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CRUEL THElijVE: The Secret ofDunraYen Castle. BY ANNIE ASHMORE, Author of "Faithful Margaret," Etc., Eto CHAPTER XX.?(Continued.) Lady Inchcape seemed deeply agl tated; she clasped her hands tightl? with a look of solemn joy. "How we have sorrowed for him!" sh? murmured. "Never was friend more bitterly mourned. If you only knew th< ;nobi!ity of his heart?but you shall) fsince he Is alive he shall be my owr (special protege, and the first boon 3 ifihall ask of mv dear lord will be to es tabllsh his prospects." "You like him much, then?" aske^ Lord Inchcape with quiet enjoyment "And Ulva-?did you say she al^o mourned for him?" A swift change passed over the lady'i face. "Ulva!" she whispered. "I had for .gotten How shall I break this won derful news to her!" she faltered, and blushed; her eyes fell before the searchlne gaze of her husband, yet sho nestled towards him with fond submission. "In this first dear hour ol reunion I cannot withhold anything from my lord," she murmured. "Who and-what this young man is I know not, since he never ob? truded his personal affairs upon my atitention. But this I know, that no * - ' T-> J k. DODJer Heart oeats man iur. r-ugai a, uc iis a true gentleman, and merits all the friendship which I can show him until the day of my death. But I have to confess, that, scllishly absorbed in my own sorrow, I never dreamed of danger to our darling Ulva. It was only since we believed him drowned that I discovered?that?her grief for his death wa9 as deep?aye, deeper far than my own. * Scarcely daring to speak above a whisper she brought this out, and timidly raised her eyes to read the shocked disapprobation she expected from Ulva's haughty father; but his countenance was inscrutable. "And the young man?what were hii sentiments?" asked he gravely. "That X would give much to know," sighed my lady; "but I believe he gave Nno expression to them, even to Ulva, who to be sure was seldom tete-a-tete ^with ?im. Alas! his honor will now Ttand in tne way of any future explanation. If he loves her he will never approach her again. I know that true heart well. Long and anxiously ] studied bis nature before I chose him Jor my friend. Ah. I see now his reason ifor leaving us in ignorance of his cscape from death here. He feared his own fheart and fled from temptation. He anust have had some noble reason, for he was as tender as he was crave ana would not wantonly afflict us " "He will be hero in a few days and will doubtless explain all," said my lord, with a smile, which showed the astonished lady that her confession had not in the least disconcerted him. ; My Lord and Lady Iuchcape entered Dunraven tower together for the first time. Every domestic about the premises iad been called up by Kenmore and marshaled in the vestibule to do honot tc the occasion; and beautiful Ulva received her parents in her arras with love and sympathy unspeakable During the evening which followed she could not but watch her stepmother In her new happiness with an admiration very near being awe, so dazzling was the beauty of her countenance, so fascinating her i ersonal manner. Every look, word and motion was instinct with charming soul, her whole being radiated pure joy. It was impossible to look up and meet her liquid smil log GarK eyes bomy resting uyuu ubi without experiencing a vague assurance of happiness in store even for herself. Ulva's.unspoken grief seemed lighter for the llrst time; she could believe it possible that God would show her how to bear her sorrow nobly. And the romance of her parents' reunion comforted her; it was so sweet to "know that although her life was not to bo so biessfld there was true bliss yet upon the earth for others. But what said tho maiden's sad philosophy when Lady Inchcape, coming into her room to bid her good-night, drew her into her arms with a burst of tender delight, and bade her, in a thrilling voice, sorrow no more, since there was no more cause. "For he is not drowned, Ulva, and he Is good and true as we thought him, and we shall see him again?very soon, Ulva. darling, very soon!" CHAPTEK XXL The fairest day that ever dawned os inchcape." Lord Inchcape sought his daughter one day where she sat alone, plunged in maiden reverie, and a smile was on hi9 face. "See what I have brought for my Ulva to wear on this bright day'." said he, "laying an open case in her lap "They were your mother's pearls; they glim me red round her graceful throat, and from her ears and breast, when first my eyes rested upon her, and 1 have alway9 kept them for a day in your life like that. I should like you to change this careless toilet at once, my child. She wore the stately attire becoming her beauty and rank, and so should her daughter to-day." MApd_.why to day, ^apa?" asked Ulva, wonderfngfy.ner hanas tremUHng among the shimmering gems. "Because a guest Is at the door who, of all that could come over the sea to Sleat-na-Vrecken, I most desire to honor. Don your fairest apparel, then, and your kindiiest smile, for this is the fairest and kindest day that has dawned on Inchcape for many a wasted year. Come, Ulva; do you tremble, do you fear, and tt is your father who bids you be glad? Can you not trust me? My own sweet girl, look up, and read the love In my eyes: there, couid I wring your little heart?" No, no, not if truth speaks in human countenance! She allowed him to raise her by her two hands, and to iead her to a window, at:d when sho had stolen another timid glance at his tlo ,ueut a wnnHorfnl nrwcihilitw flneliorl upon her: away fled all her sickening apprehensions of some unknown personage coming with her father's sanction to demand her hand. "Who is coming, papa?" she whispered, her small hands closing unconsciously round his arm. while a magnificent blush mantled from lily brow to chin; yet she would Tint Hwait Tin/ clearer answer than that which his laughing eyes gave her consciousness, but drifted away without another word. They had talked so muih of C aptain Edjejar during the past happy week, that altliougli "iTi^ SelffOSl joTTiea tn The tITJ-" cussion. her intently watching father had read enough of her innocent heart to feol sure of his ground. And here was Edgar's sloop at last, skimming over the wild waters to tho lonely isle; and my lord and his lady had prepared a reception for him, littlo enough like that which met him the last lime "he approached, an unknown castaway in the wrecked Merganser. lie lands, as upon sacred ground; and tho glory of hopeful love is in his eyes, the proud swing of tho conqueror in h.'s step. Ho is met at the very tide by my lord and his lady-like wife, with leal Kenmore's rugged face beaming behind them; but where is his shy, proud Princess of the Sea? Ah! here sue comes, stealing down the grim rock-path. The last to greet him, but the first in all the world In his swelling heart. And who so fair and kind in her stately attire and glimmering pearls as this proud daughter of the lnchcapes to-day? AnH tiifire is indeed no more cause for sorrow for Ulva? Is the tired sea-bird to fold her snowy wings in a haven of joy to-day? There is a sweet wonder in her darkling eyes as she flits nearer; and she comes to a stop close to her father's side, with faith's unconscious appeal. It is Lady Inchcape, surely, this brilliant, beautiful lady, who first greets the stranger with both eager hands outstretched, and her heart in her happy eyes! Scarcely can Edgar recognize the pathetic Lady Dunraven whom ho left, in this incarnation of beauty and joy! "Welcome, a thousand times, to our home and our hearts, Edgar Arden!" cries she in a voice like ringing joy-bells. "I honored you above ail men (save one) when 1 knew no kinship between us: but I may lovo the heir of Inchcape all my life!" And she kissed him. While yet his senses are reeling under the sweet attack. Lord Inchcape is wring ing his hands and uttering words he never shall forget. "And I welcome you to Dunraven with the promise that, if your heart's desire is in my gift, I will surely give it you!" Now Ulva, his very "heart's desire," what will you say to welcome him? She is pale and amazed, and has me chanically laid her dainty hand upon tne ready arm of faithful old Kcnmorc, to steady herself; she gazes andi gazes at the young man while her sweet eyes grow wide and fill with tears, and her lovely mouth quivers. But when he has reached her, and has stolen those dainty hands Into his own close keeping, and Is pouring the whole passionate love of his heart through his eyes into hers, she conquers that first strange pang and the gnawing thrill that follows, and is speaking low and clear as a noble lady should speak to her father's honorod guest. "Mamma and I have grieved so bitterly over your supposed death, that you are welcome back even under a new name; but?I shall?always?miss 'Captain Edgar!' " And her delicate tones falter and fall over the last wordi "Do rgt misjudge me, Lady Ulva!" pleads the handsome fellow humbly. "By and by I shall explain everything that seems strange to you. and perhaps you will forgive me?" With a lingering pressure he releases her lovely hands; for Is not Kenmore waiting for his notice, with his leal heart swelling with pride and joy? "Hurrah for the bonnie heir o1 Inch-" cape!" roars this heart of oak, as ho swings his blue bonnet alort; "an iair fa' the day that brought him first to DuDraven, to raise the curse off Inchcape!" These proud words fire the young man's spirit; ho turns so as to face the whole group, and something in his glance silences every one. "Ivenmore speaks truer than ho knows," says he: "the curse is indeed raised off the house of Inchcape. I brintr good tidings, my lord; your justification has beeD found among the Colonel's papers; it was instantly laid before the lords of that committee before whom your honor was impeached, and here is,their reply." He placed a letter in Lord Inchcape's hand; and for once the proud peer seemed overcome as ho devoured the brief contents, and passed the paper to his wife. "A magnificent amende honorable!" cried Lady Inchcape, her fair face flushing proudly; "listen, Ulva; listen Kenmore; you have stuck to us through good and through evil report. Lord Inchcapo stands triumphantly vindicated before the tribunal which heard him accused of dishonor five years ago, and in token of their regret for the injury he has suffered, they entreat him to accept his old seat in the cabinet, while in acknowledgment 01 nis past services to the country, they orfer-him the Blue Ribbon of the Garter. And who brought all to pass? You, I am sure. Mr. Ardcn, though you do not sayjio." ~ And now, Indeed, sweet Ulva presses Edgar's hand as weil a> my lady, and gives him a wonderful Hash from eyes glittering with proud tears; but though my Lord Inchcape is mute while he wrings his young kinsman's hand bis eye speaks a language which Edgar understands well; and no one is so radiant as he. They move upward; of all the hovering attendants Kenmore alone is permitted a place near tho enchanted group; and L'dgar is forced to explain in spite of his gracious modesty. Yes, it was through his entreaties that tho dead man's kinsman, Archerfield, cno>.(.iiufi rainr>r< for anvthinir bear OVUiVHVM -..W I'-- * a ing upon Lord Jnchcape; and when the precious information was discovered in Accrington's diary of the year in question, together with the whole romance of his hopeless passion for Inehcape's exquisite American bride, it was only Edgar's wearied importunities whicii prevented tho fiery o'd sea-dog from dashing the whole black story into the heart of his own fire, to preserve Accrington's reputation. How Edward prayed him. hectored him. threatened him; how ho appealed to his sense of justice, and all in vain; how he began aboQt the unhappy wife ai;d the sequestered (laughter, and suddenly found himself on the Admiral's soft side, and the battle won; of all this hd said little the time.for hl9 thought* are forever straying, like hlB eyes, toward Ulva, who dares not meet them. And how is it that tho group divides before they are half way up the tower, and that Lord Inehcape with his wife pass on unconscious that their younger companions havo dropped behind? And what is the story that Edgar Arden, of Inchcape, is tolling his pa'e scaprincess now? and where is all her fire and pride to day, that she does not chide him when he makes the boldest demand man's iips may frame to maiden free?a demand for herself. No, she does not chide him; she would not if she could, because she And now they have paused Dy trie ro; ky wall, close by the sea, where a little brook steals from the dark heart of the cliir to sparkle in the sun; and ildjjar is telljng his love the story of Slrcoinbe's sin, ana how leal Kenmorc delivered nim rrorn death. And the iligh'andor, who has been haunting thein from afar, and drinking stolen draughts of the honey, happiness from the sisrht of their sweet, young blisshows his tall p aid-wrapped form near thcin, and mute y plead-* with wistful eyes for perrni-sion to come closer And hi- proud Lady Oo^ava cries out eagerly that ho mu-t come ana bo the first to hear sojnething.. oh, so strange _ BC01 and unexpected?for" who has a bettcf you right than Kenmore? p "And you wore hore, and heard a dy- an Ing cry?" she asks of the old man, awe in her eyes, and her light cla9p tightenlug on Edgar's arm. wag "'Deed wa9 1, Lady Oo!ava," answers H Kenmoro, in tones of solemn joy; "I waa bis wae at hert for the brave man that had T drowned at our very doors, as I thought ted, ?ay, an' for her that mourned sao bit- the terly." He paused to contemplate Qpo proudly the quick blush that dyes his thei lady's downcast face, and the impas- whi sioned look of her lover; "I had neither broken bread nor slept for sorrow an' shamo at the. evil I had borne in my mind against him afore his death. An* ?aa J wandered up an' I wandered doos among the lonely rocks night an' day; an' that night 1 cast me doon at the tit o' this cliff wa'; an' syne I heard a weary It sigh, and it was at my very ear; an' I God looked to see the mortal that was in such amc sair trouble; an' then my blood creeped jou; backward an' the hairs o' my head stood up, for I wot It was a ghaist! Doon on t"'" my knees I fell, an' called on Gcd foi and] deliverance; an' my voice rang through tur the rocks like a trumpet; an' what AJ 6hould answer but an eerie voice ahinl dilu the cliff wa'?'Kenmore! Kenmora! I (list canna win oot!' an' it was the voice of v'de him I thocht dead an' gone, yet I be- whe lieved it a' at once, an' 'maist crat wa' 9ru_ sheer joy! an' syne I saw a palo flutter- w In' thing creepin' oot through thi9 hoi cranny where the bnrnie trickles oot, 60ci likQ a white bird flutterin' from its hun prison cace, an' I caught it, an" my heart was like to burst, it was sao thin dose an' wounded! for it was his hand, that reas same hand ye hold between your ain duti bonny silken anes " but he may as a pr well close his story here, for his proud sion Lady Oolava is holding her lover's band ||0!? to her bosom, and is bathing it with kisses and tears, In an agony of pity of and love. # tjon And then they both turn to the old stea man, who is standing with bared head tbe and wrapt senses, as if he was in church; N< and each one takes one of his horny hands, and four eyes beaming with Pub youth's loveliest emotion, pour eratitude upon him " ft0tJ "And you will not grudge your Colava 0f t] tO XD0 Unwelcome JMiglisuiuuu a.u,y uiuic, mo will you?" pleads Edgar, with a smile, clas Come with U9 and see for yourself how the hard I shall try to make her life a noble Inin and bapny one." "Ah, 'tis not Arden o' Inchcape thai leal Kenmore should misdoubt," says autl the old man, proudly; "you are not in ^evi the list with that deil Colonel o' the joys lithe ana poisonous tongue, wha' brought ceas a curse on Inchcape which only you wail could lift! May heaven's fairest bless^ W lngs attend this day; may the sun ever shine for it, may no dool or wae e'ei Pf darken the day that gave my bonnie young lady to the bravest an' best it? war England:" mar And as the blessing rolls out in the fine old Highlander's full tones, the gracious young pair bend their heads to receive it to aj Yet hush! What is she saying now, doli this dear Oolava, adored from the first take hour her tender, true face ever smiled hut in bleak Sleat-na-Vrocken? di? She has twined her snow-white little * * * J U VY bands aoout tne oia man s arm, auu is pleading in a half whisper, the tear9 g0nc standing in her glorious eyes. tion "And yon will come with us, and be then my own Kenmore still? Ah, do not say dauj no! For to yon 1 owe my Edgar and hon his love?and I will love you always. * j^ai Never will Salford forget the coming home of Lord Inchcape with his longlost wife and daughter. Some vague ^ hint of. wronged innocence and % fyjJ jj; vindication at last bad leaked out, and the gentle and simple were longing to gel i?jci back the beloved Lady of Inchcape Fosse 1 and to see the splendid womanhood ol u Lord Inchcape's daughter, who had left them a child. It But when the proad announcement exai was made that Lady Ulva was to marry que; the heir, their own popular idol, enthu* it m siasra rose to its height; felicitations bor? W9re showered upon the noble pair from Pr?r every quarter. t But none were so sweet to Ulva at Loveday Dellamere's, for the regai beauty from the north and the sun- rpj bright sprite with the golden tresses 0ftj had but to gaie into each other's true Corr eyes to love in very truth forever. A. ox And my Lord Inchcape was reinstated god, in his lofty place and once more served hou; his country well and wiseiy. But it was ?V0J noted tbat he never would leave his lady behind wherever bis duty might send him; his Engelonde must ever be waiting for him after each day's care and sile toll to charm away his weariness, and to ? keep him in sweet remembrance of that opei oft forgotten truth that God's planning was of man'i day gives time for con jural *nS happiness as well as for daily labor. Prei He never felt too weary or too preoc- ^?? cupied to converse with Lady Inchcapo, c^j for love made her presence a balm for g0ir every earthly ill. the So they buried Richard Accrington doe; with great pomp and ceremony, and bar'< half the country were there to see the last of the splendid stranger who wa9 to have given such gallant battle to Ic Arden of Inchcape for the pleasure of Bea representing them. life And though the whole throng admired an<J the magnificonce of bis last appearance *nci on the world's stage and extolled his genius and wealth, there was no tear shed for Richard Accrington, save that that one drop, bitter as gall, which slowly drui rolled down th": mahogany cheek of 3eoo Admiral Archerfield when he took his whii last look of the stern, inscrutable face ma^ lying in the coffin, for to this simple, fond ^ sailor the ex-attache had seemed every- " thing that is most to be proud of, and to g0 , discover him a man without honor?thai W]H wrung the honest heart of the old sea* dog for many a day. ; Hush! there may have been one other uesa being who could weep for lost Richard Accrington?one who loved and betrayed him and who hac'l suffered deeply from -\v his vengeance, for death blots out many thox black records, and a woman's love lasts slee f orever. witl Yet if she wept it must have been in voei phamed secrecy, for wiio should loathe {"'J1 his memory more than did Mrs. Deliamere? on ^ My lord's secretary, Mr. Sircombe, did &am not long outlive his disgrace. min When convinced that he was not to be 1,0 ? ? . . flnrl permitted to remain near his ollenaeu patron or his family, he vanished out of extr their ken so suddenly and so completely i,'as that l.e left no trace behind. no e But for months after lllva's restoration wall to society, when the family were in Lon- raor don preparing for her marriage, any ono stur at all interested in the old and the sad mcl] might have o!>serveJ a certain forlorn figure wrapped in a disguising cloak, which seemed to haunt the steps of the beautiful and brilliant creature when- ^ ? ever she condescended to walk; which waited hours in the harsh spring winds js t] at the rail to see her pas9 by ara<;nq tjie p.icl other great pcop:e wno circled round the Ladies' Milo; and grew more and more I fnrlnrn no tirrm wpnt. nn' mnrfi flld lfifllf- M Jug, more tremulously helpless; until he sak< only came once a weoK to sit on an ob- t'ie-e scuro bonch and Ra/e afar on tlio lovely face; then once in a month; then one last time?the to>t of all, for the beautiful h!Ur lady chanced to alight from her own car- jt is riase to walk a little way with her lover yUn undej the royal oaks, and coming nearer slowly, the burning eyes of her devotee had time to fe:>d upon her noble form L< and her adorable face?even to gather j every radiant glanc e--till she chanced to cou; look his way, and found herself face to exel fare with John Sircotnbe. T! _No need to turn away jn si)uddorlng hav n, sweot U7va; tie will never nafrnr r lover more! or when she bentover him, struck by unutterable something in his face, man's heart was broken?all his life gone forth in that feeding gaze?he ; dead. js shame had driven him forth, but grief had killed him. he Three Graces are once more unlAllce, Laura and Engelonde; but fatal guest will never again intrude n their happiness, to draw down upon r lives the curse of that passion ch is cruel as the grave?jealousy. [the END. J TEMPERANCE. 'A VOLCANO OF EVIL. ttemperance. an evil most heinous before I, most dreadful in its results, has grown >ng us to gigantic proportions. In the atless homes it shoots its venom-laden js, ana annuawy, nye, u?uy, u Kai"010 its coils wholo hecatombs of victims, presence is felt through the entire land, everywhere it revels with demoniac na?in sin and misery. i Icohol, ocean-like, flootfs the land. Mild tions do not satisfy us; fermentation and illation are called into servico to proi it in more undiminished vipor; and ther it be wine or whisky, the vile art of Iteration is often employed to enhance aaddening power. itli this immense consumption of alcoupon what a volcano of evil and misery ety rests! The direct expenditure of dreds of millions for little except pleas)le excitement, is the least deplorable reAlcohol taken beyond very moderate !s first weakens, then totally suspends, on. Man is incapacitated for all the es of life, and is left without protection, ey to his vilest and most untamed pass. Alcohol directly inflames these pas8; it is oil poured on their burning fire, lis the mouth with blasphemy and arms hand for murder, it is the deadly foe urity. It Withers all generous aspiras of the heart, and substitutes in their d the coldest selfishness. It makes man demon incarnate. jw picture to yourselves two hundred lsand or more drinking shops in the Relic, belching forth over the land their aljlic fumes; from your knowledge of two tiree of them, imagine how many men in whole country are bereft through them loii'Mno/in find \-nii trill form an idea of woo nml sin that alcohol produces. All ses. high and low, offer holocausts upon altar of intemperance. The brightest is and noblest hearts ara numbered ng the victims. Human wrecks, whose line it has dissipatod, whose intellect it stifled, are strewn over the land thick as imnal leaves in the forest. Homes are istated; hearts of mothers broken; the of the wedding morning turned into less mourning; children scattered as 's through a pitiless world. hat is to be done? Anything, but someg. In the name of humanity, of country, jligion, by all the most sacred ties that 1 us to our fellowmen, for the love of Him died for souls. I beseech you, declare against intemperance; arrest its onward :h.?Archbishop Ireland. TOTAL ABSTINENCE THE BEST BULZ. ) ask the drunkard to quint drinking, is sk him to do what he lost the power of ig. Of all forms of evil, Intemperance, if ;n in time, is the easiest of prevention; naving once secured a footing, the most cult of cure. Total abstinence is the best of action. e urge the practice as an effectual safrrd to fathers, husbands, brothers and ) who are living in the midst of temptas to which the conflict of life exposes q. and to mothers, wives, sistere and gnters in thelr^ocial circles and in their tes. It Is a saa truth, that possibly more ? one-half of our army of drunkards beto feel the mastery of the dreadful appethrough the drinking customs they have lght into their own homes. Abovt all , keep the homo pure. aver allow the wine-cup entrance within hallowed precincts of the home. In reLng or sorrowing, in health or sickness, io occasion bo made an excuse for its j state that there is no sin in a cup of e, does not meet the argument. Nor will ail you to point to total abstainers whoso nple in other directions is bad. The ition relates to your life. Can you make vrmraolf vnnr npifh vio ncivi^ouuiv* w jv? 0 ? your country, tind your Creator by nising to .abstain from all intoxicating ks, and to prevent by advice and cxamthe sin of intemperance in others? how paufebs abe made in london, he Westminster Gazette gives an account le following scene recently observed by a espondent in the southwest of London: owd of children, mostly dirty aud ragjostling at the entrance of a public se; two bigger girls, one with a shawl : her head aud a baby iu her arms, abuseach other, and breaking off to dance, kets of swoets in most of the hands, some imbling for the dropped ones, I asked, lere did you get all those swests?" nee. Then a taller child said, from Mr. ; he guv 'em as a Christmas box;" so I aed the door and watched. The public full of children, and Mr. was handout packets, and apparently trying to rent repeated applications. This is how make our paupers?just as the constant lie at the doors of the publics draws dren and Mads and girls, who end by ig in. I have watched them often. If publican wants to give sweets, why sn't he do it elsewhere than across the i>> a judge's testimony. i a recent artielc Judge Daniel Agnew, of ver, PenD., gives this testimony: "If a of eighty-3ix years can confer experience, give some knowledge, perhaps mine in out of courts of justice and public affairs entitle me to a small shard. Mine is not gush of sentiment or erratic effusion, first homicide case tried before me was of a brother who killed a brother in a iken quarrel while driving cattle. The nd, of a college student, fresh from a skey chicken roast, killing a poor young i. The third, that of an Englishman bed in a drunken broil in the street of a ige, and the heart of the victim produced Durt to show the cut the knife had made, fhe calendar of crime in the daily press show a homicide from drunkenness for y day in the year. All judges testify nine-tenths of the crimes of violence bloodshed havo their origin in drunkeni." a fruitless joubney. hen a young man begins to drink it Is as lgh he got on an electric car and went to p. He crosses one street after another lout knowing it. Total abstinence adites come like the conductor every now then and call out the stopping places, he rides on. He thinks he can get off n he wants to. There is another hand he lever and the cars rolls along in the e direction all the time with a low humn> onrnr tlmf hulits him to sleep. When | Inally gets his eyes open he is amazed to that he has ridden much further than lad any wish to go. He hssa big bill for a fare charged up against him. and he a bard and long walk back, for there an; :ars back in a man's life. He has to If. He will find the journey a good deal e cheerful and bo much les? likely to nble if he joins the total abstinence moveit and walks along iu good company. WHAT IT MEAN'S. tic .sale of drink is the sale of disease; ths of drink is the sale of poverty; the eals Irink is the sale of insanity; the sale of ik is the sale of crime; the sale of driuk le sale of death."?Sir liunjamin Ward lardson, M. D BEER AMD CHILDREN. any things nro done for "charity's sweet }" that should not be doae, aud one of o things is the indiscriminate selling of xicating drinks at open-air festivals, r is said to be the least intoxicating of ng drinks, but when beer is sold, in the 10 of charity, to iittlo boys in short pants, time to eail a halt. ?New Orleans Picae. TEMPERANCE SEWS i.N'D NOTES. ondon litis 10,500 public bouses, lie Catholic Uencvolent Legion, with 43G ncils aud 3(5.000 members, has voted to udo rum sellers. lie bare in the parks of New York City e been closed b* l.ho Fark Commissionyrs. A STRIKING SCENE. ~ 1 HOW MADAGASCAR'S QUEEN DECLARED AGAINST FRANCE. Barefooted, and Clothed In a Second- ? Hand White Satin Ball Dress Madeby Worth, She Kx- ^ horts Her People. ^ v ~1 T'KANCE'S enemy in Madagas- t 1=/ car, the dusky Queen Ran- t | avolona III., against whose p (f army the French invaders are li advancing, on state occasions appears v wearing a second-hand Worth ball t dress of fashion long gone by, and <3 wnh a barbaric crown on her head s and nothing on her black feet. She u appears in the great square of t Andaiho, at Tananarivo, the capital, a where ehs issues stirring proclama- t tions to her people. t HPlia eno?A io o TM*/lfnTflCnnfl AT10 ft Alio ID ? |yiVVUAUW^UW VMW. ? With one hand she grasps a 6word and o with vehement gestures emphasizes v her exhortation?, and with all the pas- a sionate eloquence of her race threat- s ens, commands and prays her hearers to take up arms against and ester- a minate the hated white men who for t ten years have held the Nation in ^ thrall. . a The war is a holy one, she declares, s and the choicest blessings of the here- t after will be the reward of those who fall. She also promises substantial 6 rewards to the victors who 6nrvive. b The Primo Minister's dress is no 1: Jess striking. Its principal features t are a sort of dolman of purple satin d spangled with gold, short Irousers of s white silk and long boots. About d his waist he wears a belt of yellow a leather studded with-gems, from whioh p MADAGASCAR'S QUEEN IN A WORT (From a : hangs a sword in ? golden scabbard, i The aunt and sister of the Queen wear f the native dress, with bare arms, their c long black hair streaming over their shoulders. 1: The military profession has been an t unpopular one in Madagascar of late b years, because the amount of booty 1 J V\A nVifoinorl TlQft hpPTi 11 LUl IU K/V ? small, and it has therefore been difficult to keep the ranks filled. In time of peace recruiting goes on for three months each year, but as eoon as a sufficient complement has been obtained and drilling begin, desertions commence, and in a short time the ranks are badly thinned. Desertions j are rarely punished unless they fail to ; bribe their superior officers; then jj they are shot. Under the present circumstances, despite the Queen's burning proclamations and harangues, the volunteers have been few, for the na- _ tives fear the French and do not i] love their tyrannical ruler. s; The real monarch of Madagascar, a however, is not Queen Ranavolona vt III., or as she prefers to be called, Ra- n navolomanjaky III., but it is the f< Prime Minister, Rainilaiarivony, is whom the curious law of the land n obliges to be the husband of the ii Queen. He Is now past seventy years of age and has held his post for more tl than thirtv Years, during which time c] be litis been tbe husband of three dif- e; ferent queens. He it is who decides all questions of state, and the Queen's part is merely to indorse bis judgments, which she invariably does. The French Protectorate, which vns established after the war of 1SS3, has been bitterly opposed by Ra?nilaiarivony, and his hatred of tbe whites has brought about the present conflict. The French, however, have more to fear from the fevers of the country than they have from the untrained troops nhich are being gathered witli so much difficulty. The Queen is well educated, thirtyfive years old, and is fond of playing draughts and chewing betel. Her private expenses are paid from a fnnd to which ail who enter hor presence are required to contribute a five-franc piece (one dollar). The youngest member of the royal household presents a hat in which the money is placed.?New York World. The New Standard Dictionary gives 3 twenty-one eminent American author- v itics, including Wendell Phillips and George William Curtis, who say that C the proper pronunciation of vhe word s< 'clerk" is "chrk." i (JUEEN ANNE HOUSES. 'hey are Popular, Although the Name Is Misleading, (Copyright 1895.) Qneen Anne will have much to anwer for if she is held accountable or all the architectural abominations hat have been erected in her name. )uring the earlier days of this counry, the major part of the dwellings rere simple and plain and could give iut little direct offence to aesthetio aste, even if lacking in some of the trime requisites of beauty. The irger and more expensive houses rere, happily, almost without excepion, of the Colonial style, and were lignified, stately, comfortable and ubstantial. Bat as wealth became aore widely diffused and the tastes of he people grew more pretentious, rchitecture developed along lines hat were ugly almott to the verge of he grotesque. Simplicity gave place o elaboration that was without rhyme r reason. Instead of utility adorned, A 1>a *V?r\ am/1 on/1 ruiuu its, ux. Duuurn hue cuu im of architecture, ornateneas was ought even at the expense of utility. The hideous structures of the "60's ,uil 70's," which line every street of he older cities and dot every suburb, vere the result. Gradually these ibominations grew to have a certain imilarity and a name was needed for he style. Among the different architectural tyles the Queen Anne seemed to lave the least strongly marked pecuiaritiee. It was a sounding title, and he public, when it could not place a Iwelling as Gothic, classic, Kenaisance, Colonial, or what not, gravely lubbed it Queen Anne. So it has come ,bout in the usage cf uninformed peoile that the Queen Anne style of arch-1 gp| H GOWN AND BARE FEET, DECLi sketch made by a French resident in Mada tectare has been widely perverted rom its technical and original signifiance. This so-called style is supposed to ?e founded on the class of designs hat were used to a large extent at the leffinning of the eighteenth century. 'He buildings that were erected durFTc rt nr^Cws V. A QUEEN ANNE VILLA. Qf? the reign of Queen Anne were imple and plain, with classic cornices nd details, and frequently had large Endows that were often divided by mllions. Some of the picturesque matures of the old buildings are utilsed to the best advantage in the lodern revised styles, and an interestlg example accompanies this article. Tho norsnepHrp vifiw 19 sllOWn and ? ? le principal rooms and their sizes, loset9, etc., Trill be found by refer Qce to the floor plans. vp^ljinTT'" loy l -4_ /f { I i\ \f Sj,S 1?">J ||?.?. i \o'Aul ,!j\ ' f I 1? ] jje^sc.-n r'"! g ReeJlioofn Nj u J '8 I \0KI0X" | V??*h</\i|30ySc&ON o fuOoRExtreme width, including veramla, 3 feet 6 inches; depth, including eranda, 49 feet. Heights of stories: Cellar, 6 feet inches; first story, 8 feet 10 inches; scond story, 8 fest 4 inches. Exterior materials: Foundation. j rm ???? ? - ? fs brick}-first story, clapboards; seconcj story, gables, dormers and roofs, shingles. Outside blinds to all win* dows except those of the cellar. ?i Interior finish: Hard white plaster, soft wood flooring and trim, ash staircase, kitchen wainscoted, panels, nnder windows in parlor; interior woodwork finished in hard oil. Colors: Clapboards, dark green;! trim, outside doors, blinds and rain] pq? TTT I KfcKt^ ?- 1 '^sa ~ fi=n. fl J'tliniJ\<>om I -/j h . .u'jiiv l| I . ***' I I p.,,., j ' ! Ve***. 4ww* !. ?M ?1 rif?sTiPt.oof?' i. ,? conductors, bronze green; sashes,j dark red; veranda floor, dark olive' ?':V drab; veranda ceiling varnished jj brickwork, Indian red; wall shingles' dipped and brush coated Venetian red' , stain; roof shingles dipped and brush' > V coated with a darker red stain. Accommodations: Cellar under kitchen, with concrete floor, but thej cellar may extend under the whole house or be omitted entirely. OpeW ! fireplaces in parlor, sitting and dining f if ' : J kBING WAR ^MNST TfflE raENOB . ^ gascar.) rooms, with mantels over same. Vestibule door is made to slide to avoid interference with passage to stairway.; Sliding doors connect dining and sdt? ting rooms; back stairway to second jg stairway. Sliding doors, fireplaces 1 and mantels, and part of the veranda J may be omitted. Bathroom with, jM partial or fall set of plumbing may be introduced. jf Cost: S26S7. This includes mantels but not the range and heater;! the estimate based on New Yort ^K| prices for materials and labor, but ia many sections of the country the cost should be less. The name "Queen Anne" is quite misleading, for the style partakes iff more of the nature of the building M of the earlier Renaissance or of the- ' A Elizabethan period than of those of Queen Anne's reign.. It has also borrowed from the Renaissance of Ger- : many and France, as well as some of its best features from the classic and the late Gothic styles. The Queen Anne style is best fitted to villas and. structures of that order. Veterans of Foreign Birth. In the Togus (Me.) Soldiers' Home r*y a careful estimate shows that the numbers of foreign born and native inmates are about equal, although at 5 the close of the war the former were in the large majority. This is easily explained. Many of the foreign bornUnion volunteers had no families in* this country. They were young men, ami when the war left them wrecks they perforce went to Togus and to> S3 the other branches of the National Home. The most of American born,, of course, had relatives and homes towhich they could go, and there they remained until actually obliged by increasing years and infirmities to Eeefe the home.?Boston Transcript. Governor JIarvil's Foreboding, That Governor Marvil did not expect to live long is shown by his own words. On the day of his inauguration, as he rode to the Court House to take the oath of office, he remarked to Governor Reynolds, who was the occupant of the carriage with him: .1 "Governor, this is a great day to mc. It is the proudest moment of my life, but I will not live long. Mr. Watson will be Governor." Governor Reynolds told a few intimate friends of the new Governor's remarks, but they never were made public until now. ?Wilmington (Deh). * News, /