MY POOR WIPE. BY J. P. SMITH. CHAPTKR I. “Don't, Paul— don't stare at mo like that!” cried my wife, leaning forward on} her chair and laying her ainull hot y*lni across my eyes, with a gesture jfilf scared, half petulant, that irrl* fpltted mo vaguely, “I—I don’t llko It, F"J beg your imrdon. Ilclcn,” I re sponded somewhat huffily, drawing back. "I really was not aware you objected so pointedly to my looking at you,” "l don't I don’t!” r.he broke In eagerly, "How could you Imagine such a thing? It was the expression of froar face, Paul, tliut took m« buck for the moment, when I turned my bead and found you alttlng there JljHtohlng me with such a critical, apkri liing sort of look, alniout nu if P*’Am If I whit, sweetheart?” I usked, ‘ appeased by the rniresslng touch. Bp'Ag If you raw something In me you could not quite make out, und did hot llko at ull—at ull! Hut 1 was mistaken in that, wasn’t I, Paul?” 1 Then, after a moment’s pause, as I did not reply - "Sure it was only foolish fancy on my part? Hay It was only that nh, say It was only that, love!” ahe whis pered, In the soft drawling brogue I was learning to like, jjf "Well, dear,” I answered alowly, "as you proas me so, 1 must udinit I was a little surprised, after leaving you on the lawn romping with the dogs In the very testaey of high spirits, declar ing that even the twenty-first of Juue Was loo shoit n day (o be happy in, to And you half un hour later sitting fcere alone, to all appearance a prey ko the profoundeet melancholy, your eyes perfect wells of despair, looking an If tho burthen of existence waa too heavy to be home another summer's day." \ "It waa heavy- ao heavy! You are right. I could not have borne 11 much longer. For tho lust twenty minutes I—I have been your widow, Paul." | "Oh." i said, with a feeling of unac* countable relief, stroking her tumbled * silky hair, “I see! You were my i widow, madam a very flattcrlug and satisfactory explanation of your ap peurunce indeed! Hut, dear, don't you Iblnk, ail circunmtuncea considered, it la rather premature for cither of us to ^dou the weeds even lu spirit yet?” Hhe was nineteen, as fresh and an hardy as the mountain heather she 1 had lived among nil her life. I was 'f twenty-five, stood six feet one lu my : stockings, and had not known an I hour'a illncau since 1 had the measles many years before. “That waa not the kind of widow hood I meant," Helen said, looking at rue with a touch of puthellc reproach In her stionge eyes. "Your death, your mere bodily extinction, Paul, would not grieve me tor long; I should cease to mourn you soon enough.” "Mrs. Dennys," I exclaimed, In mock indignation, "explain youraeir, please! You surely would give me ibe conventional year of crape at the leant?" "No, 1 wouldn’t- -not a year, not a week, not a day, for 1 would die tho same moment you did. Do you think I could live and you dead, huaband?" "And yet you any you were my widow for full twenty minutes, true daughter of ICrln?” “That was because I h id lost you In a way that severed us In life us well as in death." j.osi mu in a way mat neveinu us In life ax well ax In death? This Is dreadful weather for conundrums! I give It up!” I responded languidly. 'T—wax widowed, Paul, because I hud loat your love—because you cured for another woman more than for me,” xhe returned. In a low voice, looking at me with eye* full of tragic denunci ation, ax Hcbecca might have looked at Ivunhoe, as poor l.u Valliere at Louis when she bade him her last good-by outside the convent gates. I laughed a little too bohderouuly, 1 felt, and drew her to ray side. "To be sure, to ha sure," I assented | volubly, “I never (bought of that so lution! How long la It since I first learned to care for you, ms belle? That day you and I slipped dowu the moun tain aide through the yellow broom?— let me aerr raven, eight, why. nearly nine months ago! A long spell of con stancy—almost time I should be weary ing for another love, lan't It? Home men, you know, would like a mange of wife with every ebattge of coat; but aa I happened to be of rather conserva tive kidney. 1 think 1 ought to be able to wear one wife to three coats at the least, aud I believe I courted you id the very cloth your Anger* are caress ing now. lt‘e getting a bit shabby, to ha sure, but-'* •‘You may treat my words lightly," ake Interrupted, leaning over me with half-closed eyes a bright pluh spot burning on her cbeaks. "I still etlek to my epiaton. aometking tells me I shall lose you, as I say some dayf* "Feed your melancholy na the fancy," I retorted, with peevish uneasl seas, feeling somewhat that I had said too much. "If It pleases you I wonder If your morbid eye of prophecy sees any chance of my losing yen a* you are to leeo me?** She seemed at Aral aearance would change, her cheeks glow, her eyes gleam with a light that I vaguely felt for h moment would. In most men's opinion, dim Kdith's plucld beauty Into Insignificance. She had certainly very strange eyes I never could ascertain their exuct shade. Hometlmes they were deep, dark, still, like water In heavy shadow- again, they were all life with flickering tawny lights, as (bey were ihat moment, when raised to Kdith's In rueful expostula tion. "Ob. Miss Stopford, please don't ask me to change my wool agslu! Let mo finish to the stalk In this brewny yellow." "My dear Mrs. Dennys, Impossible! You have only three shade* In the leaf as yet, and I have (hanged my wool a* many as thrce-and-twenty times in a single spray of virgin vine." "Have you? Then I’ll never he an artlKt in crewels!" laughed Helen, the cloth dropping luzlly front her hand*; whereupon Jim, her little terrier, thinking the lesson over, Jumped briskly up on her lap, upsetting her workhasket, (he contents of which roll id over the waxed boards scissors, tapes, needles, bodkins went right and left. A stout reel of black cotton traveled languidly my way, and, stoop ing to pick It up. the golden hair of the only woman I ever loved brushed my forehead deliciously. "Meet me at the end of the cedar walk In half an hour," she said In a quick whisper, with downcast eyes, fumbling for the reel that I, In my agi tation, had dropped again. "I have something to say to you." I nodded, lay hark in ray chair, and Instinctively held up the paper to shade ray face from observation. When my wife called mo over to drink a eup of tea, I glanced apprehensively Into a mirror to see If the color had faded from my temples yet. No, It was still there, burning brightly, even through my tanned skin. "Meet me at the end of Iho cedar walk In half an hour," I repealed stupidly, again and again, ao ! strolled across the lawn towards Uretton Hall, the residence of General Htopford, Kdith'a uncle, and ray grandfather's brother. "NVhat does It mean? What can she have to say to rac? I can’t understand It." (To be Continued.) THE ROMANCE OF ALUMINUM. Aluminum Is a metal which we are (tupposrd to owe to modern silence; hut a curious passage of l’liny'a works, which has hitherto received but little attention, Indicates that it was discov ered onee before, as long ago as tbo first century of the Ohrlaliau era. Dur ing the reign of Tiberius, a certain worker in meials appeared at the pal ace and showed a beautiful cup com posed of a brilliant white metal that abone like ailver. When the artificer waa prcaenltng It to the Kmperur he purposely dropped It on the floor of the chamber. The goblet was so bruised by tba fall that It seemed irretrievably injured; but the workman took hie hammer, and lit tht presence of the court repaired the damage without de lay. It waa evident that this metal was got sliver, though it bad almost the same brilliancy, besides being much more ductile and considerably light er. The Kmperor questioned the artlfiier cinaeiy, and learned from blur that he eitrncted the metal from an arglllaieuua earth. Tthsntus then ashed If nnyoue besides htiusell knew the pro. •>*« and received the proud re ply that the secret was known ouly to bintMelf end Jupiter, Thka answer wee sufficient The rmperut bad infected that H it were possible to obtain this wtial from »n common a enbetance as clay lhe value of gold and ailver would he areally reduced. Ml he determlaml lo avert sorb a lamentable catastrophe lie ewu * Vlaiilf.il.I lls sponsibllltles uf rareulaga HI forth. After 1’ilate had suicided, tradition i.ays that hi* body was tffrowu into (lie Tiber, and such storms ensued on and about that river that hla body was taken out and thrown into the Uhone, and similar disturbances swept that river and Its banks. Then tint body was taken out and moved to Lausanne, and put In a deeper pool, which Imme diately became the tenter of similar atmospheric and aqueous disturbance. Though these are fanciful and lul-a* traditions, they show the execration with which the world looked upon Pi late. It was before this man when he j was In full life in a court of Oyer and ( Terminer. Pilate said to his prisoner: | "Art thou it king, then?” and Jesus j answered: "To this end was 1 born. Bure enough, although all earih unfl hell arose in keep him down, he Is to day empgluecd, enthroned and coronet ed king of earth anti king of heaven. That In what He came for, und thut is what He accomplished. JJy the time a child reaches ten years af age the parents begin to discover thnt child’s destiny, but by the time be or sbe reaches Ilftrcn years of age, the question Is on the child's lips: "What shall I do? Whut am l going to be? Whnt was I made for?” It ts a sensi ble and righteous question, end the youth ought to keep asking It until H Is so fully answered that the young man, or young woman, ran any with us much truth ns Its author, though on a less expansive scale: "To this end was I born.” J here Is too much divine Mull shown In the physical, mental and moral con stitution of the oruinary human being to suppose that he whs constructed without any divine purpose. If you take me out on some vast plain and show me a pillared temple surmounted by a dome like 8t. Peter's, and having a floor of precious atones and arches that must have taxed the lirala of llio greatest draught small to design, and walls strolled and niched and paneled, and wainscoted and painted, and I should ask you what this building was put up for, and you answered; "For nothing at all,” bow could I believe you? And It Is Impossible fur me l<> believe that any. ordinary human be ing who has In Ills muscular, nervous and cerebral organization more won ders than Christopher Wren lifted in Ht. Paul's, or Phidias ever chiseled on the Acropolis, and built In such a way that It shall iaat long after St. Pnul'n cathedral Is us much a ruin as the Parthenon that such a being was con structed for no purpose, and to execute no mission, and without nny divine In tention toward some end. The object of this sermon is to help you to And out what you are noado for, and help you And your sphere, and assist you Into that condition where you can say with certainty and emphasis and en thusiasm and triumph; “To this end was I horn.” First. 1 discharge you from all re sponsibility for most of your environ ments. You are not responsible for your parentage or grand-parentage. You are not responsible for nny of the crank* that may have lived in your an cestral line, and who a hundred years before you were born may have lived a stylo of life thnt more or less affects you today. You are not responsible for the fact that your temperament is san Kiiiue, or nieiunciuuic, or umuun, ui lymphatic, or nervous. Neither are you responsible for the place of your nativity, whether among the granite hilts of New England, or the cotton plantations of Louisiana, or on the banka of tbe Clyde, or the Dneipcr, or the Shannon, or the Seiue. Neither are you responsible for the religion taught In your father's house, or the Irrellg* Ion. Do not bother yourself about what you cannot help, or about circum stances that you did not dectce. Take things as they are. and decide the question go that you shall he able safely to say: ‘To this end was I born." How will you decide It? My direct application to the only Helng in the universe who ie competent to tell you—the Lord Almighty. Do you know the reason why He Is the only one who can tell? liecause he can see everything between your cradle anu your grave, though the grave be eighty yeara off. And bee idea that. He la the ouly Helng who can a»e what has been happening In the last GOO years in your ancestral line, and for tbouaand* of years clear bark to Adam, and there t* not one person in all that surest rat line of 1.000 years but has somehow effected your character, and even old Adam himself will sometime* turn up In your dlapositlua. The only Helng who can take all things that pertain to you Into consideration l< Ood. end He ie the one you ran aak. Life !a eo short we have no time to rspriimeut with occupations and professions. The reason we have so maa> dead failures la that parents decide fur i hlldrru what they shall do, or ihildreu them selves, wrought on by mgu whim or fancy, deride for theniaclvee, without any imploratton of divine guidance. So we have now In pulpits no n rushing sermons whu ought in he tn black’ smith shopa making plowshares; an 1 we have in the taw ihnu> sho inslesd j of ruining the rases of thetr tllN'r I ought to he pounding shoe last*, and dwsTote who are the wore! hirtdrsueee | to theti patients reeubosstr, end ! artists trying to paint Irnderepee whu | ought tw he whitewashing hoard . fence*, while liters ere others making krtche who ought to be remodeling •-onet It ut lows or shoring plane# who ought to ha raasformiag tltereturwe 1 A eh tied about whet wurtdty business you shall undertake, until you are bo positive you can In earnestness smite your baud un your plow handle, or your carpenter’s bench, or your illsek Htuue'a Commentaries, or your medical dictionary, or your Dr, Dick's Didactic Theology, say ing; “For this end was 1 born." There are children who early develop natural affinities for certain styles of work. When the father ot the astronomer Forbes was going to London, he ashed his children v/hst present he should bring each oue ot them. The hoy who was to be un as tronomer cried out, “Bring me a tele scope!" * • * Do you wait for extraordinary qualt flcatluns, Philip, the conqueror, gained his greatest victories seated on a mule, and If you wait for some caparisoned Bucephalus to ride Into the conflict you will never get Into the world-wide tight at all. Kumson slew the Ixird's ene mies with the Jaw-liono of the stupi dest beast created. Hhamgar slew tlO'J of the laird's enemies with an ox-goad. Under (lad, spittle cured tile blind man's eyes In the New Testament story. Take all the faculty you have and say; "O laird! Here Is what 1 have, show me the field and back me up by omnipotent power. Anywhere, anyhow, uny lime for God.” Two men riding on horseback came to a trough to water the horses, While the horses were drinking, one of the men said to the other a few words about, the value of the soul, then they rode away, and In opposite directions. Hut the words littered were the salvation of (he oue (o whom they were uttered, and he be taine the Rev. Mr. Champion, oue or (he most distinguished missionaries In heathen lauds; for years wondering win* did for him the Christian kind ness, and not Hading out until In a bundle of books sent him to Africa lie found the biography of llrulnerd Tay lor and a picture of him, nnd tile mis sionary recognised the face In that book ns (lie man who, at the watering irnugu ror noraes, had said me ming that saved his soul. Wliat opportuni ties you liuve had In the past! What opportunities you have now! What opportunities you will have In the days to come! |*ut on your hut, oh! woman, thin afternoon, and go and romtort that young mother who lost her babe lust summer, Put on your hat, oh! man, and go over und see that mer 'hanl who was compelled yealerilay to make an assignment, and tell him of the everlasting riches remaining for all those who serve the Lord, Can you sing? (Jo and sing for that nmn who cannot get well, und you will help him Into heaven. Let It he your brain, your tongue, yeur eyes, your ears, your heart, your lungs, your hand, your feet, your body, your mind, your soul, your life, your time, your eternity for God, feeling In your soul: "To this end was I born.’" It may he helpful If I recite my own experience In this regard, I started for the luw without asking any divine direction. 1 consulted my own tastes. 1 liked lawyers and courtrooms and Judges and Juries, and reveled In hear ing the Frellnghuysens and the lirud leys of the New Jersey bar, and as as alstant of the county clerk, at sixteen years of age, I searched tllleu, natur alised foreigners, recorded deeds, re ceived the confession of Judgments, swore witnesses and Juries and grand Juries. Hut after a while 1 felt a call to the gospel ministry and entered It, and I felt some satisfaction In the work. Hut one summer, when 1 was rest lug at Sharon Springs, and while seated in the park of that village I sutd to myself, "If 1 have an especial work to do in the world I ought to find It out now," and with thut determination I prayed as I liad never before prayed, ami got the divine direction, and wrote li down In my memorandum book, and I saw my life work then as plainly an I see It now. Oh, ito not be sutlalieil with general directions. Get specific directions. l>o not shoot at random. Take aim and tire. Concentrate. Na poleon's success In battle came from IiIh theory of breaking through the en emy's ranks at one point, not trying to meet tho whole lino of the enemy's force by a smaller force. One reason why he lost Waterloo was because ho did not work his usual theory, and spread his force out over a wide range. O Christian man, O Christian woman, break through somewhere. Not a gen eral engagement, and made tu answer to prayer. If there are sixteen hundred million people in the world, then them are sixteen hundred million dh.orcnt missions to fulftll, different styles of work to do, different orbits In wuich to revolve, and if you do uot get the divine direction there are at least fif teen hundred and ninety-nine million possibilities that you will make a mis take. Ou your kuces before Ood get the matter seitled ho that you can firm ly say: “To this end was I horn." And now f come to the climacteric ronslderation. As near aa I can tell, you mere built for a happy eternity, ail the disaster* which have happened to your nature to be overcome by the blood of the l teg« among them, the instructor, by nay of practical explanatiou. walked •lowly down the laue formed by the t*u ranka, asytn*. ao k# did so "Now. I m the corpse. Pay attention!'' Hav ing reached the ml of the line he lurn«d regarded the m*u »uh g aero, tlnlalug eye for a minute, end then re started. "Your 'anda to right, and ' your 'rode is right, hut you 'aven't got that took of re.net you ought tu 'are * . ... «* l«i usuX. A father atth a ioug die of girl* sad a wife and baby in a ««go« draw* hy t«o to ladle otvn pa*aed thruugn Hope. Ark m the way tu Porto Hlea, to settle on a piers of land - LwlUe ■ News.