INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.. CHAPTER XV. _ ISO HEN Miss Hettaer /__ «avjafe>itiwn ington left the (C=^A\il>AW/f frenchman’s rooms v vla&vW/rtWiH that afternoon, she tottered like one enfeebled by the sudden oncoming of age. Monsieur Caussldlere was be side her; it was his hand which placed her in her carriage, his head which bowed politely as the carriage moved away. But the lady seemed neither to see nor hear. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes were fixed; she entered the carriage mechanically, and mechanically lay back among the moth-eaten cushions; but she never came to herself until the -carriage stopped before the door of An nandale Castle. - The approaching carriage wheels had been heard by the inmates of the Cas tle, so that when the vehicle stopped there stood Sandie Sloane ready to as sist his mistress to alight. With her us ual erect carriage and firm tread, Miss Hetherington stepped from the vehicle, and walked up the stone steps to the -Castle door, saying, as she passed the old serving man: “Sandie Sloane, come ben wl’ me!” She walked on, Sandie following. They walked into the great dining room, and the door closed upon the two. What passed at that interview no one knew; but half an hour later Sandie came forth, returned to the kitchen, and sat there crying like a heart broken ■child. “Mysie,” said he to the housekeeper, “Mysie, woman, I’m turned awa’—oot on the world. God help me! The mistress has shown me the door of An nandale Castle.” It was not till two days later that Mr. Lorraine, happening to call at the Castle, heard that Miss Hetherington could not see him, for she had taken to her bed and was seriously ill. He heard also from Mysie, who seemed scared .and wild, that her mistress had never been herself since that night when San die Sloane had been driven from his situation. The clergyman, more shocked and mystified, asked to be al lowed to see the lady, but Mysie re fused to, permit him to place his foot J Inside- the door. After a little persua sion, however, she consented to allow him to remain on the threshold while she arent'and inforifted her mistress of call. In a short time the woman returned, and Mr. Lorraine was at once admitted to the bedside of the mistress of the uu uov. Mr. Lorraine.began forthwith to ex press his regrets at the lady’s illness, but he was at once stopped. “ ’Twasna’ o’ myself I wanted to \s speak,” she said in her hard, cold tones; “ ’twas o’ something tha't concerns you far more—where Is Marjorie?” . “Marjorie is at the manse,” returned the clergyman, dreading what the next question might be. . “At the mansef and wherefore is she no at school? She should have gone back ere this.” “Yes; she should have gone, but the lassie was not herself, so I kept her with me. She is troubled in her mind at what you said about the French les sons, Miss Hetherlngton, and she is afraid she has annoyed you.’’ “And she would be sorry?" “How could she fail to be? You hae been her best friend.” There was a great pause, which was broken by Miss Hetherlngton. “Mr. Lorraine,” said she, “I’ve aye tried to give you good advice about Marjorie. I kenned weel that twa sil ly men like yersel’ and that fool Solo mon Mucklebackit wanted a woman’s sharp wit3 and keen eyes to help them ■train the lassie. I’ve watched her close and I see what maybe ye dinna see. Therefore I advise you again—send her awa’ to Edinburgh for awhile—’twill be for her gude.” “To Edinburgh!” "Ay; do you fear she’ll no obey?” ‘Not at all; when I tell her you wish it she will go.” Miss Hetherlngton sat bolt upright, and stared round the room like a stag at bay. “I wish it!” she exclaimed. “I dinna wish it—mind that, Mr. Lorraine. If anybody daurs say I wish it, ye’ll tell them ’tis a lee. You wish it; you’ll aend her awa’; ’tis for the bairn’s Mr. Lorraine began to be of opinion that Miss Hetherington’s brain was af fected; he could not account for her ec centricity in any other way. Neverthe less her whims had to be attended to; •and as in this case they would cause no great Inconvenience, he promised im plicit obedience to her will. “Yes, you are right, Miss Hethering ton; ’twill do the child good, and she shall go.” he said, as he rone to take his leave. • But the lady called him back. “Mr. Lorrane," she said, “send Mar jorie up to me to say good-bye;” and L having again premised to obey her, Mr. \ Lorraine retired. ’' - When he reached home he was rather relieved to find that his foster child was out; when she returned, he was busily engaged with Solomon, and it was not Indeed until after evening prayers that the two found themselves alone. Then Mr. Lorraine informed Marjorie that she was to go to her sister’s house In Edinburgh for a time. The young girl was reluctant to leave her home, but did not dream of disobeying any wish of her foster-father. By early the next afternoon all was done, and as Marjorie was to start ear ly on the morrow, she, In obedience to Mr. Lorraine’s wish, put on her bonnet and went up to the Castle to wish Miss Hetherington good-bye. She had heard from Mr. Lorraine that the lady was indisposed, but he had uot spoken of the malady as seri ous, and she was therefore utterly un prepared for what she saw. She was admitted by Mysle, conduct ed along the dreary passage, and led at once toward Miss Hetherington’s bed room. “She’s waitin’ on ye," said Mysle; “she’s been waitin’ on ye all day.” Marjorie stepped into the room, looked around, and theen shrank fear fully back toward the door. Could this be Miss Hetherington—this little shriv eled old woman, with the dim eyes and thin silvery hair? She glanced keenly at Marjorie; then, seeing the girl shrink away, she held forth her hand and said: “Come awa’ ben, Marjorie, my bair nle; come ben.” “You—you are not well, Miss Heth erington,” said Marjorie. “I am so sorry.” She came forward and stretched forth her hand. Miss Hetherington took It, held it, and gazed up into the girl’s face. “I’m no just mysel’, Marjorie,” she said, “but whiles the best of us come to this pass. Did ye think I was immor tal, Marjorie Annan, and that the pal sied finger o’ death couldn’t be pointed at me as weel as at another?” “CM death?” said Marjorie, instinc tively withdrawing her hand from the old lady’s tremulous grasp. “Oh, Miss Hetherington, you surely will not die!” “Wha can tell? Surely I shall- dlo when my time comes, and wha will there be to shed a tear?” For a time there was silence; then Miss Hetherington spoke: “What more have you got to say to me, Marjorie Annan?” The girl started as if from a dream, and rose hurriedly from her seat. “Nothing more,” she said. "Mr. Lor raine thought I had better come and wish you good-bye. I am going away.” "Mr. Lorraine!—you didna wish it versel’?” "Yes, I—I wished it-” “Aweel, good-bye!” She held forth her trembling hands again, and Marjorie placed her warm fingers between them. “Good-bye, Miss Hetheringlon.” She withdrew her hand and turned away, feeling that the gcod-bye had been spoken, and that her presence was no longer desired by the proud mistress of Annandale. She had got half way to the door when her steps were arrest ed—a voice called her back. “Marjorie! Marjorie Annan!” She turned, started, then running back, fell on her knees beside Miss Hetherington’s chair. For the first time in her life Marjorie saw her cry ing. “Dear Miss Hetherlngton, what is it?” she said. “ ’Tis the old tale, the old tale,” re plied the lady, drying her eyes. “Won’t you kiss me, Marjorie, and say only once that you’re sorry to leave me sick ening here?” "I am very sorry,” said Marjorie; then she timidly bent forward and touched the lady’s cheek with her lips. Curiously enough, after having soli cited the embrace, Miss Hetherington shrank away. “Cold and loveless,” slip murmured. “But, Marjorie, my bairn, I’m no blam ing ye for the sins of your forefathers. Good-bye, lassie, good-bye.” This time Marjorie did leave the room and the Castle, feeling thoroughly mys tified as to what it could all mean. CHAPTER XVI. N the outskirts of the town of Leith, and on the direct road of communi cation between Leith and Edin burgh, stood the plain abode of the Rev. Mungo Men teith, minister of the Free Kirk of Scotland. The Reverend Mr. Menteith had es poused .late in life the only sister of Mr. Lorraine, a little, timid, clinging woman, with fair hair and light blue eyes, who was as wax in the bony hands of her pious husband. At the house of the pair one morning in early summer arrived Marjorie An nan, escorted thither in a hired fly from Edinburgh by the minister. It was by no means her first visit, and the wel come she received, if a little melancho ly, was not altogether devoid of sym pathy. Her aunt was an affectionate creature, though weak and supersti tious; and Mr. Mentieth, like many of his class, was by no means as hard as the doctrines he upheld. They had no children of their own, and the coming of one so pretty and so close of kin was like a gleam of sunshine. A week passed away, with one super naturaly dreary Sabbath, spent In what may be called, figuratively, wailing and gnashing of teeth. At last there came a day of terrific dissipation, when what is known by profane Scotchmen as a “tea and cook ie shine’’ was given by one of the eld ers of the kirk. Early in the evening Mr. Mentelth was called away, and when the meeting broke up about nine o’clock Marjorie and her aunt had to walk home alone. It was a fine moonlight night, and as the}* left the elder’s house and lingered on the doorstep Marjorie saw standing in the street a figure which she seemed to know. She started and looked again, and the figure returned her look. In a moment to her utter amazement, she recognized Caussidiere. Startled and afraid, not knowing what to say or do, she descended the steps to her aunt’s side. As she did so the figure disappeared. She walked up the street, trembling and wondering, while Mrs. Mentelth talked with feeble rapture of the feast they had left and itB accompanying “ed ification.” Marjorie made some wandering re ply, for she heard footsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the figure she had previously no ticed following at a few yards’ dis tance. She would have paused and waited, but she dreaded the observation of her companion. So she simply walked faster, hurrying her aunt along. They passed from the street, and still she heard the feet following behind her. At last, they reached the gate of the 'minister’s house. Here Marjorie lingered, and watching down the road saw the figure pause and wait. Mrs. Menteith pushed open the gate, hastened across the garden, and knocked at the door. In a moment the figure came up rapidly. “Hush, mademoiselle!” said a fami liar voice in French and simultaneously she felt a piece of paper pressed into her hand. She grasped it involuntarily and before she could utter a word the figure flitted away. Meantime the house door had opened. "Marjorie!” cried Mrs. Menteith from the threshold. Marjorie hastened in. “What kept ye at the gate, and who was yon that passed?” "A man—a gentleman.” "Did he speak to you?” Without reply, Marjorie passed in. As soon as possible she hastened up to her own room, locked the door, and there with trembling fingers unfolded the paper and read as follows: “I have something important to say to you. Meet me tomorrow at noon on the Edinburgh road. Pray tell no one that you have received this, or that I am here. "Leon Caussidiere.” Majorie sat down trembling with the paper in her lap. Her first impulse was to Inform her aunt of what had taken place. A little reflection, how ever, convinced her that this would be undesirable. After all, she thought, she had no right to assume that Caussidlere’s mes sage had not a perfectly innocent sig nificance. Perhaps he had brought her news from home. It was not an easy task for Marjorie to keep her appointment on the fol lowing day; indeed, everything seemed to conspire to keep her at home. To begin with, the family were much later than usual; then it seemed to Marjorie that the prayers were unusually long; then Mr. Menteith had various little things for her to do; so that the hands of the clock wandered toward twelve before she was able to quit the house. At last she wa3 free, and with palpi tating heart and trembling hands was speeding along the road to meet the Frenchman. (TO BE CONTINUED.) . How Ostriches Ran. Considerable misconception prevails as to the manner in which the ostrich runs. It seems to be still generally held that when running it spreads out its wings, and aided by them 3kims lightly over the ground. This is not correct. When a bird really settles it self to run it holds its head lower than usual and a little forward, with a deep loop in the neck. The neck vi brates sinuously, but the head remains steady, thus enabling the bird, even at lop speed to look around with unshak en glance in any direction. The wings lie along the sides about on a level with or a little higher than the back, and are held loosely, just free of the plunging “thigh.” There Is no attempt to hold them extended or to derive any assistance from them as organs of flight. When an ostrich, after a hard run, is very tired its wings sometimes droop; this is due to exhaustion. They are never, by a running bird exerting itself to the utmost, held out away from the sides to lighten its weight or increase its pace. But the wings appear to be of great service in turning, en abling the bird to double abruptly even when going at top speed.—From the Zoologist. A Matter of Colon. “Sister Millie wants to know if you won’t let us take your big awning? She's going to give a porch party to morrow night and wants to have it on the piazzer.” “Wants my awning?” “Yep. She would have borrowed the Joneses’, but theirs Is blue, you know, and Millie's hair is red.”—Cleveland Plain-Dealer. "There’s not another bit of firewood on board,” roared the steamboat en gineer. “What's the mhtter with the log?” inquired the landlubber.—Phil* adelphia North American. BY REGISTERED MATE. REASONS WHY BANKS PREFER TO REMIT BY EXPRESS. Result of the Government Declining to j Ship at Contract Rate*—The Delay In i Reimbursement In Case of Lou In the Foetofflce—Technicalities of the Insu rance Companies. A novel feature In the shipments of currency to Interior points, and par ticularly to the South and West, by local banks this fall la the great ex tent to which the registered mall ser vice is being used for that purpcss, Instead of the money being shipped by express, as was formerly the general custom. The reason for this is the Inability of the banks to secure this year,' through the sub-treasury, the benefit of the government contract rates for the exprcssage. As a result of that the banks have had to pay what are known as bankers' rates to the express companies, which are two or three times as great as the govern ment contract rates, or ship their money by registered mall. The course of the treasury In respect to this matter has been explained from time to time in the Evening Pest, so far as any explanations could be ob tained. Heretofore the treasury glad ly gave to the banks the privilege of shipping currency at the government contract rates, or rather, shipped the currency for the banks at the govern ment rates In return for gold deposits. A clause, however, was Inserted In the contract with the express company when It was last made, by which such privileges should only be afforded to the banks when the treasury needed gold. The discretion In the matter ap parently rests with tho Secretary of the Treasury, and he has seemingly decided that the treasury does not want gold now. Consequently the banks cannot have the benefit of the government, contract rates for ex pressage, although bankers generally seem to think It would be better for the treasury always to take gold when it can without loss. The treasury ruling, however, has not helped the express company very much, because nearly all the country banks to whom money Is remitted, and who have to pay the cost of transmission, direct their New York correspondents to shtp the money by registered mail, and insure its safe delivery In one or other of the Companies which make a spe cialty of that business. The cost of postage and Insurance is much less than the usual express charges at what are known as bank ers’ rates. Few New York bankers, however, would remit money in that way, unless they were directed to do so by their correspondents. They would rather ship it by express, even though It cost more to do so, because they consider It the safer way. If money is lost by an express com pany during transmission, the loss Is promptly made good, whereas, bank ers say, it takes a long time, and Is a troublesome task, to recover the amount when the money Is lost In the mails. The government Is not re sponsible; It only promises to take greater care of a registered package, for which the registration fee of eight cents Is charged; it cannot or does not guarantee Its delivery or reim- ; bursement in case of loss. The cash ier of a large national bank which ships many thousands of dollars every aay 10 na correspondents all over the United States, in speaking; of this matter today, said: "The conservative banker still pre fers to send money by the well-known express companies, hut, to save ex penses, since the government refuses to remit for the banks any longer at government contract rates, the coun try -banks are apparently willing to take the risk of transmission by reg istered mail, with the guarantee of an Insurance company's policy for its safe delivery. Notwithstanding, however, the registration and insurance, the risks of sending large sums of money by mail are very great. A package of currency which is forwarded by the registered mail department of the pos tal service has no distinctive mark in dicating its value; a pencil receipt is given for it just the same as for an ordinary letter or package of mer chandise. The package of money is thrown in with packages of merchan dise of all sorts, and no more care is taken of it than is taken with a 1-ox of shoes or a package of gloves. The registry clerk’s receipt is not a docu ment that is as well known or as rat— isfactory as the receipt of the receiv ing clerk of an express company, and in case of the loss of the package, the delay In the recovery of the money is interminable. “For instance, a few years ago a Southern bank ordered from Its New lork correspondent $20,000 in curren cy, the money to be sent by registered mail. The package was put, or sup posed to have been put, in a certain through pouch, but when the pouch was opened in the Southern postoffice in the presence of the president of the hank, who was anxious about the ar rival of the money, the package was not there. Investigation bv the post office authorities failed to discover its whereabouts, and the insurance com pany which had issued a policy guar anteeing its safe delivery was no more successful, and it was a long time be fore the bank was reimbursed for the loss. The inconvenience caused to banks by the non-receipt of money on time could not be estimated. In some cases, as in times of panic, for In stance, the delay might be fraught with very serious consequences. A year or so after the loss of the money referred to, other missing articles were traced to a certain dishonest postal employe, and the secret of the missing money package was then solved by his confession. On the other hand, the exprrs3 companies locate missing packages of money or make good the loss prompt ly, without technicalities or delays They are responsible, and banks run no risk in shipping by them. Their employees are chosen solely on th» ground of ability and trustworthiness and they are therefore more likely to be accurate and prompt than postal employes, who owe their places more or less to politics, notwithstanding the civil service examination. WMla it is true that by Insuring money sent i .... by registered mall there la some guar antee against loss by non-delivery, It Is equally true that there Is consid erable risk of loss if the insurance company stands on technicalities. The slightest informality in the ob servance of the terms of an open pol icy issued by the Insurance company renders the policy invalid, and would In the case of a missing package cause the loss to fall on the consignor. The technicalities to be observed by a re mitting bank In sending money by registered mall when the delivery of the money is Insured by one of' the local Insurance companies are very great compared with the simple but safe methods of express companies, and unless some new regulations are made by the postal authorities for sending money by registered mail, conservative New York banks wlM cer tainly prefer-to ship by express." !N EARLY ILLINOIS, The Impenetluble Ulindneu or On* Wht Will Not See. The character of the old- Illinois courts la which Abraham Lincoln practiced, was yory primitive, (says a writer in the Century.) In ono case a livery .stable horse had died soon after being returned, and the person who had hired it was sued for j damages Tee question turned largely upon the reputation of the defeadaut as a hard rider. A witness was called—a long, lank Westerner. ••How does Mr. So-and-So usually rido?” asked the lawyer. Without a gleam of intelligence the witness replied: "A-straddle, 8ir.” ■ ••Np no.’’said the lawyer; d mean, does he usually walk or trot or gallop?" ••Wal," said the witness, apparently searching in the depths of his memory for /acta ••when he rides a walkin' horse, he walks when he rides a trottin' borso. he trots, and when he rides a gallopin' horse, he gallopa when-” The lawyer was angry. ••I want to know what gall the defendant usually takes, fast or slow." ••WaL”saUl the witnesa "when his company rldos fast he rides fast and when his company rides slow, he rides •low." “I want to know, sir.” the lawyer said, very muoh exasperated, and very stern now, ‘how Mr. So-and £o rides when ho is alone." ■•Well.” ■aid the witnosa more- alowly and meditatively than ever, "when he was alone, 1 wa’n’t along and 1 don't know.” The laugh at the questioner onded the cross-examination. Wh«t Her Aunt could Do, A four-year-old misa who is at present visiting an aunt on Staten Island, has been as good as spoiled by her parents at least that is the opinion of her :-elatives. Ever since she began to breathe in the salt air of the lower bay she has seemed incorrigible. Mischief of every kind and degree has been laid at ber door and all sorts of punish ment threatened, without apparently changing her course. The culmination was reached the other evening with some piece of daring effrontery, and when the little one had been put to bed. Aunt Mary started iu to have a long talk ovor her misdeeds beginning something like this: ••Don’t you feel how naughty Kate has been to-day? It makes ua all very sorry. I don’t know what I'd better do"— "1 guess you'd better let me go to sleep" came from beneath the bed clothes and Aunt Mary has not been able to look the child in the face without laughing yot.—Now York Advertiser. Not a Compliment* Senator Palmer tolls this story on himself: "Whllo I was exercising some military authority in Kentucky during the lute war. 1 received a let ter from a distinguished jurist He was tv former chief-justice or the slate. He wrote mo to inquire us to his rights under certain circumstances. 1 replied that I could not venture to state the law o' the case to a jurist of so much distinction. Ho answered mo by saying that if it were a question of the divine law. or of natural law, or of statute law. or of municipal law, he never would think of consulting me: but that as martial law was the will of the general commanding it seemed proper to ask me. i realized the force of the rebuke. The judge did not by any means intend to pay me a compliment.”—Argonaut. Too Sm irt lor liiolley. “Girls know too much now-a-days." “What makes you say that?" “You remember when I asked Miss Brown to copy me some verses? In reality I only wanted her handwriting to read her character by." ••Well?" ••Well hero are the verses but she's copied them on the typewriter." —Brooklyn Life. Acc-ordluic to Theosophy. According to the “Secrot Doctrine"' we are now living in the Kali Yugtk the last of the four ngca, and it began nearly o. 000 years ago with the death of Krishna, B. C. 3102. The first minor cycle of the Kali Yuga will end -in the years 1897-98. Logical IteusonlUiC. ••Wat ah is a good thing.* re marked Colonel Bludd of Kentucky. ••Wall maybo to, ” replied conserv ative Major ltowie. ■■It is truly, eah." continued the colonel. ••Kain makes cawn. tab, an1 cawn makes whisky.”—Life. Well freserve