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yHoldenhii copyright uk by Bob CHAPTER IX. | MCATXiV TO KTTTOL*. j 'As soon os breakfast was over uncle Sam left his boose to go to Capel Court, sunt Gertrude retired to her room to attend to ber correspondence, and Miss Marsh and I were left alone, j "Where shall we go this morning. ErnestT* asked Miss Marob; "I am ! tired of the wk, and we have driven , all orer Kensington more than once." ( Miss Marsh had lately learned to . address me as Ernest, which bad greatly delighted me, and determined me henceforth to call her Constance. , "Whichever way yon please, but If It Is agreeabla to you we will go to < Richmond. We have plenty of time," , I said, consulting my watch, "It is barely 10 o'clock, and we do not lunch ( till 2. I was never there, but 1 have often heard that Richmond is the most j beautiful suburb of London." "By all meant," replied Mitt Marth; "I will order the carriage and get ready at once." And she rose instant- ( ty and tripped lightly from tbe room. American ladies prepare their tol- ( lettes with a detpatch quite unknown , to their English tlrtera, though cer- , tainly with no lest care and elaboration. and I had only written a telegram ^ to my father, acknowledging the receipt of hit letter and promising to re- , to it that evening, when Miss , Marth again entered the room fully J equipped for a drive, no bntton of her , glove being left for me to fasten. 1 looked np at her with some sur- ! ' " "V?? ?? iAnn lwtitrnwl." 1 ob erred. "Too mooT* she asked, fixing upon ^ Be Iter steadfast eyes. , "No, how could that be?** I said, and I drew her arm through mine and led her downstairs. 1 "Good morning, Mr. Ernest," ex- i claimed a rolce belonging to a tall ' form which stood In the shadow of 1 the hall door; "I am fortunate in not 3 baring Just missed you." and turning < round I beheld the Her. Dr. Evan ' Wee. ' "Pray, don't let my unexpected pres- 1 ence startle yon." continued the Vicar < of Holdenhnrst Minor; "I bring no ill < pews. Being summoned to London on i hmin*u which but end In mr an- < pointment to tin.' curacy of All Souls'. North Brixton, jour father be a asked me to call here to say that he would like you to return borne at once for a day or so. He would like you to catch the train which leaves St. Pancras at 11.45, and travel via Cambridge." This Information annoyed me greatly. I could not find It in my heart to keep away from my father when be desired my presence, though to forego ay visit to Richmond with Miss llarsh was a bitter disappointment to ate. For a moment I stood in doubt how to act -Of coarse joa will go," remarked i Miss Marsh. **I fttr I must" I replied. In a voice which bat 1U concealed my vexation. *bot I will return to-morrow or next day at latest I am sorry to leave you Id this abrupt manner, and I am sure By father would be the last to desire such a thing without very good reason for It" We adjourned to the drawing-room. Whither Miss Marsh Invited Mr. Price to accompany as, an invitation which be accepted with great promptitude and courtliness. He was a man of fine presence and considerable tact, gifted with the power of talking interminably but interestingly about everything in general and nothing in particular. Indeed, nothing was more admired by the feminine world of the two Holdenhursts than the genial affability of the Rev. Evan Price. Tbls handsome and gallant cleric had not been in the house ten minutes before I learned that he was to have an interview with the Bishop of London at < r uinam mi o o cjock, uoui wujcu uuur ike was at leisure (which being Interpreted signified that be intended to stay until the air, tliat after the said Interview be would return to pay bis respects to Mr. Samuel Truman?in other words thst be would come back ; to dinner. When I quitted the drawing-room, leaving Mr. Price and Miss Marsh together. I was more depressed than I had ever been before, snd half regretted that I bad not decided to remain. 1 felt like a runner who. having kept ahead of bis competitors in a long race, faints when near the goal and sees the prise be regarded att bis own seised by other bands. 1 am almost ashamed to record bow the tears started to my eyes, but 1 forced ibem back, summoned all the courage of my nature?not at tbat time very much ?and after a severe mental struggle fell into a strange mood compounded of pride and fierceness. It was with some difficulty that 1 contrived to speak to Miss March alone Jefore I left, but I succeeded iu doing so. and again assured her of my regret at the unexpected interruption of our arrangement*, and 1 laid special emphasis on the great pleasure it would tire me to return to Kensington at the earliest possible moment, at the same time desiring her to inform my uncle and aunt of the hasty summons 1 had received from my father. Miss Marsh was as gracious to mc as the most exacting lover could *xoect or desire, waiving mv apologies as unnecessary. promising to convey my message. regretting my sudden departure, hoping for uiy speedy return. and permitting me to retain her band in mine longer than is customary in the fart wells of mere friends. ?he also suggested that I might write to her If I did not return in two days; suggestion which I assured her 1 would most certainly adopt, at thP same moment resolving to do so under any circumstances. 1 would bare given the ?orld if only 1 might Lave tissed her. but I did not dare to do so. Uttering a final farewell 1 regarded Jflifr if- ' Wak .J- . . V- 1 f c&fci'iiHalin BH e- If lLTER BLOOMF1ELD mt Boron* Bon. ber with great earnestness for a fer moments, then released her hand am hurriedly left the house. The course of my life seemed t bave changed entirely in fourteei lays. Never before had my mind beej filled by so many or auch confllctini Ideas. Before my uncle came to Hoi ilenhurst I had been idle and careless dow my head ached from considers tion of affairs of which I could coo reive no satiafactory issue. One thing however, was clear to me. In only \ few days I had frown to love Mis ??-?v ?i*v . hiam Intani .UUI BU W1U1 tt UCWklVU UlVi V than I had supposed my. nature pet mltted; and short as oar acqualntano bad been I would hare asked tha lady, before obeying my father's urg ent call to become my wife bat to that formidable barrier between usber wealth. Her eyes' speechless met sages, an occasional phrase or won From her Ups, or. rarer still, her gentl* touch, had assured me that my sal would accord with the dictates of he 9wn heart But my pride was as grea tx my lore, and I felt strongly that could never ask a woman of enonnou wealth to become the wife of the poi tlonless son of an impoverished squire Without commercial training, and wit] ao natural aptitude for business, ther ras absolutely no hope for mc to rals< myself to her social plane by any el fort in my power to make, and in bit terness of spirit I alternately curse< ber wealth and my poverty. Vision of the perfect happiness which mlgh be mine were either of these dUBcul ties removed served only to lncrea* my depression. As my ancle's car riage sped toward 8L Pan eras. Brown ing's remarkable line, "Money bnys women," kept ringing In my ear*, tormenting me like an evil sprite. Then then ivas that smart young cleric, the Rev Evan Price. With the Rev. Evai Price I had very little to do. and on: communications had always been o the most friendly character possible l)ut heaven, how I hated him now: am cvlth what fiendish delight I was con templating his extreme poverty whei [he thongbt that he was probably a :he point of greatly increasing bis in :ome and of residing permanently li London promptly punished me for mj incLirltableness, and I winced. Ii he chaoc of my Ideas I did not forge Annie Wolsey, the unfortunate play fellow of my childhood, whose youth fulness had always prevented me r~ yarding her as an aunt; nor did I for ;et my grandfather, anxioos an< llone. as far from home as could be nor my indulgent father, now expect ing my return, but I do not mucl ioubt that these consideration! wen it a minor sort, and that the centra Sgure in my mind which occasionet ? mmKmI itlctnrhnnM van Con U J Ui U* ? ?? ? itance Marsh, and do other. My uncle's horses "were good one? >nd soon conveyed me to the Midlan< terminus, bnt 1 had no time to spare Saving bought my ticket, I sought fo Mi empty compartment, for I fel iveroe to staring at strangers, afte the manner of English travelers, fo three hours; while to listen to conver sation in which I was not Interests nrould have been simply unendurable There being no compartment wlthou passenger* I selected the one whicl contained the fewest?an old lady, at tended by a young maid. In my at j tract Ion I left my Gladstone bag 01 the platform, where, after the trail was well In motion It was noticed b; my uncle's groom, who contrived * thrust It through the window so tba It fell on the floor at the feet of the oli lady, causing her to shriek appallingly I apologized for the clumsiness o the servant, and for my own forgetful oess, which had caused the incident but despite all I could say, and tb careful ministrations of her maid, th old lady continued to roll her eyes, t d&iiL and to utter strange sounds, un til at last I thought she had suffer* some serious Injury. When she pel celved that 1 was really alarmed th old lady recovered herself with sui prising suddenness, and remarke that the hag had not touched her, bu that It nearly fell on her feet. In wbic. case It would have been impossible t tell what might have happened. 8h then requested her maid to band he a certain flask. This command wa more easily given than obeyed, for th flask, it appeared, was at the bottoi of a closely-packed portmanteni which bad to be emptied before tb article wanted could be got at. Tb lady scolded her maid terribly becaus of the delay, and when the maid tin: idly ventured to observe that tbe flas bad been tbe flrst thing to be placed i th*! portmanteau in accordance wit her own related injunctions, wen Into a violent passion, and declare that she never bad and never woul allow a servant to nnswer her. Wbe at last the flask was obtained tbe ol lady at once applied It to her lipR. th odor of brandy pervaded the carriap ami her mbit-und features relaxe into a r,m:le. It was not lonp Ix-fore the old lad exhibited symptoms of au intention t open a conversation with me. but checkmated Ler by taking from tb Gladstone bag which had occasion* this flutter a thick folio volume < manuscript?the bock I bad found i the wpper box when I wan getting ov the Hwldeaburst deeds for uncle Sari I had brought this book with me 1 I-oniion. intending to carefully exau ine it and read so much of it as wr English during my stay in my uncle house. But if 1 could find no couvi nicnt opportunity to do so at Holdei hurst while uncle Sam and aunt Ge trude were there it is certain I cool oot id London, wnn mi*s Maren i the same boose engrossing all my a tentioo. and the book bad not on] been in my possession for nearly fortnight without being ooened. hi had narrowly escaped being lost Settling myself comfortably Id a comer of the carriage 1 determined to study the volume until I arrived in Bury Ss Edmund's, and thus keep off any advances the tyrannical old lady might make toward a conversation, and divert my thoughts from my affairs. The manuscript was still vt*ry damp, and great care was necessary in separating the leaves without tearing them. It appeared to be nothing more than the commonplace book of my ancestor Roger Trueman (for so he and others of bis period wrote our family name). The handwriting was large and distinct, but the letters, though uniform, were quaint and peculiar? v they approximated more nearly to 3 modern than ancient forms. A large number of pages were devoted to reco ords of chemical experiments, with q notes of the results, and here and there q a few lines In some Eastern language g of which I was ignorant even of the [ name, though I guessed It was Turk* i; lsh, from the writer having lived in l- Turkey. I examined each page In regi ular succession, and found that they r, were all of similar character, until I a had exhausted about 200 pages, or s nearly a third of the book. The pages e were now filled with close writing, - unbroken by paragraphs, and the 3,1 1 . \I?? T I fa e ueauuiif, nciviu ui a ? bbhu <<.?. t Roger Trueman. his history; written with his own hand. A. D., 1071." abr sorbcd my attention, and I become ob llrloas of the voluble tongue of the k old lady lecturing her maid. and. how* 1 ever uninteresting It may be to other e readers, read with absorbing interest t what I copy in the three following r chaptera. t I CHAPTER X. 8 record or a wasted lot: booze tbttemak, his hi8t0bt; wei> i; tex with his owe hand, a. d. 1671. J e November 12.?All men being at all e times like to die. the robust no less . than tbe sick, it falleth out that but . few men are troubled by contemplaj tlon of that circumstance; and Indeed B I have ever noted, but more particut lnrly such as bold by tbe Mobamme* dan faith, that the Inevitable Is genere ally accepted with stoicism or indifferw cnce. and that death by natural pro. gression hath no terrors at all. That such Is my own case this present writ* ing sball testify. He who bath exceeded tbe span of life allotted to man ? by the rsalmisf.; be who for many e years bath lived amonjr a stranpe peo* pie In a strange land; be who, having 1 become a recluse, perceiveth now bis r physical and mental powers to grow f feebler day by day; wbo, hoping for ;* nothing, feareth nausbt, is not tempted 1 to lie. He wbo lies, lietb for his ad" vantage, or for what be conceiveth to 1 be such. To this dictum I will admit 1 no exception?and I have had large * acquaintance of men of divers nations 1 and qualities, so speak knowingly. T And for what purpose should I record 1 of myself that which is untrue, seeing 1 1 that my earthly course is so nearly outrun; that certainly this record will go unread of any until after I am in * my grave, and may perhaps moulder to dust ere other eyes than mine shall 1 look upon It ? Should 1 in such clrcum* stances wittingly chronicle the thing * which is false, then of all lies lied by 1 lying man from the first man to the e latest born on earth, this record would 1 be the farthest removed from truth; 1 Its gross impertinence would at once * astound and appall, and the Master Liar would pause among his angola ' aghast at being eclipsed by bis lieu1 tenant 1 write only to assist my mind - in reviewing cast experiences and not r t> convince any man of any matter. 1 my business with men being past, and r there remaining nothing for me to r gain or lose by them. To be contini -c i Ktruce Dolor* of tk? Fr h Armj. t A most remarkable featur* t the big a sham battle fought on the pbun around Fort Vitry by 140,000 French soldiers - for the edification of the Czor of Rusa sia was the repetition of the very a strategy and tactics -which the British r armies in South Africa long ago disci covered, at a terrible cost, to be abso* t lately fatal In the face of modern rifles (1 and ordnance. Against Fort Fresnes the French f generals directed a "frontal assault" 1- ?the phrase that instantly recalls Buit, ler's deadly and disastrous experience e on both sides of the Tugela River, j e This mimic assault. the cable tells as, o was delivered in "heavy lines" across i- an open plain that was swept by the (1 guns of the fort. And, to cap the ell* - max. "the position was finally carried e at tbe point of the bayonet." And the men wbo did the charging and bayod netlng were clod in uniforms of bright >t red. blue and gold coloring, by way of b making the whole thing absolutely abo surd. e If the Czar has read M. Bloch's far mous analysis of the South African s fighting, which demonstrates that the e day of frouial assaults, bayonet d charges across open ground and bright i, uniforms is entirely over, what must e have been bis reflections on tbe pre* e paredness of his ally for real war?? e New York World. ^ roar Captain Lnwtona. It Is au odd fact that there arc now | four Captain Lawtous in the United t States regular army?all young men, j not one of whom is related to the lute j Cenernl Henry W. Lawt?n, who made the name Illustrious in Cuba and the j Philippines. One of these. Captain Louis B. Lawton, is to be retired for j ' desperate wounds rect- ved in China, I J where be distinguish*J biuiself not j only for extraordinary heroism, but j for sagacious action in a dangerous j 0 situation. After an exceptionally bril-1 j liant service he must now give up hi9 |e chosen career, because of those Lon(1 orable wounds. In any other country )f extraordinary honors would await Q such a man.?Cleveland Leader. H RuaadlcH Powder .Vest. a- The chances of smokeless powdei ? seem seriously compromised by the a* recent invention of the Itoman General Gilletta. Thanks to the latter's S "iiMinciir t<Oomnt<>r'' l'( In now nossible ' to a?certain tbe exact spot whence ?* tbe tiring proceed*.?Manchester Guarr" dlan. Id in A French entomologist baa fonnd t- several species of insects that are ly edible and is trying to break down tbe a prejudice against tbeui as articles of. it diet. j| The Indian Sorely Fading Before | * tbe Advance of CtvfUMtkxi. * Civilization is Laving Its cffect upon tbe Indian papoose as well as upon tbe warrior and medicine man. In a few years more there will be no more 11 RUNNING WATfrR, AM ARAfAMOfr FFtMCfrSS little full-blood babies, so fast and furious is tbe extinction of tbe red race beiu? accomplished. And when tbe redskin children are no more, tbe West will fee tbe absence of its most stoical little Americans, tbe most picturesque of all babies. F"\v children are brought up undei such peculiar environments and given *o little of a mother's care?not because tbe mother does not love her papoose. but because It is not her way to bestow affection. If tbe little one is tnkeu from her life loses all Its dull chnrms. but should the baby remain id it* paternal tepee caresses are uiikoown. care Is a neglected doty and the child is left to its own resource?. I toHKAWA CRANP/AoWR /flS 1 AMP CttlLD fjW] Tet there are few children so beloved 08 these Fame Indian babes. Tbey are tbe dearest thing tbe IndiaD woman known. The cruelty of tbe husband and bis utter disregard for his offspring only make her cling the closer to her first born. She sometimes worships it as if it were a sacred spirit. I'apoows are brought up on milk and hominy. Horn times they are fed sofki. or a mixture of fiour and water. Tbe Indian herbs are put into everything that tbe baby eats. It used to t>e that tbe Indian baby had no cradle or go-cart, but tbe influx of white iner,ntn ,im now countries of the UlUUiD iM IV mv > <. _ Southwest has brought many of the luxuries of modem civilization. Now out* may Fee a blanketed squaw go wheeling her copper-colored Infant al>out the reservation in a go-cart of the most expensive pattern. Again, she may have a pony hitched to the gocart and will ride !n it with her child. One day a white man who had an Indian woman for his wife returned to his nservation home with a go-cart, which was the first that had appeared in that section. Imagine his surprise a few days Inter to come home from a hunting trip to tind a number of squaws from adjniniug tepees coast ' * ** * ^ '' f . * . . v ' t .- r;-.' ~_z\- ' J1_L_ CAI>DO MOTHER AND CHILD. <f.? down bill iu tbt baby pcrauibu later. Tbe sacks for tbe Indian babies when bung upon tbe bark arc said by missionary women to be reolly comfortable for tbe child. I have seen squaws carrying their children arouud iu this ra?lil0U. IUC imitr ouw mm asleep. But Indian babies are born to Buffer. Crying Is unknown to then. Tbey hardly ever smile. Toys of all ' kinds may be placed at tbeir disposal and tbey will make do effort to play ' with them. There is none of the , crawling al?out. throwing their hands crowing and other traits so common to the child of white parentage. I once asked an Indian woman what ( I were some of their cradle songs. She | looked at me for a moment In blank | i surprise. "Have you no songs to lull your little ones asleep?" I repeated. A smile spread over her dark face. She tvus evidently much aroused. "Songs among our babies are unknown. We do not even rock them to induce sleep. When they are sleepy tbey juftt go to sleep without singing to or other attention." And sucb I have noted to be the case. The baby Is allowed to lie in its little sack on the bare ground when night fails. The mother sees that its hunger Is satisfied, then she tnav go away to a dance, u feast o; some other form of amusement, leaving ber baby alone 1 ? T flwArtu A L- 1/k/i n If JU IIS ItJ'lX. *1 u? Vj'O iu PIVVp, it it wakes, it lies still until Bleep comes again. Such is the cane of the red child. What little white baby would not strain its lungs to express its objection to such treatment? The mothers are proud of their babies witbul. Once in a great while the missionary women on the reservation of the Southwest get up some kind of a baby-show, giving prizes for the prettiest and cutest. This stimulates a good deal of interest for the time, and every squaw on the reservation spends her time and money in rigging her baby so that it may win the prize. ' If it fails she blames the judges and not the baby. Papooses of the Kiowa, Comanche and Wichita tribes of southern Okla- ' ho ma have each recently come into possession of 100 acres of fine land, because of the allotment of their country and subsequent opening of residue lards to white people. These little heiresses and landlords are among the richest children of the United States to-day. yet their manner of dress would | not indicate it. Tbey will go aDout in | sacks, eat sofkl and lire in tepees. Of late ibe papoose bas been forced rn WlCPiITA BABY i| A RtCP CBAPU? J I to attend school at Ave, which means ( n trying time for the mother*. Gener- ' ally the s<;uaws pack up their few belonging* and move close to the school, ' where they may visit their children every day and have them with them during the night time. Indian children are generally born healthy, and few of them die unless by epidemic. Twine are a rarity among the red race, and it was formerly an evil omen to have them born in camp. In other days they were killed, but now they are vent East to school and forgotten by their people. In schools the little ml children lose nil their loftg Indian names, and teachers give them short one* of their own making. One can distinguish tven these day* | which among the mothers are of a i progressive nature l?y the manner in | which they clothe their babies. Some j of the women are quite backward inj dted. about taking up with the white I people's ways, and they keep beads ' and buckskin dresses on their children. ; while the more civilized are wont to i dress their babies in white. The pres! cut generation of full-blood babies 1 now growing up will be the last, for intermarriages of whites and mis i have come to be the fashion.?The i Delineator. I Cti?i?p Cahft For TComrn. Russi.i Is supposed to Ik- :i Packwarn j i and half-civilized country. Yet wornj en tljere have privileges which they J j do not enjoy in our enlightened laud. I Those who liave property of their own j ! have a voice in municipal affairs. and j on all railways there are carriages for j ladies ou!y. In St. Petersburg and j other cit.es there are cahs set aside for woiii?-ii only, of which the fares are. by law. l>ut half those demanded from mere man.?Chicago Tribune. What Kiimi? Dtrini Induration. The orthodox church of Kussia ba& in Us eiemeuiary scuoojr i,im>.uw children. alicut forty pupils iu each scbuol, and the average sum fur a school 1?< alniut flU5 a year. Of the teacher#, ninety-four per cent, are uneducated and they are paid next to nothing. The school-houses are huts and there nre no hooks, pens or iuk furnished. This is the education of Russians. @ sKing Edward || Foreboding WE*jm TEQpr' * ?% H*>vv , "s^T-sawCaBBTOBafflB k i '. ffln/... fey.? j^^mfv-.^gKa^^Mfc^Bgfflg KING EI King Edward's Illness has recalled be runny predictions tbat bave been Bade tbat he would never be crowned, rhtgp dismal nronhcHcs bave been specially frequent during the last rear. That tLe King himself was not oblivious to the word* of tbe prophets and tbat be was not free frotn foretiodings has beeu mentioned often as i trait in bis character. Ever since the death of Queen Victoria, it is said, lie hast ljeen haunted by a superstitious fear that be would not live to be crowned. Reports have been current In London since his accession that be sften brooded over the predictions of evil that Lad been made- about birn. and tbnt be was unable to shake bis mind free of them. It Ik said tbe prophecy that pave tbe King tbe most uneasiness was made at about tbe time of bis birtb. and ran as follows: "Kin; sball Edward be, but never ibnll be crowned." As tbe date of tbe coronation approached bis thoughts recurred with Increasing frequency, it is said, to this prophecy. Twice In King Edward's career have public prayers been offered for biro, and once u public thanksgiving for bib recovery. On his return from America in 18GO his ship, the Hero. wus uemyea uy storms. Auxieiy wu? so great that special services were lield in all tbe churches of tbe kingdom. Id tbe latter part of 1870 be contracted typhoid fever, and for weeks bis life was despaired of. Oo January 14. 1871, bis recovery was announced as certain, and a national thanksgiving was ordered for Februiry 27 following. A special service (vas beld in St. Paul's. The (Jueen (vent in state to it. and a Te Deura, rpecially composed by Arthur Sullivan, iftorward Sir Arthur Sullivan, was buck in the presence of 13,000 persons. The heir 'o tbe British throne is King Edward's second child. George Frederic Ernest Albert. Prince of Wale*. The eldest child of Edward ind Queen Alexaudra was Prince Alt?ert Victor Christian Edward, the [>i;ke of Clarence, who was born at Frogmore on January 8, 1804. and died it Sandriugbain on January 14. IMC. rhe Prlnoe of Wales was born at Marlborough House on June 3. 1SC5. He was married on July G. 1M>3. to Princess Victoria Mary of Teck. He Jas nothing like tbe string of titles Evbicb his father, as Prince of Wales, bore, but he is. among other things. Duke of York and Hotth.-say. Earl of L'bestcr. Earl of Internes* and Barou fvillarney. Earl of Carriek, Baron of i Renfrew. Lord of the Isles and Grand Steward of Scotland, a Vice-Admiral, ind holds several offices in the German military establishment. He is also msssbp!if :-j' 3 ' # bvmh THE PBINCE Or WILES. (llur to the Bntuh Throne.) i Koicbt of the Garter. St. Andrew, he lioldeu Fleece and other order?. Lu?t rear, accompanied l?y the I'rin *e?s Mar.v. In- made n tour of (be iritish dominions. and arrived in Oanida at the time uf the death of I'resileut McKinley. On Lis re.urn to Eng ?s0 SSriSSt <SSp S3T ?Sv Is vB-' ' <JB' ^5' VB' T" If J He Was Haunted ^9 IS ^ by a Fear That SsBk & He Would Not^ QTC \ t Live to Be 9 * ^ J J Crowned t ^ * " V;,-. j." ' '* ."' I^IV --" jhI V? ^5/^nwnP8 HI WARD VII. land be assumed toe title of Princt of Walen. ~Temporary White HMM." President Itoosevclt baa rented No, . 22 Lafayette S<iuare, Waablngton, at a residence and for executive office* during tbe several months tbat re pairs and alterations are being mad? . r' TBS TEMPORARY mCUTITl MAX8I0V, WASBINOTOW. nt the White House. The duelling has broD dabbed tbe "Temporary White tlouxe." The Cabinet meetings nr.. ilu/? ft.nr.. fintl If (? InlirmK I ing to note that eighty-eight yean ' Lave elapsed siuee a regular K'ssion I of the Cabinet bag been held outside | of tbc White House. When the British : troops hurtied the White House in , 1 SI4 Cabioet meetings were held In ; private residences pending the repairs to the structure. Haying With ratify*. There is so little level land In N<^ way tbat the making of hay enough | to last during the long winter is a | very serious problem. Most of tht ; necessary grass is grown on little | mountain terraces, sometimes 2000 ox i 3000 feet al>ove the farmhouse. The considerable difficulty of getting the < hay to the barns would bave l?een al! most insuperable but for a clever con| trivance which has been In use now foi many years, and which the peasant# call the lauperstreng. Tin- grass, aftei being cut. is rapidly dried on hnrdlet ; tid then tied luto bundles. These are slung on pulleys on a wire, which runs straight to the valley liolow. and I so go flying down at a trem^ndou* j?nr?'.?i.iiiriniiiiii r,in|uirer. An Knlliof Time Uu*. I'asseujrers ou an elevated railway train this luoruiu? who happened te lit- looking out of the car window* sin a strange thing. A district tue? sctiger l*?y was leaning against a noop reading ; i?a|?er-covcrcd novel. utt?rlj j oblivion* lo all iliat was going oc I around iiilii- At liis heels xniif ou< I l.ad Hi row 11 a lighted match, and hi? trciise.s wen* Juki breaking out iuto u I 'Liz*- as tin* train rolled on. What lia|>|M'ii?'d it flerward could Ik* onlj iuiti^'iiii'il l?y tin* people on the traiu It ought to have l>?i'ti to tin* toy al most .is excitiug as the novel.?New ' York Pout. A Hull Klin Trrr. At tin* historic held of Bull Kun t<v da' , die jrnkIc leads his visitors to a (vrtaiii eedar tree that grew fo tnucbH (aider tliau the others iu that locultt/B that au Investigation was made. rt-B vealing that it had grown over the re?B main* of uu unknown soldier. whkhB had not been tarried awujr to ArJInc-B tori willi I lit1 others.?Sau Francisco Argouaut (llfaatlc Palm LftTri, A paliu tree which prows od the banks of tlie Amazon Las leave* thirty fort to tlfty feet in li-upth and ted feci to twelve feet in breadth.