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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,