined to make me marry him—l longed for Robert more than ever, for I was so alone and friendless." "Poor child!" returned Mrs Gordon, weeping. " I have been false enough, to my trust. You have shown yourself far more of a woman than I ever since Our troubles began, nnd you have shamed me by your patience and self-sacrifice from the first. But I will try to lead a different life after this, and to make myself worthy of your love." . . ... ... .-. Ruby stooped arid kissed the repentant woman on her lips, thus putting an end to further self-denunciation. " I have always loved you dearly until. this barrier began to grow up between us, and I hone now that it is removed, we shall be dearer than ever to each other. But—l want you to hurry and get well as soon as possible. Do you think you would be able to get out by next Monday ? Madam How land insists that we shall be her guests for a little while," Ruby concluded, with a blush, for she knew that madam had planned this visit so that Walter and she might see more of each other than they could otherwise fin Madam had wanted to take her directly home with her as soon as the trial was con cluded ; for her heart had gone out to the lovely girl from the moment of her intro duction to her. But Ruby, seeing how ill Mrs Gordon was, felt that her duty Was, for the present, with her, and she had answered : ; ■ " Estelle needs me, and I must not leave her until she gets well; even then shewill have no one to care for her, and it is so dreadful to feel that one is all alone in the world." •' She could not forget her own recent sense of desolation, and her tender heart prompted her to throw what sympathy and care she could around the lonely woman, in spite of the injury which she had done her. . , "Ifc seems to me she is not overhand above deserving of such self-eacnfice, madam had replied : "she has not shown any very great sense of her duty to you in the past.<f _ "Well— but she was Roberts wife; he loved her, and for his sake I shall stay with her while she is sick ; while, truly, Estelle used to be very good to me in the old days;" Ruby pleaded in extenuation of the offender. : •■ - ; ' '■ ■ '" Yes," thought madam, " when every thing was smooth and pleasant, when there

was nothing to cross her and goodness required no effort." But she had too much respect for the young girl's noble decision to say more then, only she meant to have her just as soon as possible. She rode to town every day to see her, and finally to hasten matters, insisted that they should both come to her as soon as Mrs Gordon was able to be moved, and Ruby, feeling that the change would be the besb thing for her sister, immediately pro posed it upon the departure of her new friend.

"Yes, I shall be able," Mrs Gordon answered, brightening at once.; '' my illness ha 3 been caused more by mental distress than anything else, but now that you have assured me that you really forgive me, and I shall not lose you altogether, as I feared I might, I shall soon be well. But, Ruby, do you mean to teach again this fail ?"

"No,. Estelle," and the fair face was crimson now, " I am to go to Redville for a little while, after our visit at Madam Howland's, where I am to have a real rest. Then mudam insists that I shall return tj her, to—to remain until—while lam having my sewing done." "Ah! I understand; you have been arranging for a wedding," said Mrs Gordon, smiling at her confusion.

" Yes," Ruby confessed, more freely, now that the ice was broken, " madam says there is no reason why Walter should delay making a home for himself, and she, wants him to bo settled. Besides, she says she would like a place to visit occasionally for a change."

•• Then you are not to live with her, nor she with you ?"

"No, Walter wants her to come to us, but she says as she lived so long by her self, she prefers to keep up her own estab lishment, though she assures us that she will come to see us often enough, aud stay loner enough to prevent our forgetting that we have a grandmother," Ruby concluded, smiling. " Where are you going to live, Ruby ?" Ruby laughed outright at this question. "I don't know, Estelle. Walter says I. am not to trouble my head about that, sincel shall have enough else to occupy my attention during the next few weeks."

" I suppose he will be considered a very rich man now, with his legacy from Mr Carpenter, and his expectationsfromMadam Howland."

" Yes, i suppose so," the young girl answered, with a strangely grave look. "I am very glad, Ruby darling," said her sister heartily, " and I hope you will enjoy your wealth and position—you de serve to, I am sure, for you have borne poverty like an angel." " I hope, Estelle, thab poverty has taught me to be more considerate of the poor than I used to be, and Walter and I both intend to do all the good that we can with his for tune. There is only one sting in it all."

"What is that, dear?" questioned Mrs Gordon, searching the sweet, drooping face earnestly.

" That / must go to him empty-handed." Her sister smiled. '•Bless you, dear child !" she said, while tears welled up into her eyes, " you are far more precious ' empty-handed ' than half the Philadelphia belles, with their great fortunes." But Ruby Gordon was not destined to go to her lover empty-handed, as we shall see.

She and Mrs Gordon, who seemed thoroughly changed, spent a couple of de lightful weeks with Madam Howland, and then both w.ent to Redville for another month.

The marriage had been set for the twenty-fourth of October, and Mr Ruggles had insisted upon giving Ruby a grand wedding. " You are like another daughter to me," he said to her tenderly, one gay, When th(^ matter was being discussed, ** And X" want you to grant me a father's privilege irii tnis. Mother and I are going down to take pos session of our new house in the city, the first of September, and you shall be married from your old home if— if you think you would like it." " Oh, Mr Ruggles !" cried Ruby, quick tears starting to her eyes, "that is so Kind of you. I should like it of all things ; and —if—Robert were only here," she added, in a choking voice, "it would almost seem as if I were really going to be at home again." And so it was arranged, much to the satisfaction of all parties, and Mr Ruggles, taking Mrs Gordon aside, for a confidential citiference, remarked :

"If we're going to have this wedding in our new house, I want everything done up handsome, and I guess you know how to manage such things befcter'n mother 'and I do ; so if you'll just take charge of the affair, it'll be a relief to us, though Fll take care of the ways and means. Invite who you choose, and spend as much money a% you like, and—don't you let that blessed .girl want for a eingle thing."

The commission, together with the carte, 'blanche, jusfc suited Mrs Gordon, and she entered into the arrangements with all her .heart; and between them all, Ruby was almost overwhelmed with kindness and beautiful gifts. Her trousseau was as lovely and complete as the affection of kind friends and the lavish expenditure of money could make it, although she protested that it ought nob to be so, since she had no fortune of her own.

?'I am only a poor girl. I haven't a penny of my own," she said one evening to waiter, " but one would think, to see all the finery upstairs, that I ought to be a millionaire at least." .

And he, bending to touch her forehead with his lips, said, with a queer little smile:' " You under-rate yourself, my darling— you do not know how much yp,u %v$ worth/

Florence* and Annie Partridge, who, of all Ruby's former friends, had proved most faithful during her adversity^were. chosen to be bridesmaids, and when at length the all-imporbantday arrived, Mr Ruggles's new residerice arid Ruby's oid home was once more ablaze from attic to basement and most exquisitely decorated in honour of the fair bride-elect.

It; was very home-like and beautiful. Nothing had been disturbed in the house,' the conservatory had been refilled with choice plants, and it almost seemed to Euby as if the past year had been but a sad dream; but with the exception of a dear presence, which had once helped to brighten those lofty and elegant rooms, there was nothing wanting. >; The young bride was very lovely in her ivory satin robe, with its beautiful lace overdress and the misty veil, fastened with real oranpe blossoms, 'while the pretty bridesmaids were scarcely less attractive in white silk and tulle. The wedding was a brilliant affair, and nqthing occurred to mar the occasion in any WfliV" Madam Howland was so far recovered from her injuries that she was able to appear without her arm in a sling, although it was still lame and weak, and she looked very handsome and distinguished in her elegant black velvet, point lace and dia monds, while she appeared exceedingly proud of her noble grandson, and 7ery fond of the fair lady of his choice. The young couple were united in the sacred bond 3 by Ruby's old pastor, who, knowing much of her heroism during her recent troubles, made the service tenderly impressive, and congratulated Walter most) heartily afterward for having won so rare a The ceremony and reception had beenset early in the evening, as the bride and bride groom had arranged for a little tour before settling down to the real business arid en joyment of.life, and-were to leave the city on one of the night trains. ~*>. .. . , , But when the guests had departed and Ruby had exchanged her wedding dress for

her travelling suit, Mr Ruggles drew them both into the library for a few last words.

He seemed deeply agitated, and laying his hand tenderly upon the lovely bride's head, he said in a husky tone:

" My dear child, ever since 1 have known you I have been happier than I ever ex pected to be again in this world after losing my own dear daughter, and I want to tell you that, henceforth, all that I have or gain will belong to you. But," he added, with a pathetic attempt to smile, for his eyes were full of tears and his lip trembling, " before you went away, I wanted to give you a ' daughter's portion and a father's blessing, so take this, tuck it away some where where it'll be safe, and God bless you both !"

He bent and touched Ruby's forehead with his unsteady lips, shook hands with Walter, and' then left the room abruptly, after having slipped a package into the young wife's hands.

" Dear old man, how good he is! But what is this ?" Ruby asked, looking from the package up into her husband's face. " Let us examine it," he said, evasively, for he had known somethingof Mrßuggles's intentions.

Ruby unfolded the paper and began to read.

"Oh, dear," she cried, laughing, "it is one of those puzzling legal documents, such as Robert used to have, and I never could make them out. Take it, Walter, and ex plain it if you can." Walter smiled, and gathered the slight figure of his wife close in his arms. "I can explain it, darling, without the document," he said, " for, Mr : Ruggles con fided his plans to me some time ago. You know, dear, that our old friend has become immensely, wealthy during the last few ■years."

"Yes, I know."

"I do not need to tell you, either, how fond of you he and his wife have both be come ; you reign supreme in their honest hearts : and last month Mr Ruggles made his will bequeathing everything, save one hundred thousand dollars, which goes to endow a certain college in this State-to you if you survive both him and his wife. But that has nothing to do with the docu ment he has just given you, that is simply a deed of this estate, conveying to Mrs Ruby Richardson and her heirs for ever this beautiful home and all that it contains.

Ruby looked amazed. " Simply a deed of this estate," she re peated, breathlessly. " What a gifc! but I thought that they were going to live here ?" " No, that was only a kindly plan so that you might be married in your old home. Mr Ruggles bought the place, intending from the first that you should eventually have it; bnt I doubt if they would ever be content to break up the home where they have spent so many years of their lives. Poor child ! do you feel so very much burdened with this gift?" Walter con cluded, smiling down upon her blank face.

"I can hardly realise it,'" Ruby said, yet glancing fondly around the familiar beautiful room. " Ithasbeenmadoverysecure,nothing can ever take it from you; and "—with a mischievous smile —" surely you are. not ' tmpty handed ' now." "Oh! Walter! I'm afraid that was a little foolish of me," Ruby said, flushing, yet, after all, with a secret sense of satis faction at the fact. " But," she continued, "what are you and I going to do all. alone in this great house ? I thought " " Yes, I know ; you have thought that a home was being prepared for you elsewhere. But I had been told of this, and I was sure you would be happier here than anywhere else ; and though I own 'tis rather spacious for us alone, yet I imagine we shall find friends enough who will be glad to help us fill it."

• "■ But* Walter, it is going to take a great deal of money to keep up such an establish ment," said Ruby ; gravely. " Little wiseacre!" laughed the happy husband, "your experience in street has made you very calculating ; but, my darling, we are going to have a great deal of money, and we can. afford to do about as we Ipce. One thing lam sure you will like,, and that is to know that Mrs Coxon is coming to be housekeeper for us ; you know she once said she would like to como to live with.us." . . ■

" Oh, that is very good of you, Walter," Ruby delightedly exclaimed. "I have been wondering where the woman would find a comfortable home, and I am sure she will like to be here. But," with a little sigh, " all this is very unexpected, and it rather Shatters some bright dreams that I have had about a little home, with onljr one servant, where I was to do so many things for you with my own hands." " These dear hands will find plenty to do for me a# it is," Walter answered, kissing them softly, "for I intend to be a very busy man. I have no intention, of giving up my business, so I shall make you my almoner to the poor, when I cannot attend to such things myself." " That will be very pleasant work, and I know one can do ever so much good with plenty of money. And now, Walter," looking up. at him with a sweet seriousness, that made her very lovely, "let us resolve, on this most important day of our lives, that we will set apart a certain portion of all that we have, and dedicate it to the work of helping the poor and making other people happy." " With all my heart," he answei-ed, ten derly. " Shall it be a tenth or a fifth ? You shall decide that question some other time. Jus 6 now, however, I have to remind you, Mrs Richardson, that our train leaves in just half an hour, and we must be on the wing; but my bright, beautiful wife, my heart is full of joy at the thought that I am to bring you back here, to a home so worthy .of you, and where you are so well fitted to reign." -

What more can we add, but to say that in ,|he years that caire and went,; these two faithfully,kept the-resolution mad^trti their weddingfday?; !' '■ .'" ••■'*: "'•" v<*i' :i ■" , :'.

The memory of the trials of his early life kept Walter's heart green and tender, and he never turned away from a cry of distress or withheld his bounty wherever there was a call to do good ; while Ruby's brief ex perience of poverty and care made her a Bweet and gentle sympathiser with all who were in trouble, and many a home was brightened by her benevolence, many a despairing heart was comforted by her deeds of mercy and love.

Mrs Gordon proved to be completely changed by that trying experience, which had so nearly resulted in the exposure of her treachery, and disgrace to the name she bore. She was softened and subdued ; her pride conquered ; her affections quick ened. And when, three years later, her hand was sought and won by a noble and devoted clergyman, she was well fitted for the position she was to occupy. "Estelle will make a lovely minister's wife/ Ruby declared; and she did, although she always affirmed that if there was any good 'in her, it was all owing to the living example of her beautiful sister.

Madam Howland lived to an advanced a g e —lived to welcome and love three noble boys and two sweet little girls—her great grandchildren, and the pride of her heart; and, during the last few years of her life, ihe was content to give up her own home and reside with Walter and his wife.

Mr and Mrs Ruggles' were frequent visitors in that delightful home, ■where, they were always most cordially received, and which they declared was the most charming spot this side of heaven,; and when they were finally gathered to their rest—Mrs Ruggles first and her fiusband. b.ut a few months later—all their great wealth came .into Ruby's Bpsseesi^ friend, with his " best love an<3 gratitude for all her kindness to a rough old man."

She could nob help feeling thafc'phe bAd reaped a wonderful reward — that' it w;W all the outgrowth of that one simple act ttt courtesy and good will on that evening) when this uncultured stranger had entered,^ an unbidden guest, her brother's h^use. to | offer homage to the poet who had Sounded the depths of his really noble natura by the might of his gifted pen.

[the end.]

THE OPIUM FARMER

He Remains Poor with Wealth Within

bis Grasp.

"There is nothing the soil can produce that can be cultivated with more profit to the husbandman than the poppy, if it is cultivated in the right country," said the head of a large drug-importing house, •' and yet there are no farmers in the world who are so universally and perpetually poverty-stricken as the growers of the poppy. The many thousands of people who are engaged in the production of opium in India—and I speak from personal knowledge obtained on extended visits to the provinces of Benares, Bahar, and Mal wah—live year after year from hand to mouth, when they might reap fortunes by a very little energy and extra exer tions. The opium farmer of India lives and labours with but three ob jects in view. These are—first, to decor ate his wife profusely with ornaments, to eat. off a brass plate, and to be in a position to make a great display when his oldest son is married. As far as the wife's jewellery is concerned, that is a matter of religious duty, the Hindoo re ligion demanding that certain ornaments must be worn by married women, and the real wealth, if wealth it may be called, of the native landowner is in his wife's jewels, and whatever a husbandman may gain by his poppy culture he immediately in vests in jewellery, the same 'as the Yankee farmer places his money in bond and mortgage. If ! the Indian farmer on marrying cannot do any better in the way of jewellery, he must give the bride he obtains lead ornaments. This keeps the religious form; but the very first year he has been energetic enough to raise a good opium crop, the lead jewellery gives place to silver or gold. On the marriage of his oldest son, the In dian farmer will waste in a week's jolli fication the entire savings of years of i privation. " It is a strange sight to see the Hindoo women at work in the fields, gathering poppy juice or picking weeds, decked out with huge gold rings, bracelets, anklets and chains, and wearing but a single short petticoat and a gay-coloured wrap of light texture. The wants of the Indian raiat, as the farmer is called, are very few and simple. A thatched roof, covering four confined mud walls, shelters him, and there are families who have lived for hundreds of years, generation after generation, in the same hovel-like homestead. The farmer's suit ofevery-day working clothes is a very scant cloth fastened about his loins. His " dress-up" suit is a big cotton sheet folded about him. His entire family, from himself down to the small child he owns, who is not too small to crawl about among the poppy plants and know the difference between a weed and a poppy, share in the toil, of the field. The small children are clothed just as they came into the world s and appear comfortable, no matter how hot the sun shines or how low the temperature may fall—and in November, December, January and February, when the bulk of the field work is done, the weather is quite cold enough for at least summer clothing. " These happy r go-lueky tillers, of the-eoil depend entirely on the Government to keep them going year after year in the matter of farming. Thus the Gbvernmen6 advances the poppy seed that is to be sown, lends the money by which the land is irri gated and the bullock purchased to carry on the work. The cultivator will not till more of his land than he can manage without other help than his own imme diate family, and consequently a patch leased to any one farmer. that is half an acre in extent is an exceptionally large holding. The one-twentieth of an acre, called a bigka, is the favourite quantity of land for 8 farmer to seed down with pop pies, but he will put in a tenth or a sixth on a pinch. There are untold advantages in the growingof opium for extended en terprise, but the raiat will not expend the smallest Indian corn to acquire these ad vantages, and with it great gain, for the profit in opium production is large, owing to the policy of the Government hi paying large prices for the product as a means of precluding illicit traffic in it: "The farmers themselves have no direct intercourse with the Government. Each village of opium growers select some native as their representative or agent with the authorities. He is called the lambardax. It is his business to give estimates to the Government agents as to the probable yield of the farms he represents, on which the loans and advances may be based. He manages every transaction between the Government and the farmers, and for his services he gets a commission on all the opium he causes to be delivered to what are known as the weighing stations, points where the product of certain districts is carried by the growers and turned over to the agents. .

" The opiuin-gathering begins in January or February. The poppy flowers have then given way to the seed pods, which are lanced in the afternoon. The thick gum, the opium, exudes from the cut made in the pod, and at daylight the next morning the entire family of a raiat are astir in the fields scraping' the opium from the pods, the incisions being carefully closed again by rubbing the finger sharply up and down on the cuts which glues them shut. If care fully,,, treated, , the pods liberally re spond to six landings. The opium is -at first placed in brass vessels, and the dew that may adhere to it is drained off. Then it is kneaded like dough until it is at the proper consistency, when it is packed in new; earthern jars and is ready to be carried to theweighing stations. " The order to fetch in the year's crop of opium is generally given early in April, and that is the most interesting; season of the year to the raiat and his family. Each farmer is notified that on a certain day he must be at the weighing station of his district for the besting and weighing. An entire village, men, women, and children, join in joyous procession when this notice is received, and laden with the jars of opium, start for the destination. They travel only at night, as the heat of: the sun is so great at this season of the year that the journey would be unendurable. All day they lounge in the groves, and shady lanes, feasting and joining in various recreations. These wayside camps of the opium villages are picturesque sights to the - traveller through these provinces. When a group arrive at tMe weighing sta tion they are ranged in long lines before the examiner, who examines the opium 6f each one and marks the; quality and weight of each'jar with a piece of chalk on the side of the jar. The examiners are experts and can tell by the feeling whether a sample of opium is unadulterated, but they pub it to ; chemical tests as well. Aftervvthe opium is all weighed and tested the different farmers receive the amount their,yield entitles them to, less the Government advances, and the gay procession takes up its march for home. The opium is forwarded to Calcutta in boxes known as opium chests, and the insidious drugis. ready to tie sent on its mission of blessing1 to many and of misery to many more.1 *

The largest tobacco, warehouse in. America; is to be put up in Louisville.

BURNED BY ELECTRICITY.

The Horrible Accident that Befell

a Nebraska Man,

j A working man named Smith wag; I terribly mutilated in q remarkable* planner on September. 22nd on 0 street, afa jih& corner of Ninth. Hanging from a telegraph pole, and lying along the ground fibr a distance, was a broken telephone wire, wpich had in some manner become crossed or\in connection with one of the electric ligpt wires. As Smith was passing along theWtreet he saw the wire burning, and, attiwcted by the strange appearance, and not realising what it was, took hold of it to exanWe it. The shock he received was* terriißc, and his shrieks brought hundreds to thi? street. He could not loosen his hold on the^ wire, and it burned his hands to the bone. V In his writhings. and contortions the chif *ged wire came in contact with his head, bWning out one of his eyes and lay ing the Vide of his face open. Wherever it struck his body it cut like a knife. A bystander, realising the peril of the man, ranil to him and grabbed him to pull him fromivthe wire, but, by the shock he re ceived will en he came in contact with the body of tjYo man, he was knocked ten feeb into the jsta-eet and utterly prostrated, so that it was feared he was killed. By this time the i>lectricity had either burned the man Smit^h j loose from the wire or he had succeeded \ m his struggles in , breaking away. H<4 was picked up and carried into an adjoining \restaurant and a half dozen physicians summoned. The man-presented a horrible lap]pearance, and despite the physicians' efforts to put him under bhe in fluence of Wiphine, he shrieked .and writhed in tha agipny he suffered until taken.„ to the hospital. \

A RELIC OF BARBARISM.

Human Fingers Joined Together in a

(Necklace.

A curious and interesting relic of barbarism was received at tht> War Department, Wash ington, a few days ago. It consisted of a necklace of humkn fingers. Originally there were eleven fingers strung together after the manner of necklaces of bears 1 claws, but three hiave been lost. This ghastly adornment \was captured in an attack on the Northern Cheyennes in 1876, and each finger represented a life taken by the owner, the big medicine man of the tribe. The fingers haVe been preserved by opening the ißkin, removing the bones, scraping away all the tissues and fatty sub stances, replacing the bones and subjecting the skin to some tanning process. The necklace was sent to West Point by Captain Bourke, who is now engaged in preparing some historical matter relating to the Indians. If was brought from West Point here in order that it may be repro duced in papier mache at the Smithsonian Institute. The scientists of that institu tion are quite enthusiastic over it, regarding it as a precious specimen of the barbarous habits of the Indians, who are now fast dis appearing, War Department officials, how ever they are able to summon up eufficienfc hardihood to take a peep at it.

ALWAYS THE SAME.

A. Typical lovers' Quarrel With the

Usual Happy Ending.

These lovers' quarrels are sad, sad ..affairs,, resulting, as they so often do, in the separa tion of young hearts and making young hearts and making withered le&ves out o£ all the fond hopes and golden dreams and high" aspirations of youuglives. A distress ing >. case was made public recently m Newarkj the harrowing details being given iii the words 61 the estranged ones, who sat in the Newark Opera House eating caramels and saying cruel things to each other during the play. She began it. "You did, too," she said, with a great sob. It would not have been any kind of a lovers' quarrel without' numerous " great sobs " brought into it. "Now, Bessie," moaned ; the agonised ninety pounds of lover and high collar. "You needn't deny it," said Bessie, coldly. . „ „ ; " " Bessie, I never in all— "You did. Mame Blank told me thab she saw you." " Saw me what ?" " Saw you flirting with that horribly horrid Hattie Marsh." " Hattie Marsh ? Bah. Now, Bessie, you know perfectly well that I don't care a snap of my finger for Hattie! Marsh." "No; looks as if you didn't—flirting with her every time she crosses your path." "Now, Bessie, you know just as well as—" '"■ [ ' "Oh, yes, I know all about it, Mr Lonnie Marshall.'' "Now, Bessie, don't talk that way." ' " I will, too." "Bessie." . V " I don't care, Lon ; it isn't right, and I'm not going to play second fiddle to any body." •• Nobody wants you to, dearie." "No ! It looks as if they didn't, I musd say." '?' Well, now, Bessie, what if I got mad and said cruel things because you flirted a little with Bennie Dean or— —" " Ben Dean ! I wouldn't wipe my feet on Ben Dean " " You used to like,him." " Lon Marshall, I'll never speak to you aa long as I live and breathe if you ever men tion that horrid affair again. I hate Ben Dean." "I know it, darling, and I detest Hatti? Marsh." "Yes you do." •« Indeed I do." ** ¥csv over your left shoulder." '•Now, Bessie." ' "If you want your ring back again, Lon Marshall, all you've got to do is to say so." "Oh, Bessie!" "I mean just exactly what 1 say, sir j every word of it." " Bessie, Bessie !" " I can manage to live without you, Lon Marshall! And if you think I'm one of the 'Rough on Rats' kind of girls you're badly left " . " Now, Bessie, you know I never '.' " If you were a gentleman, sir-——" " Bessie, this is too much."' " If you don't like it you can liunplfc, sir! I'll let you know that you can't twist me around your finger. Do you want your ring?" ...!.. "You know I don't, Bessie." *

:■'" Well, you could have it mighty quick if you did." At last the worm turns, and saya; acridly: : "Very well, Miss Whitford, just as you please about it." * ' - "Why.Lon." . 'M have done all that a gentleman could do to-4" :"■■ (• • :••/■''', ■_ ■■:-; .. :"'■", ■ ■ ''Now; Lon, I was only joking." "Itanb joking matter where one's affec-, tionß are concerned. I've tried to beVa gentleman of my word with you, but—-" "Oh.Lon^hush!" "No, Bessie, we had better understand each other right here. If we quarrel so now, what wouldiit be when-— " Oh, Lonnie, I was only—" " You were wounding me cruelly, Bessie, and I—" "Gh,Lonnie!" ■ " If you really desire everything to como. to an end between us, I hope lam too much of a gentleman to—" The curtain .dropped at this juncture, while thoso who paw the frightful scene Were waiting with bated breath for. the final word that would separate Lonnie and Bessie forever.