CHAPTER XX.
Lord I.uton searches ever? corner of
the large and richly-furnished apartment,
but there is no sign of in hating any oc
cupant. Thence be passes quickly into
hia own room, which adjoins it, and
through it to the back part of the house,
and out of a door which leads into the
grounds. He doea not ask a question of
anyone whom he encounters. The words
seem to die upon his tongue before they
are uttered, but he searches carefully as
he goes until he has reached the gates of
the lower drive; then he runs along the
open road for miles, looking under every
hedge for the woman he is in pursuit of,
but without success, until the chiming of
the church clock reminds him that his
dinner hour has arrived.
As he paces homeward slowly, bare
headed and fatigued, he begins to think
what a fool he has made of himself. He
walks leisurely into the library as he
peaks, and sits down before his own
blotting case. As he open it a folded
crap of paper catches his eye. He seises
It and reads the following words, hur
riedly scrawled in pencil:
"I cannot bear this state of things any
longer. I am going back to my father. If
you have any respect or consideration for
roe, yon will leave me there. SUSIE."
Lord Luton's Brut feeling on reading
this note is one of intense disappoint
ment, the next of indignation. He takes
up his pen and writes direct to Joseph
Gresham.
"Dear Mr. Gresham: Susie has left
Lutonstowe to pay you a visit without
consulting me. Please understand dis
tinctly that if she goes on the stage again
it will be against my express orders to
the contrary, and I do not sanction it,
nor will I answer for the consequences.
Pray use all your influence to deter her
from such folly. I am, yours truly,
: "LUTON."
' He sends a man on horseback to the
nearest town to catch the evening mail
with this letter, and the next morning he
receives a telegram from Gresham:
"Susie is with me. and wishes to re
main for a while. Do not be afraid that
I shall sanction any such madness as you
allude. If you wish her to return home,
ay so."
To which Lord Luton writes in an
swer: "I do not wish her to return home un
til she does so of her own accord. I,et
her remain with you as long as she
pleases."
One day. about a week after Susie's
departure, a servant enters his study with
the announcement:
"'Lady Luton is in the drawing-room,
my lord."
Philip springs to his feet, with an ex
clamation of pleasure.
"When did she return. James?"
"Her ladyship drove over from High
Beech this moment, my lord."
"From High Beech? Do you mean my
mother is here?"
"Yes. my lord. In the drawing-room,
with Miss Luton, ray lord."
Philip's momentary disappointment is
counterbalanced by surprise. His moth
er, who has not seen him since the elope
ment of his first wife, paying him a vol
untary visit at Lutonstowe! He can
hardly believe the truth, yet his handsome
face flushes with pleasure. The estrange
ment with his family has been a sore trial
to his affectionate nature, although he has
been too proud to admit the truth. But
now he runs into the drawing-room, with
the alacrity of a boy, and falls into her
arms, crying:
"Oh! mother, mother, this is good of
you. I thought we were never going to
meet again."
The old lady is very much overcome by
the sight of ber son, and his sister scarce
ly less so. For some minutes, Philip's
outburst of joy is followed by silence,
while the women wipe their tears away,
and Lord Luton himself has occasion to
briifh his eyes with the back of his hand.
"My dear, dear boy!" nri the old lady,
s she sinks into a chair and draws him
down beside her, "I have been praying
(or this day for years past. Thank God!
it has come at last. We have missed you
sadly at High BVfch, Philip, but you
know the reason whicb estranged ns, my
kou. and that I could rt have brought
your sisters to Lutonstowe while you tilled
the house with reck lew companions."
"Yes, yes, dear mother, but that is all
past now. You must make some allow
ance for the pain from which I was suf
fering. It drove me mad. I had no re
lief from it except in excitement."
"A very sorry relief for a Christian
man," replies old Lady' Luton, gravely:
"bnt as you truly say. that must lie all
linst now. Margaret and I have seen
jrutir sv.eet young wife. Philip. We have
not tu.'il you that yet We met her one
lay accidentally in the woods, and had a
long talk with ber, though sbe had no
k!e:i ho w were. But we discovered
what no innocent girl she is. and felt
that the house that contained ber must
be purified from all its former evil. Yon
bare picked up a treasure, my son, wher
ever yon found her a child, for whoa.
In order to guide aright, yoo mast keep
year own bands and heart dean. Where
la sbe, Philip? Iet us kiss my new daugh
ter, a ad aaaare ber that aba hall Bod
frfctad a me."
"flow good yon are to me, mother; far
tatter than I deserve," replies Lord La too
vwttjr. "Bat I cannot summon Susie to
r t has left ml Me will aever
f 39 me raenrreac of tb pant She
f aa goad aad pnre for mh a thiuf.
A t fnm efce left mi rather awMealy,,
and she chose to return to her
e is with him now. That is all.
But I hope she will see her mistake be
fore long, and return to Lutonstowe."
"Philip," says his mother gravely, "was
your 'difference of opinion" (as you choose
to call it) in reference to your late wife?"
"Why. mother! what cau have put that
into your head?"
"What we gathered from the child's
own lips, Philip, while she thought we
were strangers to you. We found her
'tst down at the foot of a tree, and sob-
I ' n-- : if her heart would break, aud in
iier innocence she answered the questions
I put to her so freely, that I soon arrived
at a knowledge of the truth. Philip, my
son, she has fretted about it until ber mind
has become unhinged. At any rate, Phil
ip, it is your part now to undeceive her.
Go after her, my dear, wherever she may
be and persuade her to come home again,
and Margaret and I will do the rest."
"You have eased my heart of half its
burden, mother. I will start for Bath this
very afternoon."
Fully acquiescing in bis mother's opin
ion. Lord Luton puts her aud his sister
in their carriage, aud starts for Bath,
where Mr. Gresham's company is at that
time performing, with a lighter heart
thau he has Imrne for years past.
Arrived at his destination, he rushes st
once to the temorary residence of his
father-in-law, to demand his wife. But
he is met. to his astonishment, with the
information that she has returned home.
"Returned to Lutonstowe! When?'
cries Philip.
"Yesterday afternoon. Lord Luton. 1
soon found out that it was nil a piece of
nonsense lietwecii you and her, that only
wanted a word and a kiss to patch up
again, and so I talked to the girl, and per
suaded her to go home and Hot make a
fool of herself, and she left us yesterday
afternoon. Didn't she. Henrietta?"
"She did by the three o'clock train,"
replies Mrs. Greshan "She has proba
bly stayed a night in Iuduii on the
way. She is not looking over and above
strong, and I advised her to take it easy."
"Well, the best thing you can do, my
lord, is' to cut after her," says Gresham.
who, although he ha urged his daughter
to return to the protection of her hus
band, is not over and above pleased at the
disclosures which she has made of her
home life to him.
"Yes! I suppose you are right." replies
Luton, as he takes leave of the Grcehams.
and travels back to Lutonstowe.
"But he won't find Susie there not
now, nor for many months to come," as
serts the quondam Mrs. Jarrod to herself;
"for the cards say so, and they never
lie."
And she was right. When Ird Luton
reaches his home it is still empty, and
notwithstanding all his inquiries, it re
mains empty until spring and summer
have passed, aud the autumn leaves lie
dark and drear upon the woodland paths
again.
' CHAPTER XXI.
When Susie saw Lord Luton disappear
behind the door of ber bed-chamber, she
rushed down-stairs and away from him,
to avoid, as she believed, the inevitable
sight of his meeting with her rival. She
hastily wrote the words she left behind
her, and then passed quickly through the
library window. It was three miles to
the nearest station across the fields, but
Susie ran almost the whole way. She
was fortunate enough to reach the sta
tion just as the last train was starting for
Iyondon. A night mail took her down to
Bath, and she appeared at her father's
lodgings, jaded and worn, just as he and
his wife were sitting down to their break
fast the following morning.
Gresham did not like this interruption
on his daughter's part. He was very
proud of her being Lord Luton's wife,
and justly considered she had no right to
go rushing about the country alone at un
toward hours. Added to which, he did
not understand the reason for her doing
so. Susie did not tell him the story of
the appearance of Magdr.lena. because
she knew her father would ridicule it as
a piece of folly. Bni she let out that she
and Lord Luton did not agree in all
things as they ought to do, and that she
was restless and unhappy in her new life,
and longed for a sight of the old faces
again. So Gresham says little to Susie
on the subject of her unlicensed visit, be
cause be believes that Henrietta will be
able to manage the matter better than
himself, and point out to the young wife
the folly of acting in any way against the
wishes of her husband. How greatly be
would be astonished if he could look back
into that little parlor and hear the con
fidence that is exchanged between them
as soon as be is out of sight!
"Yon don't think my conduct wrong or
mysterious, I am sure yon, who know
everything before it happens?" says Su
sie, glancing timidly at her stepmother.
"No, my dear, I don't," replies' Mrs.
Gresham, determinedly. "I've lived long
enough in this world to know that what
'must be, must be,' and that we can no
more alter the fate that' written in the
stars for us than we can fly. I saw all
this coming long sgo, and yon must re
member that I told you as much at Chel
tenham." "Then yon will help me, dear friend. I
will take another name, and you will
help me to get an engagement, and lose
myself and my troubles for a little while
in work. For I will never go back to
Lutonstowe. Yon have many friends in
the profession. Can't you give me a rec
ommendation to any of them?"
"Yes. my dear, that I can and I will
do. Bnt you must keep your own conn
eel, Susie. It it once comes out that
you're Gresham's daughter, or Lord Lu
ton's wife, it will be all up a tree."
She takes up ber pen, and begins to
write rapidly, is the speaks: and when
he has concluded her letter, she reads it
loud.
"Dear Dick : I am about to send yea by
to-morrow's rail a young lady, a pnpil
of mine. In whom I am deeply Interested,
and for whom I srgeafr reqnlr aa la
ter aame la Mary
lister please Mrs. Carleton. ith
my love, to receive ber kindly, as the
psir child has cxerietieed losses lately
and is iu 1w spints. She bad some ex
perience on the stage iu burlesque last
year. But I wish ber now to go into melo
drama. This is my matter. o when you
communicate about it. please to address
me. and not Joe. Ever jours trulv,
H EN Rl ETTA ' H ESI I A M.
Susie says good-by to her father with
out the slightest hint cf where she is
going, and be see ber drne off to the
station, in the full b. lief that she is
bound for LutonMoM e. Then comes the
interview, already related, between him
self nr.d lord Luton, iu which he assures
Philip that his wife has returned home.
Aud w hen, later on. he hears that she has
not done so, he is exceedingly annoyed at
his daughter's obstinacy and folly, but
never believes for a moment that she has
come to any harm. Mrs. Gresham keeps
her own share in the transaction a re
ligious secret, yet her hnsband makes up
bis mind that Susie is on the stage some
where. And so time goes on, bringing the world
its usual allowance of heartaches and
spasmodic pleasures: and no one (except
Mrs. Gresham) guesses that the Miss
Mary Lester, of whom the Scottish critics
speak in such warm terms of praise, is
no other than the wife of Lord Luton of
Lutonstowe.
CHAPTER XXII.
The boards Of the Royal Thistledown
Theater sre occupied at this moment by
a lady who appeals to the public by her
talent rather than her youth and beauty.
Her name is Olivia Hunter, and she is
appearing night after night iu such heavy
melodramatic parts as bent suit her age
and physique. Susie has been engaged
to play the Juveniles with ber. parts pur
posely made subservient to those of Miss
Hunter, but requiring the youth and
beauty which she does not possess.
"You are lovely, child." she says, the
first day they rehearse together: "and if
you will take the bints I give you. you
will make a very good little actress. But
you want experience."
And as the days go by Susie seems to
justify Olivia Hunter's ambition for her.
She falls easily and gracefu'Sy f-.o the
parts allotted to ber, and walks the stage
as naturally as if she had lieen st Luton
stowe. The audience of the Royal Thistle
down soon came to know and appreciate
the sweet face and winning manners of
Miss Mary lister, and her ap-arnnce is
nightly greeted with a burst of applause.
The letter she receives from her step
mother relieve her. mind with regard to
the welfare (if those she lias left behind
her. Her father (sbe bears) is well, and
hearty, and not com-eniing himself a whit
as to her mysterious disappearance, lie
sjH'aks of her with sfTei-tioii: says she is
a fool fur not knowing when she was well
off: but that he is convinced she is on the
stage somewhere. Of Ixird Luton her
stepmother can tell her little, except that
her father hail come across his name,
some weeks back, in a society paper,
which announced him to be in Paris.
"Iu Paris!" thinks Susie, with a curled
lip: "and with her. of course, lie is
ashamed to let his English friends know
of bis wicked infatuation, and so he has
gone abroad, where he can extend to her
the fjirgiveness be has asserted himself
ready and willing to do, without offend
ing public decency, oh. why did he ever
marry me? Yes! I have thrown myself
away (I see that now I on the first man
who asked me but marriage is not the
end of all things, and I will make a name
for myself that shall throw that of Iidy
Luton in the shade."
(To tie continued
Floo ling Out Olsense.
Water, much as men may dislike It. !
good for men to drink. It Is possible
to prevent many diseases aud cure
others by drinking large iii;uitit!es of
water. An eminent French physician
says that typhoid fever can lie washed
out of the system by water. He gives
his patient what would amount to
eight or ten omicp an hour of steril
ized water. Experiments have Ihi-ii
made Willi diseases caused by bacte
ria which demonstrate the curative
value of water. In cases of cholera,
where the system siiTete a large
amount of lliiid. enormous quantities
of hot water are of great benefit, and.
will cure many cases without other
medicines. Oue dis'tor says that per
fectly sweet cider, taken In large quart
litiew, has been known to euro cases
of bowel complaint. The acid kills the
bacteria, which are speedily thrown
out of thp system. Hot water in fe
vers is of great use. and an ordinary
Junibler full of water as hot as can be
taken once an hour Is one of the very
best remedies. The important thing
Is to get Into the system and out of It
a sufficient amount of water to pre
vent accumulation of ptomaines and
toxins within the body. New Orleans
Picayune.
A Pair of Them.
When the women at whose cabin 1
took dinner on the crest of the Cumber
land mountains told me that she was a
widow 1 felt It a sort of duty to Inquire
if her husband bad died by sickness or
accident.
"Neither one," he replied. "He died
of too much sotness."
"How waa thatT
"He'd licked one b'ar In a fair fout
and he thought he could lick two. He
was sot to do It, and one day he run
across the b'ar and sailed In."
"And there were too many I tears for
hlmr
"Tbar was. When the font ended he
had killed one b'ar, but t'other critter
and me waa wldders and hev bin ao
ever aence." - Philadelphia Press.
Heat Holiday.
fleat bolidaya have now been estab
lished by law In the public schools of
Hwltxerland. Recognizing the well
known fact that the brain cannot work
properly when the beat la excessive,
the children are dismissed from their
tasks whenever the thermometer goea
above a certain point.
"What do yoa wear aucb Ill-fitting
clothe for 7' aaked the brtfbt yoang
man In the natty aummer anlt of the el
derly person In haud-me-downa. "To
carry my money In," waa tba reply of
toe elderly person, and tba yonng man
began to talk Is another 4lracHotv
CiBemaatJ Eaapdnr.
kfey Mt3fow$ .
r TT T V atr ..
Grounding Fences Wires.
For some years past we have been
urging farmers when they repair their
feui'es each spring to ground the wires
ever)- twen'y rods or such a matter,
and thus avoid the danger of having
the lightning, when a fence Is struck,
making the round of the field and kill
ing any atrni that may lie near It. The
eubject was brought up at the late
meeting of the mutual Insurance com
panies and discussed somewhat fully,
ays Wallace's Farmer, and the almost
universal experieiwe was, that when
wires had liecn grounded as above sug
gested, there bad been little or no dam
age to stock. This is a matter of great
ImiKirtance. a will rcndily Ik? seen by
any mini who examines bis assessment
and discovers that a large per cent, of
the loss- are those of cattle by light
ning "1 i" 4e Holds. We do not
claim that grounding the fence wires
will avoid the danger altogether. What
wire are grounded are much xaf
than the cattle In the open field, for the
reason that a properly grounded fence
acts iim a lightning rod to the mrti of
the Held adjacent to the fence.
1 he f bicWrn Mite.
Tl.( ,wt ,.f tu,nlfr- lu uinnll tick of
i . '..i.i "...i... ...i
R WUlie or million mini w ,,,i.,.
but of a red color when filled with a
chicken's blood. They have eight legs
111 Inter stages, but w i'.en quite young
have but six. The mouth parts, Illus
trated in Fig. c. are capable of exten
sion so as to petiotrate the nkln of the
fowl. The mites remnln on the clilck-
ens only while feeding, and arp to 1
iwumi in ti'-in iirm"ivi"i in 'H
cracks and (ninem of the isuiltry bouw
or adju'-eiit placcu. On 1his account
TlMIt BI.ksOMK Tut I.rilV I'EUT.
uicaifurcs for their suppression must In
directed toward freeing the fowls from
them and killing all that sre harbored
In the building or preventing their at
tacks on the fowl. The attacks on the
jmiiltry are made more particularly at
night, although some mitos may lw
found on the fowls at almost any time.
To get rid of them spray Ihe Inside of
the chicken noun with kerosene or
kerosene emulsion, taking upoeial pains
to remove all mltex from the cracks or
rough sjsitM on the nsmta aud thin to
daub the ends of the nsisla with soft
tiir so that the mitin In nttempiug to
reach the fowls must perish In the tar.
Bulletin No. 33. Exp. Sta.
IHtrh-ntr iievice.
When one lends a horse to water,
the horse must usually 1" tied while the
water is pumped. A device to nave the
water la pumped. A
device to wive tin
tsither of hitching
and unhitching Is
shown herewith. A
light Mist with ii
slit In the top, as
shown In the
sketch. Is driven
Into the ground.
The knotted end
of the halter Is sim
ply laid in the Mill,
and the horse Is
secure. The Hflnie
kind or a hitching
levice is often of
IllKMINO IlKVH'K.
serviie in other )MisitloliK.
Two Acre Knouiih.
What many an Amerii-aii fanner
falls to do on 100 a en, the thrifty Hol
lander in Itelgum easily does on two
acres; namely, support a large family
and lay by something for a rainy day.
He doett k by making the mowt of every
Inch, by heavy manuring, allowing no
waste plai-es. Ilia two acre Is stir
"uinded by a ditch of running water.
The typbul two-acre Belgium farm w ill
contain a iateh of wbi-wt or rye and an
other of liarley; another fair jxirtlon
growa potatoea. A row of cnbUige
grows all around on the sloping sides of
the ditches with a row of onions Just In
side, leaving bare walking nsmi be
tween them and the grain.
The shade tree round Ihe house are
pear trees. Every foot of hind Is made
to produce. lie keeps pigs and chick
en. We refer to this as Illustrating the
poasl Mil ties of land production. Iu Bel
glum 8,000,000 people, chiefly fanners,
lire on a piece of laud the size of the
State of Maryland. They furnish an ob
ject lesson on successful Intensive
terming. Grape Belt.
Csasaoaj Mm Farsalaar.
Farming If not practical la nothing.
Theory may do aa a working model,
but aa It cannot take Into conelderaHon
all the rlrmeata aor all Ihe nnf
I
i
.
circumstances and exceptions, it Is
often of little value Uiause It cannot
lie applied. Under such circumsta un-a
a gisid application of common sense
will prove of more Value to the farm
than, an application of the best ltarn
yard manure, or of the niore'xiieiwlve
um of the liect fertilizers iu the mar
ket. A constant application of good
common sckhc by the farmer himself
will almost crtalnly keep any farm in
good running onlcr.Fa nu News.
A Homemsde Vref Hoiter.
The bolster sliown below Is suitable
for use with Ix-ef or hoga. Two 4 by 4
Inch timls-in, 14 feet long, and fastened
together near the top, are set firmly In
the ground. Eight feet from thene
place another pair like the Brut. In the
forks thus formed plnce a strong piece
to the middle of which attach a pulley.
Between the support and a little to one
side net a wtout stake and to It top at
tach another pulley. Then with an or
HOlSTIMi CA1K AHhKS MADE K A ST.
Mllruiry wimllaiw
and a rope passc-d
through both pulleys and tied to the
(cambrel, the heaviest beef or bog cau be
nudily toiKiM-mled.- Farm and Home.
KahbitM and Trees.
The simplest ami cheapi-t protection
is -coating lmrk with Rome substance
oft'ensive to these animals. Among
J U(m ,K g ,hl(.k WJl(in mnd(. flf ,.,
i mil iilire iv 111 water will enollc 1 wa-
ter slaked limp to render the mixture
of a dull, white appearance, or rather
of a greetilKh-grny. Italiliits do not like
this kind of condiment with their food.
A stronger mixture is made by mix-
: lng gax tar, but for young trees with
tender liiirk, It should be cantloiutly or
Kparltigly lined, or It may Injure them,
j The mixture Is applied with any old
broom or coarse bninb. A moderate
' imrtlon of asafoetlda In the mixture is
! said to give It additional efficiency on
j n rabbit repclicr.
Odd and Knds.
When linger nails Hre dry and bn-nk
easily, rub vaseline on them at night
mid after washing the bands with soa
or ammonia.
If pie crtiwt is ditdred to lie brown
when baked It should le brushed ovet
with sweet milk Just aa the pie ia put
Into the oven for Imklug.
When baking apple replace the core
with sugar and a pinch of cinnamon,
put a small bit of butter on each aud
Rprlnkle with sugar. Cover for a short
time after putttng them In theovcn.and
whin they get tender remove the covet
and let them brown.
The nioht trying time for a nick jwr
wiii Is lielween the hours of 1 and 4 in
the morning. Vitality lieoomo dimin
ished, and the strength tdiould there
fore Is- fortified as fur us ixissible with
Koine Kirong fisiil, either eonp or egg or
milk, nlsiut midnight. The nurse should
always make the meals look as tempt
lug as wible.
The following recljM' for graham
tiiulfliis Ik known to be good: Stir twi
i'iim of gniluim Hour Into two cups of
cold milk and water, to which liavelieen
added the yolks of two eggs, well lsnt
eu. Add n tensjHsmfiil of sugar, a pinch
of Halt and the w hites of the cgK. Unt
en stilt. Bake for a lmlf hour In imif
tin rings.
An unusual and attractive banging.
Intended for a closet iIKr In a yellow
room, was made of heavy linen of n
golden brown nbade. havings de-p lir
dor at the top and Isittom of yellow lin
en. The tipper Isirder was of a llghlei
shade than the lower. I'pon the hor
dera was a graceful denign of oak eave
and ai-orns in light browns and veined
with gold thread.
Kee Nntea.
Aristotle numbered bees among clvn
lieojile.
A teinperalureof from 70 to W) degree
Fahrenheit Is more favorable to keep
ing honey !iil!il than a lower temieru
ture.
Pliny said for the use of life bec
labor, work, ordain a common wraith,
have their private councils, their public
warlike actions, and have morality.
Atsutt one-half of the wild bet,', ac
cording to 1'rnf. Braner, have drone
with stings, and some of the wild beo
are only one thirty-third of an Inch In
length.
The average weight of a prlni"
swarm of Ix'es la lx pounds, the hcyv
lest being eight podiul. and the light
est Ave and one-half pounils. Second
warm average three pounds.'
The time that a colony will lie nctu
ally oat of a laying queen, from lh
date of deqneenlng to the laying ef a
new one reared by the bees alone, will
be from about twenty to thirty daya.
Boutbera Farmer.'
30Y3 CF SHAKSPCAR-' j TiMfc.
n y Hare I stlle "-r Oje heputa
tina of the Ormt i'm-U
The leading serial for St. Ni 1 "las Is
Master Skylark," by J" u !! i uett.
U is a rtory f Miaks :irc's tin"-. !
be (mm-I liures us one of tbe H.i;:tc-
rs. Tbe following I ' ,r""
lie ihciulier liumlsr. In which f.v
isiya s:art a fjuancl over the abilities
)( the pisi't:
Hodge came on a little way. sh;ik;t.g
Mm iicad like an oh) anccp In corn-1.
Wuily Sbnxpera great man?" ill he.
Why a s name lie cut on the oh! Is-ecb-tree
up Sultterliel lane, where' utn le
Henry Shaxiier lives, an' 'tis bu; kt
ly done. 1 couH do better w i' M.v "
whittle."
"Ay, Hodge," cried Nick; "and that'
about all thou ci.i!st do. Do, thilk
ll.it a man's gnatnes lianas on kj
little ti thing as his slclglit-of-linn-1 at
t utting hie name on a tree?"
"Hull, maybe; tnaylie no?, but if a
ea great man, Nick Art wood, a might
1o a little thing passing well-- there
now!"
Nick pondered for a iuoiiie:i. "I
tin k.tow," said be. slowly; '"hup o.'
lieu cau do the little things, but pa'
loua few the big. So some one iiiiw' be
lugging It, or folks would all sing very
small And be doeth the big most
lieautlful they say. They call blm the
Swau of Avon."
"Avon swans tie mostly geese," said
Hodge, vacantly.
"Now. look V here, Hodge Daus m.
don't thou be calling Master Will
ShiikHMcre goose. He marri'd my
own mother' cousin, anil I will nn have
!(."
"Iji. now." drawled Hislge, staring,
"'tis uowt to me. Thy Muster Willy
Slmxper may tie all the long-ueckid
f-iwls In Warrickshlre for all 1 cup-.
And. anyway, I'd like to know, Nick
AttwiMH, since when hath a been -Mus-tir
Shaxpcr'-that ne'er-do-well, pliy
iictorlng fellow?"
"Nr'er-dit-well? It I na so. When
br was tiere last summer he was brave
ly dressed, and had a heap of giMsl
nobles iu bla purse. And he gave Hick
Hawkins, that's blind of an eye, a
hilling for only holding his horse."
"Oh. ay," drawled Hislge! "a fool
and a's money Is- soon parted."
"Will Shakspeare Is na fool." declar
ed Nick, hotly. "He's made a peck
o' money there In London town and 's
going to buy the (5 rent House In Chapel
lane, and come back here to live."
"Then n'a a witless aw.y!" blurted
Hislge. "If a's so great a mini amongst
the lords and eo risen, a'd na come back
to Stratford. An' I say a's a witless
loon so there.1"
Nick whirled around In the road.
"And I say. Hodge Dawson." he ex
claimed, with flashing eyes, "that 't Is
a shame for a lout like thee to so mis
call thy thousand-time liotters. And
what's more, thou shalt unsay that, or
I will make tin swallow thy words
right ben- and now!"
"I'd lolke to see thee try," Hodge
Ix'gan: but the words were "canvly
out of hla month when he found him
self stretched on the grass, Nick Alt
wood liending over blm.
"There! thou bast seen It tried. Now
come, take that back, or I will surely
Isix thine ears for thee."
Hodge blinked and gnicd. collecting
bis wits which hud scattered to the
four winds.
"Whoy," said he, vaguely, "If 't is all
o' that to thee, I take It back."
Nick rose, and Hodge rramlilcd clum.
slly to Ills feet. "I'll na go wP thee,"
said he. sulkily; "I will un go whur I
be wimpped."
Nick turned on his heel without a
word, and started on.
"An' what's more," liawled Hodge,
after him, "thy Muster Wully Shaxper
lie-cth an old gray giswe, an' Imhi to he,
says I!"
As be sMike, be turned, dived through
the thin hedge, and galloped ncrua the
Held na If an army were at his hinds.
Nick started back, but ipilckly paus
ed. "Tlum needst na run," h called;
"I've not the time to catch tliee now.
But mind tin this, Hodge Dawson,
when I do come back. I'll tench thee
j who thy U'tters be-Will Sbakspcare
first of all!"
A Story of Two Arc-hliishopa.
In a letter to the Ioiidoti Times, the
Archblhop of Dublin sends the fol
lowing account by Archblanop Alexan
der of bis final Interview with Dr. Ben
son: "May I Is- allowed to mention
something which hatiieiid under in
j own nf on the morning wheu Die
Primate of all England left It some
thing which will ever make It to lao
a holy aud hautiie.i ssjt? The time
was come to say good by, I bad recclv.
ed heavy tidings, and a I walked with
him to the carriage, j asked for h
lieiiodietlon. He laid bis band iihiu
my head and tenderly cheered me with
the Aanmlc benediction. The lird
bless thee and keep thee' the while he
llfti-d up his eye and jxiiircd out soma
word of prayer and pleading. As I
liKiked tijMin his earnest, flushed and
radiant face, I Instinctively understood
a little Is-tter that wonderful cffeit of
prayer In the pattern of humanity
'As He prayed the fashion of Hi couu
tenance was changed.' Then, as If In
the Archbishop's sublety of gctitlenms
he would leave liehlnd no nisslble Im
pression of Niipcriortty, he tisik my
hand and smilingly kissed the tin-hie-plscnpal
ring iihiii It, saying, 'I saline
'the ancient Si of Armagh.'"
Armenia Is not a thoroughly Chrisilan
country, a U gem-rally believed. Out
of a imputation of .Vilo.lior. nearly Ave
sixth are Mohammedan, the exact
numtier being 2,1100.414, to only tSOWJKl
Christian,
HiMbandI supioe Mm, Brown en
Joyed her European trip? Wife-Very
mtKh; but ahe'a delighted to Iks home
again. Hrmbaod-No doubt. Thle la
the place to talk about It -Puck.
