; DOB ‘VHITC.
LooV 1 the Taller* arc thick with grata
Beavy and tall;
Beaches drop In the grassy lane
By the orchard wail;
Apples, streaked wlih the crimson maw,
Bask lu Iho aunablne warm and bright J
Bark to the nuall that plpea for rain;
Bob While! Bob Whltel
Aogur of mischief, i Ipee for rain;
Bob Whltel
lien who reap on the fruitful plain
Skirting the town.
Lift their eyes to the shifting rant
Aa the aun goea down;
Ho«lr the farmer'a loaded wain
CUmbe the elope In the falling light)
Bold la the voire that plpea for rain*
Boh Whltel Bob Wbltel
Btm from the blllalde plpea for rain;
Bob Wbltel
Lo, a burat at tbe darkened pane;
Angry and loud;
Watere murmur and winds complain
To the rolling cloud;
Boused at tbs farm, tbs cars! • * swain.
Weaving ansres while the lira hums bright
Tunes bis lips to tbs old rsfr’.ln:
Bob Wbltel BolTWbltel
Oh, th* sound of tbe blithe refrain
Bob Wbltel
—St. A’lehutai.
A Happy Quarrel
"What do you think, JohnP The
&..S..I.SS /V.tt_I. 1.1 »*
Miss Nicola Whyte carao In from tho
tillage, all in a quiver of ue wly-acquir*
ed information. It vai always she
who brought in any stray bit of news
er gossip. John never seemed to hour
s n y tiling. As Miss Nicola sagely
observed, "lie ttlwuys 1 ved with bis
nose in a book.”
"What docs it matter to me,” said
Miss Nloola, "what they did in the
days of King Humeses or Julius C'tBtur.
I’m a great dual more Interested In
what is go ng on to day at Iiurling
tiaiii or Lillie Bridge.”
•Shu was u trim, neatly dressed
person of middle age, with beady,
black eyes, short black curls that
danced and trembled with every move
ment that sho made, and a great
lauuy for wearing pink or blun riboons
—a sort of assertion, perhaps, that six*
was not jet past the age of bright
colors and girlish costumes. To day
she carried a little markut basket in
tier liund. bho hud been bu> log sweet
breads and asparagus for dinner.
Mr. Whyte looked up from iiis desk,
lie bud au extensive correspondence
with Continental philologists, and was
preparing to send out a batcii of
letters by the next mail.
•'The Brandon Cottage,” said be.
rubbing bis baud over tiie forehead
that, in spite of It s flve-and-forty
5ears, was still fair and smooth. "Oh,
am sorry 1 ’
"bo aut I.” sn:d Nicola. "Nobody
knows bow much I've enjoyed the
straw berr es out of the gurden, and
the roses from the great portico hush.”
"1 wasn't thinking of that,” said
ber brother.
••Yon never do think of anylbing
practical,” retorted Nicola, parenthe
tical I v.
"But it’s the quiet of the thing that
1 shall miss,” sighed John, examining
the point of his fountain pen. "Of
course it's a family with nine small
ciiiiitreti us tue least."
"You’re wrong there, observed bis
sister. "It’s a gentleman with one
daughter—a gentleman who catue here
for Ids health. I saw an old woman
cleaning the front steps, as 1 came hr,
and a whle rabbit jumping about the
lawn.”
•'(Jood for the rose-trees and shrubs!”
drily remarked Mr. Whyte.
"I shall speak to Ihcni. and beg
them to keep the horrid little nu same
on their own side of the fence,” sad
I..,. -i_
bled bare. They've got u patrol, too;
it seres ms awfully."
•‘Well, let it screaru. It can't scream
louder than Mrs. Jennings's buoy did
when they lived there," said " Mr.
W liyto.
• Humph!" said Nicola. *T rather
think you’ll Unit it can. I'm so sorry
the house is let"
••So am I.” suid her brother. ‘'How
ever, there’s no use in going balf-wny
to meet one's troubles—so. if you
please, Nicola, I wdl proceed with my
.utter.”
Meanwhile, the dwellers In the little
(iotbie cottage, embowered with elms
and braided about with glossy trails of
ivy, were equally the subject of inter
r*t mid discussion between Mr. Dela
croix and h s daughter Corinne.
••Papa,” said Corinne, "Tvc seen
the neighbors—a'slngle gentleman and
It s sister. She looks dreadfully prim
and dr ed up, but lie's quite hand
some, a id they have such a superb
Irish setter!"
••Yosf" sa d Mr. Delaero x.
He was an amateur artist in a small
way, and his preseut absorbing occu
pation was the arrangement of can
vases, la figures, and portfolios in the
loom he nail selected for a studio.
•Hut the dog barks every time |*a
yiita talks; aud poor Psquda is fright
ened out of her Senses," said the g rl.
"I'aqutta must gel used to it."
"I hojie Ue won't worr. dear i tile
itonin t 1 sighed fortune.
"Mutiny must keep on his own side
of ijts fuitvsy" absently observed Mr.
Iklwrad,
fortune shook her he ad—us rsrsd,
piquant little heal, bruuniing over
w tk dark enrln (the l»*d soli, lini|>id
lisa shadowed with long lashes; a
straight, express ve tee*, and the
sweetest of eberry mouth* which, be
tween laughing, talking, sod soldo
qoistwg, waa seldom shut long enough
to irons in perfect Cnpuf-lww of scar
let
“I wish wa hadn't awr neighbor*!"
•tied she.
••fit dear child," soisotaly reason
striked her father, *do yon expect *o
live wa a desert tsiamif"
forms* laughed.
"I dea't win I for myself. ' said she;
hat Its thraay sad Csuutia -and the
drsadfnl while and tan nog I'm sure,
between thejn all, wa shall gst lain
for keey tame tree They
Isael tj two week* •« the
•ygspl • ken asattet* same te
* rmlMk—Wf**!— HkXI‘t*r1 ---‘-1
and ring, carried her Investigations In
to tiie Whyte garden.
N'ero, in chasing lior from his right
fu 1 domains, pulled a mouthful of
grey-arid-green feather* out of her
tail.
Bunny girdled the clio ce new rose
tree which had just been set out in the
centre of Mr. Whyte's inwu, and
made a meal off the tall, white doulzia
hush.
Miss Whyte’s maid presented her
“mistress’ compliments, and they
couldn’t stand that nuisance of a rab
bit any longer. ’’
. Old Selina came back with “Mr.
Delacroix’* respects, and nobody in
the house could sleep for that dog's
perpetual barking at night."
“I bad intendod to call," said John
Whyte; ••but as this unlooked-for cool
ness has arisen, it is perhaps better to
keep my distance."
“I'm told that Mr. Whyte is a very
cultivated person," said Mr. Del
acroix; “but this petty quarrelling is
unworthy of a gentleman or a ser
vant."
One day Mr. Whyte found Nicola
drowned in tears. The rabbit had
lunched off her pot Brazilian tree, and
torn up all the Japanese lily-buds in
the border.
“This won’t do,” said John.
lie wns u soft-hearted man, and the
sight of Nicola’s tear* spurred him on
to sudden vengoance.
“Got me tny revolverl I'll shoot the
vorni.n!"
• He’s out there by the cedar tree,"
she whispered, through her sob*.
“You needn't lie ufrud; there's no
body in range."
A single shot and tlio white object
collapsed ami fell over into u cluster
of sweet-briur bushes.
Mr. Whyte laid down the revolver,
and wiped Ids forehead.
“I'm sorry for it already," said he.
•'The creature was a pet after all. But
wu have been driven to it—literally
driven!"
Just then there was a rustle in the
hedge, and Nero sprang over, his
mouth garnished with a stray feather
or so from Puquitu!
‘‘There!” said Mr. Whyte, ‘the
brute lias been trespassing again. Ho
must have broken h>s chain. The
shrieking of that luckless parrot in
furiates him beyond ever)thing.”
•Tm very sorry,” faltered Nicola.
“But what can wo do?”
"We must do something.” said the
brother, seizing Nero's disjointed
chain, and walking grumlly of)'toward
the kennel.
"Now,” he thought, ‘‘I’m more
sorry tiian ever that 1 shot the rabbit"
He was crossing tbe lawn next day,
with some choice geranium slips in
Ills band, when lie heard a smothered
sound us of sobbing, in the little
Irellmcd arbor on Hie other side of tbe
hedge.
Ills heart smote him with a sudden
remorse. He Hung down the gerani
ums. went around by the gate, and
presented himself before poor little
Corinne Delacroix, who sat, bitterly
lunieuting, on the step of the summer
house.
She started guiltily at his approach,
ami rose to her feet
••My dear young lady,” said he,
••what is the matter? is it anything
in which 1 can helpyonP"
Si ll Corinne wept on.
“I—l owe you uu apologv, ” added
While. “I regret from fue bottom of
my heart that I allowed myself to be
carried away so far as to perform sucb
nu uuDeieliborly and ungcntloruanly
action. If 1 could repisce him—”
• But you can’t!" sobbed Corinne.
• Ob,please—please forgivo met I don’t
know what possessed me to put strych
nine into a piece of meat at the foot of
the garden. But 1 did, and he lias been
poisoned!'*
-Poisoned!” gasped Mr. Whyte.
•‘Your father? '
"No.” wept Corinne, with a gesture
oi imp.u once, ' rue nog I
‘Do you uiuau njv Irish setter?"
••Yes!”
“But ho isu’t poisoned!" cried Mr.
W h • te.
“He lias disappeared," asserted Cor
ione.
“1 have sent him away. I did not
choose that so tr.fl ng a tiling as a dog
should r so lip dissension between
lie git bora."
Corinne dropped her tenr-ilrenchcil
pocket-handkerchief; her face grew
radiant beneath its bright drops.
‘Oil, I mil so glad!" said she. “1
am not qu to such a guilty wretch ns 1
fancied myself, lint 1 did put tiie
I poisoned meal there. In intention 1
| aiu as guilty ns uver. And 1 shall not
; be quite, quite happy until you suy that
; you forgive me.”
“i assure yon. Miss Delacroix—" tie
gnu Mr. Whyte, thinking how best he
' could confess to the horrible fact of
| being Huuny's deliberate murderer,
when there was a gleam of white
through the leaves, ami Bunny himself
i jumped upon ids in stress' Ian, from a
nook among tue foi age.
"I am going to send Bunnv away,"
; said Corinne. “to me cousin in Brigh#
! Ion, who wants a white rabbit d re ail ■
fully. Ami I'aipbla has already been
, shipped lo Boulogne by express. I‘e
| pa isis w.< must nut keep pets st tbe
expense of our Heigh lairs' peace of
wind. And, by the way, we were so
much obliged to you—papa ami I for
j •booting Unit hateful old wh |e eat that
1 was always < ha* ng llunur and want
i i*| Is ent I'nquita up! We saw you
j about bar. Ii was ibal that made me
f. el so eusttoence stricken about tbe
pots owed weal."
“Mem-bottl! ' coughed Mr, Whits
, “lam glad— that is, i realty d da't
- know —'
“And wuss't you cowe in and see
nans’" prettll# pleaded t or inner
“lie's quite an invalid, ynu know and
: be woo'd so esjif the suetety of a
aegbbur!"
Mr IV byte eonsented No one
, could knew se d “No" to futtsw
And wbsM bn went bewe bn bed
psowlesd to base Nero brought hsek.
profited Honor should nut he hkdnd
flow tbe Hrsodou »U*|s
|(iai H il>i > Uka
Hho Was del‘gblod With Mr I tel a
efoix and hie daughter. I be muse
lA*f *nw of aneh other the hotter they
were wutunlly pleased
‘W'oflnnw has I rare nsiuret" tsd
Mr Whfta noiboalastlenliy
• Yea Iwdnedt * «a 4 hie sister “And
It !§ enough to break one's heart to
hear of all that Mr. Delacroix hasgonv
through."
• • • • • *
At the voar's end. the neighbors
looked oddly at each other.
••Wonders never will cease!" said old
Mrs. Jones.
••J wouldn’t liavo believed itt" said
Mrs, Jenkins.
“To think a man of Whyte's sge
should get engaged to a girl In her
teens!" said Mrs. Jones.
“But, after all," said Mrs. Jenkins,
“it isn’t half so strange as that Miss
Nicola Whyte, at her years, should
uinrry a widower I kn her father."
"And it’s sort o' puzzling." remark
ed the deucon, ■ what kind o' relations
they’ll be to each other."
“Still," said Mrs. Jenkins, “if
they’re suited, we're no call to Inter*
fere.”
“That’s very true!" observed Mrs
Jones, Willi a chuckle.
Burmese Crocodiles.
The crocodiles inhabiting tho lower
parts of the Burmese rivers are of a
very largo size, some of them attaining
to nineteen feet in length, writes a Sun
Francisco ihroniele correspondent
from Mandalay. A writer who states
lie has visited Indio, says he cannot
discover tlio difference between the
eastern crocodile and the Louisiana
and Florida alligator or cayman; that
there is none, in fact, except in name.
It is evidout lie has not seen any ut
close quarters, for there is much differ
onco between the several vuroties.
There are actually twelve species of
the crocodile, eight true, one gavial
and throe alligators; these have a
specific, not a general difference. Those
1 saw in the Gunges have long, narrow
muzzles, and are called gnvials. They
are peculiar to that river, being found
nowhere else. I have met with the
saurian tribe in Egypt, West Africa,
India. Burma!), South America, Jamai
ca and tlio southern states, aud have
found that nil differ in some particular.
Tho Bermese name for them is “Mee
joung," There is a town on the west
bank of the Irawaddy called Hiuthada,
where I resided fir some months. Dur
ing the year prev ous, i was inforraod
by the head man of this place, over 100
persons were killed by these ferocious
reptiles. There is a ford over the river
at this place, and the crocodiles had
an inconvenient habit of lying in wait
for those persons crossing the ford,
seizing ami enrying them off. Not be
ing fond of their food in u fresh con
dition, they hide their victims in the
mud at the bottom of the river until
the flesh has gained by keeping s suf
ficiently gamov flavor to be relished by
(Iieni. Dogs aro a favorite food of
theirs, as a crocodile will often land
and run after a canine to try and cap
ture him for bis larder. As the rep
tile can only run fast in u straight line,
being to unwioldy to turn quickly, tiie
dog generally contrives to elude his
pursuer and makes his escape. 1 killed
several crocodiles during my stay in
Hinthada, and iiad their hides pre
pared and tanned, and utilized them for
bools and shoes. Being impervious to
wet, 1 found them most serviceable
during the wet monsoons. I used to
get a Burman to paddle me about in
a dugout until I caught sight of a
“meejoung” lying on u sandbank bask
ing in the sun. when 1 took careful aim
at their vulnerable part, their belly,
where the scales are linn, and a con
ical bullet will enter with ease. A
couple of these leaden pills fired into
this portion of a “meejoung’s anatomy
will make him feel vt>.y sick indeed,
and lie will soon give up the ghost.
On approaching a dead crocodile the
heavy and penetrating odor of musk
is most nauseating, and it was a long
time before I became accustomed to
it
General Mejia und t.io Texans.
The Mexican journals aro still some
what excited, not to say exasperated,
over a little incident that occured at
the recent dedication of the new Capi
tol at Austin, and ill this instance, ut
least tiie mex cans are right.
Among thu guests who were invited
to attend the ceremonies whs Presi
dent Din/, of Mexico. Tlio invitation
was cordially accepted, and General
Mejia, a very prominent ollli-er. wan
authorized to represent President Diaz.
The splendid Mox'cau baud, which it
even super or to Gilmore's, was also
sent to Austin to assist in the dedica
tion.
Now what does the orator of the
day do but in u most oil'ensive manner
attack the Mexicans. General Mejia,
with u a few feet of the eloquent ora
to.*- listened with unmoved face while
his ootiulrymeu were being denounced
ns “hordes of bandits," eta, etc.
General Mejia, who br the wav, iy
I thoroughly conversant with the Kn>
gliali language, uteuded to make s
congratulatory speech, but very prop.
erlv, tinder the Circumstances, desisted
front doing »a Kit Iter the ••blood.’
shirt" feature should have been omit.
te«i from the programme or else Presi
dent Dins should have not Iwnn invited
to semi a rviptesi-iitative. What makes
tins matter worse Is Ihe undeniable
fad that of late the admin stratioa ol
Pres.dent D as has acted tu an honor
aide attl straightforward manner in
puu>ahiug, with even loo great severe
tv. Mexican ofMe els who have e mated
Amerlcau territory.
t'wder the*# e rcumelanoee there is
no excuse tor lanntiug Getter si Me pa
wiih Ihe Mexican defeat at lisa J wm
to In diplomacy and real |MlillCH««4 I
the Mexicans are our super i. ns, a >4
a<» «n«'b /owe t» IS n,ml I have been
stall be th*«y potdre men if any tepee
seat stive Aswresi had bean my led
i'< attend a pobti, d.*u ,.*•!> »i,.» i at the
t'lty of Ilnim "» inn A/lisyt.
It# be pm ted Her Well
It la not always buys who ara
grateful It la sometimes the daugb
lee's xihiHiliisM that ta sharply ihae
the serpent » Peak. A peetts i«is« «m* j
lbs tiam pettiehlv said to bar woti>m
•t >>me «... len ra always ba
A senei aids gentleman case eg at >u|wsi
bud east .Sever behind when sub
wets tea, was tlsef — tbr usia > id* . j
i
BY M.T.CALDOR.
INTERNATIONAL RACES ASSOCIATION*
CHAPTER VII. — (CONTINUID.I
"Have I told you how I came to fall?
You see, I thought Isaw a sail off on the
water, and I forgot what I was about
and lent forward too far. Perhaps I
was right, and ye’ll all get away to lib
erty as well as me. Ye’d better light a
fire on the cliff at night If you make out
the sail. Poor little Ellie, don’t cry so.
Tom’s dreadful sorry to leave ye all so
lonesome here, but we mustn’t rebel
ag’ln the Lord, you know."
Immediately he ran off Into a ram
bling, Incoherent talk, that showed his
mind was away in the little hamlet of
his native town. He laughed once,
and spoke his sister’s name In a quick,
glad wuy, like one who has come to a
happy meeting. Only once more ho
spoke—this time with something of his
old cheery heartiness.
“That’s comforting.” said he. “Oh,
Mr. Vernon, how glad I ain ye’ve come
to love the Bible better’n them rhyming
books. Read that again, please, sir. If
ye can see for the dark.”
“He thinks we are at our evening
reading,” whispered the awed, scarcely
breathing Walter.
Mr. Vernon looked piteously at the
ashy face, and Alined, unseeing eye, and
then conquering his emotion repeated
solemnly the psalm "The l^ord Is my
Shepherd.” The words seemed to reach
the dying ears, for a contented umlle
played round the pallid lips. Closer
and closer drew the sorrowing group.
The glassy eye was fixed now; the limbs
rift Iftn trot* nnirorArl ■ ftn IV r» faint throb
bing at the throat told of life. In a
few moments that had ceased too. li)
shuddering horror Walter and Eleanor
flung themselves In Mr. Vernon's arms.
Folding them closely In his arms he
groaned:
"God have mercy upon us—we three
are left alone.”
The scene that followed Is too har
rowing to be pictured. Anywhere, at
any time, death is sad and awful
enough, but there on that lonely Island
the strongest and stoutest taken from
their little number—no tongue can de
scribe the terrible loneliness, the
wretched gloom that followed.
They made his grave beyond the
spring, beneath the Hibiscus tree, and
never was mound more tenderly
smoothed or sorrowfully bodewed with
tears than the lonely island grave of i
Tom Harris. It was not until the sec
ond dismal day after his death that the 1
suggestion of Tom's came to Mr. Ver- i
non’s mind. The sail he had seen—
what had become of It? Was It still In 1
view? (
Walter had been Tom’s pupil In those 1
athletic exercises that become a sailor’s I
second nature, and was, moreover, rat- i
urally active and agile. He volun- I
teered at once to ascend the flagstaff, i
although his cheek blanched and his
eye studiously avoided the spot where I
poor Tom had fallen. Eleanor was
nearly frantic at the proposal, but bis i
father, after a few earnest words of i
caution, consented that he should make
the attempt. It was now three days I
since the accident, and there had been
no breeze on shore, and they had cher
ished the forlorn hope that If a vessel i
had actually been near them she could
not yet have drifted from sight. Wal
ter's face was gloomy enough as he de
scended. There was a faint speck on
the water as far as he could see, but he 1
did not believe it was a ship. <
Mr Vprnnnflmhlonlv ctnrtloti tn n con
bcIoubiicbb of the insecurity of IiIb own i
life, had become morbidly anxious to
leave the inland. Without Tom's
cheery, self-reliant nature to sustain
him, he felt lneupable of protecting thp
youthful beings Providence had left in i
hts charge. Moreover, he had long
been aware of an Inward malady slowly
but certainly eating away his strength, i
For himself he asked nothing better
than a grave beside his faithful com- I
panlon. For the children's sake the
life on the lonesome Island seemed In
tolerable.
"It will do no harm,” said he
promptly: "let us kindle a Are on the i
cliff every night far a week or more."
With dismal alacrity Walter and
Kleanor gathered the dry underbrush
snd moss, and reared the pile on -heir
pretty white coral throue.and as soon us !
dusk arrived, with eyes that burned j
feverishly enough to have kindled the j
pyre, Mr, Vernon piled the tinder and i
dint,and in a b w moment* the ruddy
beaut shot up. flashing a yellow path far
off into the #*•« and a rosy glow against
the darkened sky. Those three an stuns,
terribly earnest faces and striking
forma stood out distinctly snd wildly I
In Ike flaring light. Kvea in the ml 1st
ttf his own harrowing suspense Wal
ler's artist eyg look In the grand auk
Untily ef ike scene sod made a m*atal t
memoranda that was thereafter to live
In undying rotor a The tsars wera at
|*atly streaming over KWsnor * « k« h.
Walter turned sad drew her fondly ta
hts aide. It wan net the time new ta
think of formal prudence or is retiree 11
tke sympathy so mark needed
’ fill, Walter, we art fearfully la earn
eat aaw. It seems as tf we must all
perish if no skip ta wear Tom s death i
has made nor (stand Ufa I a voters hie
Th>nh how ktjrtikie it will ho to ha ike
last anal** And. shuddering, she ft sag
•eovoietvetr to hta arm
Me soaked softly the tremhtiag j i
ksada
"You are sakaueted otth grief sad 11
asrvues with «»« Itemeat, Kills Things
M| Jvok more thoerfnl hy-and-hpo.i
ojome 10 me nouse ann near me bihb me
hymn my father taught u«. I will rock
you In my arms, my poor frightened
darling, till sleep shall come; and then
my father shall sleep In Tom’s room,
so you need not feel lonely, while I shall
keep the Are blazing brightly all night.
Will you try and sleep, Elite?”
He drew her gently down the cliff in
to the pretty parlor that was called her
room, and as he had said, took her In
his arms, and sat down In the rocking
chair he himself had made for her, and
In his clear, sweet voice began a low
hymn. His soothing tones stilled the
tumult In Eleanor's heart; the sobs
ceased, the tears no longer trickled
down her cheek, and presently she
weary, swollen eyelids closed softly,
and her quiet, regular breathing told
him she slept. Laying her carefully
upon the couch, Walter went back to
his father, who stood with bowed head
and folded arms at the foot of the cliff.
"Have You any hope, father?” he
asked calmly.
“Yes, my son, the hope that depends
upon prayer. Heaven knows how 1
have poured out my soul In petition that
help may come to you. Joyfully, gladly
would I propose that the price of your
safety might be my own worthless life.
I am content If the ship will come to
take your two fresh young hearts to
human companionship, though I myself
may never set foot upon the land of my
birth. 1 have so much hope, Walter.”
“You talk so lightly of your life It
grieves me deeply. What it has been I
know not; you have never told me, but
that It is now our greatest consolation
and joy, I feel more deeply than words
can say.”
"SnniP Hmo Woll/ir vmi eVmll knmv
ill. Perhaps It Is selfish In me that I
would hide the past till the last mo
ment. It wil not be long before you
will understand everything. Go In
now, and leave me to tend the fire.”
“No, Indeed,” was Walter’s decisive
•eply. "I am young and strong, fit for
light watches. Besides, Eleanor is
•estless and nervous; when she wakens
t'ou can best comfort her.”
The last suggestion overruled his de
ermlnation, and Mr. Vernon went back
,o the house.
What eager eyes scanned the empty
lorizon when morning broke over the
lea! What dispirited faces gathered
■ound the breakfast table! What list
ess melancholy pervaded the whole
lay!
Without a word of explanation, Just
>efore nightfall, Walter went to work
nd gathered a fresh pile of brushwood.
4r. Vernon’s head Was bowed upon his
lands, and he did not notice the move
nent; but Eleanor followed sadly, and
minting to the charred, blackened
ock, said mournfully:
“It is like our hopes, our lives, Wal
er."
Walter’s lips quivered. He would
lot show the weakness to her, but leap
ng lightly upon the rock began to ar
■ange the wood. Heedlessly his eye
ell upon the distant sea, and lo! a wild
ransport dashed off his black look of
lespair; an eager light irradiated his
lagle eye.
"Saved! saved!” shouted he, reeling
nto the arms of the astonished Elea
lor, weeping like a girl.
She thought him crazed and Rhrnnk [
lack in terror. Recovering himself, he I
rled earnestly:
“The ship is there she Is coming.
)h. Ellie, we are saved!”
When Eleanor at length compre
ioiiiIoiI Vila mnunlnir clw. Knim/ln.l f_
vard to the rock, and satisfied that It
was Indeed a large ship-masts, hull
md all plainly visible—she Hew llk« a
’rantlc creature to Mr. Vernon, and
linging her arms around his neck,
lobbed herself In a transport of delight.
Walter had grown more calm, and \
lastened to state the Joyful Intelligence
dearly. Mr. Vernon took their hands
md solemnly lifted his eyes upward.
S'evcr came prayer more thrllllngly
'rom the Innermost soul than rose on
he twilight air from that lonely Island.
"Now. then, we must work. Waller."
Mild his father quietly. "Night Is close j
it hand, and the reef la dangerous. I
hink you and I can get poor Tom's
'anoe out into smooth water and wnru
hem (turn the sunken rocks At such
> time as till* Klt-iuur will not ahiluk 1
o Im* left atone to tend faithfully the i
icaeon light. Our pnservers mu*, not
Differ for obeying our signal of dls
.reso.'*
Walter was already en hla way to the
warb The espetlear* of tho last few :
lays had swept away all trace of boy- ;
shnsae With the Ira elastic tread of
onffdeai maahuod he >laah*d down la
he host A sigh weal out lo the mem
try of him whose hand had Iasi secured
he tope ef barh. hui Ihe eagle eye «aa
land steadfastly on the outer sea and
hla was time lur acituu wad no- tor
am* at at low Ills father, alth wa*
hiag of youth s >lg«e. leaped to his
• U- carry log a boa. h of the kaota I hr*
rad laag ago prepared fur a*swing II
umtaatlea the Same of oaa amoag
hem aireamtag up eirhiy and pale la
h« waning daylight
What wild etuhaat hep so who' sad
rtttor area* or is* stirred those two to
null wows heart# who shall say* Hut
ha oars were plied la sileacw. sad st
onily. i«o whoa a frown hreoso sprang
ip, was lb* Ullle soil rained and heftro
be dwehy a lags brooding a bars thorn
'aided ihe white sails of I hair hope [
rom *rgbt. ther had gained lha desired 1
station close beside the treacherous
reef, and with their little torch flaring
brightly over the gray ridges of leaping
■water, moored their tiny lighthouse as
securely as possible, and waiting, gazed
not at the burning stars above, but far
over the sea to the flickering gleam
where the unknown ship hung out her
signal lamp, or back to the cliff where
Eleanor tended faithfully the rosy bon
fire.
Eleanor was lonely and intensely ag
itated, but no thrill of fear mingled
with her sensations. Vigilantly and
steadily she kept the blaze bright
throughout the night, now straining her
ear to catch a fancied hallo, now turn
ing sadly in the direction of that new
made grave, whose cold, unconscious
occupant could hear never more the
glad huzza of rescue for which he hoped
so long.
CHAPTER VIII.
ITH the first wel
come glimpse of
daylight to her we
ary eyes came a
sound that brought
her heart fluttering
to her throat—-a
cheery shout ming
led with the meas
ured dash of oars.
Eleanor threw
down her torch, and
sweeping hnck the cloud of damp
curls that fell heavily over her
face as she ran, she flew down
the path to the little cove where
the boat was kept, which was the
natural Inlet, since no other was free
from surf or convenient for landing. A
strange boat, packed closely with men,
was aiming steadily for the shore. Her
eager eye ran rapidly over the company
to flrwl Wftlfpp nnrl h\a father TIipv
were there In the stern, In earnest con
versation with a tall officer in the lieu
tenant's uniform of Her Majesty’s serv
ice. Eleanor stood on shore, half shy,
half dignified, the early morning light
playing softly around her graceful fig
ure, the light breeze dallying with her
robe of native clotn, and stirring a gold
en sunshine of their own among her
curls.
"A romantic picture, truly,” r.atd
Lieutenant Harry Ingalls, looking ad
miringly upon the beautiful girl, half
child, half woman, poised there upon
the rock as lightly as a bird, fit ideal of
the tropic loveliness of the whole scene.
“By my sword, one might believe yon
der was another Aphrodite freshly risen
from the foam. It were worth treble
the voyage the ‘Hornet’ has made to res
cue and return so fair a flower to Eng
land's generous heart. In truth, young
sir, I have done pitying you for this
long exile. In faith, I should ask noth
ing better myself with so fair a com
panion.”
He turned his gay blue eye to Walter
merrily, but a frown was on the latter’s
forehead, and his looks were bent
gloomily upon the water, and it was his
father who answered quietly. Just a lit- _
tie reprovingly:
“We have endeavored to do our duty
faithfully toward one so gentle and
good, especially never to forget amidst
the unavoidable familiarity of circum
stances the probable high birth and ele
vated position of the young lady. The
Bame respect and delicacy, I trust, will
be observed by all others, until she is
safely under the protection of her own
relatives.”
The young officer colored a little, and
replied frankly:
"You need have no fear of me, my
good sir. I trust a British sailor knows
what Is due to his own character, as
well as what is required by a beautiful
woman in need of his protection. Our
queen herself could not be more hon
orably dealt with than will this young
lady on board our ship. Come, boys,
bend to it steadily—a long pull a stroa
pull, and a pull all together,” he added,
turning his eyes away from the shore.
(TO Bl CONT1NCBD.I
HOW IT STARTED.
Another Cato of "How Thom (itrla Ho
Lore One Another."
Pinkey—How lovely! I see you have
one of those splendid new Nonesuch
bikes.
Ethel—Yes, isn't it a dear? What
Bliilffi till von
IMnkey Oh, 1 ride a Scorchem.
Kthel They're magnificent.
IMnkey Yea, no light and durable,
Kthel How tuuch doe* youi wheel
weigh? j
IMnkey Twenty-two pound*. ’
Kthel Twenty-two pound*? Why,
mien only weigh* twenty-one.
IMnkey- Hut then your*, you know,
la not *o durable,
Kthel The Ntmenu.h not durable?
Why. that I* admitted h\ everyone
IMnkey Noareuch! A friend of mine
bought one and tt went to pit-cog In 4
mouth
Kthel | dua l believe It.
IMahey What? You don't baleve
mo?
Kthel No. | don't One Nour»u< b
will outlaat a duaea dcoreh«-m*. They'rw
ihe eater looking rattle Imp* | *tri
laid eye# on
IMnhey tfurmuHy) You're a horrid
.uieuiplll.le thing and I hop,.
***er apeak to me again!
Kthvl teuwplaveatlyt Hoad worry
I wauldnt >umpr,MMi«o myaeti by
•peaking t* anyone who rode o fcoroh
•a*.
kt Mm.
There a a rumor la ibe vongrega. 4
iton, eald the graven, "that yog want
Humming wb.a you were in Albany «
It la n vruat tUader repltml the ear
mn t merely aiteedeg ^ '
** • brjlaknttve tnveatigatlng tammlt
T mill
• Men* rtaa at ■•«•• t «,u*
Hva.y player* are » *.«* „ Mmm
t'nrln bad ytuSt* are 4*,i*aaiag.