Mildred ^ Ur gh)g nion DY THE DUCSIESS. CHAPTER XIV.—(Coutiuued.) “Can't my dear fallow; don’t you see how engaged I am?” answered Eddie, casting an expressive glance at Silvia Elsie, who blushed and simppred, and lowered her white lids In acknowledg ment in the most bewildering manner. “Denzii, you are doing nothing—go and succor the lost damsel, and re store her to the bosom of her benmved family.” “Yes, do go, and explain things to 1 her, Younge,’ implored the unsuspect ing Lyndon, "and just say how it was I was put in for my cousin. It is an j awful bore,” confided his lordship in a heartbroken whisper, “but what can a I man do when a girl comes crying to him about some miserable boy’s stu pidity? You bring Mildred home safely, there’s a good fellow; remem ber, I leave her to you;” and, without waiting for a reply, Lyndon bustled off, greatly to his cousin’s relief, who dreaded lest some inopportune chance i should again consign her to young Summerton’s care. Both Lady Caroline and Mabel, who ! alone there knew his secret, had gone long since, so Denzii was left with no one to assist him in this hour of per plexity— with no one to aid him in es caping the tete-a-tete drive that appar- j ently lay before him. Ever since his ! arrival at King's Abbott he and Mil dred had scarcely spoken to each other —had shown, indeed, a mutual, though unspoken determination to avoid each other in every possible way. Then came the thought that she— ; knowing nothing of the circumstances —would perhaps imagine that he had connived at this arrangement, and hail made the most of the opportunity of fered to gain undisputed possession of her society for tiie long homeward drive. Mildred was in a sadder plight than Deir/.il dreamed. Having wandered rather farther than she had had any intention of doing on first setting out. and discovering that a wood in Jan uary is by no means the same thing that it is in July, she began to icfraco her steps with the design of return ing home with her mother. Dreading that she might lie late, and feeling besides intensely cold she commenced to run, and as she ran her foot came upon a frozen pool, slipping upon which she came heavily to the ground. Raising herself up again directly and thinking nothing of it she hurried on once more, but presently an intense pain in her foot startled her,.which In a few minutes increased to such a de gree that she was obliged to seat her selif on the trunk of a fallen tree anil acknowledge herself disabled, consider how best to acquaint her friends with her mishap. Fully half an hour passed thus, and Bhe was almost upon the verge of de spair, when footsteps coining hurriedly toward her from a side direction roused her, and raising her eyes, she beheld DenzlI. She blushed c rimson. “What has brought him?" sin* won dered. “Surely Lyndon-’’ “At last I have found you.’ said Don zil in his coldest tone, and as though he were politely bored .it having been put to so much inconvenience. “I have come to tell you that the others are all gone.” “Gone!” echoed Mildred, with as tonishment. “Then where is Lord Lyndon?” His cousin, miss uttvunii, -u nervous that she insisted on his driv ing her home, so lie commissioned me j to find you, and bear you his apolo- | gles,” returned Denzil, repeating ltis lesson with prompt decision. “I do not understand ids treating me in such a manner,” said Miss Tre vanion, very paie and proud; “and where were Eddie and Charlie?” "They also were fully occupied," Denzil said bitterly; ‘but your sister, preferring to return home with Lady Caroline, unfortunately left me free." Mildred bit her lip. “1 regret very much that you should have given yourself this trouble,” she Bald slowly—“I am sorry you have come.” "And so am I.” returned Denzil. haughtily; “but it is not my do ing. I beg you to believe. Miss Tre vanion that if I could have avoided it I would have done so.” Then, seeing she made no attempt to move, he ndded, “Had you better not come? It is getting very late.” She made no answer, but, putting her hand against the side of the tree, raised herself to a standing position. As the injured foot, however, was brought more firmly to the ground a spasm of pain contracted her face. “What is the matter? Have you hurt yourself?” he asked, in a some what softer tone. "I have strained my foot in some awkward way—it is nothing, she an swered. “Perhaps you had better take my arm.” said he, still coldly; and she re turned. "No, thank you; I think I can man age to get on,” and she did manage for a few yards or so, when she fal tered, uttering a faint moan. “What is the use of your persisting in this folly?” exclaimed Denzil, an grily. “Do you wish tc be laid up for a month? Take my arm directly or—” ungraciously—"shall I carry you? I think it would be better. I dare say. 1 could do it without breaking down, os it is not very far.” “No." she answered indignantly— “certainly not. I can walk quite well,” But she took his arm for all that, and for a while hobbled along, miserably, beside him, her face white with pain. “This Is madness!” cried Denzil, and forthwith, not asking any further leave, took her up In his arms, and walked on again, so burdened, with a frowning brow and a set, unpleased expression about his lips. Miss Trevanion was so taken by surprise and so utterly prostrated with pain, that at first she made no protest, but presently began to cry quietly in a broken, wretched sort of way. Denzil stopped. “Shall I put you down?” he asked, sternly. The situation, being unsought by him, and extremely distasteful—with his heart beating passionately, as if to warn him how Insufficiently under control it was—compelled him to as sume an ill-temper he was very far from really feeling. Miss Trevanion sobbed on, but made no reply, knowing she had none to make, and so wisely refraining from speech of any kind; whereupon Denzil marched on as be fore not addressing another word to her. He was a strong man; but a full grown, healthy young woman was r.o light weight—so it was no disgrace to his manhood to confess that when at length he had her safely deposited in the carriage, he was rather glad than regretful. Taking tlie reins from the hoy and throwing him some silver, he drove away without a single glance at liis companion, as she lay back ex hausted among the cushions ho had carefully, but sulkily arranged for her. Mildred's foot, having been examined and pronounced “likely to he tedious but not serious," she was comfortably ensconced on a sofa in her mother's sitting-room, whence, after dinner, she sent word that she would he very glad to see them all if they would come and sit with her. So consequently about nine o'clock, considerable noise and laughter might have been heard issuing from the boudour, where they had all assembled obedient to her commands—all, that is. save Eddie, Miss Lisle and Denzil Yonnge, with one or two others who had lingered in tlie billiard-room. Lord Lyndon had, of course, been the first to approach Mildred to inquire how she was and express his tender, loving regrets that she should have no injured herself; but finding her. though sweet and gra cious as usual, somewhat disinclined for conversation, lie had left her pres ently with the entreaty that she would try to sleep, and so subdue all fever ish symptoms. But she was flushed and restless, and could not compose herself, so lay open-eyed, though si lent. with her gaze fixed upon the door. CHAPTER XV. “Mildred,” said Sir George, one night about a fortnight later on, “if you really mean limiting tomorrow, you will have to be up betimes, as we shall have to start more than usually early on account of the distance we have to go.” “I shall be ready," answered Mildred. Accordingly, the next morning, true to her word, she was down-stairs equipped, even to the dainty little whip she carried in her hand, before any one but Denzll had put in an appearance. Dydon r; jiving shortly afterward in time for breakfast, they hastily dis patched that meal, and started direct ly after for the meet, which was at some cWlfcMerable distance—Miss Tre vanion and the acknowledged lover in front, Sir George with the discarded in the background. On their way they fell in with Frances Sylverton, attended only by a groom—Charlie having gone to rejoin his regiment some days before-- who called out gayly that she had come this route on the mere chance of meet ing them, and was therefore, for once in her life, unfeignedly glad to see them. “And what has happened to you. O knight of the rueful countenance?” she asked, merrily, of Denzll, reining in her horse beside his. “I had no idea 1 was looking so lu gubrious,’ he said laughing, “and I don't believe I am either. It is the morning mist that has got into your usually bright eyes." “No, it is not.” persisted Miss Syl verton, emphatically, shaking her head; “the signs of woe upon your face are unmistakable. I suppose you have a presentiment that you will be slain today, and naturally don't rel ish it.” “You are wrong,” said lie—“entirely wrong. If I felt the shadow of such a feeling upon me, I should go straight home again and wait for the dawning of some luckier day.” And then immediately afterward they came within full view of the hounds, as they stood clustered to gether in the hollow, for the most part seeming one mass of spotted skin and waving, restless tails. Three hours later, and Miss Treva nlon. with heightened color and warmed blood, was riding excitedly along to the occasional m”sie of the forward hounds. A little In front. Sir George and Lyndon gave her the lead, while behind there were none; for of all those who had met that morning but few now remained to be in at the "death.” Some finding the pace to hot in the beginning had wisely drawn rein and solemnly plodded home again; others, more adventurously hut scarce ly so well judging, trusting to iliekle fortune to favor the brave, had come to a violent end and now sat or stood lamenting their fate and abusing their goddess in no very measured terms; while of those who still held on— among whom was Frances Sylverton— most of them rode to Mildred's left, down deep in the hollow of Hart's Chase, leaving to her right but one, and that was Denzil. A passionate lover of riding and de voted to sport, Younge's keenest en joyment was to feel a good horse un der him, with the certainty of a hard day's run in view; and today, his mount being undeniable, he was grow in? nlmnst hannv fieain. Having made a false move about half an hour before lie was now crashing through or over everything that came in his way, to make up for lost time, and gain on Sir George anil Lyndon, who—clever and wary sports men both—had sailed along from the beginning straight in the line of vic tory. without a moment’s swerve. Just as Denzil at last caught sight of them and knew himself to be once more in the right way. he found he was on the same ground with Middred Trevanion. only considerably higher up. It was a lengthy meadow, strag gling and untidy in form, and Mildred, entering at the lower end, could scarcely distinguish her companion above, but succeeded in making a shrewd conjecture nevertheless. From where she was it was easy enough to get into the adjoining field, l>ut with Denzil it was far different. A short ugly wall rose before him, sur mounted by a hedge of some sort, thick and prickly, which effectually concealed from view the heavy fall on the other side. Still, it was not ex actly an impossible thing to take, though decidedly a “facer,” and Den zil, understanding the danger and trusting to his horse to carry him through, determined to risk it, come what might. Miss Trevanion, slightly ahead of him now—having managed her last jump satisfactorily—turned nervously in her saddle to see how it would end. She wondered breathlessly whether— whoever he was—he knew of the-. And then she saw the horse rise, land i at the other side, stagger, and then, I plunging helplessly forward, bring it i self and its rider heavily to the ground. Mildred shut her eyes and pressed her teeth cruelly on her under lip to suppress the scream that rose so nat urally from her heart, and when she summoned courage to look up she found the horse had risen and stood trembling at some little distance off, while on the grass lay motionless a mass of brilliant scarlet cloth and a gleam of golden hair. (To be continued.) roll Tuxes In A. 1>. 13 *. The Rev. Dr. William C. Winslow, vice-president of the Egypt exploration fund, says that in addition to tho papyri recently presented by the so ciety to several universities there is a valuable lot of forty-three papyri which have been received for distribu tion. largely treating of business and civil matters in the first centuries of our eta. Among the seven papyri for Columbia university is a tax collector’s return showing items and how the col lectors' made returns in A. D. 196. There were poll taxes in A. D. 122. The rise of the Nile was the greatest, annual event, and upon it taxes were calculated. Hence one of the six papyri sent to Johns Hopkins, treat ing of the unwatered land tilled by Ptollarous, A. D. 163. is peculiarly in teresting. She declares that her field at Euhemerla did not get the water. Her plea, in a word, is: “No crops, no taxes.” How I.oiulon Could He Defended. If the Dutch ever sail up the Thames again, or a Norman force land, London will not be unprepared. In the archives of Pall Mall repose musty schemes for the defense of the metropolis which it was thought would be undisturbed un til the war department commenced to move into its new palace. But there are busy men about and as a result new schemes will be forthcoming for the defense of I/ondon. Something like 60 batteries of artillery will be allotted to the defense, including guns of heavy caliber, 4.7 and 6 inches, which will be mounted in commanding positions, covering a wide, sweeping arc. The mobile force for defense will includa nearly 100 15-pounder field guns, and an army corps of three divisions of regular infantry and 100 volunteers.— London Express. Heating Ola litone In Argument. Mr. Eden Eddis, a famous English portrait painter in his day, who was once nearly elected an R. A., has just died within a few days of his 89th birthday. He once was discussing with Mr. Gladstone what was the bright^ color In nature. The statesman elaifned that red was; the artist said that even in the dark you could see the blue (lowers in a garden. Mr. Eddis showed Mr. Gladstone a photograph where the red flowers remained dead, undetached from the leaves, but the blue flowers were light and visible in all their forms. Then the controversy terminated abruptly with "Good-night, Mr. Eddis!” OF MOIIAWK INDIANS. TO HAVE NEWSPAPER IN THEIR OWN TONGUE. The Editor Is the Son of a Mohawk Chief Who iVm Educated at (invent nicnt School.—Sp.cliuini Paragraph from the I'upcr. The Mohawks of Canada and New York state are to have a newspaper. It will he edited by Charles A. Cooke, a full-blooded Indian emplojed in the department of Indian affairs at Otta wa, says an Ottawa correspondent of the New York Sun. Some time ago Cooke began publishing the Onkweon we, a semi-monthly magazine, printed in the Mohawk language, and it was so successful that ha has decided to turn it into a newspaper, the first of its kind in Canada and the second in America. There are other Indian pub lications not newspapers, but the ma jority of them are issued by mission ary societies and they are edited by white men. The Cherokee Advocate, published in Indian Territory, is the only other Indian newspaper in North America. The Onkweonwe will pub lish some telegraphic news from differ ent parts of the world, market nows and reports of prices of furs, skins, fish, etc., and will have an inquiry de partment, which will be one of its leading features. Editor Cooke is the son of a Mohowk chief and was edu cated at government schools and after ward took a course in a Canadian col lege. When he had been graduated he got a clerkship in the Indian depart ment. lie is a dark-skinned young man, with pronounced Indian features. He is a good singer and is a member of the choir of the leading Methodist church in Ottawa. Two other Mohawk minima, miss Maracie and josepn ue lislp, are employed In the same room with Mr. Cooke. All are well edu cated. Few of the Indians can read English, but about 10,000 are able to read anything printed in the Mohawk dialect. The Mohawk alphabet con sists of twelve letters and n and k are used much oftener than any of the others. An ordinary eight-page issue of the Onkweonwe contains about one quarter n's and k's. For this reason the editor has had some difficulty in getting his copy set up, as the printer soon runs out of n's and k's. English characters are used. Here is a speci men paragraph from the Onkweonwe: "KONONK W E AO T IK IW A SO X H A. "Iakonnewata iaiakoseke enska ne tens teken 'niinit' jlnikariwes onon warejerakeriko tionekonties enska me jiaiaiaksera tenwatiaseren senali jiien wakatsteke jieniontste." When the Onkweonwe came out first many of the old cheifs objected to it. “The great Spirit, Giteliee Manitou the Mighty, says good Indians never read newspapers,” said they to the younger braves, but the paper became popular. Indians like to hear about the doings of the white men. When Editor Cooke started the paper he published incidents about the Indians, and soon letters were sent to him from his fellow braves saying, “Stop publishing news about the Indians; tell us about Laurier and others.” They did not object to the name Onkweon we, which means in the Mohawk tongue, “the only human being,” or “the real human being,” in contradis tinction to others who are looked upon as being less worthy of the name of man, or as lacking in qualities of manhood. “Onkwe” means a human being and would lie applied to a pale face or to an Indian of another tribe. The addition of “onwe" is Mohawk for "the real thing.” The Mohawks are inquisitive. Among the questions Edi tor Cooke has had to answer are the following: "Why does the government try to control Indians?” “What is electricity?'' “Who was Papineau? and what did he do?” "What is an In dian?” To the last question Mr. Cooke answered "An Indian is an Indian who has native blood in his veins, and who is on the reserved lands under the protection of the government.” The Onkweonwe recently published the fol lowing story about an Indian living near Bganville, not many miles from Ottawa: "Indian John, a celebrated Mohawk guide, who is now 80 years old. has been sleeping in his cofiln for some months. John, although still a vigorous man, knows that he must soon leave for the happy hunting grounds, so some time ago he made himself a cofiin and began sleeping in it. Since then he has used no other lied, and he has told his family that if death comes to him while he is ly ing in his coffin they are to put. on the lid and bury him. Until the call comes John will continue to hunt lr the land of the Mississaugus. Odd S|k«»h In Envelope*. German postmasters have been so annoyed by eccentricities in the shapes and sizes of the envelopes inclosing mail matter that a bill is to lie intro duced in the Reichstag prescribing the size and shape of envelopes. The chief annoyance is the de’ay in stamping the letters with postmark and cancel ing stamps, for these odd-shaped and odd-sized missives will not pass through the stamping machine in such a way as to receive the .-tamp properly, and have to be gone over again by hand. A CilgatiUe Knitting Proposition The information of the large size of the government budget, which the members of Lord Salisbury’s cabinet are imparting .to the Britons a< gently as possible, indicates that the Old Lady of Threadneedie street will have to do a little extra knitting.—Baltimore Her ald. FISH THAT CLIMD STAIRS. In TrnT»llng to Summir ll.umti Thtj Display A'Totmtlr Ability. It is not an uncommon thing to see on pleasant days, when the fish are running at East Taunton, hundreds of nii'ii. women and children clustered around the fishway watching the fish struggling up against tiie strong cur rent and trying to get into the smooth er waters above the dam, where they may shoot off at leisure to the spawn ing place in the Nemasket, says the Boston Herald. The fishway is so con structed that it Is impossible for the fish to make a clear swim from top to bottom or vice versa. They must work tip the river in the eddies, for the tide is also very strong there near the dam and until they reach the lower part of the fishway. Thence they struggle and wriggle into the lower entrance of the fishway, thus making sure of at least a chance to rub up against the boards and rest before they begin their wearisome fight for the top and smooth water. It is in the fishway that the Interest of the average spectator is centered, since here the fish can be seen plainly in bunches almost thick enough for one to walk across on their backs, and where one may easily reach down and pull them out of the water. They are generally packed In so thick that they cannot escape the quick moving hand of man or boy. From right to left and from left to right, steadily, slowly, they keep on In the effort to get out of the fishway, and it is one of the prettiest sights imagin able to watch the little fellows,plucky and game to the last, as they almost imperceptibly work out of one passage way into another and crowd each other against the corner. No matter how many people are close to them, so close that they could be touched with the hand or cane, they appear to pay no attention to their interested audience, but keep right on about their business. A watchman is on duty at the fishway all of the time to see that no one dis turbs them, but when his attention Is taken up by questions that are asked frequently, those who like the fish right out of die water smuggle them out and are away before they have been apprehended. It is understood that there are thousands of these her rings stolen, in this way and other ways before they get trt the clear water but there doesn't seem to lie any help for it TALLOW DIF’S IN MEXICO. 01*1 Commercial House* Adhere to Primi tive Method of L‘if tit inif. Electric lights are coming into more general use all the time in the City of Mexico as the various companies add to the capacities of their plants. Three companies are now furnishing electric light and powrer. An American com pany is preparing to erect a modern /as plant. Several gasoline lamp com panies are operating in the republic throvgh local agents. Candles, how ever, remain in very general use among all classes. Petroleum costs from GO to TO cents a gallon, while tallow candles of local manufacture can be purchased as low as one cent each, this price nat urally for a smell taper. Mexican workmen can get along with less light, apparently, than any other class. In some of the old fashioned ofllces of im portant commercial houses no other light than tallow dips Is over known. A bookkeeper may be seen making his entries in a great ledger with the light, of a single candle, and the wealthy proprietor may be found bending over his big mahogany desk Hanked by two tall and stately candelabra. A Mexi can printer can work with a candle stuck carelessly Into one of his boxes, and two tailors in the small shops can he seen sharing the rays of a single dip. The opportunities for the sale of better lighting apparatus in Mexico will be great when it can he provided cheaply and of simple construction. I UC II1 111 V. If 1 Lj rApCJKIIlCU Willi most of the gasoline lights that are on the market here is that tl\ey require careful attention, and in the hands of ignorant Mexican servants they soon get out of order.—Pennsylvania Grit. A rll(i0,00u,000. Six of the companies are capitalized at $1, 000,000 each. Many a stylish hut covers an empty head. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. LESSON X. JUNE 9 —ACTS 22: 6-16. (inlilcn Tezt: I Was Not Disobedient t’nto the Heavenly Vision—Arts 88: 19—Jr.iis Appear* to 1’aut—Tlio Work of the Living Christ. *>. And It came to pass. that, as I made my journey, and was come nigh unto Da mascus, about noon, suddenly there shone from heaven a great light round about me. 7. And I fell unto the ground, and heard a voice saying unto me, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? K And ! answered, Who art thou. Lord? And he said unto me. 1 am Jesus of Naz areth, whom thou persecutest. !•. And they that were with me saw In deed the light, and were afraid; hut they heard not the voice of him that spake to me. 10. And I said. What shall I do, Lord? And the Lord said unto me. Arise, and go Into Damascus, and there it shall he told thee of all things which are appoint ed for thee to do. 11. And when I could not see for the glory of that light, being led by the hand of them that were with me, 1 came Into Damascus. 11’. Anti one Ananias, a devout man ac cording to the law, having a good report of all the Jews which dwelt there, 13. fame unto me, and stood, and said unto me, Hrother Saul, receive thy sight. Ami the same hour I looked up upon him. 14. And he said. The God of our fathers hath chosen thee, that thou shouldest know his will, and see that Just One, and shouldest hear the voice of his mouth. 15. For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of w hat thou hast seen and heard. IS And now why tarrlest thou? Arise, and he baptized, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord. There arc many ways In which men be come disciples of Christ. Note the great variety shown in the New Testament his tory. as In the case of the early apostles, N'lcodemus, Cornelius, the Ethiopian, the three thousand on the da.V of Pentecost. The New Jerusalem has twelve gales.ami people can come Into It from every direc tion. and In many ways They may ride or walk, they may go swiftly or slowly. The one ipiTstlon is whether they enter at all. iiiusiiouon. Mi-n come imo ini' King dom of God in ns many different ways as plants come to flower. Some come right up out of tlie earth to blossom; some come up and urinv the whole Rummer, and then blossom; some grow a year, and then blossom the second year; some grow tip like trees, and do not blossom tilt they are three or six years old; some put the leaves out lirst. and some put out the blossoms first and the leaves afterward. There Is every possible inode of inflores eenee. I leecher. Paul's experience brings out In distinct outlines and vivid coloring the great es sentials which underlie the common ex perience of conversion, but which are not always distinctly recognized. It is a no ble example of what Jesus is continually working on earth in the redemption of the human race. The vision of Jesus, coming to F’aul pre pared "as tbi‘ soil Is for the seed, as the eye for the light." convinced him of his sin and need. It showed him his own heart. lie saw that he was far from God; that even In Ills conceit of goodness lie was doing wrong: all tils life his mo tives. ills purposes, must have seemed poor and sinful contrasted with the good ness and love of Jesus whom lie now saw. It Is the vision of Christ, so holy and loving: it is tlie perception of the good ness of God that leads men to see them selves as they are, and convicts them of sin. Illustrations (1). We go Into a room, and the air seems pure and clear from dust: hut If one bright ray of sunshine Is let in. we see that the alt' is full of particles of dust. (2) During the discus sions on spontaneous generation, many sclentlllc men thought they had purified tlie air used In their experiments entirely free from every germ. They passed it through tlie tire and sulphuric acid, and fill sure of Its purity: and yet in time growths took place In it which they thought must lie spontaneous. Hut Prof. Tyndall put some of this purified air In a glass tube, and sent a ray of sunshine through il, and lo! the germs were still there. The light showed evil where none had seemed to be. t. Paul saw in Jesus ids rightful laird and Savior; a glorious Savior, the Son of God, whom lie ought to love and trust and obey. fi. I’util repented of ills sins. Ills self righteousness, his pride, Ids errors. fi. He accepted of Jesus as his Lord and Teacher and Savior. He believed in him with ills whole heart. 7. Tie confessed Christ before men. He took sides for him. at great cost. S. This was the beginning of a new life. The sliip had changed Its course and was sailing for another port, under a different captain, but tlie voyage was only begun. Hlshop Williams represents those who be IH-ve III run vvi miuiih an nuiuiiif, "that the work of and for St. Paul, In character and life, was nil done at once. •In the twinkling of an eye,’ in his con version." But I never knew any con verted person who so believed. Conver sion Is but the beginning of the Christian life and character. But the turning may be a sudden change of direction, or the movement in a circle so large that one does not know the exact time when the direction of his course was reversed. Illustration.--Ofiethe, In his "Tale of Tales," speaks of a fisherman's rough log hut, which by virtue of a lamp within was gradually transformed Into solid sil ver, and the uncouth hut became an ex quisite temple of finest workmanship. However suddenly the light tlrst shone, the process of transformation was life long. Hush Fires In Australia. The bush fires nf Australia, one of the common terrors of the life of the early settlers, have apparently lost none of their horror. A correspondent states that recently a great part of four states was a mass of flame and smoke, rising from leagues of flaming forest and burning grass. Thousands of miles of fencing, hundreds of farms and orchards, disappeared in this fiery furnace. Huge flocks of sheep, mobs of tattle, tens of thousands of kanga roos, wallabies, opossums, parrots and lories were burned alive. Tales of terrible races for life in coaches, carts and even by mounted men filled the papers. POINTED PARAGRAPHS. A great mind is always a generous one. Economy supplies old age with an easy chair. Only a mother can understand the language of an infant. The blacksmith puts a horse on his metal by shoeing him. Poor men 'should be polished, for they receive many hard rubs. Every man set3 himself up as a stan daid by which he measures others.