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Aj *..~ * f~~~~' of sunoy pti i And coufi*e things that we have done And counting nd One self-denying act, One wor, Tat eased the heart Qf him who leard: One glance most kind, Thit felt like sunshine where It went, Then wq may count the day well spent. But if through all the life-long day We've eased no heart by yea or nay; If through it all We've done no thing that we can trace, That brought the sunshine to a face; No act, most small, That helped some soul, and nothing coat, Then count that day as worse than lost. FOR HERSELVe. It was at Lyons, where I had gone to paint a marine view, that I first saw Ro sine. She stood at a cottage window, water ing some roses which grew in pots on the window-sill. She was as fresh as the roses herself, and as sweet. I fell in love. It was not only that she was pretty; she was also well-bred, so lady-like, so much above what must have been her station, were she daughter of' the old woman who sat at work so often on the doorstep-a healthy, comfortable peas. ant-woman; nothing more. I am afraid my pictures did not pro gress as they might. Rosine was fond of poetry and I went nearly every day to the old garden be hind the house. In a little arbor under the trees Ro sine sat and embroiderel while the anuni knitted. I sat near Rosine and read to her. 1 forgot all the world except myself and Rosine, when I was suddenly aroused to a sense of its existence. Returning to my studio one evening ] found my father sitting astride a chaii with his arms upon the back, regarding my marine view,' "You work mc re slowly than usual my boy,"' he said, when we had shaken hands. I replied that the sea was capricious, and that I waited for certain tints which only certain (lays would bring. "Very wise," he replied; "but now, Jack what do you suppose I have come from London for? "Thinki "Ah, you never can! "It is a delightful surprise for you! "I have arranged an alliance for you. GjYou will have for your wife a lovely young creature, not eighteen, beautiful, accomplished, and au heiress; the daughter of my old friend, Oburchill, who adores art, and believes you a genius. "It was his proposal. "Money we have eough of,' he said. "Family we both have. "I want grandsons who will be artists, I should adore a sen-in-law who was genius." "So of course, It is settled." "Without me?" I asked. "Oh, of course you are delighted," cried papa, "She is a beautiful as though she were poor, and as rich as though she wvere plain, this young lady we ofl'er you." What could I say?" I had not at that moment the courage to say "I love the niece of a poor old peasani woman who liv'es in a little cottage," Perhaps it was cowardly; but to avoid explanations for the present, I agreed t< return to London with my father earls the next morning. After supper I stoic down again tooli Mannette's little cottage, and peeping through the windows, saw both womer: together bending over some object, al which they were looking by the light ol the shaded lamp. it was a beautiful picture-the old brown face sot oil by its high white cap, long golden earrings, and bright blue handkerchief; the young one, fair, rosy, soft, and in purest white; Rosine, dressed lhke a Persian. "Come out, Rosine;" I whispered, through the blinds. "I have come to tell you something,' I whispered, as I led her away from th< door. "I am going to London to-morrow. My father will have it so. "He has chosen a wife for me-some rich lady whom I am told to marry for her money. "And I am ordered to show myself to her." * "Then good-bye," saidl Rosme, hold ing out her hand. "We shall not see you at Lyons again." "Rosine," I said you must hear me out. "I am not going to marry this heiress. I hate her!" "Poor heiress! "What has site dlone?" asked Rosine "Nothing," I said. - "Probably she also hates me. "Biut I will not have her; I will marry a girl I love, or none. "Rosine, when I come back will you marry me? "I shall be very poor, for my father will not help me if I disobey him." Rosine looked at me. After a while site put her hands in mine, "If you come back and ask me to,' she answered. "I swear it!" I said. "I plight my faith to you!" Then I kissed her, and we parted. My father and myiself were In the hotel, when suddenly a gentleman stood before us, offering us his hands, It was General Churchill. "Ahl--how are you?'" he cried. * "I have just been to the triln to re just jarought her home from the seaside ~~ "They are taking oc'fee; no time ike the present for Introducfug the young people. We eosedthe haiL At a table wta yrivate apartalentat a young lady dresse4 in exquisite style, and an old lady. apparently a servant, Their backs weretoward Us. Geppra. Churohill approached. "Rosine, mydear."<' bhe said, *)here Is my old friend, Captain Markham, whom you know, and his son, Henry, whomas yet you do not know." Rosine. What a ooincidencel I stood staring at the young lady as she rose, turned and bowed to us." I was incapable of any word or motion for the likeness was astounding. Rosine! Yes? And this old woman was Mannette, in another capi Rosine smiled, and bowed sweetly. I managed to bow, and nmutter some thing. Mannette's black eyes laughed, while her mouth was held close shut. "No, Mr. Henry; "1 never told you that I was Mannette's niece," said RIo sine, a little while after. "She was merely my nurse, and I go ever.v summer to visit her at her cottage. "We knew who you were, and what our parents intended, and it pleased me to be courted, and not sold like so many rich ladies of my acquaintance. "Oh, how shocked Mannette was at my conduct!"* This was aside. The two papas drank their wine to getlaer, and whispered "How soon they have taken to each other!" And Rosino and I are to be married in October. MtoVes .'u WaveR. Several men were ieated in a Detroit drug Atore the other day with their feet on the stove and a cigar in each mouth, when a boy looked in and yelled out: "Bome of you had a horse hitched out here!" "I believe I did,'' quietly replied one of the sitters. "Well, lie's gone." "Did he walk off?" "No; a runaway horse came along and upset the cutter and frihtened hin." "And did lie kick himself clear out of the cutter?" "Yes." "1 supposed he would. How did lie start off?" "On a dead run." "Which way?" 'Up Woodward avenue." "Did he turn in at Montcalm street?" "1 guess he did." "Well. he's propably gone home and will be around there somewhere when I go ip. Rub, you might draw the cutter to some shop and tell 'enm to fix it, and here's a quarter for you." The boy went out to pick up the kind. hugs and invent a way to draw a cutter half a mile on one runner, and the sitter relighted his cigar, got a new brace for his feet, and said: "As i was saying, every sign indicates that this is to be a year of great contla grations. 1t sometimnes seems as if great calamihies moved in waves through the worki." i'uu wit1: Tiue Tuttor. He was the pink of pertectian. If the: cream of human excelleiice was to be churned the butter wouldi lump in the aple of Professor Porteus Pyre, tutor. ice had contracted the bad habit of steal ing up stairs in his stocking feet to see if the lights were out at ten. It is hard teaching old (togs new tricks, but boys sometimes succeed better with okd profes sors. T'omnty Tayre us a cadlaverous youth, with a sulphur colored mustache, but the iron rod enterI d his soul, and lie saId he must (1o what lie couhil. So he bought three paners of carpet tacks one night and stood the innocent lhttle nails on their heads all the way up and down the stairs, and retiredt with lis faithful fol. lowers to the wood closet above to await resulte. Promptly the chapel boll struck ten, then a season of waiting and~ whisper ing followed. Presently came a flurry, creepig soundl like wooden stockings feel ing their wvay over rough boards. 'Toimmuy tuckedi his hat in his mouith-his mouth I runs clear ai'oundl, except a small isthmusj which connects the top of his head with< the nape of tie neck-and held his nose till the first burst of glee had subsided. Now caime a supp~ressedi scream, one foot on the stairs, then another foot down, then a scream that wasn't suppressed, then a howl, ho had struck the second stair; then he sat (town on the next step, but ho got up again, andl a groan with exclamation points after it, caime tearing up the wood closet. Thle boys stood back to give Tommy room to kick; then came a scram' ling and shouting of heavy words, and Tonm promptly appeared and asked in a voice fresh from the valley of n4od, "W hat seems to be the matter?" "Matterl The boys! The demons! Confound it; see here! Help!" anid lie shifted about anid hung~ to the railing, aiid triedl to sland on his knees. Toem brought a light and the boys carried thme wounded man to his room, ofrered sympathy, got a claw hammer and direw out the tacks. TIhe professor wears slip pers and sius on a eushion. Tom sets on nettles, for seventeen bays know the secret,1 and- it Is spreading like smallpox in an in dian camp. A Car ioad Or Blees. Rlecenitly a ear containing a curious] freight was switched on the East Tecnnes see and VirginIa Railroad and moved douthi. It was filled with bee.-hives. One hund red and forty of the latest style of hee hiyes piled systematically on top of each other, and in the foreground a phitosopher with bie bed andi board. "Where are you going to take your bees?" "To Fiorlida for the winter. My name is Thlomas McFarland Jackson. and I live in Northern Missouri, I have large apia ries that are forced to lie idle lb the win ter. I'm goIng to take this carload of hives to Florida where they can make honey every day in the year. As soon as the clover is out again in Northern Mis souri I will take therm back there." "Will it pay you to move them?" "I think so. it costs me less than ar dollar a hive for transportation, and each hive will have from $6 to $7 worth ofa honey in it when I. bring it back, That is what Italian bees I sent to Florida last year did last winter. Only Italhan bees will thrive in Florida, as the moths eat up the common bees." "Will you live in the open air there?" y "i'm going to camp around with my bee.. I believe I will bring back about $1000 worth of honey in hives that would otherwise lie idle all the winter and be empty in the spring." in QiouG KAaG. Iloun stans about sixty miles froia the reat Facio, as the rowlies, a about two hundred Miles tip the. olAbia Rive & it islhArga 1.d. Mount'rood a etterly lone and yet he is_0y a b thor, a .biggr and taller , brother, of a well-raised ramny 9 sbvfe4 snow-pqaks. At any season of the year you can stand on -almost , any little eminence within two hundred miles of Mount Hood and count seven snow-cones, olad in eternal winter, pierlcng' the Dlouds. There is no scene so ulime s this in all the world. The mountains of Europe are only hills in q9mparison,' Although some of them are quite as high as those of Oregon and Washington Territory, yet they lie fai inland, and are so set on the top of other hills that they lose much of their majesty. Those of Ore gon start up .audoen an, solitary, and Mimost out of the sea, as it were. So that while ithey are really not much higher than the mountain peaks of the Alps, they seem to be about twice as high. And being all in the form of pyramids or cones, they are much more imposing and beautiful than those of either Asia or Europe. But that which adds most of all to the beauty and sublimity of the moun tain scenery of Mount Hood and his environs is the marvelous cloud effect that encompass him. In the first place, you must under stand tht all this region here Is one dense black mass of matchless and magnificent forests. From the water's edge up to the snow-line clamber and cling the dark green fir, pine, cedar, tamarack, yew, and juniper. Some of the pines are heavy with great cones a3 long as your arms; some of the yew trees are scarlet with berries; and now and then you see a burly juniper bend iug under a load of blue and bitter fruit. And nearly all of these trees are mantled in garments of moss. This moss trails and swings lazily in the wind, and sometimes drops to the length of a hundred feet. In these great dark forests is a dense undergrowth of vine-maple, hazel, mountain ash, marshe ash, willow, and brier bushes, Tangled in with all this is the rank and ever-present and im perishable fern. Up and through and all over this darkness of forests, dritt and drag and lazily creep the most weird and won derful clouds in this worlt. They move in great caravans. They seem literally to be alive. They rise with the morning sun, like the countless miilliuns of snow-white geese, swans, mud other water-fowl that Irequent the rivers of Oregon, and slowly ascend the mountain sides, dragging them selves through and over the tops of the trees, heading straight for the sea, >r hovering about the mountain peaks, ike mighty white-winged birds, weary f flight, and wantig to rest. 'They are white as snow, these clouds : Oregon, fleecy, 'and rarely, if ever, Itill; constalnoly moving in contrast with the black foreste, these clouds are itrangely iiympathetio to one who wor Ihips nature. Of couran, in the rainy season, which is nearly half the yoar here, those cloud 3t1fects are absenut. At such times the whole land is one vast rain-cloud, dark and dreary anid full of thunder. To see a snow peak in all its sub imity, you must see it above the olouds. It is not necessary that you should climb the peak to do this, but uboeuid soine neighboring aill and have thie wvhite clouds creep up or down the valley, through and over the black for ust, between you and the snowvy sum nit that pieksi the blue hnoma of stars. What color! Movoementli aliraculous ill Extendling the Tiene. Beveral years ago, when Fort Worth vant a wild 'Texais towvn, Dusenbecry was an ~xotic there. lie was civilized and cut ils hair and was despised by the other non. One (lay dlapper little Dusenbery urprised everybndy byv reforming, lie ras in Uallahan's Retreat when there mnterod four of'the most ferooious-looking "Ulnans who bad ever been seen in Fort Worth. They came with clanking spurs mud fierce heards, two revolvers to each nuan anai 'a iarne bowie kmife for lag uappe, and they sat down to a table and salled for whIskey all around. A tremor 'an through the assembly. Fort Worth's )est citizens were for a monment staggered. But Dusonbery never quailed Trne strang ~rs emptleed their glasses, called for iore tudI then, glancing muailgnantly around, hey launched torthi in furious abuse of l'exals anti Trexans, their language being farmishedl with that profusion and orna nentation of profanity peculIar to the tuileless cattle drover of those tImes. As hey ceased Dusenbery marched up to the able at which the stranhbers sat, ills lashing eyes, his heaving breast, his five cot of towering form~ reduced the specta ors to spcechlessut ss. Even the strangers aused andi seemned impressedt. "Gentlemen," said Dusonbery, d Ing nto Is trowsers and bringing up ani ancient nlver watch, "you have wounded the linest feeligs' of my nature In your rc tnarks about Texas, and you must retract hem or-but never mimd. I give you Live minutes to retract. 11ive minutes to lecuro your safe returni to home and friends. ?mve mInutes to avoid a grave upon the onesomo plain. Five minutes I" An uwful silence fell UPON the crowd. The >lood curdled in the vein~ of . every [i'ort Worthian present. What I nad they been treating this fire-eating Terror with icarcoly-veiled contempt? iHad they been absolutely courtIng death for years? But lust theni one of the strangers recovered lie power of speech and said: "Why, stranger, if you feel that way abmout it, of course we'll out, it short. We :lidn't mean it for you 'or any of your riends, but was just talking on .loose ike." And with that they all four got up ind slunk out, their six shooters flopping 'cebly against their hips and their very ipurs looking dtrooperi and weedy as they went. With the closing of the door, )usenbcry's eye reeled in its socket. The ixcitemeont whIch had thus far hold him up gave way and ho collapsed, a flabby ittle heap upon the floor, Thme assembled atizens crowded around him. "Why, Deoozey, my boy, you took us 11l by surpriue. We never thought you eore a fighter." "Oidn't you ?" "No, Why, don't you know those are ocur 01 the worst men in the cattle bush ecss? And we expected every mninute t~o cc them go to shooting. Wore you rmed ?" "Weil,' I had a pistol for show, but I on't, belheve it was loaded, and I couldn't ave fired it, anyhow.". "Ureat heavens, ,man I suppose they ad refused to retract, whlat on earth would ou hiave doae ?" Dusenbery stopped, looked all arotand o see if anyone was pahding, pulled his riend's ear close down to hus lips and rhispered: "1'd have t. .adoa. then tane." pe a Morocco. ll o Justice Was sitting, ani I hdfro portunities of'observ lng it id . The procedure, t< any one -m the Od Bailey, ap paSaift g, The Bashaw re =lineson a or able couch listeninf to the wit ,.who give their evi. dence with t energy and volubility, Sometimes 1A the middle of it all thi Prisoner will &ump up and exclaim tha Fie can get a *iness on his behalf.' H( will then run out of court, unattended by guard or policeman. and present3 return with his man, No one expressei any surprise at this performance anc it never seeni to enter their head thai he should avail himself of the oppor. tunity to escape. The usual punish. ments, besides flue and Imprisonmnt, mutilation, by cutting off a hand o foot-the stump being plunged in boil. ing pitch to stop the bleeding-basti nadoing, and putting lout the eyes. There used to be a blind beggar con. stantly demanding backeheesh at on( of the gates, who had been a noted robber in. his day, but failing at lasi into the hands of his pursuers had suf fered this horrible penalty. Ther< were at least two murders during m3 stay at Tangier-both perpetrated it the most open manner, though it neither case mas any adequate penalty (if any penalty at .all) inflicted. - The first was from motives of jealousy, anc the murderer stabbed his victim in the middle of the town-tue body lying out in the street till a guide from the hotel stumbled over it on his way home al night. The second was committed b) a Riflan, to wipe out a blood-feud tha existed in his family. A relation of his had been killed by a man, and froin that time the solemn duty devoloped upon him of avenging his death. The act may have been committed a genera. tion back; but in that case the mothei would daily charge the child upon hei knee with the task he had to perform and when he was grown up, never lei him rest till vengehnce was exacted, The man has little hopes of escape. No Iish agent or Landlord under the bane of "Oaptain Moonlight" could bc so certain of his doom; and in Barbar he cannot even avail himself of the doubtful protection of the Police. Ia this case the murderer coolly shot his victim dead as he was sitting in the 8oko, and then brandishing his knife al all who attempted to arrest him, goi elear off into the country. A friend o mine once heard the Bashaw inflict e fine of 18d. on is Moor for the pecu. harly cold-blooded murder of a Jew that impartial functionary observing that the sentence would have been v heavier one, but that it was necessary that Jews should be discouraged. Variations of Oninte. Dr. Oroll atti ibutes the great fluctua tious of terrestrial climate, as displayed by the former extension of glaciers on one hand, and the existence of coal seams and corals in the new ice-bound sqhore of Greenland on the other, to variations in the earth's orbit, and calculates the periods of these cycles, extending respectfully over 170,000, 260,000, and 160,000 years. I am una ble either to confirm or refute these calculations which may or may not be correct, but quite outside, or rather within, these there have been curious fluctuations of terrestrial climate hith erto unexplained. The name "Gron hran:d," which we literally translate "Greenland," is itself a record of this. It was given to that country when colo nized by the Scandinavians, above one thousand years ago. It was then fairly described by its name, and the re mains of human settemente discovered by our arctic explorers in regions now uninhabitable confirm the old Norse sagas, which describe these colonies. When Ingolf, with his retainers and followers, settled in Iceland, A. D. 874, that island must have enjoyed a differ ent climate from that which it now endures or it could not have become so popular a colony as to alarm King Harold, the Fair-haired, so greatly a to induce him to check the emigration by imposing a fine of four ounces of silver on all intending emigrants. The growth of its population until it be camne in the uleventhi and twelfth centu rios the focus of European poetic literature, when its great poet, Snorro S~turieson, attended the meetings of the Thingvalla, or island Parliament, "with a I plendid retmnue of 800 avmed men;" when houses and ships were built with native timber, of which remains are now to be found, all indicate a curious change of climate. I could quote many other evidences of this if space per muitted. Mooriak Meals. A Moortshr breakfast consits of cas-cuis su a cake of baked granules, deftly made of flour, which eats crisp and sweet-milk, butter, omelets, pigeous cooked in oil, sweet potatoes, forcerneat, and sweet tarts of honey, butter and eggs. Tlea, which is quite a "course'' meal, is taken eross leggedi on soft, carpets spread on tbe floor around~ a handsome and costly tray with dwarf feet raisinst it a few inches from the floor, turnished with drinking glasses is place of china cups. The formidable meal, which is served by an upper man servant, excites the European visitor's wonder and dismay. First the teapot-cr kettie, if named after its shape -is filled with green tea, sugar, and water in such propot tions as to make a tt~ick sweet syrup, which is drunk without milk or cream. Tlhen follows an infusion of tea and spearmint ; yet another of tea and wormwood ; yet another of tea and lemon verbena ; aiid yet another of tea and cit ronb On good occasions a sixth is added of tea and ambergris. Nothing is eaten. The "weed'' usually follows, but the Moor, though a smoker, is not an "inveterate.' Dinner consists of various dishes of mut.. ton, nieh and fowl, inigemously and ar tistically served in mixtures of pomades4 soups, spices, and cosmetics; so, at least, Englishmen declare who have had in courtesy to swallow the preparations. limves, forks and spoons are dispensed with, perhaps despised. Around a cenj tral dish gathers the company, as usua. oross-leggeci on the floor. At "In the name of God,'' which is the brief grace pronounced by the master of the house, the slave removes the cover from the bowl; lifted hands are thrust into the smoking dish, and morsels of its contents, deftly rolled into the nmputh with a neatness and precision truly wonderful. Eract portions are picked from fowl, and fish, and mut ton-chop bone without delay or effort, Sharp nails are said to act as 'knives. After the course water and napkins are brought around. The wash over, another dish and another plunging of the paws in to .tIb savory. mess. .incense ia often burned during the dhnner, which fills the apartment with dlelicate aroma, 'When' a meal is neorved )as the open Court the ladies of the house are permaitted tb gaze on their lord, from ther op1en balcony which usually surrondsl it' I A A BoYal 'inampIon. Into the field of the "Oloth of (old' one bright afternoon thronged the ."venan" or "comers,"t to runli 0 ilt with the "tenans" or "holders." Bid ing down the field to the "tree of nobil* ity,'' each knight rang his lanoq upon the black-and -gray shield, thus signify ing his readiness to joust with the i challengers. One English knight, more aspirig than the ress.-Bir Richard Jerningham, knight of: the King's chamber,-reaching to the top of the "perron," struck with his lance's tip the white-and-silver shield of the King of France. Then "holders" and "comers" rode the one general course of lance to lance, and, this shock over, they fell back while the single champions rode before the barriers. "For whom fight you, Sir Richard Jerningham, good knight and true?" demanded Mont St. Michel, the herald of France. "For the hondr of God, the glory of England, and the love of the little lady, Mistress Annie Boleyn-our rose of England blooming at the court of France," and the gallant Sir Richard bent to his saddle-bow in salute to the fair young maiden whom ha thus chain pioned. . "And for whom fight you, Francis, King of France?" demanded the English herald, garter king-at-arms. And the king. knight, not to be outdone in courtesy to the bright young girlhood of England, glanced toward Queen Katherine's gallery, and made instant answer: "For the honor of God, the glory of France, and the love of the sweet little Mistress Margery Carew-the tenderest blossom in the train of our sister of England." Margery's beaming face, which had been stretched eagerly forward in the excitement of seeing and listening, flushed furiously as she drew back m sudden confusion, while the "Oh " of e surprisbroke from her parted lips. Then shd looked quiokly to the lists again, as the shouts of the heralds: "St. George for Englantil" "St. Denis for France!" rang out and the trumpets sounded the charge. With visors closed and lances fully couched the kmghts spurred across the fiel ., but, just as they approached the shock, Sir Richard's horse stumbled slightly and threw his rider's lance out of aim. With knightly courtogy King Francis broke his own couch, raised his lance upright, and then, with friendly salutations, both knights passed each other without closing. Turning in the course once more, they galloped across the lists. and with equal speed and with steady aim, "full tilt" they spurred to the shock. Tang, tang! the lances struck an-1 splintered fairly. Sir Rich ard's stroke met the guard of King Francis's silver shield, while the lance of the King rang full against Sir Rich ard's pass-guard or shoulder-front. But, though Sir Richard struck "like a sturdy and skillful cavalier," the shock of his antagonist was even more effectiye. For, as the record states, "the French |King on his part ran valiantly." Sir Richard's horse fell back with the shock, his rider reeled in the saddle, and, so says the chronicle, "Jerninghamn was nearly runhorsed." The broken lance shafts were dropped from the hands of the knights, and the heralds declared .Francis, King of France, victor in the -tilt. An hour later, Sir' Richard came to Queen Katherine's gallery, King Franais accompanying him. Then, in accor dance with the rules of the tourney, Sir Richard, as the knight "who was worst ed in the combat," with due courtesy and a deep salute, presented to the blushing Margery a beautiful chain of gold, large and glittering, as "the token to the lady in whose service the victor fights," and King Francis, smiling, said: "And I, too, must claim my guerdon. The fair Margery shall be our guest at Arde to-night. Ilouseueening And Clooking. The science of housekeeping deserves to be classed among the fine arts. It deserves to be made so much a study that processes and methods are lost and only the effect remains. We all remem ber Mrs. Stowe's blustering housekeeper who saw good reason why every one around her should be up and doing; on Monday, because It was wash-day: on Tuesday, because it was Ironing-day; on Wednesday, because it was baking-day; on Thursday, because it was sweeping day, and on F~riday, because to-morrowI would be Saturday, and the same au thor's notable contrast In Katy Scudder, mn whose home no one ever hurried, and, where the work was always "done up." You consult only the dial plate of your clock, but everything depeiids on the sets of wheels out of sight. So in the model home, A spectator would say the house kept itself, everything seems so easy. .L~ut In housewifery, as in ltera ture, results that appear simple are often produced at the greatest expenditure of thought. Macaulay's closing sentence on Byron issaiddto haye cost him two days' work; and a tyro, deceived by the smooth diction and appropriateness of expreson of sentiment, would think he could do quite as well himself. Nothing but faithful thought and care keep the dining-room appointments from coming~ to shame, from the linen to the walls; nothing else keeps grease out of the soup and lead out of the bread; nothing else gives peace day and night from insect pests or keeps the dustt of ages from windows floors and shelves-; nothing else fills the rooms with sweet air, tidy apparel, thrift and comfort, and imparts the general atmosphere of aj place where you would like to stay. Itisa not to much to say that good hdusekeep ing Is a compound .of chemistry, oulti. yated taste, natural, mental and moral philosophy, economy, and that most uncommon article, common sense, c A r.Anon low! will make more meat I than a small one, but requires a longer ne- ( riod In which to mature. Early maturfug t liens are of more Importance than slize orb weig~ht of carcase.,l , .1 " Do you neanit~ iatlioe?" hia father's . .s4086 spok1, o ttep worda--4991cedfairly ed 'gJIy An- , awe of the keen eyed Old ,an -wlyq petted idol he had been simoo te ray of his babyhood--those dreary, desolate ays when the 'black pall of his ygung wife's death had fallen over the lite of him who was now looking at his only child so sternly. Aristides Mahafy's son-his bright eyed boy-had said that he was about to marry Ethelberta O'Rouke, a girl whom the old man knew only as a fash Lonable belle, and in a moment of pas sionate anger he had told the boy that If his determination was persisted in, lisinheritance should follow, It was this threat that had caused Vivian to utter the words with whlh our story begins, "Yes, I mean it," replied the father, "Marry this girl If you choose, but if you do, not a penny of mine shall you have"-and leaving the bitterly Druel words floating around the room Eke stalked savagely from his apart. ment. Two hours have passed. So have seyen or eight horse cars, but the one Ior which Vivian is waiting fiually comes dlong, and lands him at the door of Pericles 0' Rouke's house. Ethelberta is sitting in her boudoir sewing some foamy laceo into the neck of a velvet dress as the young man entered. "I have bad news for you darling." Vivian says in sad tones, while a don't. blufl-or-you-will-be-called look comes over her face. Bertie nestled her little dimpled hands confliently ,in his. "Tell it to me at once, sweet," she said-only with you alive and well, nothing could be so very dreadful." Vivian looked at her with a wonderful gravh tenderness In his blue eyes. "My father and I have quarreled, and he has disinherited me. I have"-and here his voice quivered slightly- "been given the g. b. on your account. I am a beggar, Bertie." Her soft dusky eyes grew wilder and more serious. "Yes continued Vivian "I am poor. But I wouldn't care if it wasn't for you, darling. It means that I must give you up, for I cannot ask you to share life with me on a thousand a year." She looked at him with a rich crimson flush surging into her cheeks. If it had been a full, Vivian would have gone under, but a flush could never scare him. "Vivian," she said passionately, "do you think I will let you give me up? I love you too well for that. A beggar )r prince you are the same to me-my ing, my lover." And he folded her to his heart with i great, almost speechless tenderness md joy. "My darling my precious," lie whis pered. Three months later on, a golden De sember afternoon, with a blue sky as nu June, there was a grand wedding at he 0' Rouke mansion. As Vivian and [ithelberta were entering the carriage ~hat was to bear them to the depot, she ooked at him with a weirdly precious mile.. "And so you would not desert me, larling," he saId," even when you knew hat I was poor. "No, my precilous one," was the reply "I learned long ago that a sucker nce off the hook will never bite again, md your father and I put up this job so is to land -you a little quicker." Artist.,' Modei an New York. Among the Academy models some tune lance, was the son o1 a banker In Wall itreet, New York, who had failed during m financIal crisis. Later, the young model >btained a position In a down-town bank, aut such was his pride in his physique and blis interest in art that he continued to pose in the evening classes. Another model, valued for his fine muscular development, was a blacksmith by trade. Another was i house-painter, who during the winter months, when all of his trade are thrown raut of employment, supported himself in this fashion. fBtill another, also noted for his fine development, was a German ath lete. Onre model, well known in his day it tbe Acadlemy, was a half-breed Indian employed as coachman in a wealthy famnily. In his leisure hours he posed at the Academy, and became a piopniar model, but one day his employer discov ired his arlistic bias, and forced bim to tiesist. Hie has siuce returned to the equine sphere he adorned, and resides in in inland city, Another temnporary mo tie was the son of a prominent artist min mother city. &2any studies of Arabs ex meuted in New York during the past few rears bave had for their model a negro at Miched to the Academy, whose head and Igure effered a perfect type of th'at race.1 &L prosperous manufacturer of picture rrames in an interior town, having failed n busines, became a model in New York, Sfew artists In New -York have their mo els acting also as domestics or studio-re ainers. This Is a foreign custom import. d b~y artists who have received their chlooling abroad. Under these circum-. tances a sort of comradeship arIses be-. ween the artist and his faithful model, I vhich has its pathetic as well as its gro-e esque side, since the remunerative of the nodel Is apt to depend upon the successes >r failures of tbe artist. There is a colo iy of young artists in New York which 1 >Ossesses a retainer knowk to the world as I 'tBammy"-a youth of muscular type,with I blonde mustache and hair, and a fresh c omplexion. H1 s face and figure fit him or all spheres of model life. One day, he t ioss as a stalwart fisherman, in a pea. acket, a disreputable hat, and high sea- a outs. Another week, ia a dress-suit a orrowed for the occasion, he figures as a I al-roomi gallant, with one arm encircling f he waist of a bald-pated lay-fsture, ar- 3 ayed in silken robes. lhke vise borrowed, nto whose glass eyes he gazes with an a 'Ipression of the deepest tonderness, Hie t mas even appeared as a bold horseman j eated astride a wooden chair, which was r1 laced on a table,' tightly clutching two >tdcey of clothes-line for reins, Vith his t: ody inclined at the angle necessary to la mply a furious galloping on the part of s ils fiery steed, and his. coat-tails spread lut and fastened to the wall behind to ft Ilustrate the action, of -tne wind. In ad- o lition to his accomephalhments as a inodel, o is young maa does everythmng an artist's o enchman can be erpected to do in the c ne of gentneairiaofulg. , 'ik~ s 4 "A TuVO UI.44)iohtai There is a little hamlet in the souith Orn part of Nelson Qounty X A' a' Wlo4 I Trappiet naon~s.4 EtcP il, the monastery refeAbles 1an othef l dt. wiien the doots' are noe phieded tie '#iaI o feels as if hthad stepped baek Into tlie middle ,ages . The visitor Is courto. ously recelyed and given .a cot in A cell. At niiduight he Is awaknied by the bell which calls the mduk. to the midniolt mass. De nponks ontinue attheir de - votionis ab9ut six artd a half hours, and then they march an shen$.proceepipn to the chapter. room. Here they 'iee4t every morpinig, andlhere pupishiout ti meted out for all offences against the rules. The abbot'schair N ai ele0.64 throne, and in walking to his seat thjat* abbot pauses ovor his own grave. TI'he, culprit who awaits j idgmient also stands on this terrible spot. For punishineat some are deprived of their weals for a day; others are' ordered to prostrate themsAlves on the floor, while the monks walk over them. When a deoision is given the delinquent never murmurs, but immediately sets abont its fullfil mont, -By an ancient rule of the ordor all Trappist monasteries are built in the' form of a quadrahgle, enclosing a square court. All around this court extenes the cloister, used by the monki as a prome nade. Here the inmates never speak, not even to visitors, nor do they in the refectory, dormitory or churches. . In the graveyard back:of the church is the tomb of Mrs. Nancy Miles, and by het side the remains of Mrs. Mary iBradford, only sister of Jefferson Davis. Each monk's 'grave is marked by a black cross on which, in white loiters, is painted his monastery name. At the foot of each grave is a stool whieh the moilks use in praying for the souls oi the departed. The dead are not en. olosed in coffins, but are simply wrapped in their gowns and buried. When a death occurs, a fresh grave is iminedi ately opened for the next one who passes away. In the dormitory each monk has a cell with walls of heavy fire-brick, containing an iron cot. The monk al ways sleeps with his clothes on. The regular time for rising is never later than two 3'clock, but on feast days it is two hours sooner. In these cells, every Friday night, the monks scourge them. selveb with a knotted whip of many lashes, in remembrance of the scourging of the Saviour. Except by a physician't. prescription, a monk never tastes meat of any kind, fish, eggs, butter or lard. Their diet is exclusively vegetable. No stimulants, not even tea or coffee or to bacco, are used in any form. In the dining-room each monk is provided with a tin plate and a woo.len fork and spoon. From Sept. 14 to Ash Wednesday only one meal a (lay 1s allowed. From Easter Sunday until Sept. 14 they eat two meals daily-'ine at slevent anct the other at six o'clock. For seven years those who wish to enter are on trial, 'and all the hardships are put upon them. They can go away any day during this period if they desire, but when the time of probation is over they take a final vowv and are irrevocably sunde red from the world. There are about sixty monha in this monastery. Only two Americans belong to the order-one frot Solma, Ala., and the other from Philadelphia. A remarkable ruld of the order is that which precludes all females from enter bho abbey, save only the wife of the ruler of the nation. The Gethseemtie Abbey owns 1800 acres of land, haif of :>f which is mn a state of high cuitiva lion. And he was Grad of it. Almost every night of' has life for the Last twenty-three years a Detruoiter has been aroused from his slumbera, by a poke' in the ribs and a voice whispering: "J't111 John I do you hear that ?" On such occasions the conversation hs tlways run in one channel, and about, as follows: "W hazz want ?" "D in't you hear that noise ? "histen I I tell you s >me one as raising t, window," "Oh, bosh!" "For Heaven's sake, John get up, or we'll be murder ed in our bieds! 1 hear some >ne moving arouu'i in the dllina roomil" "Let 'em move!"e "There it is again! if y'ou don't got up 1will, for I'm all im a chill !" There was no peace until John got up md stumbled around the house with a ruety old revolver in his grip, lie never nxpe.cted it was anything m->are than the wind or the frost or the ca', but almost avery night brought a repetItion. The other night ushered in an entilre bhadge of programmei. J ust before mid aight the wife elbowed his spine and whispered:. "Mercy on me ! but I feel a draught of moid air I" ".Nonsoee!" growled the sleepy hug. *nd. "And I hear some one walking aroundi?" "It's the c at! *" "Get out of bed this minute, or l'Ji yell nuirder and arouse the neighbborhojd! " John obeyed. lHe Cdet the cold air on us legs as be trampled through the uipper mall, and when lie was half way down tairs a dark ligure skipped out of the pen front door. W~en he reached the breshold he saw a man runnknhr across thme treet, and ho called out: "Hollow! thesre-holdl on. The man halted. '"Come back here, you burglar? Comne asok and 1'll give you the run of the Louse! I've been waiting for and expieea ng you for over twenty yearn, and now I Ion't want to be shook In this manner!" "You go to South Americat" shoutedl be man. "Well, I'll leave the door open for you ,nd you can enter and burglar -around for whole hour If you want to and I won't ift a finger, I'm glad you got m-i-pawer ul glad, and sorry I drove you out before 'ou had loaded up." He loft the door open and walked up lairs anid jumped into bed, but his wife lirow up a window and whistled for theO ol4ce and raised such a racicet that time eighbors were aroused. It was mound that the tbbiler had opened .4 lie front door with afale key, but hadl een driven away .before he had time t > icure auy luunder. "l'veJ akot tifd' f poltnga roun d >r burglare tehemd Were' are'n uburglars, KOelied th~ man as' he wave'd the crotv( mit, of .the hll,."anid gt .this cebap had ely stopped long enough to fire at' me a )uple o? times, hanged If e wouldn't have ought im a nsew overooat I"