THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1887.

1

Ruby's Reward.

V B y PS GBO RGIE SHELDON.

. ,<The Forsaken Bride," PSjJ** T"Tf' "That ' Dowdy," etc

CHAPTER XL. ■'■t*i**tt OUT TO THE BITTER END."

does this outrage mean?" she outside: , »vf moment a man came in, ,Anf*ane^w "ranks, and she could l*^w one Sanding in the hall. where Mr Carpenter then passed out without so '^Thhn and then turned to his # r * liHi a triumphant smilo on his $$te, iVlw- , ; ■■ .:■•...•• ' : ■ not quite so spacious "WSeatForestvale, bub I trust, iad4iryiake yourself comfortable in them T?J* coblly "marked. • teSSii this mean ?" she repeated. • JEKw you will be a. compulsory 1 wTnntii you give me that docmnenfc Pf Sd you for •"■ mornin? ' and *'" vThafc but you must also give me Jj^e never to mention that you kfflU do neither one nor the other," fefavetSealed about your Jl as you led me to suppose a few hours soon have it," her companion S regarding her searchingly, " for I havo -Sioned a woniun to search you. tSS curled, and she flashed a i of triumph at her; enemy. *Tarn perfectly willing to be searched, jb Carpenter, but your accomplice Trill Sidwhatsheseeks,'- she coo ly replied. Ttooan looked nonplussed at the. stote «ml Ha bad been very sure thab she had Slier, and that was why she had flown Sri? to the bell that morning when he iSftd to approach her. He had ZM that if he could make her a Serhecouldeasily brm^her to terms ; {yfeiUngi lie believed he could attain I feijbieeibyhavinsr her forcibly searched. I Mier coolness and defiance startled him 1 made him fear that she had been too I Miiiirforlum after all, and had hidden it ■ sSew. so that she could .have it forth loHiig whenever she chose. | ■ n^t have you done with it ? he de ■jsied,:angrily- m .«\ Jail not tell you, she answered, Rtftand actually experiencing a thrill Hgoiapli fa being able to defy him. ■It sat in silence for several minutes. j ■ % wasbitterly disappointed, but hen ■ saiioslrewfts too real, her enjoyment of ■ifiiiiliure *00 evident to allow of the B"!&iitais!ie<wa3 playing a part. ■ 'fell, then," he said, at last, in a X feed Baa,' l; there remains only one thing HlijiFOuld not ask him1 what that'was, Ky h paused! as if he expected she lilitbat is," he resumed, with a scowl 9 ji^itference,'.' to keep you confined 19 Mi's I can turn' my property into M. :i* and leave the-.ebantry, when you ■life your will and welcome. It ijißnn'hiethelV, for"! snail be beyond Bptel^an'd beyond the power of the X HEaby showed no sigh of relenting or ' K|tKii his words had caused her heart; X kspfe with something very like despair. ' I SStkirfckt if he should can-y. out his ' . itaiKilpli Carpenter's will would amount '' i bMtMnB; fori with his -property turned '' .bisoiiejr,.l)e could go 1 where he chose, 1 : tn|« tie law, and enjoy his ill-gotten '100 may as well lay aside your hat ' idinips, Miss Gordon," he continued '' •hutching her in silence for a few ttfei"foryou will make thisyour home frtfe present*'•;■- ■ ( ! 'Doyou imagine you can keep me here i wany length of time without discovery?" i IKiydemanded. i '% I indefinitely," he asserted. i "& Reggies, will set the whole city in i s «[mr as soon as he misses me," she i fetedconfidently.. • - ;", H fo courage was considerably damp- ' E™ taker captor's next words. < ,'i toe attended to: that-matter," he i ig«fp:;'"i»n4J.Mr.Rug}jleß will not be i fllWaliimtyou in the least. I sent my 1 Jor you earfy, and intercepted At> ( S% ; oofetoSprestvale, sendinjr word ( ■* » m that you had 'changed your i •% ™ had concluded to go to Harris- > as you feared you wwe i wwng just right to desert her when she i ™a» much trouble. So, you perceive I «WJj»npinqairies for you, my friend. m;xA <dl.the servants at tforestvale ;to 1L M c &one to Redville, while IKIf COmpailion' Mr Ru^les, ■Kk ISsltPr are m y°iir way to ■ Jft. 1 ea« »t Pretty Veil planned, ] ■ •ifl Cm'Penter laughed tri- i itoS^.alm°st faint over this con- t ■SJt^ % saw at once that it i ISISi- 1168^- Mr Ruggles's f ltafS, at- rest- aild *» would go i P'S bf 8k wa* somewhat ( ItS^Wo°l(li^ieve..that haW kve a B^Picion of her i ■««bK i,*? netime 'and thusthia t W^yl,} havp all the opportunity i Is% tlir? his Plans a"d flee the t l^taiZ\ ln c m<jantime the very 1 iEjtSHPPen to Walter. 1 ■fcvsftT? te.' a 8 Bhe/felt affairs were 1 %K Jaffi *■?<*&*> him the satis- , lh-l*e-fc ua placeis fcbis to which ■ <aS S >fc and kid it upon the , i'Jsprool eWn. to unbutton her ( l^Sfer 161"-je°arded her wibh j l^wS c-WMfarn'«M:epluckythan < l^^i^B^^ 10", prefcty' ■L%-«hbnte f °c Served. : i mSlZ&l}?. 'questioned, , l^SK^of you, while I am 1 ■ 51^»°« will get your just de ■ % to be patient fora « 1 feil43ll3 M vag^y-; - 'CHow wui; IS S>! yon fi i J LHIr handso.ne lover i ,|B^- J-afind him . behind prison I tVs^)!^l^, but she bore it 1 m tf. ar'4 witt- ; answered confi- 1 1 &SvP stl ve emphasis, I I «*lS*»aiap i,,.^ Cl? und Carpenter If|S?£3' ■ :N&'M"ltS£ ei%!'veait1' through : m ti*£y*H<* '-» f v' om< confidence • Bl'^, '"-l (^n you al -e pre- ■ 8 EBIESV R"by said a Ughf ! m W&s. f&'toal is to ,

come off before very long, and since my friends will doubtless be-present ab it, in quiries will, of course, be made for mo ;and leb me say, Mr Carpenter, you may find things gotting rather warm for you about that time."'

It was evident from the man's looks that he had not taken this into consideration; or, if he had, he had probably reckoned upon bringing hor to his own terms long before that."

He arose from his scab impatiently1. " I shall lind you less impatient and in a more conciliatory frame of mind a few clays hence," he remarked, as he moved toward the door.

•Ruby also arose. _ " You have not yet answered my qu^e tion, Mr Carpenter/ she .-aid. " What question.'?" " In whose house am I ?"

"It is the house of a respectable physi cian, a particular friend of mine, one who sometimes is prevailed upon me bo • treat patients of a refractory and wilful natiirs," he replied, watching her with an evil smiie as he wade the statement.

Ruby grew pale. Ib was not a pleasant thing to know that she might be in the house with people who were nob sano. Still eh a believed that he would not be likely to bring her to a place where 3he would be in danger of per sonal violence.

" A ' particular friend ' of yours, and a rcspcclabti'. physician .'" she repeated, with a sarcastic emphasis that, made her'listener's ears tingle. " Has he many patients?'' " No, he has not," Edmund Carpenter answered, gravely, and nob unkindly. ''I did nob intend you should know this, for I do hob wish you to bs tortured by any fear of that nature. 'The doctor has only two or three patients here at the present, and they are perfecbly harmless, and confined to another portion of the house." ': Am I supposed to be a patient ?" "Well, nob exactly; you aro simply a boarder," " In other words, you have bribed the man bo keep mo here to suib your purpose. Bub, Edmund Carpenber," Ruby continued, taking a step toward him and lifting her right band to emphasise her words, "your friend may keeu me here as long as you may sea fit to pay him for ib; bub I forbid you to enter my presence again ; I will nob see you —I will have nothing whatever to say to you." "Bub you cannot help yourself, Ruby, my beauty,'! he reported, with a smile and wibh glowing eye?". She never looked so attractive to him as when she was flushed and excited wibh I anger. j "I can help myself, I will help myself!" j she replied, sharply, and, burning abruptly from him, she walked into her bedroom, where she shut and locked bhe door, the key, fortunately, being in bhe look. Mr Carpenter looked somewhab astonished ab bhis decisive movement, and resolved to give orders to the 'servant who was to wait upon Ruby to secure bhab key bhe nexb time she came up. But nothing could be gained from his spirited captive in her present state of mind, and, he left the tie!d very much dis turbed over his ignominious failure' to bring her to terms. Ruby heard him depart with a ieelitig of intense rolief, and bhen began to look about her to see in what way she could defend herself from his future visits. " I will npfc be subjected to such inter views as this," she said, resolutely, "and if I will not see him, he will begin to under stand that he cannot make me surrender."

Suddenly her face lighted, and going^ bo her brunk, she took from it a large spool of wire which she sometimes used in making arbifical flowers. .

Armed with this, she went back to her chamber, and began to wind the . wire around the knob of the door, which was locked on the outside,, .and w-bjj?h-, 7 »bo<. supposed led into the hall, carrying it up through a bracket to the mantel that was near, passing it back and forbh again and again, drawing it as tight as she could, until she was sure bhe barricade was strong enough to keep out intruders. Then she moved the head of her bed up against it,, and felt thab with the key of bhe other door always in her possession, she should have a place of refuge to flee to whenever her un welcome visitor presented himself. At six o'clock, a servant brought to the door a tempting supper upon a tray, but the poor girl was not hungry, or rather she was too wrebched to eat.

She would be brave enough when Edmund Carpenber was there to arouse her antago nism, but it was very different when she found herself a solitary prisoner, and felb that she was liable to remain there indeft\ nibely, and no one dreaming but that she was safe, happy, and contented wibh her friends.

Walter would miss her lebters, and would wonder wliy she did not wribo. He might even go to Foresbvale to learn bhs reason, and would probably be told tbab, she had either gone to Redville or Harrisburg, and wotild bo none the wiser until his tidal should come off, when she knew there must be in quiries for her. ' But she might nob be found until it would be too late to do nnygood. And with a heart bursbing wibh grief, as all these thoughts crowded upon hpr, she retired at an early hour, and tried to forget her wretchedness in sleep.

CHAPTER XLI

WALTER MAKES A WONDEKFUL DISCOVERY.

Meanwhile Walter was faith fully-attendi ng to the duties devolving upon him in Cnester. Mr Con ant'wan more than satis fied with the manner in which he had managed the contract which he had been forced, from the press of obher business, to intrust him-wibh, and was meditating a grand promotion for him, if ho should desire to remain with him afte? his year was up. ■ —>- iUu~» To say that the. young man was nob troubled and anxious over his disagreeable situation and in view of his coming trial, would not be truth ; sbill, he was so con scious of his own rectitude, he could not but hope that he would be discharged because of insufficient evidence againsb him, in spibe of his conviction that the whole thing was a plot of Edmund Carpen ter's to ruin his character. He visited often at' Madam Howland's, for that lady seemed to entertain a strange attachment far him, and urged him to spend every spare evening with her. _■ He was very glad bo avail himself ol her invitat'on, for her elegant-home was full of choice and interesting things, besides books in abundance. These were his especial delight, aiid frequently he spent an hour or more in reading aloud to madam, who appeared, to very much enjoy this way of being entertained. One evening, however, she seemed pre occupied and distrait; so much so thab •Walter wondered if she were suffering more than usual from her injuries, which, by the way, were doing wonderfully well, consider ing how serious thoy had been. He read on, appearing not to notice her inattention, until she suddenly sbopped him : she had adopted the use of his first nnrae, in a familiar way, asif she had known him for years, when he came back to her after his arrest- " Walter, pufc upvoar book for awhile; I wan* you to talk to me about yourself. Tell me some thing about your former history. ~ " I thoughfcl had told you thafrlongago, he said, smiling. '= ■ Mp . " Yes you hare told me how Mr Car penter found you, a poor boy, and took yon home to educate'; I know your story 'pretty well from that time; bufe I want ■X to go further back than that, and tell Hie all that you can remember of your early childho«fc-of your father and mother, «nd ! how you happened to be so destitute when I your kijp4 friend, fowjwiyou/j' /. r , < ; t

Walter flushed ; he did nob relish en tering into details, for there were some thing 3 about his early life that touched his pride very keenly. Amongst other things, the fact that his father's family had dis carded, him and ignored his very exis tence because of his marriage with a poor girl.

"My mother's name was Sadie Burton before her marriage," he began.

"That is a pretty name. Toll me about ( her paints and where they lived," said ,' made.m, deeply interested. I " Her parents died when she was but a very young girl, and her home was in one of the suburbs of New York. Her father's sister, a maiden lady, having considerable property, adopted her after she became an orphan, and it was understood that she was fco inherit all that she possessed in the event of her death. Her money was mostly in ' btuk-stock, and after a few years, a heavy . defalcation, together with some other mis ; fortune, swamped tho institution, leaving Miss Burton almost penniless in her old . age. My mother,vhowever, had received a good education, and at once went to bench . ing to support herself and the aunt who had clone so much for her. But her voice failed ; after a few months, and she was obliged to relinquish her position and go into a store [ in New York, whore she earned barely enough to enable them to live moderately well. Here my father, who was studying ' j mechanical engineering in the city, met ' { her, and a short acquaintance resulted in' tin avowal of affection and an engagement. , Miss Burton died soon aftsr, and thus my mother was left entirely alone. I fear, however, this is but a dreary story to tell ' you," Walter interposod, and dreading to , go on. "No, no ; go on. Let me hear tho whole stoiy," madam said, eagerly. And he resumed: " My father insisted upon an immediate marriage, for he said it was not fitting that she should be unprotected in that great city. ■ He appeared to be in a condition to support her handsomely, and she, never dreaming bub that she would be kindly re ■ ceived by his friends, consented. It was • not until some time after their marriage, that he told her he belonged to a wealthy family, and that ho hud married against their wishes. "Ifc is a sad story," Walter said, look ing deeply pained, "and one fchab I never like to dwell upon, but to give you simple facts and nob make ib longer than I can help, my father had hitherto received an ample allowance from his parents, which had enabled him to live handsomely, even luxuriously ; bub his friends wero so dis pleased at the stsp he had taken, that they not only refused to receive his wife, bub they cut off his income and left him depen dent upon his own exertions, also forbidding him to return to them or communicate with them." " Where did they reside ?" asked madam, curfcly. " in Baltimore. I imagine that they were Southern people, but as my mother was always made very unhappy by speaking of them, I nevrr questioned her much about them, although I have since wished thab 1 had done so, for ib would be a satisfaction to know to Y/hom I belonged, even though I should never intrude myself upon my purse proud relatives," Walter remarked with considerable spirit. . "My father, as you may suppose, was obliged to renounce his studies and go to work to support his family. He was very proud, and accepted the fiat of his parents as final, and with quiet resignation, never communicating with them afterward, never seeking to see them. The position which he succeeded in securing was a humble one, and hia salary limited. When I was four years of afro he met with an accident. I shall never forget that day, young as I was. He was caught in some machinery, received an injury from which he never recovered." I "What was the nature of the injury?" asko d Madam Howland, regarding Walter wibh sad pibying eyes. "Ibwas an internal hurt; the doctors failed to ascertain jusb what; but he suffered intensely. " Was he ill long V ." More than a year." " What supported you all during that time ?" "My mother did fancy work of various kinds ; she was especially skilful in making artificial, flowers, for which she received a fair price, and, while my father lived, she provided him wibh every comfort, although I knew that she often denied herself proper food to sustain her own failing strength. " Oh !" Walter looked up quickly, for there were* both dismay and grief expressed in the sbartled expletive. "How much suffering there is in thi* world ! How much heroism in such self denying wives ! Your mother was a brave little woman," said Madam Howland, and Walter saw thab there were tears trembling on her lashes. , ■ " How sympathetic she is !" he thought, and he felt more free to open his heart to her after that. " When my father died," he went on, in tones that were a trifle unsteady, " my mother was heart-broken, and from thab hour she began to fail also. She had a dreadful cough ; but she still kepb on wibh her work, for I had to be fed and clothed, and sent to school. But at last her strength gave out entirely, and she had bo keep her bed ; then I had to stay at home bo take what care I could of her, and to sell papers to help ek© out the little that she was sbill •able to earn at her fancy work, for she per sisted in making her beautiful flowers even after she was too Weak to sit up, and I took them out to be sold. Of course, matters grew worse and worse with us, and finally we became so destitube thab I used to ask people now and then to give me a little money to keep my mother from starving; andatiast, as I have already told, you, I. met Mr Carpenter and begged a nickel from "He went home with me, and found that nly mother was one whom he loved before she left her native place, when she was Miss Burton's heiress. There had been a quarrel, or a misunderstanding, of some kind, and he went away in a passion. Of course afber he found us. our destitution was at an end, for he provided for our every want, giving my mother every luxury and delicacy which money could buy ; he took me to his own home, and treated me like his own son as long as he lived." : "Bless the man for a noble _ deed!" ejaculated madam, wibh considerable emotion. Then she added :" But have you never tried to find your father's rela tives ?" . , fl ' . ■ "No," Walter answered .flushing crimson. " I did beg my mother once, when we were so very poor, to write to them and ask them to give us a little help. But she would not. , " 'If they refused to recognise their own son because he married me, 1 she said gently, but firmly—'if they did not care enough, when I sent them word thab he Was dead, to come and take a last look at him, they would not surely heed my feeble cry now for aid.' v I have thought," Walter resumed, after a thoughtful pause, "that she might per haps have relented, and asked them to care forme after she was gone, if MrCarpenterhad nob com* to our relief; but he promised that I never should want for any good thing, and I know thai she died feeling perfectly content about me. I have often wondered, though—" , . . n " Well, whan hare you wondered' madam asked, as he hesitated, and fell into a reverie. . , -.-■.- „ ;MWhen. Uncle' Ralph was dying, Walter said, arousing himself, " he called nic to' his bedside, and said there ,wore some things that he wished to talk to me about.. He said there was something that niy mother wished Win to *-eIl me.ivhen 1

should come of age ; but he broke off there, and remarked he wanted to settle about my future first, and bhen,= before he could finish, thab last shock seized him, and he never spoke again. I have ofben wondered what it was that my mother wanted him to tell me. Ib may have been something about my father's friends, or some message that my father may have wished her to give me when I should be old enough to understand ib."

"Doubtless it was something of that nature ; bub does nob your heart ever .yearn after your own kindred?" Madam How land asked, regarding him earnestly. Again Walter coloured vividlyjhe was very sensitive upon this point. " I have ofben wished bhat I had relatives —thab I could know I belonged bo some one who really cared for meliecause the same blood flowed in my veins ; but——"

"Well?"

" I could never bhrusb myself upon those people who were so unkind bo my father —who ignored and despised my mother simply because she was poor," he answered, proudly. " My mother was a lady in every 'sense of the word," he continued, wibh some ex-. cibomenb. " She was as refined and culbured as —as you are, Madam Howland, and very beautiful. Her parents were ab one time very wealthy, bub misfortune deprived bhem of bheir property; while Miss Martha Burbon moved in the best society, and she took the greatest pains to have my mother carefully educated." "Have you a picture of yourmobher?" madam asked. .

" Yes, bub not here. I shall bo happy to show it to you some time. But, Madam Howland," Walber asked, earnestly, " don't you bhink ib is a mean spirit bhab looks down upon and despises really worbhy people of pecuniary misfortune, or because bhey do nob happen bo occupy a certain position ?" He looked up into his companion's grand face with questioning eyes as he asked her bhis, while bhero was a slighb curl of scorn upon his fine lips, for he hearbily despised bhe arrogance and purse-pride of which he had spoken. He was sbarbled by the effects of his words, for the woman had grown white to her lips, and actually groaned aloud at his question. " Walter—Walter Richardson, don't be too hard on an old woman ; do nob -con demn me utterly. I would that I could answer your question in a way which shall still make you respect and esbeem me, but I cannob, for—/ have done, it myself all my life." ... "But, madam," Walter stammered, in confusion, and wondering to,see her so agitated, "that cannob bo possible ! You are so noble and good. You have been very kind to the poor and helpful, also to me, who am bub a poor young man strug gling hard to, work my own way up in the world." . .

" Ah ! But you forget how much I owe you for your kindness to me when I so sadly needed it,'" returned madam, touch ing her bandaged right arm wibh the other hand which she was just beginning to uso a little.

" I suppose it is natural that you should appreciate a service like that," Walter answered,, thoughtfully, " but you did nofc 'owe' ms.anything; the freedom ffyour lovely home, the pleasure of ypur society* besides bhe many other favours which I have received from you, these have all been groat kindnesses to me." .

"I did-r-I do," cried the woman, in a broken voice, while she leaned forward and laid her hand upon the jpoung. man's arm. " I owe you more than I can ever repay— more, I fear, than you will ever. be willing to forgive me; for, Walter, I am y»ur father's mother, and—your grandmother !"

(Tobt, Continued.)

German Trade and Workmen.

A keoent issue of the " Standard" contains the following telegram from ibs correspond ent ab Berlin respecting German trade and

workmen :—

* The "Norddeutsche and Cologne Gazette" drawattenbion to thefollowingpassage from the annual reporb of the Elders of-the Berlin Mercantile Community :-—" The special peculiarity of the year 1886 was'- the large number of exbensive strikes of workmen an the numerous Socialistic dampnsbrations, partly under the influence of the Anarchist elements—in April and May in North America, in February and November in London, in the spring in Belgium, and the summer in France. Germany was happily spared such scenes. Among us, however, ib is true, social democratic illusions are sbill at work wibh effect; bub we hope that the great majoriby of the working classes with us will not permanently remain unimpressed by the earnestness with which social legis-, lation and its execution with the co-opera* bion of employers and employed.is being proceeded with in Germany. The sinking of the prices of provisions and other " necessaries of life has doubt less improved the situation of the working classes, and the large increase in the Saving Bank deposits in Prussia during the last eight years, in which period they have risen from one thousand three hundred and eighty-five millions to two bhousand two hundred and sixby-one millions of marks,, shows wibb some cerbainty that the desire and ability to save have largely increased. The recent sinking of prices and occasional stagnation of business have greatly diminished the gains of employers, but have very slightly affected wages." The "Cologne Gazebte " attaches much importance to this statement, while the " Norddeutsche" com ments upon it as follows :—" As our readers will remember, the great importance of the social compensation now in progress was a. point we drew attention fc> two'years'ago, at a time when the first symptoms of .the declining tendency of interest in all branches of independent money-making: activity, came to light. What we then prophesied is now clearly evident; and we may there fore be permitted to feel a certain satisfac tion when the organs whicfi by, no means always share our economical views arrive at the same cousequences in this important matter at which we arrived before. But that it was just the Elders of the Berlin mercantile community that furnished materials for the confirmation of the correct ness of our view, is an extremely valuable proof of its correctness and irrefutability.

Decay o* the Teeth.—lf a narfc of the organism which is not subject to rapid de cay after death dies during life, there must be something active to kill it, or as I)r. Hunter puts it, " There is some operation eoing on which produces a change in the diseased part," . ... . : There seems to be some reason for thinking that decay of the teeth is commoner now than it used to be Assuming this to be the fact, it-would be interesting to inquire whelher^there is anything in our modern mode of life which has a tendency to cajise the teeth ta decay. Meanwhile it may be worth asking if lack of vigour is not a cause of decay of ihe teeth and if the want,' of it observable among certain' classes of children and young persons is not due to the increasingly arti ficial character of tine lives the young lead; with diminution of fresh air and exercise, and that aggravation of mental and brain and nerve worry which charaa terises the educationary and developmental stages of our modern life. ~ ■

Dandriff.— The following wash will cure the tendency to dandriff: Sesquicar bdnate of ammonia, half an ounce ; .spirit of rosemary, quarter of a pint; elaerfiower water,. three-quarters of a pitit; Mjucby shaking, aad use night and mottling. \ ;

The "Wailing Place."

The "Wailing Place" in Jerusalem is a narrow enclosed space near the Mosque of Omar. Ifc is a^ section of the ancient wall of the Haram, which includes the site of the old temple on Mount Moriah, and is believed to be the only part remaining of Solomon's Temple wall. To this place the Jews have for centuries come once a week, every Friday, to mourn over the desolation of Israel. Jerome has drawn a vivid picture of the crowds of Jew 3 who in his day a&sembled at the " Wailing Place" by the west wall of the temple to bemoan the loss of their ancestral greatness. Miss Martincau bhus described bhe scene: " Under a high, massive, very ancienb wall, was a dusty, narrow, enclosed space where we saw bhe mosb mournful groups I ever encounbered. This high, ancienb wall, where weeds are springing from bhe crevices of the stones, is believed to be a part, and the only parb remaining, of Solomon's Temple. Thibher the Jews come every Friday to mourn over the fall of their Beautiful House, and pray iov its restoration. The women were sibbing in bhe dusb ; some wailing aloud, some repeab ing prayers wibh moving lips, and others reading them from books on their knees. A few children were at play on bhe ground ; and some aged men sat silent, bheir heads drooped on bheir breasbs. Several younger men were leaning againsb the wall, press ing bheir foreheads against the stones, and resting their books on their clasped hands, in.their crevices. Wibh some this wailihg is no form, for I saw tears on their cheeks. '

Medicinal Value of Lemons.

" While you are giving people simple rules for preserving their health, why don't you tell them about the use of lemons ?" an in telligent professional man .remarked the other day. He went on to say thab he had been broubled wibh an inactive liver, which gave him a world of pain and brouble, unbil recently he was advised by a friend to bake a glass of hob water with bhe juice of half a lemon squeezed inbo it, bub no sugar, nighb and morning, and see whab bhe effecb would be. He tried ib, and found himself better almosb immediately. His daily headaohes, which medicine had failed to cure, left him; his appetite improved, and he gained several pounds in weight within a few weeks. After a time he omittod the drink, either at night or in tho morning, and now ab times does wibhout eibher of them. "I am satis fied from experiment," said he, "that there is no bebbsr medicine for persons who are troubled wibh bilious and liver complainbs than the simple remedy I have given, which is far more efficacious than quinine or any other drug, while it is devoid of their injurious consequences. It excites the liver, stimulates the digestive organs, and tones up the sysbem generally. Ib is nob unpleasant to take, eibher. Indeed, one soon gets to like it."

Treatment of Insect Stings.

The stings of insects, such as gnats, mos quibos, &c., are ofben painful. In such a case apply spirit of hartshorn or volatile alkali bo the parb. Spider bites are not only painful, bub often venomous; and it is necessary to wash them with salt water or diluted vinegai'. The sting of the bee is harmful only when the sting re mains sbicking in the wound. So the first thine: to be done is to press the wound in order to make ib bleed, as the blood which flows will carry along a portion of the .poispn. <Tken suqk the wound; and wash it well wibh water, and then with a solu tion of fcnOs fidwder. This latter, whiqh is •much used in TEnerland, pohsisfcs •of three parts of chloride> df lime to eight of Common salt. An ounce of this powder to be dis solved in a tumbler of water. If this com position is nob to be had, Goulard's extract may be used. For the sting of the scor pion, volatile alkali should be used. After the pain subsides, an emollient cataplasm may be applied.

The Diet of Strong Men.

The Roman soldiers,who built such wonder ful roads, and carried a weighb of annou r and luggage which would crush the average farm hand, lived on coarse brown bread and sour wine. They were temperate in diet, and regular and constant in exercise. The Spanish peasant works every day, and dances half the night, yet he eats only his black bread, onion, and waber-melon. The Smyrna porber eats only a little fruit and some olives ; yet he walks off with his load of a hundred pounds. The cooliej fed on rice, is more active, and can endure more, than the negro fed on fat meat. The'heavy work of the world is nofc done by men who eat the greatest quantity. Modera tion in diet seems to be the prerequisite for endurance.

American Reporting.

The American style of reporting is most novel, displaying as it does a curious mix ture of fapts, and comments written with a grim humour. Take for instance the fol. lowing, which was reproduced in a contem porary :—"John Smith, in Nebraska, said he could handle a rattlesnake the same as a snake charmer. The churlishness of the undertaker in demanding pay in advance delayed the funeral four days.—Few men would try to dry gunpowder in a kitchen stove. A man in Canada did. His af flicted family would be glad of any informa tion as to his whereabouts.—A man in New Hampshire the other day ate fifteen dozeh"riw" oysters oh a" wager.. The silver trimmings - alone op his coffin cost twelve .dollars and thirty - five cents.—A boy in Detroit disregarded his mother's warning, not ito skate on the, river, as the ice was thin. -His mother don't have to cook for so many as she did by one._" This is, of course, a, caricature, but still it gives a very good:idea of; the tendency manifest in the American press. Occasion ally we see this sort of thing in our own papers, an instance of which occurs to our memory. A provincial paper appeared with heavy black column rules, such as are used as a sign of mourning, which was explained by an "editorial," or we may fairly suppose " sub-editorial," stating, "Last week we gave an account of a fashionable wedding, and, by the oversight of our {reader, were made to speak of the costly ' trousers'of the bride. The bridegroom has called—and our editor's light has gone out." An .Eastern editor said that a man in New York gob himself into trouble by marrying two wives, to which a western editor replied .by assuring his contemporary that a good many men in that section had done the same by marrying one. Follow ing upon this came a statement from a northern editor thab quite a number of his acquaintances bad found trouble enough by barely promising to marry, without going any further, whereupon a southern editor said that a friend of his was bothered enough when simply found walking with another man's wife.

Waiting for His Girl.

Youno man (bo usher ab church door)! " Isn't the sermon nearly done ?'* ; Usher: " About && hour yet. Ho is only on his'lastly.'" Younpj man: "Will it take him an hour to eet through his ' lastly?'" Usher.:" N6 ;;»but there's the 'one word more and I am done,' anjct the*' finally, 1 and: the 'in couclusion' to come yet."

THE CHINESE EMPIRE.

ITS ENORMOUS EXTENT AND

RESOURCES.

The Census of 1875.

Facing us across the Pacific Ocean are the most populous and densely settled countries of the world. ..■ On the broad alluvial plains, on the elevated plateaux, in the wide fertile valleys, and on- the sloping hills and moun tain sides of Eastern Asia 700,000,000 people, one-half of the world's population, are en faged in eyery branch of human industry, 'hese busy human hives are our nearest transmarine neighbours, and if we are to have a foreign commerce it must largely be with these Oriental countries.

Already their foreign trade amounts annually to £320,000,000, and it is rapidly increasing. From every commercial centre of Europe lines of steamships and fleets of sailing vessels plough the seas in this rich Oriental carrying. The immense area of these Asiatic countries, the density of their populations, the vast amount of their developed wealth, the untiring industry of their workers, the unexcelled fertility of their soils, and the unrivalled facilities for internal and external commerce mark them as subjects of surpassing interest to us. Of these Oriental countries China has. the largest area and population, and the greatest latent and developed wealth.^ Since the reeonquest and reoccupation of Kashgaria, her area is 5,300,000 square miles. This is dne and one-half times the area of all Europe. The climate of most of this vast area, es pecially south of the thirty-eighth parallel is most favourable. From the northern rim of the Yangtz basin, south of the lati tude of Canton, the climate is semi-tropical, and from Canton toTonquin it is tropical. At Peking, 40 deg. north latitude, the mean annual temperature is 52 deg. Fahren heit; winter, 29; spring, 555; summer, 76; autumn, 54. At Shanghai, 34 deg. north, the mean is 62 deg. At Canton, .33 deg. north, the mean is 70 deg. These are the, temperatures of the sea level, and as the country rises toward the great mountains cooler climates are found; but even on the Thibetan mountains, at an elevation of 15,000 feeb, barley and nutri tious grasses are found. This great variety of climate gives a wonderful diversity of plant life. On the south there is almost every variety of tropical growths; in the central regions in the semi-tropical plants, both textile and food, grow luxuriantly, and in the north and on the higher elevations to the west the staple crops are wheat and millet. In the higher mountain ranges are immense forest belts.

The population of China has been a matter ot much disoussion and doubt among foreigners. It has been claimed that the figures of" the Chinese census are much too high. There is, however, no known reason why the officials of that country should exaggerate their popula tion. .. > . . , ~ '

The census of 1875 gave the population of the empire ac :435,000,000. .Since that time Tonquin has been lost, with several million people, and Kashgaria has been reconquered. Among no people with, any degree of civilisation is tne birth rate sp high as in 'China, ahd-although the death rate in the densely-crowded. districts is very great, there is every reason to presume that there are how. 450,000,000 people in China.

These figures represent more than one third of the population of the globe. It is a greater population than that of all Europe, and three times the number of people on the Western Continent. Even at these enormous figures the aver^ge.,number of pe6pleTC6PEho" risquare mile for the whole empires—eighty-five—is not so high Sis in some parts of the United States. ■ ■ . ■" In the great mountain ranges, on the arid plains of Kaahgaria, and the snowy regions of Mongolia and Manchuria, the population i 3 sparse; but in the eight central provinces of China proper—in the fertile, s alluvia! 3O il ß __the population is denser and more crowded than in any other region of equal extent on earth. The villages there are almost beyond enumeration, and the* num bers of walled cities incredible to those who have not seen them. In the two Kiang pro vincesvat the' mouth of the Yangtz rivei^ with an area of 90,000 square miles, the population in 1875 was 72,000,000, and there were 125 walled cities.

Speaking of the walled cities and their numbei's, Pampelly, the geologist and min eralogist, says: "The grey walls of in numerable cities are constantly disappear ing behind the steamer, and others'as con stantly coming into view before it, on the banks of the river, and inland from, it spreading out over the lowlands, built upon the slopes of hills, or extending over the crests, or again entirely inclosing iso lated elevations." . Such is a general view, of our great transmarine neighbour, her unequalled area and population, and her topographical features. As a neighbour and a factor in. the future politics and com merce of the world she is worthy of a more extended and minute study.

A Quaker Scout.

[By an Ex-Rebel. ]

While Sheridan was massing his forces in front of Early at Winchester and making ready for that September day battle, .1 was inside his lines at' least half a dozen times, playing the spy in broad daylight and not seeming to be suspected by anyone. Five days before the battle General Early had close figures on every branch of Sheridan's \ atmy. Lgot the total strength.of the army within 300 men, and every piece of artillery was correctly named, and re ported.: Many of the Federal soldiers,, particularly Ohio and Michigan troops, may call to mind the old Quaker who wandered about their camps for a week in veighing against war, but hoping the blue coats would win if a battle were.foughk The old man gave away tracts/ sold : postage stamps^ and offered to write letters; home for the sick., That old Quaker and your humble servant were one and .the same, and I hereby return my thanks for the kind treatment extended me. The men of the Michigan cavalry brigade were particularly friendly, and at a later period it fell to me to do three of them agood tarn while they were on their way to Richmond as prisoners of war.' • •' _ _■- My last trip into and out of Sheridan's lines was made oh the night of the second day before the battle, f came in on his left, and was going out again that way. I had passed the the camp sentinels and videttes, and was, as I believed; beyond all danger. I was then to the- left of the Berryville pike, and was picking my way across an old field, when a man suddenly rose up before rca and presented a carbine at my breast. It was not so dark but that I made him put on the instant to be a Federal cavalryman. I was in my Quaker rig, and as soon as I could get my voi(io 11 said : :'.'.;, -• ■■■••• ' " Friend, thee haß made a mistake. I am but a humble citizen." : "That's all right, old Broadbrim, but you can't pass heVe 1" > ;■■ Friend Bluecoat, I will cheerfully move to the right or the left." "You try it and I'll blow your head off I You aire my prisoner, sir>!" ; ) , ' • Friend, thee doth nofe seem to under stand the situation. I am a man of peace, and on my way to the house of a friends Thou hath no cause to halt me." •'I hayen'tj eh ? ,%ou sit down on that log until the relief comes out! If yojj'y© got a pass yoti can elibw it feben.'! . •--'•

" Verily, but I will sit down if it pleaseth thee, bub there is no occasion for hard words." *

"There is occasion to look after every durned old reb in the country,, and dou'b you forpet ibl" - It was plain to sight and smpll that the man had been drinking, and was, in an irritable condition. It was his duty to have taken me back to the relief, but as the time for his post to be relieved was only a quarter of an hour away, he decided on holding me there. If I went back to the post under suspicion, I was sure to hang for a spy, as a search would bring to light proofs of my vocation, and I made up my mind that I must take desperate chances. The soldier stood about six feet in front of me leaning on his gun, and I made a pre tence, of feeling in my pocket, and then said:—

'* Friend, let us be civil to each other. Perhaps thee would like some tobacco ?" " Tobacco ! Well, I don't mind," he re plied in a half civil tone. I rose with my hand extended, as if to hand him something, and, as I got near enough, I planted a blow on his nose which knocked him flat. Before he could move I kicked his gun aside and was upon him. He was dazed by the blow, and he scarcely struggled as I* worked at him. In five minutes I had gagged and tied hand and foot, and then f braced him up against the log and said: \ '' Friend, this is a very changeable world. The dog who is on top to-day may be underneath to-morrow." »

He could not reply, except to groan. , "And remember, friend, that ibis; nob always meet and in good taste to address one of my persuasion as Broadbrim and old mam" He groaned again. "And, as a farewell word to thee I wouldsc advise thee to be more gentle in thy speech. A civil word costs nothing, and sometimes brings a gentle reward. Good-bye, thou man of blue. Thy friends will be along presently, and I trust thou wilt not deny that a Broadbrim, unarmed and unaided, laid thee on thy back and bound thee like a yearling lamb." With that I left him, and I was not twenty rods away before I heard the relief; How he explained matters I never knew, but he probably came out of it with flying colours.

CHILDREN'S CORNER.

" The child is father of the man." .Wordsworth.

ASLEEP.

A child lay in the shadow Beneath a birch wood tree, While daisies, grown in Bhadow, And bio wn by zephyrs free, Seemed like a snowy pillow And coverlet to be. .

She slept, and heavy lashes Weigh'd down each pearl-white lid. While golden sunlight flashes Crept o'er her face, half hid . By locks in amber flashes, With bronzing lights amid.

One other day in summer She slept among these flowers, A never-welcome cotner Had kiss'd this child of ours, Whose breath did swift benumb her: The grave is white with flow'rs.

Snatched From a Falling Horse.

:The month of January, 1759, was long ' remembered in the west of Scotland as the stormiest of the whole year. "None save the bold fishermen—and very few even of them , — dared to venture out to sea in the teeth ,: of the roaring gales which had raged un ceasingly ever since Christmas day; while ' the hardiest, peasants of the hills, though familiar from their childhood with every ridge and hollow for miles round, often had hard work to find their way, from place to place through the blinding snoWs and i uri diis winds of that stormy season^ ;. , J The last'day of the rn^nch had; <ji«ne } arid the wild weather continued unabated. Bub neither the howl of the rushing blast nor . the crash of the falling "trees along the frozen river disturbed the slumbers of a ■ little boy, hardly a week old, who lay sleep ing in the rude clay hovel which his father's ; spade had hastily thrown up nob many months before. A sturdy little fellow he was; and his strong arms and limbs, fully revealed by the kicking off of the tartan shawl which < had been spread over him, might have served.anyipainter as a model for the infanb Hercules. Well might his mother look , fondly and proudly at him as she sat near ;. the wicker cradle, hard at work upon a half - finished pair of coarse blue stockings, such as the Scottish peasantry of that time used to wear. : But a furious gust of wind, which flung the snow in huge drifts against the rattling casement,, gave another... turn to her thoughts, which were, in truth, anything but pleasant ones. Her husband was out in the full fury of this storm ; for there was no staying at home for him. How ever wild the weather, might bo, to work he mualigo. ~: ■ ■ . . .. ■-■ ■■; .c , And the worst of it was that, no matter how hard he might work, or how hard she might work to help him, they seemed only to be getting poorer and poorer. Every- - thing appeared to go wrong with themS somehow; and, if this winter were to prove ; as hard a one as the last, they would be sorely straitened to find food for themselves and their child. Another and a fiercer blast made the door and window rattle as if it would drive them in, calling up to the lonely woman's troubled mind visions of the deep snows and treacher ous ice andsteep slippery paths and falling rocks which had widowed many a wife during that terrible month. Was the sorrow which had fallen upon so many now about to strike her likewise ? Fiercer and fiercer grew the fury of the storm, making the frail clay wall literally rock with every gust. But the lonely watcher waß far too much occupied with the thought of her husband's danger to heed her own. "Oh, I wish—l wish he were hame !" she Ipjutteredj clasping her thin hands convul sively,- ,' : ; ,'■ '." ■'■. ' '„, '.'' ': ■. ' Crash j The Weakened end of the eastern wall gave way before a tremendous blast;, and fellinward with a fearful riDisdshaking ' the whole house frdm top to bottom, ana filUng it ivifchd blinding cloud of dust. The mother sprang to her feet, and with one bound she was beside the cradle, bend ing over it as if to shield the inforit with' her own body. Afc the same moment the tottering,door was burst open, and her hus-" band came bursting into tpe rbom, followed ''■ by two ofhisneignbours. ' ;: s-i-i* " Ha§te ye, lassie '■;• there's nae: 1*11316 to* lose," he shouted, snatching up his wife's light figure, like an infant; in his strong armsjuwhile one of bis" comrades caught the j baby out of its cradlfc . '■;;•■; There was no time to lose, indeed. Scarcely had thelast of thethrae men sprung through the doorway when the whole root came crashing in, arid the .hovel fell to pieces like a house of cards. Pressing < closely c together, the brave men fought) ; their way foot by foot, and bore the rescued mother and child safelKto the bouse of a farmer who lived a.lifcfcKfchigher up the stream. > , When they entered it the farmer's; old father (who was Sast approaching his 70th yearjvalthough his eye was still: as bright ; and bis cheek as ruddy as that of many a younger man), rose from his seat by the fireside to greet his unexpected guests, who. . told him in a few hurried words what had happened. . s ;C "The Lord bless ye, my bonnie bairn !" : said the p^fHatch, lay ing his hand *ender}y - upon the child's-head. '' Ito thinkin' He will hae some great wark for ye to do yet, sines He has stretched forth His hand to save yer wee life frae the eborm." , The old man lived fco see his prophecy fulfilled more than twenty years later,^fimti r thftfc rescufed baby, made all Scotia^t riogf i with the name of Bojbkbißurnsj:.].^*- -