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; ROMANCE OF A BENEDICT. There came to-day, From far away, jfeatAg* It wax sent to me From one I knew, Who still is true, ft»eo again I seerord to see; I trembled as 1 read her name ; Through every vtln within my frame I felt the warm blood ebb and flow ; The deathless love of long-ago Again possessed ray soul And held control. Ouse in theso empty arms Her lovely form I pressed; I (jea°d upon her charms, I felt upon my breast The beating other heart, are we were torn apart: Two lives, with faith and trust, Were blended into one, Oar rose-leaves now are dust, Our dream divine is done. ir. Our dream is done, and yet to-day there «me A message from her. It was but a line. That though she bore “On Earth another name, In Heaven her heart forever would be mine.’* I read her words of hope. I sighed. I knew Her heart was faithful and her soul was true— That earthly eare and suffering had wreeked And ruined all except her self-respect. Tls sweetly sad, 'tls wondrous strange, To see the melanoholy change That Time has wrought in her fair faoe, Her form, her voice, her dwelllog-plaee. Pride, I ke a river, flows between Our sundered Uvea, but cannot hide The light that flashes o'er the tide; No barrier eau intervene Between her rouI and mine; Love was, and is, divine. It shone—it shines forever from afar Like an elernal star. III. Ah I life is short, and love is long; Its hope Is sweet, its lalth is strong. We live— We give Our hearts away, wateh and wait irom day to day, And i ime flit s on. ’The flowers fade, the snowflakes fall, They soon are gone; And death destroys, but ends not all. The years may fly, The friends we knew May droop and die, But love is true! And every truth the world oontaln In heaven remains I Frances Halliday’s Wedding. five, unless I marry to please him, or | t wo d a y ffl before we left, in order that unless he in so satisfied of my go xl we might have no concern about them, How Cupid managed to send Stephen Barker after me I never could find out; but that is between themselves, fcnd is none of my business. A man yod eneugn for Elizabeth and J met, d all such ornaments to their sex, lay bis honest heart at my foolish Ittle feet ? I own that lor a day or the honor almost turned my sad. Then 1 began to consider. I had loved Norman Strong ever since 1 r«ould remember, and Norman had been my frieud when no one else said a kind word to me. The case stood thus: I was an orphan, left to the care of an uncle and aunt remarkable for that kind of propriety that wins our admiration, and awakens our hearty ■esire tegget away from it. I had a \all fortune of 25 000 ; that is, I was ive it, if I had remained unmar- until I was thirty-five, or if I fled previously with my uncle’s roval. Tow uncle did not approve of Nor- fcn. In fact, uncle never approved vny one that I liked. But with Iphen Baraer disapproval was out 'the question. Stephen was the Feat man and good man of our small hjyn. To have insinuated that he was rorthy of a saint, a beauty and an united, would ha^e been a By seriously affecting my uncle’s and commercial standing. Stephen Barker’s offer was therefore accepted, and the next Sunday we walked to church together. After this public avowal of our in dentions, the msrriage was considered ^inevitable by every person but me. I jnust do myself the justice to state that &ver regarded my engagement to Kephen seriously; it was pait of a to secure my happiness and rht«. And as Stephen fully coin, in It, I did, not expecling ceu ’gure from any one else. I think It was no later than the third night after Stephen had spoken to my uncle that I told him I thought I ought not to marry him. He asked why ; aud I said : “All my life long, I have been such an unhappy girl. I have been afraid to speak or laugh, or sing, and no one but Norman ever said fc a kind word to me until you came.” “And you love Norman?” he asked. So I answered, “Yes, I love him aud [he loves mp, aud when he got the posi tion of cashier in your bank, he want ed to marry me; but uncle said we Iwere neither of us to be trusted with my $25,000.” .. “So yor h'we $;’!>,000?” ■ iff* sense that he voluntarily gives ic to me. He’ll never do that” Stephen was silent a long time, and then he said, a little sadly : You are a good girl to be so honest with me. If your unch 1 could be made to give up the little fortune, do you think you could use it wisely ?” “I could—with Norman to help me.” Then we had a long conversation, which it is not necessary to repeat; it will be understood by what follows. There was no change between Stephen and I. He seut aunt presents from his hot-houses and he made me pres ents of pretty jewelry. He spent the evenings at uncle Miles house, and sometimes we were left together and sometimes we went out for a walk. Norman came to see us occasionally on a Sunday night, and my aunt said he had really behaved with more good sense than she expected. I think she thought that if I married the banker it might not be a bad thing for my cousin Malvina, who was very plain, to marry the banker’s cashier. Everything went on with the great est propriety. I had announced ray intention to have an extraordinary trousseau, and this being a point on which aunt could feel with me, the next four mouths were pleasantly spent in shopping and sewing. Never in our little town had there been such dozens of elegantly trimmed under garments, such hosiery, such morning dresses and evening costumes, such boots aDd slippers aud jewelry. We held little receptions every afternoon a month before the wedding, and my wardrobe was laid out in the best room for comment and inspection It was about this time that Slephen Barker said to uncle: “I understand Frances has $25,000. I wish her to have it so settled on herself, and for her own absolute use, that I propose; Mr. Miles, if you are willing, to add $10,000 to it, and buy for her the Stam ford estate. It is only three miles from here, the house is a very fine one, the land excellent, and then, whatever changes come, it secures her a com petency, for as soon as the railway is finished it wi’l be worth double. What do you say?” “I think your offer extremely gen erous, Mr. Barker, and, of course, for such a purpose, I am willing to hand over to you at once Frances’ fortune. The interest has been applied to her own use always. Will you look at the accounts?” “It our word is sufficient, Mr. Miles.” So in about two weeks the transfer was safely and amicable affected, and Stamford Hall and estate were firmly and surely made over to .Frances Hul- Uday, spinster, for her and her heirs forever. I must state here that I op posed, as I thought right, Stephen’s gift of $10,000, and bit subsequent out lay of $1000 on furnitnre, but both uncle and aunt said that the settle ment was small enough for a man of his means, and that it would be affec tation to oppose it. Aud really Stephen managed the whole affair with such fatherly kindness and thoughtfulness that I could not bear to oppose him. At length the wedding day drew near. It had been arranged for Wed nesday morning, and we were to leave for New York immediately after the ceremony. Cousin Jose, who had prepared himself to look down on all the world from the pulpit, was to per form the ceremony. This showed in Jose a very Christian spirit, seeing that he had once looked on me and my $25,001) with affection, and I had not appreciated the honor. However, he forgave me at this interesting epoch, and came benignly to bless my venture. He brought me as a present a black onyx seal ring, on which was set a cross in seed pearls. He had offered me it once before, wiih his affections and his means, and I had then refused it. I took it now. It helped to swell the list of my presents and they certainly made a goodly show. First there was the Stamford estate from father and Ste phen Barker, and the settled bills for $1000 worth of new furniture which Stephen had sent to make the old rooms pretty and comfortable. Uncle gave me a set of silver, aud aunt some fine china, both of which gifts I took care to send to Stamford before my wedding day. My cousins and aunts and friendB gave me all sorts of jewelry and pretty personal knit kAnacha,and these T carefully packed^Mthe half- dozen trijpka which^^^^uHready rded «L ( and (hat I might be sure to have all I wanted on my arrival, I opposed this plan at first, but aunt said “it was em inently proper aud thoughtful.” So all my wardrobe except my wedding dress and a traveling suit arrived at the Fifih Avenue Hotel, New York, on ’he last day of my maiden life. Ncrman Strong called last night, and was in remarkably high spirits. He wished me every happiness, and was very attentive to Malvina. Aunt thought his behavior charming — so unselfish—and I was also very well satisfied with it. “I shall call you about eight o’clock, Frances,” said my aunt, as I bade her good-night: “the hairdresser comes at half-past eight.” I said, “Very well, aunt,” and went to my room. The first thing I did was to pack my wedding dress in as small compess as possible, and then put on my traveling costume. This done, I sat down in the dark. About one o’clook I heard the signal I watched for. I went softly down stairs, un locked the back door, and walked out N orman was there. We did not speak until we were outside the grounds. There a buggy waited, and we drove rapidly to a' main line about three miles off. Here we caught the two o’clock express, and were safe in New York and very respectably married by ten o’clock. My trunks, which had ar rived the day before, were then redi rected for Washington,aud after a deli cious little wedding breakfast—all by ourselves—we left for that city. In the mean time there was trouble in Miilford. Our flight was not dis covered till near eight o’clock, and then uncle Miles sent word at once to Stephen Barker, who secluded himself lor that day entirely. My aunt and cousin’s chagrin and disappointment wat very great; in fact when I consid ered the amount of condolence and gossip they would have to endure, I fait that for all the slights and scorns of my uuloved girlhood I could cry quits. And I had got my fortune also, and Norman and I were so completely happy 1 We had not a care, for Stephen had given him a $500 bill and a month’s holiday, and told us to get all the pleasure we could out of it. We obeyed him implic’tly. During that month things settled down a little. I did not expect to be forgiven all at once, and I was not; but then I was in a position not to worry particularly about it. We re turned very quietly, after dark one night, very much like two children who have pla>ed truant all day, and creejfhome at night-fall with as little ostentation as possible. But at Stamford Hall everything had been prepared for my comfort. The fires were blazing, the gas lighted, and an excellent supper waiting. The ne xtmorning Norman went back to his desk, and Stepnen took no more no tice of his return than if he had never left it. People who had been specu lating about his losing his position knew in five minutes that there would %e no change. And every one took his tone from Stephen. We were treated very much like two children who had been forgiven and whose fault was not to be thrown up to them. That was the way the men took it, and Norman pretended to he satisfied. The women acted with a great deal more intelligence. They all came to see me, and though I did not give them credit for the kindest of mo tives, I made them all welcome. I told them about my wedding trip, and showed them rov new things, and I dare say the men talked everything over with them afterward. But what most puzzled everybody was that Stephen Barker came so often to see us, and was so friendly with Norman. Some thought it was mean- spirited in him, and others remem bered that when he was very young he had loved my mother dearly. Even those who spoae kindly of him did not give him credit for half the noble unselfishness he had shown ; tor he would not let me tell any one that it was he himself who had planned everything about my property and my wedding. “Just let them say you jilted me, Frances, if they please to do so. We know better, and we will keep our secret until uucle Miles comes round.” Aunt and uncle both came round Hoo#er than we exp 1 cted. When it was known that Stephen spent so much of his time with us, Aunt Miles considered the advantages of having her daughters brought in contact with him, and for their sakes she came to sii Q me and give me the i. iss of recon- dilation. But as far as catching Stephen's heart “in the rebound” was concerned, she was just a little too late. Nor man’s sister, who was a teacher in the public schools of New York came to spend her vacation with us, and Stephen fell in love with her in a way which convinced me that his love for Frances Hilliday had only been the shadow of the love he had had for her mother. Norman hirnself never behaved more foolishly about me than Stephen about this little, plain Ruth Strong; for she is plain— every one must allow that. And the preparations that are going on for the marriage quite amuse me, who might have been the banker's wife myself. Dear me 1 I think Love must often laugh at the kind of people he comes in contact with. But I hope Stephen will be happy; I do, indeed. That is all I have to say about my marriage. I think it was rather pecu liar. Some women will doubtless say they don’t believe Buch men as Ste phen exist. But let a girl when she discovers she does not like a man, tell him so, and ask his advice and help, and ten to one she will find another Stephen. How can men be chival- Angus MacDonald’s Farm. Angus Macdonald was a farmer from Charlotteburg, County Glen garry, who arrived in Winnipeg a few days ago. Angus, in his own es timation, and in the estimation of his friends, was a shrewed man. He was hardly in the place before an old ac quaintance of his ran up against him, slapping him on the back in a friendly way, and said : “I’m glad you’ve come up. I was just going to send for you.” After their greeting he continued : “By the way, Angus, you own a farm ont near Minnedosa!” “Yes.” “H >w much will you take for it?” “1 don’t know,” said Angus; “I thought of settling on it myself.” 1 Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you $6,1.00 for it.” Angus thought before leaving Glen garry that if he got $2,000 for it he would be doing well, but he was now in the land of booms, and so he asked for it $6,500. “Well, here’s $50 on the bargain, and we’ll sign the papers to-morrow.” And the purchaser rushed off. . . Before two hours had passed Argus rous and self-denying if women don’t , .. ,. . , „ , ,, . , I ran against another old acquaintance give them opportunities? I think give them opportunities that is wrong, and I always intend to giveNormau every chance to cultivate such noble qualities. Topnoddy Indulges in Slang. Mr. Topnoddy came in late to supper, the other evening, and his wife had been keeping it on the stove for him an hour, at least, and she was not any happier for the loving ministration. Topnoddy saw the state of affairs, and when he sat d wn to the table he thought he would make things pleas ant for her, so he cheerily began : “I am a little late, my dear but I was engaged down town in a matter pertaining to the city government, and couldn’t get home. By-the-way, my dear, what do you think of the mayor’s reform movments? “Wbat movements? What reform? What Mayor? Is he a married man? snapped Mrs. Topnoddy, like a bunch of shooting crackers going off. “Well, no,” replied Topnoddy; “not yet.” “That’s a good thing for some poor woman,” “But I was not talking about that, angel mine. I simply asked what you thought of his reform movements.” “What are they ? Is there anything in them about reforming men who come late to their meals, who won’t cut the kindling wood, nor bring in the coal, nor carry a bucket of water, nor fasten the boards on the back feuce, nor get the marketing, nor stop talking about city government when they ought to talk home government, nor read their newspapers while their poor wives are slaving their lives out cooking for them, nor try to boes the house when the wife knows best what should be doue, nor do forty dozen other things they shouldn’t do? I say, is this in them? If it ain’t, he’d better shut up shop and retire, and let a woman run the machine awhile. I can tell you, Topnoddy, if I was there I’d make things hum!” Then she went out into the kitchen for something, and, while she was gone, Topnoddy drew a long breath and sighed: “Hum ! Well, I should smile,” “Glad to see you, Angus ; glad you came up. There’s a splendid chance for you. By the way, I see you reg istered as owning a farm near Minne dosa. How much do you want for that farm?” “I’ve just sold it,” said Angus. “How much did he give you ?” “Six thousand five hundred dol lars.” “The dickens you did. Why, I’ll give you $15,000 f»r it. You go to the purchaser and get him to release you and I’ll give you the $15 000.” Angus wished that he was baek at St. Raphaels or anywhere else, since he had made such a fool of himself. H rwever, all he could do was to try aud get the farm back. So who does he run across within fifteen minutes but purchaser No. 1. “Says Angus: . “I’m sorry I sold you my farm. I’d like to get it back. Heie’s your $50, and we’ll be where we were.” “Oh, I can’t do that. I bought the farm, and will have the papers ready to-morrow.” After further higgling, Angus of fered him $500 to break the bargain. With great retuctance the first pur chaser took the $500—100 new $5 bil.s of the-Bank of Montreal—-and gave back to Augus the temporary agreement of tale. Angus was happy again, and set out to find buyer No. 2. He found him not. No. 1 aud No. 2 were pal confidence men. Angus was the sucker from Ontario, and $450 was the net amount that they stung, him for. Effect of Heart on the Nerves. Dr. William A. Hammond, the dis tinguished neurologist, in an article in Our Continent with the taking title, “How to Escape Nervousness,” warns against overheated apartments. He says: ^Vn overheated apartment al ways enervate its occupants. It is no uncommon thing to find rooms heat ed in winter by an underground fur nace up to ninety degrees. Fights and murders are more numerous iu hot than in cold weather, and the art ificially heated air that rushes into our rooms, deprived as It is of its nat ural moisture by the baking it has undergone, is even more productive of vicious passions. It is no surprising circumstance, therefore, to find a wo man who swelters all day in such a temperature, and adds to it at night by superfluous bedclothing, cross and disagreeable from everv-day troubles that would scarcely ruffle her temper if Bhe kept her room at sixty degrees and opened the windows every now and then. When you give, take to yourselt no credit for generosity, unless you have denied yourself something so UfclWw could bestow tbfl gift. Muzzle Pivot Guns. Herr Krupp has rece conducted a series of exoeriments with a new kind of gun and shell. The gun is on the muzzle pivoting system, and the shell has been specially designed for torpedo effect, that is, to buist on pen etration of armored ships with a re sult similar to the explosioa of a torpedo. The experiments were con sidered highly satisfactory, and quite suffi :ieut to justfy the great German manufacturer of weapons in taking immediate measures for the produc tion of larger guns and shells than those tried. The gun experimented with was of twenty-one centimetre calibre, with a long shell having a tremendous bursting charge, so ar ranged that the shell should explode only after penetrating some distance int > the armor plating. The gun’s muzzle pivot is carried down into a socket fixed in the hold ef a vessel In such a way as to prevent the slightest] recoil even with the heaviest charge.] Herr Krupp’s gun was worked duriDi the trials with great ease and certaintj of aim, and obtained lor the shellj very high velocity. This description of weapon has be designed for gunboats built to carrj up to forty centimetres. These guj gouts are to be of light draught, hi rate of speed, and exceedingly hai In fact, two or even three of si armed boats would be very ugly cui tornera for a first-class armored shii to cope with, owing to fhelrrap} power of mauouvring, and their size render log them difficult Their cost would he but an eighj tenth of » firwt-^Nay iroppl d. A girl^vtio married au old mls^ his wealth, but pretended tl married him only for love, rised,