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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j % Inbcpcnbent Jamil j ftebspapcr: Jor % promotion of % political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of fjje Sontj). j TEEMS?$8.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 32. YOBKVILLE, S. C.. WEDISTESDA.Y. SEPTEMBER 29, 1886. 3STQ. 39. J. ferial f tafg. FIVE MILLION POUNDS. ?#v'y ' - . / By T. WEMYSS KEID. CHAPTER III?Continued, daisy. And so next day, when again the glorious sunshine tempted the most delicate out of doors, 1 not only saw my love, but spoke to her, held her hand in mine, looked into her eyes, and felt that the beautiful face was lighted up with smiles that were meant for me and for me alone. Ckh, my love, my love I As I look back noon that happy day when first our real friendship began; when I see you in my mind's eve as vdu were then, with the bright i light of youth and freedom from care shining in your countenance; when I hear once more through the years that have passed the pure melodious voice and the sweet laugh of innocence and joy; and when I remember all that has happened since?the mystery and the tragedy, the pain, the sorrow, the cruel suffering aud bitter -degradation through which you have been called upon to pass?I can scarcely realize the fact.'hat you and that lovely laughing girl are one and the same. It was surely in another world that you and I walked apart from all our fellows, on that day, never to be effaced from my memory, on which we first sat sidi by side as friends. I not only sato my love but spoke to her. I never saw that of which Harding told me afterwards?the undisguised astonishment and envy which were exhibited by the frequenters of the Spa saloon when I was seen in the enjoyment o? this familiar intercourse with the millionaire and his beautiful - niece. 1 had told how people had begun to take note of my restless march up and down the promenade during those days when I was still searching for my unknown lova No doubt I hod been made the subject of mild jest and perhaps some grotesque ro mance oou ueoa uivenuu rogiuuiuj uw, wi there is no place like Scarborough in the season, for the production of fiction of this kind And now, I alone, of all that envious throng, had the privilege of the friendship of the man of millions! It was hardly wonderful that there should have been almost as much of gossip and tittle-tattle regarding me as there was about Mauleverer hhnaalf It mattered nothing and less than nothing to me. Nay, for the moment, I can honestly aver that I bad absolutely forgotten all about Mauleverer'8 wealth. He might have been as poor as his outward appearance indicated, for all I cared during that first blissful season of love upon which I had now entered. Daisy had something more than her beauty to commend her to me. That was rare enough, as everybody was ready to admit Her features, it is true, were not of the "faultily faultloss" description; some found the chin too massive, or the forehead too square, or the nose too long or too short I could not have argued the question with those people even if 1 had wished to do so. I could no more have analyzed that proud sweet face, on which at times lay a strange shadow of reserve, mingled with the bright frankness by which it was usually lighted up, than 1 could have weighed the pale moonbeams which made the earth glorious by night All that I knew was that I had never seen a face like it, and that to me it was as the magnet toward which my whole life was to be henceforth drawn. But all the world cou d share with mo the privilege of gazing on the lovely face. That which was mine alone was the intimacy which enabled me to know that her mind was as beautiful as her countei: mca For from the first she was frank and unreserved with me on all points save one. I found her as pure and simple and unsophisticated as a child, yet with a woman's sympathy, with the nobler aspirations of a man, a woman's quickness in reading my thoughts, and a woman's tact in dealing with my various moods. On that first morning on which we were together there was a certain shyness mingled with her cordiality. I coul l see by the troubled expression which occasionally passed over her face when her eyes by chance met mine, that she was thinking of our first strange meeting, and of the un* * - ?t D..*, pieasauu iuuu^ui< swwisu mui il. uuo though it was constantly in my mind as well as hers, no reference was made to it on either side. She was full of wonder and admiration at the scene around her. The week she had already spent in Scarborough hod been passed in the sick chamber of her uncle, and all was now new to her. "No, I never went out," she said m reply to a question of min?. "I should have liked to do so. but I could not leave him." She indicated Mauleverer, who was sitting on the other side of her, surveying the brilliant scene before him with an air of interest "Besides, there were variom reasons why it was not w 1 for me to be out until my uncle could accompany ine." "How strange." 1 said, "that we should actually have been in the same hotel all the timet I have looked for you everywhere." Probably there was more in the to:u of my voice than in my words them:#Ives. At all events, she blushed when I spoko and mado no direct response. . "Are there many places in England as beautiful as this? Tou know we are only colonists. I have seen hardly anything of England. It is not three months since we landed, and I have spent nearly all that time in a dreadful hotel in Bond street" * "You will find many beautiful places in England," I replied, "but Scarborough has a charm of its own. You would need to go abroad to find anything that really resembled the scene now before us." "How different it all is from our life in Australia! You know we lived up-country. My uncle was always attending to his sheep, and it was very seldom that I was allowed to see a town or to have any pleasure but a long ride by myself." "Were you not at school?" I asked. "Yes, but that was long before?" she hesitated, "before I came to live with him. Since then I have had to trust to poor dear Mrs. Cawthorre. She was my governess, you know, and almost my only lady friend. I am afraid I am fearfully ignorant" "Nay," I cried with boyish enthusiasm. "Have you not been telling mo of the books you have read? You have made mo ashamed of myself, you have read so much more than I have done. Was it Mrs. Cawthorne who led you to study Herbert Spencer?" She blushed, and said, "No, that was an idea of my own." "And are you going to stop long in England?" I ventured to inquire of her. "Oh, yes; have you not heard? My uucle has bought a house in Yorkshire. He means t/i remain here. I hardlv know whv." She glanced round and saw that the millionaire was slumbering gent y. With a loving hand she drew the light overcoat across his chest, and placed a handkerchief round his throat. The day was hot enough, no doubt, but Mauleverer was still an invalid. "I was saying," she continued, "that we are going to live here, and that I hardly know why. I am sure we were happier in Australia. But I think he was overpessuaded." She seemod as though she had something more to say; but whatever it was it remained unsaid. "And where is this house that your uncle has bought?" I asked with interest. fe "It is at Great Lorton, about thirty mile3 from here, I believe, among the wolds. I i have never seon it, but he ha3, and he says it is very old and beautiful" I had heard of the house as one of the ] finest relics of domestic architecture left in i Yorkshire, which is rich in such remains; < but I had not even the faintest conception of i its whereabouts in "the broad county." i And so our talk ran on until all at once the band ceused to play, and to our amaz?mont i we discovered that the luncheon hour had i arrived, and that the stream of loungers was already pouring toward the gates. i I offered Mr. Mauleverer my arm, for he i looked very worn and frniL He accepted it with thanks that were out of proportion to i the favor. But if hs had been oven more I exuberant in his expressions of gratitude I i should have counted them as nothing compared with the look of pleasure I detected < on the face of his niece. Never, surely, wat a simple act of every day courtesy more i richly repaid. i This is not, alas I a love story. It deals ; with other things besides love, and ro I shall not dwell upon the happy days that followed i ?by far the happiest I have ever known in i my placid, uneventful life. Day after day j found ma bv Daisv's side, and I was the 1 recognizel attendant of her and the millionaire whenever they appeared in the saloon 1 grounds. Once or twice I accompanied them i on drives to neighboring places of interest, i and by and by, when Mr. Mauleverer's health i impro\ jd, we went for long walks together. 1 I never saw Daisy during the whole of this ] time by herself. When her uncle could not i leave the hotel she invariably remained with him. Many days of delightful companionship passed before I had my first chance of speaking to her alone. Even then the chance was brought about in a somewhat ludicrous fashion. The "so- t ciety papers" were now full of Mr. Maulev- c erer and his millions. I could not take up i one of them in which 1 did not find his name. i Now it was some wonderful story that was t told about the magnificence with which i Great Lorton Hall was being furnished and i otherwise prepared for his residence; now it s was a yacht which he had bought from the c executors of a deceased duke, and which was i being redecorated for his use in accordance t with the traditions of the "Arabian Nights," 1 rather than any more sober or prosaic pre- c cedents; and now it was an elaborate calcu- j lation of the number of guineas per hour e which by day and night were being poured into the pockets of my friend. ] When I read these tales I found it very t difficult to connect them with the plain, c almost shabbily dressed gentleman, who, t although he had secured the best suite of i rooms at the hotel, still lived in perfect sim- 1 plicity of style, and gave no evidence either s of the possession of wealth or the taste for ] extravagant expenditure which, if these tales I were true, he undoubtedly had. I never, of t course, made any reference to these news- t paper paragraphs when I was with Maulev- c erer and his niece. Daisy, I was certain, knew nothing of them, and would have been t revolted by their vulgarity; while I was c strongly induodd to suspect that the million- \ aire himself was equally ignorant t But if I put all this gossip aside as being s probably nothing more than the concoction r of imaginative penny-a-liners, it was token t very seriously by not a few of the people s around us. The more Mauleverer and his millions were iauwi auuuc ui ui? uen spuuui a, t indeed, the more wild most persons became s to secure his acquaintanceship. ] There was a lady staying at the Grand hotel for whom I had conceived a strong t aversion from the first, and who apparently regarded me with just as little favor as I 1 showed her. Yet I had, as it turned out, ( great reason to be grateful to her. o Mrs. Domville, the lady in question, was very big, very stout, with a flaming scarlet J face, the color of which in its richness I matched the ribbons and dresses she habitu- t ally worn She was a constant attendant at ' those balls of which I have spoken, which are e perhaps the most objectionable of all the t features of life at Scarborough during the c season. On these occasions she was invari- e ably accompanied by her son and daughter, c the former a weedy-looking youth of twenty, the latter big and bouncing like her mother, t and handsome into the bargain, which is more than one could have said of Mra Dom- u ville herself. It happened that I had danced on one cc- I casion with the daughter. It was when a c ball was held in our own hotel, and I had a been pressed into the service by nu agonized B master of the ceremonies, who found that the fc demand for dancing men far exceeded the e supply. Miss Domv.lle was not a person c who cared to encourage the attentions of an E unknown swain. Goodness knows that she J had no reason to snub me on this account, q for after our single dance I was quite ready j to drop the acquaintance; but snub me she c did, and her mother evidently encouraged (] her in doing so. r I was not a little surprised, therefore, ]( when, chancing to meet Mrs. Domville one day in the hall of the hotel, 1 was saluted by f her with a warmth that was more than { usually friendly. t "Oh, my dear Mr. Fenton, I am so pleased c to see you again. What a time it is since r we met! Are you to be at the tall to-nighi? j Pray come and ask Arabella for the first t waltz. Shall I tell her to engage herself for j it? Now I know how good-natured you are. You will never say no, I am sure." e Thus the magnificent creature ran on in a t style which almost took my breath away. 1 , did say "No," however, and rather bluntly, | too. She was in no wise disconcerted. "By the way," she said, "X have a particu- r lar favor to ask of you. I see that you are A acquainted with the Mauleverers. Now, I r am quite certain that Mr. Mauleverer is the v friend of a very dear friend of my own. I ^ have heard so much about him that I really ] must speak to him. So now 1 look io you to t introduce mo the next time we meet" , Mrs. Donivi.le looked so formidable that it required some courage to show any hesita- i lion in promising to gratify her wish. s Nevertheless, I did hesitate, for I knew that i the promiscuous acquaintances Mr. Mau- j latroi-or h?d hhherto made in ih> linixl hml i apparently bored him. I was, indeed, not a little afraid that I myself was no exception to the rule. "I think I must ask Mr. Mauleverer himself before I cau promise to do that," I replied. "You know he is not in good health." "Then ask him now, for he is hera" 1 turned and saw Muuleverer and Daisy standing beside ma The former had evidently heard his own name, and with the quiet simplicity and courtesy which were characteristic of the man he came forward. Mrs. Domvillo favored him with a courtesy which would have done credit to the queen's drawing room. She looked as if she would have liked to kiss the rich man's hand. "Forgive me, sir," she said, in a reverential manner that was quite new to her so far as my experience went, "1 was asking our young friend Mr. Fuiitoii to do me the honor of introducing me tp you. I have been _-o anxious ever since I heard you were here to question you about an old friend of mine whom I think you once knew very intimately. " The millionaire looked, puzzled, but ho was listening with grave attention to the lady. "Perhaps you are going down to the saloon," continued the latter. "Ah, then, if ycu would be so very kind as to permit me to walk with you I could explain what I mean." "By all means, madam," responded the in- ! nocent old gentleman, and he turned to the j door of the hotel closely attended by Mrs. ; Domville. Daisy and I followed them. "Who is this woman, and what does she want with my uncle?" she asiced. "She wants all Scarborough to see her walking with him on the promenade, I suppose." I replied. Daisy looked at mi with eyes of innocent wonder. She scarcely seemed to comprehend. "I am vexed," she said, presently; "I horel we should have been all by ourselves, to-day at least." "To-day! Is there any special reason connected with to-day?" I asked. "Yes," she responded, with a faint sigh. "To-morrow our friends are coming, and I fear there will be no more pleasant mornin-s for us all, such as we have had lately." "Your friends!" I murmured, perplexed and dismayed. "Ye-!, the only friends we have in England, Dr. Branksome and Mr. Fosdyke. They are coming to-morrow in the yacht which I believe my uncle has bought" Pain and jealousy filled my heart It , seemed that those halcyon days which had brought so much of joy to me were at an ^ end. "And will your new friends?I beg pardon, your old friends I ought to have said? J make it impossible for you to see mo any 1 more?" My tone was hard and constrained, but I could not help myself. She looked into my face a little doubtfully, and then she withdrew her eyes quickly. I knew then that sho had read the secret of my heart. I felt her arm trembling within my own. I forgot everything; the shortness of our acquaintance, Mauleverer's millions?no, I did think of them, and I cursed them bitterly as I saw in them a barrier between myself and my darling. But for those wretched millions I should have spoken there and then and learned my fata. Ah, how little I knew all that hung upon that moment of fatal indecision! For the next instant it was too late to speak. The loud voice of Mrs. Domville was heard calling me to bring Miss Staneliffe to the place where she and Mr. Maulovcrer were sitting, in order that she might introduce her weedy son to the rich man's niece. I was forced to move, but as I did so I >aid with passionate emphasis: "Yoa will not forget me, you will not drop me now because four other friends are coming?" "How could you think that we should?" me answered, witn n laugn tnat was some- ] what forced "Only I tear it will be altogether different then," she added, "end it ias been a delightful time?ha; it no 5" For the rest of the morning I was doomed x> listen to the vulgar chatter of the woman who had thus, almost forcibly, laid hands lot only upon Mauleverer himself, but upon ny darling. But when we parted in the iall of the hotel there was an expression on Daisy's face that did something to assuage ny jealous misery. CHAPTER IV. THE GOLDEN HAWK My bedroom commanded a fine view of ;he sea, and when I looked out of my winiow on the morning following the incident with Mrs Domville, the first thing that atTacted my attention was a magnificent ichooner yacht lying at anchor some two niles from the shore. It was th) largest and nost beautiful vessel of the kind I had ever ;een, and I examined it with interest through i powerful field glass which I had in my oom. There is no sight more attractive to ;he lover of the sea than a fine vessel, whose ines bear witness to her power of riding >ver the waves. What a Derby favorite s to the lover of horseflesh a yacht is to the ailor. This, however, was no common yacht, and [ wondered to myself to whom it belonged ind whence it had come to delight the eyes >f the people of Scarborough. Early as it vas, the attention of people on shore had already been drawn to the stately vessel in the >ay, and small cobbles laden witn curious ightseers were being rowed out to her. Presently I saw one of the yacht's boats, a arge gig, coming rapidly from the vessel to he shore, and through my glass I was able o perceive that in addition to her crew she carried three passengers?all men. Such an event as the arrival of a yacht in he bay always furnishes food for gossip luring the season at Scarborough, and many vere the inquiries put forth at the breakfast able that morning with regard to the ownerhip of this magnificent schooner. It was lot, however, till Harding made his appearince that any light was thrown upon the ubject "sIaovi va11w frtAYtrl'u l\alf 2" Via coM KAAJU JUUl MV4VI UO VU JIIU, is he dropped into his usual chair by my ide. "It does more credit to his taste than [ should have expected." "And is that Mr. Mauieverer's yacht*" I isked, in surprise. "Yes, so 1 am told. It is the Golden lawk, which was built for the Duke of Cairngorm just before ho died. There isn't l finer boat afloat." "And pray how have you learned all this?" : said, feeling rather nettled at the fact that le should know so muca more than I did of he affairs of my friends. "Easily enough, my good fellow! Did you iot see the party from the yacht come up to he hotel?one tail and two short? A sailor ame up with them, and I made it my bu->iless to ask him the name of the vessel and its iwner." "And the three gentlemen?where are hey?" "So far as I know," answered Harding, they are with Mauleverer." These, then, were the friends of whom Daisy had spoken to mo. A restless feeling if jealousy filled my heart AVlien the hour .t which the millionaire and his niece usually aade their appearance in the hall if the lotel?where they invariably found me in ittendance?hail arrived there were no signs if them. I waited with a lover's impatience, iot daring either to leave the hall or to go to ilaulevorer's sitting room to make any in[uiry about them. How slowly the minutes lassed, and wnat a change seemed to have ome over the whole scene since the previous lay, when, at least, I had rejoiced in a nonopoly of the friendship of the girl I oved! Only a lover who has himself suffered rom the pains of jealousy can enter into he mood which possessed me as I waited in bat familiar hall, conscious of the fact that itbers knew why I was waiting, and perhaps ejoiced in my manifest discomfiture. At ast?fully an hour alter the usual time for heir appearance?I heard a movement in he gallery above me that filled me with iope. Immediately afterward Mr. Maulevirer appeared descending the staircase beweon two gentlemen. One of these was a trim little man, very neatly dressed, with landsome, clean-cut features, and eyes that ooked sharply round through the gold- j mimed pince-nez which he wore. The other vas a person of much sturdior build and ougher cast of countenance. Short in statire, he was tbick-set and clumsy in frame, vhile his features were coarse and harsh, le might have been a seafaring man. I bought, and 1 concluded that perhaps he vas the captain of the Golden Hawk. Mauleverer was chatting with his friends ; vith a brightness which I had not seen him I how before during my brief acquaintance j vith him. It was evident that he was I treatly pleased to have met them again. I ooked behind him, but there was no sign of Daisy, nor of the third stranger of whose ur ival I had heard. I believe that in his aborption in his new friends the millionaire vould have passed me unnoticed if I had not nyself addressed him. For an instant he | vgardei me with his mild eyes aim st as ! hough he had forgotten my identity. But j n a moment he recovered himself and greeted me with bis usual kindly courtesy. "I hope you have had a pleasant morning >n the Spa," he said. He had no conception >f how my morning had been spent "Let ne introduce my friend, Mr. Fosdyke." Ho J dicated the gentleman with the pince-nez, j ivho bowed elaborately on hearing my j lame. The rough-looking man, against I .vhmii I already felt prejudiced, bung back 1 foot or two, and Mauleverer made no | cferenco to him. I could see, however, that j he man was staring hard at me with any- j :hing but an amiable expression on his face. I "And Miss Stancliffe," I ventured to say? ! 'I hope she is well this morning." "Oh, quite well, thank you; but she isoccu- i pied, owing to the arrival of our friends." j And then, with a pleasant bow, he went on, j ittended by his two companions. Ma\deverer descended the staircase between two gentlemen. I was vaguely conscious of the fact that tvhen I had mentioned Daisy's name it was not only the rough-looking man with the bard and mo'ute face who had favored me with a searching stare. From behind the flittering pince-nez of Fosdyke a pair of keen eyes had at that moment been fixed upon me, and I cursed the ridiculous inability to preserve an unmoved countenance, from ! , j which I was conscious that I suffered when- ] ever Daisy was mentioned. Henceforward , I felt I should, at least, be closely watched 1 in all my intercourse with her. I But where was she? Sharp, beyond the power of words to describe it, was the pain j | which gnawed at my heart as I thought of , LSr even at this moment engaged in confl- ] | dontial talk with this unknown frien L Was , he old or young? Who was he? What was i , he? I struck my heel savagely upon the j ! pavement of the hall as I asked myself these questions. ! ( And even as I did so she app?ar?d. I had : ( cn'y time to observe that her companion ! ( was unusually tall, and that he seemed to j , have jiassed the limits of middle age. In , another instant my hand had taken hers, ! , und I was feasting my eye3 upon her dear j > fnco. | ( But what was the change that I saw there? , i It was as beautiful as ever; but a shadow of ( some kind had passed ovor it sine.' wo parted , on the previous day. I have s ->oken before of that veil of reserve which once or twice ( when we were together on the promenade j hud spread itself over her features. It was ( the same thing that I saw now, though it was more pronounced and real. This shadow of trouble, or timidi#/ or doubt?1 could not j tell wh:ch?was at least no creation of my own imagination. H>r sm.la was kind as it hod ever been, , but I observed that her face was flushed and it was with manifest embarrassment that 4 she turned to her companion and said, "This ( is Mr. Fenton." * Had th y been speaking of mc before? ] This was my first thought when I heard her words. The next moment I was conscious , of a courteous and oven friendly greeting t from her companion. I looked up; for al- j though I myself am tail, this man towered far above me. I looked into what I felt at ( once was one of the most powerful face; I hid ever seen?a face that still ret ined traces of manly beauty, though its owner was evidently verging upon threescore. The ( wide, open forehead appe ired to indicate ( benevolence of character, as welt as intellectual superiority; the eyes were grave, but j frank Every feature of the lace was pre- ( possessing except the mouth. 1 thought the , straight, thin lips were out of harmony with , the geueral aspect of the man. ^ "Miss Stoncliffe has told me of her ac- ; quaintance with you," he said wit 1 a genial , smile, which showed his becutiful white teeth to advantage, "and, like the rest of her j friends, I feel grateful to you for the service < you rendered her." ? He put his hand familiarly on her arm. ( "My dear," he said, "we shall none of us fail , to do justice to Mr. Fenton." , I thought there was a trace of fear in the | look which Daisy turned upon him as he ut- * tered these words. "You came by the schooner 1 see in the bay ( this morning?" I said, chiefly for the sake of j saying something and thus prolonging the ? interview. j "Yes, sir, we did," he replied. "You have j seen the Golden Hawk? A fine boat, and one ( of which I think this young lady will feel very proud as its mistress." He looked down upon her with a protecting smile. I saw that she pressed c oser to him as he spoke, as though responding to some unuttered sentiment of affection. And yet as she did so her eyes sought mine. 1 could not interpret their expression; but I was clearly conscious of the fact that trouble was in store for us. 1 could hardly believe, Lowever, that the trouble was likely to come from this man, with his powerful and commanding countenance, his polished manner, and h:s genial ' air. "By the way," ho said, "I think this little ' girl has forgotten to perform the whole of her duty. She has not told you my name. J I am Dr. Branksoma" I bowed, and he smiled anew. "Has Miss Stanclitfo not told you all about my connection wi.h her?" he continued- "I see slio has not dona so. j Well, I suppose a young lady who finds herself in Scarborough far the first time in ' her life has something better to do than to *' tell tales about the old fogies whom she has ( known at the other side of the woWd Eh, 1 my dear, is that not it?' She might have been his daughter to judge by the easy familiarity with which ho j pinched her ear as he spoke. Daisy still had 1 the troubled smile upon her faceshj had worn when she last looked at me She did 1 not speak. It almcst seemed as though she 1 could not have spoken if she would. "I see I shall have my own story to tell, Mr. Fenton," he continued, in ills full, rich voice. "You are surpri ed. perhaps, to *ee i me on such very friendly tirms with Miss ] Stancliffe. But you would not bo surprised if you knew that she lived under my roof for 1 liore than twelve years of her life?from i four to sixteen?and that during all that | time she honestly believed mo to be her father. A strange stcry, sir. I can see that l is in your mind; but it is a true story also. So now you understand how it is that if Daisy has un uncle in Mr. Mauleverer, she ! has a father in me." My first feeling on hearing him make this ] statement was one of incredulity. I had ] heard her so often speak with loving grati- ] tude of her uncle that I felt certain that if < she had really regarded this new comer as ] her father, she would have spoken of him i also. I remembered, too, the trouble that ' was manifest on her face when she had told i me on the previous day of the approaching i arrival of her friends. It was inconceivable, I thought, that she would have felt this ] trouble if she had realiy entertained a daughter's love for Branksoine. But, how- ! ] ever this might be, there was no doubt now j that she was unreservedly un ler the sway 1 of his influence. She responded to his i speech with a look of gratitude and aflec- *j tion, and stood quite passive while his hand sti 1 rested on her arm. 1 Tin situation was becoming embarrassing, i 1 did not know in what words to reply to Dr. i Branksome's statement about Daisy. I con- i tented myself with a feeble inquiry as to : whether they were going to join the com- i puny on tho promenade. ' " VVe are going aboard tho yacht for lun- ' cheon," repdod the doctor. "Miss Stancliffo i has never been aboard the boat yet, and she is naturally anxious to see it By the way, ] Daisy, why should we not ask M . Fenton i to favor us with his company? I daresay he 1 has nothing better to do this morning, and if < he is interested in yachting he will certainly < be pleased with the Golden Hawk." There is no need to say with what joyous i eagerness I responded to the invitation. What puzz'.ed me, however, was tho way in > which it was received by Daisy. She knit I her brows for a moment as though trying to solve some knotty problem in her own mind. And then her face grew clear again, and without a word she went forward by the s.de of Brunksome. We found l hat the gig of the yacht was waiting for us at the landing stage. Mr. Mauleverer and his two companions had gone on board in one of the ordinary Ashing boats, leaving the small gig, with its cushioned seats and neatly dressed crew, for Daisy's accommodation. There was a pleasant novelty for both of us in tho situation as we sat there on either side of Branksome, who steered the boat The oars of the four men who were rowing rose and fell with the precision of clockwork, and the light litt.e craft was quickly urged 1 over the placid waters of the bay towards J the spot where the stately vessel lay in the < full blazj of tho sunshine. The cloud had passed from Daisy's face now. She was smiling as brightly as she had boon wont to do during those happy days when we sat together beside the saloon; but 1 could net avoid a dim consciousness of tho fuct that most of her smiles were given to Branksome rather than to me. Never had I seen a more beautiful spec! tacle of its kind than that which I witnessed ! when I st>pped upon tho white deck of the ! yacht. '1 he vess 1 was of great size?prob! ably of not less than six hundred tons di p acement. She had auxiliary steam power,but tho long sweep of her spars, the tine rake of her three masts, showed that it was to her sail power that she chiefly trusted. | Everything on board was in that exquisite | state of c.eanliness which is novor seen save o:i board of a man-of-war or a first-class yacht. The docks were as white as a well| scrubbed kitchen table; the brass of tho bolt | pins, tho binnacle, the two carronadei for1 ward shone in the sunshine like burnished | gold. So did the gilding on the molding of the deck hou>e3. Some luxurious lounging chairs and soft rugs were scattered about in tho stern of the vessel; while a smart quartermaster, in proper yacht uniform, kept watch in the ship s waist. Everything was in keeping with the wealth of its owner. Daisy gave a cry of gonuine delight when she surveyed the deck and gazjd up at the towering masts and rigging, which rose to a giddy height abovo her. She seemed to put off the weight of years in this atmosphere, and ran, or ratner danced along the deck like a child, till she camo to the door of the after house. Then she stopped, raised her hands in wonder, and called me to her side. The interior of this beautiful little room was Indeed "a sight to see." The walls were paneled in ol 1 leather of a peculiar shade of drange, with rich designs in dead gold embossed upon it. Here and there was a tiny aiche in?which an exquisite bronze statuette was placed, and now and again the flat surface of the panels was broken by an old Venetian mirror or a silver lamp of antiqu design. .Curtains of some material of delicto texture hung in graceful folds by the side of the windows, the gla s of which had % subdued tint that harmonized with the vilor of tho walla. The fiirnilnro nf t.ho room was in keeping with tho decorationa rhere were cabinets, richly carved, and touches covered with oriental embroidoriea Chairs, tables, rugs and stove?all gave evidence of a cultivated taste and a boundless wealth. "Did you ever see anything so lovely?" iried Daisy, with all a young girl's delight in the beauty before her. "YVho will use this room?" Branksome laughed heartily. "My dear," he said, "every room or. board is yours?this included. But your boudoir is dovjn Jbelow, and, as a matter of fact, i be* Lieve the intention of the Duke of Cairngorm was to make this his smoking room." "Oh, how shameful!" cried tho girl. 'Surely a less beautiful room than this might lo for people who want to smoke." He looked at me with a broad smile upon lis pleasant countenance at this ebullition of feminine feeling. I thought now that I had wronged him altogether in pronouncing igainst his mouth. All his features were In aarmony, and I inwardly decided that he was one of the most fascinating men I had jver met with. At that moment Mr. Mauleverer came on deck. He looked slightly surprised at seeing me there, but greeted me with cordial courtesy. I' was evidently of Daisy, howsver, that 11> was chiefly thinking. "Do you like the Golden Hawk, my daring?" he said, in tones which showed that jven he felt some of the pleasurable excitenent incident to the first introduction to a iew toy. "I think the doctor deserves our ;hanks for having secured so beautiful a boat for us. What should wo have done without him?" "Quite as well as you have done with him, [ reckon, Mauleverer," replied the doctor. 'Don't give me any credit for buying this ihip. I heard it was for sale quite by accilent, and of course when I saw it 1 felt it would be the very thing for you. But it was our friend Ban, there, who really settled ;he matter. I don't know anything about ihipping, while he knows everything." He pointed as he spoke to the man whose ippearanee I had liked so little when I saw lim descending the stairs of the hotel by the tide of the millionaire. Even now, when in uw^uiuiuu ui jji auivov/iuo a nui us uc um icil iu ook pleasant, I thought his face a peculiarly ivil one. "Oh, Flinier is well up in shipping, as wo have nil occasion to know," said Mauleverer. "But come, Daisy, you have not yet seen your palace below, and luncheon will soon be read)'." We all descended the broad winding stairs of the cabin companionway, and once again Daisy's irrepressible cries of delight broke forth. It would have been difficult indeed for any one to restrain his admiration for that sumptuous interior. There were staterooms furnished in delicate shades of color, decorated with works of art of priceless value, and fitted with every comfort and every luxury that the traveler could desire; there was a dining saloon in which the stamped leather decorations of the smoking room on deck were reproduced, but in a different color. It was difficult to remember that wo were on board a ship. This noble apartment looked as though it had been transferred bodily from some Venetian palace. There was a saloon, spacious, airy, elegtatfJiMvhick the embroidered silk panels of the walls vied with the covering of the couches, and sumptuous carpets, in the soft pile of which the foot sank an inch deep; and there was a boudoir in which the beauty and magnificence of this fairy palace seemed to have cu'minato.i. When we reached it I thought Daisy's face turned pale, as though she were almost frightened by tho splendor of which she was now the mistress. In my own heart there was a heavy weight of pain. The more clearly tho riches of Mauleverer were mada apparent to me, the greater seemed to be tho gulf by which I was cutoff from him and all belonging to him. We had not yet seen everything, however, that was to bo seen on board this wonderful ship. Whon we left the boudoir, a short gangway, tho walls of which were covered with green plush and glittered with the reflected light of mirrors, led.us to a door which Mr. Mauleverer discovered was locked. "What have we here?" he said, turning to Dr. Branksome. "Oh! there you have the other side of tho picture," was the reply. "You know, perhaps, that tho old duke had been in the navy In his youth, and that up to the end of his lays he was a terribly severe disciplinarian, it seems that he always insisted upon having a punishment cell made in his yachts, and I was told that he had even been known to confine his own sans when they happened to offend him." "Ami is this the ce'l?" asked Mauleverer, pointing to the locked door. "It lies beyond it," said tho doctor. He produced a small key and opened the door. It showed us a continuation of the gangway; but now the walls of the narrow passage were utterly without ornament I placed my hand upon them, and found that they were lined with sheet-iron. At the end of the passage was another door, which Branksome opened. "We saw dimly, for we were not provided with any lantern, a small, quare apartment, furnished in the plainest fashion?a striking contrast to tho beauty and luxury of everything else. The place was cold and dark; 1 could feel Daisy, who was standing near me, shiver as she looked into the gloomy celL "I think I must have that dismal hole im proved out of existence," said the millionaire, in his placid tones. IVc wero all glad to turn our backs upon this specimen of iucal folly, and to make our way to the lining saloon, where a luncheon in keeping with the splendors of the apartment was spread upon tho table. It must, I think, have been the feeling of oppression that was produced in my mind by the display of Mauleverer's overpowering wealth that prevented my enjoying that meal, even although it was the first I had ever taken in the company of the girl I loved. There was an additional reason, I think, which contributed, to a certain extent, to my embarrassment I was seated opposite to Daisy at tho round table which occupied the midd'e of the floor of the cabin. A.gain and again I tried to catch her eye, and to win ;onie word from her lip-. More than once she looked up, and I thought I had succeeded. Ilut if for a moment her eye wmwl to rrat on mv fnnn_ it wnnrifiiwl r1 most instantaneously to that of my next neighbor, the doctor, and then it sank once more upon her plate Branksome himself kept me involved in a bright talk, in which not only the yacht and its glories, but the gayeties of Scarborough ind the beauties of the Yorkshire scenery played a prominent part By and by, howsver, ho became confidential. "You are looking at our friend over there, I see," he said, indicating the man svhom I had heard called Flinter by Mr. Uauleverer. The truth is, I was looking at bim because I had become conscious of the fact that he was staring at ma with the disagreeable intensity of purpose which I had noticed wht n I was speaking to the millionlire in the hotel in the morning. "Rather a rough diamond, is ho not? But a diamond, nevertheless. Ho owes everything to our 50od host, and would go through fire and water to serve him." I thought to myself that the man hardly looked equal to the character thus given bim by the doctor, but I had learned to distrust first impressions, and I said nothing. "Have you never heard of Mr. Fosdyke beforer' whispered Branksome in my ear. "I am surprised. He is one of the very Severest attorneys in London. You would soon hear all about him if you were to inquire at Bow street or the Old Bailey." Fosdyki must have heard bis name when Branksome whispered it to me. At all jvents I caught the glitter of his pince-nez is his eyes were turned upon me, and once more I felt that I was being subjected to a scrutiny of unpleasant severity. How I longed, as the well-drilled stewards passed round dish after dish and replenished jur gla-ses with the champagno or claret which was provided in such profusion, for the peace of the da3*s that were cone, when piy dar ing was not set in this frame of almost regal .-plendor, but when I was al- | lowed to sit beside her with no jealous eye to j keep watch between us, and no voice to con- j tend with miue for the possession of her earl Oucc or twice I caught a look in her face that seemed to tell mo that some thought not j unlike this was passing through her own ! mind; but if ever lier spirit seemed to be ' flagging, nnd the color begin to fade from her face, some sally front Branksome, the brilliancy of whoso conversation was in keeping with ho agreeable suavity of his manner, toused her attention and made her smile again. I strove as we walked up from the shore in the late afternoon, after landing from the yacht, to secure a chance of speaking to her apart lrom the r^st. But no such opportunity ofTered it<elf. She was monopolized by Fosdyke. nnd I had to content myself with the less seductive pleasures of Branksome's j conversation. CHAPTER V. I Mr.ET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. Branksome's conversation was not without < its interest for me, vastly though I should ! have preferrel to listen to the voice of Daisy. The doctor had, I fancied, some i suspicion cf the state of my feelings regarding the beautiful gir' who had been so long a resident in his h use. Whether he regarded mo with approval as a possible suitor for h; r I could not toll. My instinct, indeed, tol I m? that he could hardly look upon a comparatively poor man like myself j as beino n fitting husband for tho heiress of j the millir naire But ho allowed no sign of j such a feeling to make itself manifest; and he talked about Daisy to me now, evidently bocause he felt that no other theme would interest mo so deeply. What he had to say I was indeed matter of interest to me. He j told me that Miss Stancliffe was tho : daughter of Mauleverer's sister, who had j married when very young. This I had j known before. What I had not known was that there had been trouble in Mauleverer's ; family in consequence of the marriage. "Mauleverer is a very proud man, though he does not wear his pride on his sleeve. Daisy's father was?well, he has been dead now for more than sixteen years, so why ! should I rake up scandal against him? Poor , crlrlt Shu loaf; Via,- mother within a few I months of the death of her father. I had at- j tended the mother in her last illness. I and i my wife took pity of the child and adopted j her, having no children of our own." "But why did Mauleverer himself not ' adopt her at that time?" I asked. He eyed me keenly for a moment before | answering. "Mauleverer did not know of j her existence at that time," he said. "Daisy's J mother made me promise on her death bed i that I would never reveal the secret of the i child's parentage to her brother." "But you broke your promise in the end?" "I did. Was I not right to do so? It is not an easy thing for a man of honor to prove unfaithful to such a trust as that. But I had to think of my duty to the living *3 .veil as to the dead. Think of my situation, my good young friend, and then say whether you condemn ma There was Mauleverer, a lonely man. whoso life was j without any joys, though his wealth was almost fabulous. Anl here was Daisy? i growing up to be what you see her now, but . in a poor man's house, with no prospect of | ever being anything more than a poor man's wife"?I winced as he uttered these words?"in an Australian town. Did I not do well to think of the living before the dead?" "Yes; if you ask me that question, I can only answer with an emphatic afflrmativa" "Mauleverer has found a now joy in life, in the society of his nieca He is completely wrapped up in her?as you may perceive." "And are you still engaged In practice as a medical man?" I asked. "No; I have dropped medicina I lost my wife some years ago. It was nearly as great a loss to Daisy as to ma Since then I have been Mauleverer's agent. He is the most generous of men." "No. I have dropped medicine "And the other gentlemen?have they any j business connection with him?" I felt that I was trespassing upon Branksomo's good nature in subjecting him to these interrogatories. But he had shown < himself so kindly and frank, and the subject ! was one of such intense interest to me, that j I could not resist the temptation to inquire j further regarding the exact relationship of [ Daisy's unc e with the men who had so sud- j denly appeared upon the scene. "Fosdyke, as I told you, is the great Lon- i don solicitor. He is our?that is Mauleverer's?legal adviser. As for Fiinter?well, | I said he was a rougli diamond, did I not? j He has been for years employed upo i Mr. j Mauleverer's largest sheep run, though I believe that originally he followei the sea." But we had reached the hall of the hotel by this time, and it was evident that I was about to be parted from the little company in which I was so deeply interested. Daisy held out her hand when sho said : good-by to me; but I could not detect any ' returning pressure when T grasped it warmly. She looked very bc:iutif?.l an l sweet and | sad. She went to he:- loom, leaving ine : wholly unsatisfie I. And for the next two or three days I continued in the same mood. I saw Daisy | daily, but nover alone. Her mo-it frequeut j companion was the doctor, who was always | the same?bright, genial, full of witty and | good natured ta k, but rather overpowering ! in the sense of authority with which he ! seemed to speak, and the completeness with which he appeared to have subjugated i Daisy's will to his own. Then one day I j heard from the lips of Branksome that the i whole party were leaving Scarborough on j the following morning. Their destination was the old Yorkshire house which had been | purchased by Mr. Mauleverer as a home for j himself and Daisy. When I heard this piece of news, I looked eagerly at the girl to see how she regarded it There was pain enough in my own face, I know, for in such a matter 1 could not dissemble. With the fierce joy of a lover, I I saw that she, too, was troubled. But she said ' not a word. It was only in her beautiful j eyes that 1 road that which, to some extent, j comforted m\ But the next morning?the last morning of all?the mornin x which was to sea an end 1 ? ? -'- ? ? .1 n.... llirtk T cnant. I iorever ui tuu.su uujjpj iuuu a o^u* with my love at Scarborough, I had the opportunity, for which I hud longed so eagerly, of seeing her apart from tho>e friends of hers, who seemed to have interposed themselves between us with such fatal effect. Brunksome and Plinter ha 1 gous to the yacht, which still lay idiy in the bay, and Fosdyke was transacting some business of his own in the town. Mr. Mauleverer and Daisy came out of the hotel, as the former said, to take a last look at the beautiful place beforo starting for the railway station where the whole party were to meet in less than an hour's time. [TO UK CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.] BST1 How many soever you find or fancy your fault to be, there are only two that are of real consequenceidleness and cruelty; unless you are deliberately kind to every creature, you will obten be cruel to many. UST Enmities are more attractive than friendships. Many persons will go further to gratify a grudge than to reward a merit. miscellaneous fading. j THOMAS WILDEY. The great gathering c f the Sovereign Grand Lodge of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, in Boston, Massachusetts, September 1886, will make the founder and originator (Thomas Wildey) of that order of unusal interest to the reader at the present time. Thomas Wildey was born in London, England, January 15th, 1782 and came to the United States when he was thirty-three years of age. He settled at Baltimore as a coach-spring maker and there instituted, in the year 1819, the first Lodge of Odd Fellows in America. Not much can be said of his personalties although curiosity, which has been busy with him, cannot be said to be in any manner even tolerably gratified. His station in life was so little elevated, and his private life so uneventful as to leave him much in obscurity. He was charac'erized as a true specimen of the English John Bull, with the bluffness, sincerety and pluck of that nation. He was an initiate of Lodge No. 17, of the Odd Fellows Order, in London, and rose from the lowest, to the highest office. On coming to this country he made the acquaintance of John Welch, also an Englishman, and an Odd Fellow, in 1818. The two talked much of old days and times, AX75 1A nArknlti/ln/l kMiKHoK o nn null >? micj LUI1V.1UUCU iu uuuiirni (VUWUV.V. for the meeting; of such Odd Fellows as might be residing in the city. The meeting took place on the 13th of April, 1819, five gentlemen being present, including Thomas Wildey, who informed them of his intention of establishing the society of Odd Fellowship. The Lodge was established and opened on Monday the 26th of April, 1819, under the title of Washington Lodge, No. 1, of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows in the United States. Wildey spent ten years in making addresses and writing letters, many of which are of acknowledged excellence, and was grand sire of the lodge from 1825 to 1833. He died at Baltimore, October 19th, 1861. The enterprise thus started, prospered slowly but surely, and to-day the order ranks among the greatest in the country. mn HOW TO ENJOY LIFE. Buoyant spirits and happy thoughts are natural to the young, but youth does not always last. In our early years we must form those habits which will enable us to enjoy to the full extent all the years that God gives us. To that end let me give you a few simple rules. 1. Always be full of some earnest pursuit. I think even Sisyphus must have been happier, perpetually rolling the same stone up the same bill, than he could have been age after age with nothing to do. "Activity devoted to useful ends" is a good definition of happiness. Babies and kittens are happy without an aim in life, but theirs is a kind and degree of enjoyment which cannot possibly content strong and growing minds. 2. If possible, never be behind in your work. Perhaps you have heard the old story of the sick boy, whose physician declared that he had every symptom of overwork. "Impossible," said his mother. kk */\ /In n/\fl?lnr? avponf fn 11U IS 1CIJUUCU lu uu uvniiiug bring in one bucket of water each day." "When does he bring it?" said the doctor. "We try," was the answer, "to have it done in the morning, but he puts it off; and though often reminded of it, he generally neglects it until we are obliged to call him up again after he hasgoneto bed, that he may bring it." "Ah," said the doctor, "that explains it all. Make him bring it early in the morning, and he will get well." Andhedid. The work which we neglect and carry on our consciences wears us more than all that we do. Joseph Cook once wrote in a young girl's album, "Duty done is the soul's fireside." 3. Form the habit of being thankful for your blessings. This is the key to that wonderful gift, contentment. There are many people dressed in silks and sealskin, and shinning with beautiful jewels, who are covered with mortification because they are so illy clad, and full of anger to think that better garments are not theirs; while others, whose scanty clothing is hnriiiv ilpfpnt or comfortable, have nearts lull of gratitude and joy. Besides, thankfulness, which hinds us to other loving hearts, is the sweetes" part of all good we can get lrom our possesions. These three things will do much to make our lives happy. Let me make one other suggestion. Take care that your amusements are really recreation. They must not be the business of life. When amusement becomes our chief pursuit, it soon palls on the taste. And when the power of enjoyment is lost in this way it is hard to recover. The power of recreation, likethatof digestion, once impaired, can only he recovered with great difficulty and by long abstinence. Neither should amusement he a passion with us. Play rests us. Passion is like a fire which burns that on which it feeds, and ever calls for more. Beware of the games whose interest is stimulated by bets, or by those convenient apologies for bets, prizes. Beware of the amusements which lead to late hours and mornings heavy with languor and depression. Some public amusements can never be healthy, because their promoters are compelled to make them popular by every varying methods of passionate excitement. Work is the business of life, and play, which diverts us from heavier cares and helps us to lellowship with kindred spirits, should not unfit us for it. Withal, do not forget the highest aim tor work, usefulness; and the best of all recreation, prayer.?The Congregational ist. ? ? Character Building.?One reason why so few persons build a character which shows itself at a height above the ordinary plane of common living is, that only a few are willing to give tne necessary time to working on the foundations which are below surface level. A fine superstructure presupposes a good substructure. The superstructure cannot be- i gin to build until the sub-structure is completed. It takes a long time of preparation to make a good mechanic, a good business man, a good professional man, a 11 good artist. When a man is a good work- i er in his line, anybody can see it. But while he is preparing for his good work, he and his methods are likely to be out of ( sight from the public. It requires patience, courage, faith, in order to wait well as a preliminary to working well. But without these requisite characteristics, no man can expect the results of their employing. A common trouble with men ,: is that they will not take time for the preparing of themselves for efficient service in their chosen sphere of labor. They want to secure at once those results which < 3an only follow long preliminary toil. It 3eems to them that time is wasted in doing nothing except in a work of preparation. Yet no time is ever better spent than in preparing to do one's work at fine's best. "If the iron be blunt, and one do not wait to whet the edge, then must lie put the nore strength: but wisdom is profitable to direct,"?and wisdom says, You'll save your strength by sharpening your axe. When Jesus came into this world with a special work, he took thirty years of quiet preparation for his three years of public ministry. It is safe to say that it commonly takes about ten times as long to prepare for a good work as it does for its doing. None of us ought to expect a shorter time of preparation, relatively, than we demanded of Him who is our perfect pattern.??$'. S. Times. <??- - ? r*-.? ^- n . a.: L J ~ iiecuunitiun of favuks. vjmil lulic is a grace by far too rarely found. The 3tory of the lepers in a book which reveals not only more of the divine nature, but more of human nature, than any other, represents the usual sad disproportion of gratitude in the world. The lepers were peculiar in the misfortune of leprosy, but not peculiar in the misfortune of ingratitude. Every feeling grows by expression ; hence we should strive to increase our appreciation of favors by every possible acknowledgment of them. Yet a great many favors are habitually accepted by us as a matter of course, and if not entirely unacknowledged, are very carelessly and indifferently received. A domestic said once, in speaking of a deceased mistress with respect to affection, "It was a pleasure to do anything for her, for whatever it was, great or small, she always had a bright smile and a hearty 'Thank you.'" "Why do you suppose Madam B. has so many friends?" asked a young girl about an aged lady who received a great many visits and tokens of remembrance. "Everybody seems to like her." "I can give you one reason," answered her aunt; "she is always grateful for every kindness, and shows that she appreciates even the slightest favor?a flower, the loan of a book, whatever it may be?by a prompt and heartfelt recognition of any attention, any personal thoughtfulness on the part of others." Not Long.?How long will we be missed when we are gone. Not long. The best and most useful of us will soon be forgot-* ten. Those who to-day are filling a large place in the world's regards will pass away from the remembrance of man in a few months, or, at the furthest, in a few years after the grave is covered over the remains. We are shedding tears above a new made grave and wildly crying out in our grief that the loss is irreparable; yet in a short time the tendrils of love have entwined around other supports and we no longer miss the one who is gone. So passes the world. But there are those to whom a loss is beyond repair. There are men from whose memories no woman's smile can chase the recollections of the sweet face that has given up all its beauty at death's icy touch. There are women whose plighted laith extends beyond the grave and drives away as profane those who would entice them from a worship of their buried love. Such loyalty, however, is hidden away from the public gaze. The world sweeps on beside and around thetn, and cares not to look upon unobtr'uding grief. It curves a line and rears a stone over the dead, and hastens away to offer homage to the living. Look it Up.?It will not hurt you, boys and girls, to learn a little accurate geography, by looking up these places before going on with the story; and if I were your school-master, instead of your story-teller, I would stop here to advise you always to look on the map for every town, river, lake, mountain, or other geographical thing mentioned in any book or paper you read. I would advise you, too, if I were a school-master, to ada up the figures given in books and newspapers to see if the writers have made any nn/1 it ia a (?n l tllon tflrt tfk uusiaivcs f auu n u jo <v ?,w| .v go at once to the dictionary when you meet a word you do not quite comprehend, or the encyclopedia or history, or whatever else is handy when you read about anything, and would like to know more about it .?Edward Eggleston. Some of the soundest advice which has yet been given young people this year is in the address by M. Ilenanrat, Paris. It is worth the consideration of both young and old. He says, among other words : "Joy and works are two healthy things. Work, then, work iucessantly, but amuse yourselves, too. Do not fatigue yourselves. Rest yourself from one kind of work by another. Have various subjects to study. An old Rabbi of the first century said : One can pour several measures of oil into a barrel full of nuts." How true that is! Aspire to know everything, the limits will come later on. Be always thoroughly good and respectable young men ; if you are not, you cannot work well, or even am use yourselves well. One must lead a good life to poasess gayety of mind." Friends.?Never cast aside your friends if by any possibility you can retain them. We are the weakest of spendthrifts if we let one drop off through inattention or let one push away another, or if we hold aloof from one through petty jealousy, or heedless slight or roughness. Would you throw away a dian. ,ud because it pricked you. One good friend is to be weighed against the jewels of the earth. If there is coolness or unkindness between us let's come face to face and have it out. Quick, before the love crows cold! Life is too short to quarrel in, or to carry black thoughts of friends. It is easy to lose a friend, but a new one will not come for calling, nor make up for the old one. Structure and Color of Hair.?An examination of the structure of hairshows that the difference of color is entirely owing to the tint of the fluid which fills the hollow tube in each hair. The beautiful golden hair owes its brightness to an excess of sulphur and oxygen, with a deficiency of carbon; while black hair owes its jetty aspect to an excess of carbon, and a deficiency of sulphur and oxygen. 9ST If a man would be useful continually, he must have courage and self-respect enough to be inconvenient occasionally. No man can always be at hand without something being in the way. No man can be a skillful mechanic without first being an inquisitive apprentice. A man absolutely and always harmless is likely to be absolutely and always useless. SOT There is no knowledge for which so great a price is paid as a knowledge of the worid; and no one ever became an adept in it except at the expense of a hardened and a wounded heart. HfST As soon as you can, put far from you the delusive hope that anybody?unless it be wife, husband, or child?will ever serve you as well as you would serve yourself. ? " is difficult for one man to give another a piece of his mind without destroying the peace of both their minds. S&" The man who is always watchiug some one else needs twice the amount of watching that the other fellow does. ?! ?? fiST Help somebody worse off than yourself, and you will find that you are better off than you fancied. ? < A man who cannot command his temper should not think of being a man of business.