Evening Star Newspaper, May 21, 1881, Page 7

rr ALMOND CoLor 13 fashionable, Canary Green Is @ new coior. Oxsng Buttoxs have appeared. BOX -PuBatxp Walsts are revived. Laptrs’ SaTcaais ere large, flat and square. ‘Tux old bishop sleeve, shirred at the walst, ts revived. SHADED goods are Becomtog more and more_ ftashionabie. Srastan Bonn Is the darling lace of fashion at the moment. SHIRRED SLEEVES grow more and more in | .* tashtonabie favor. Ecrv colored gloves are worn with the most delicate evening dresses. | Biack asp Ware Fans are worked with | Steel, jet and sliver beads. Dares Drescsa are brightened by the silken | ties of red or sapphire blue. } Prxs with large heads of cut steel in ombre Sbadings are used on bonnets. Suugves are made demt-long for morning, afternoon and evening toilets. New Togvgs are of brown-shaded gauzes, ‘with full brim of brown velvet. ELEGANT Scars of Diack lace are em- broidered with illumtnated beads. SEIRRING and Uy rufies, row upon row, are seeB Upon all parts of summer costumes. Yoong Costumss for seaside wear are very prettily trimmed with Hamburg embrotdery. CREAM- Waits and pure-white stockings are hohe by ladles ef style Doth tn London and aris. VERY elegant grenadine toflets are Imported, trimmed with an elaborate embroidery of steel beads, PomNTeD COLLARS, Capes and sleeves are aged as well a3 necks, shoulders and backs ot mantles. Dress ekirts are trimmed to simulate over- cresses and double skirts are in a great meag- ure dispensed with. NEw English gloves of delicate hued silk are almost transparent, showing a faint color of the hand through tae glove. ‘Tus Washington merchants are selling many sprig outtits, For noveltfes and bargains see Advertisements !1 to-day’s STAR. THs mousquetaire glove, through which the hand sifps, has two buttons to draw the glove in position and show the slender wrist. Sripsxs, turkey claws, turtles, crabz, bats and Brazilian beetles appear in gold, enamel steel and jet among millinery ornaments. Bovicg waists are cut to simulate the Jersey, With close fitung cuirass-shaped forms and are devold of trimming save the buttons, which must be band-ome, Tas Porte- Bonheur parasol has a large ring at the top and can be hung on the hana by the ring, which ts exactly like the sliver Dangie bracelets so much worn, Wmirs lace stockings are worn over those of tinted silk with rich evening tollets; the silk stockings must invariably match the color of Tbe dreas wora, a3 must the satin sandals. Crgam Wars PonGge HANDKSRCHIEPS for the neck or for the pocket are showa with a Geep hem tbat is hem-stitched, and above this 1s fine embroidery In a gay vine, or else white; $3 is the price. Farnoks of ail kinds are very fashionable— soft, wavy silk fringes, marabout fringes, feather fringes, as well as the old-fashioned, twisted cord fringe, with each énd finishing in 4 ilttle loop. ‘CoLOBED UNDBSSKIRTS are no longer fashion- able on the other side of the water. Neither are white skirts worn, except the short pettt- coat. The correct long underskirt is of black sik or biack cashmere. A Visirx of pompadour surah, with dark- emeraid, green ground, covered with smail pink rosebuds and leaves, {3 trimmed on all the ecges with black marabout feathers, powdered with the cojors of the surab, bien with equally minute dots of silver and gold. TRAVELING DREsses of summer cashmere or serge tn tiny shepherdess check patterns are fashionable in very dark or neutral colora, which are generally brightened by some touch of crimson or scariet, either in the dress trim- mings or upon the bonnet. Many of these neat and tasteful costumes are nfade of the checked fabric, combined with self-colored materials, forming panels, revers, shoulder capes and desp culls. Ong of the novelties of the seagon ts the chenille “jersey.” This waist is made to fit aby Ogure by means of fine India rubber, ‘which is intermixed with the chealile, makin the waist set as well as when made of stik Kultting. This “corsage” fg worn over all suits, if de-tined for use with a skirt having no Waist to match, then ab under-waist 1s made of ordinary black silk to wear underneath, Six dresses in dark and medium shades are trimmed with revers and broad ends of fine white guipure lace. These tollets appear very simple, and are, for this reason, very elegant; the luce, however, Makes them quite costly. Other cregses In the same style are trimmed ‘With very rich embroldery, arranged 10 large vest aprons, aud revers opening over a shirred font piece. The embroidery also trims tue Dpper part of the sleeves. A Haspsoms Tom.eT {3 made of dark blue Surau satin, shot with goid, aad dotied with small brocaded stars, The double skirt is yeoped up on one side, and haga train caught up in the back, Watteau fashion. The bodice bas a round basque, and asmall pointed hood at the back, and a belt 1s i ‘Waist with a buckle of Renish pebbies. To it is suspended a chatelaine of oid silver. The sleeves are haif long, flnished with flutings and dace. Sow of the new cretonnes and satin dress fabrics printed witn gay flowers and leaves Bave the effect of hand-painting. Pattern dresses of this description in cream colored gromels printed with wild roses and foliage, and combined with dark myrtle green nun’s velling, are displayed by several of the leading umporters in the city. A parasol and fan to Yards of the veiling edged with lage and made the ve! x Tio ‘Stites platted frit ready for use. Price #0. As GLOVES are longer than ever, sleeves con- Unue to be short. For evening wear, skirts are rather short in front, toshow the shoe, whieh 4s of the material of the dress, and the black or White stocking. White st are com- etely Out of Wear for ordinary purposes, fancy ose replacing these. White skirts are not as muuch used for street wear as formerly. Every- ‘thing now Is tn colors, even table linen 1s er- broldered tn colors; dinner services are deco- rated in different hues; furniture ts covered With al: fancy materials. A Warne Strt may be of silver gray “ satin marvetlieux” and cachemire, On the skirt ts adeep tlounce, torming double hojlow plaits, surmounted by five narrow plaited ruities. The cachemire tunique consists of a draped apron Sd a putting in the back, arranged in large Joops of the goods. The basque waist has in front a platted or shirred plastron. Va the jower part of the back are two satin pieces, a the side of the back and joining under the potnt in the center. Tne somewhat deep collar terminates at the plastron. The Jong tight-tgting sleeves nave satin cuits. ‘Tat Newast POKE BONNETS are decidedly Pronounced in @ape, Ntting closely to the sides Cf the head, and towering high above the crown. They are extremely Decoming to full-faced 1a> dies, and are wholly tn accord with the present antique style of dress. The new spring dresses with the short gathered waist, the old-fasn- toned kerchief of embroidered mull, folded over the bosom, the close-fitting puffed sleeves, tae antique fraises and Stuart collars with the long mitts and puffed satin elbow bags, make quaint nd attractive pictures upon the promenade And in the drive, the like of which this present generation has never before seea, except in picture galleries and in “ ancestral halls.” Yeux Loxc Loose -WRISTsD Gloves without buttons, or else with two buttons at the wrist, though closed above, are the stylish choice this Season. The Saxe or Bernhardt love is closed ail the way like a stocking, while the mous- quetaire gloves have a slight oper at the Ww closed by two butt Tigt, ere tons. These are w Worn made THE New York Ties fashion review says:— * Walking suits continue to be short, and are pot puffed in the back as much as they were, ‘he cord trimmings arranged on the back seam a tuniques are Feplaced by large gracefully ‘The lower part of the waist is by &@ drapery, and THE GREWELTHORPE FEUD. It was market day in Fulford, and it was very hot, as the red-whiskered Mahoney, the Tough “cross country” doctor, rode clattering in from the Barford road through a drove of panting sheep. His lank and jaded mare turned from habit into the yard of the old inn, d sniffed at the few drops of water at the Bottom of a bucket before the door, i mas entered the dim passage to the bar parlor, tug- ging his stiff moustache Clear of bis mou! = “Ob, now, be quick, me darlin! A big drink—I'm as dry as a salted cod.” ‘The farmers and dealers Stopped their talk be Sane hye begin Py tme to em, took at the ale, and then teak a lon: breath. xg c > veel, What be news, doctor?” asked Lo: Ribston; Doctor Mahoney was known to be the greatest gossip on the country side. “ Be aud Kitty dead yet?” asked old Bidker, “Yes, me ol Tom but noe I as ye 2 e mm; but Not so long think. She died a fermight Everybody knows, but oid sinners like you that niver come into town but to the monthly cattle. Faix, now, there'll be a fiae rumpus and a pretty bit O° law about the old lady’s will I walked up the bill wid Greweltnorpe—” Which?” “Sure, big John o’ the mill. We were speak- in’— _ by the Lord! there ne 1s in the yard— but ye'd see this blessed day some fun wid him e"d his brother, theagent, He’s as mad as the divil wid him and the wall.” The white-hatred old man in the corner (the superannuated landlord), who hai been mut- tering to himselt “Big John—big John,” now rose, and shufiled up (0 Mahoney, and pee! in his fac2 said querulovsty, “Gearge at top a toon isa deal fonter mun, lat metellye. An’ Grewelthorpes,” continued he, getting warmer the doctor's coat, “what dost thou knaw about them? They be 98 strange to tLee as frummity. Gossip as thoo likes aboot too au’d wives an’ thoo dawgs, but —— talk o’ Grewelthorpes to them as Knaws em.” “ All right, old cock. I know the Grewel- thorpe story is yours all your own. Don't be "t 8 afraid, 1 “Sb! sounded from this side and that. “Here he be.” The patriarch ehufiled back to bis chair; the doctor sat on the table and looked to the buckle of his spur-strap; and the rest pursed up their lips, laid their arms on the table and winked. The door had opened, while a voice tn the on vlaged “Yes, lass; bring me a gill.” orale, sir?” “Ale? No! Brandy.” The occupants of the room lifted their eye- brows and nodded to each other. A tall, burly man entered, looking a3 white and dusty as a barn-owl, except that his whiskers were black and crisp. - “Here ye be a’,” sald he, taking a seat. ‘The doctor gave a light’ nod of recogattion, while the patriarch in the corner fuasily filled bJs long pipe and scrat>hed a matca. The duil eyes around observed these movements a3 It they had never seen the like before, There | Was an embarrassed silence, broken only by the distrac ed bumping and buzzing of a blue- bottle on the window pane, whch the new- comer watched with apparent interest. His brandy was brought !n a littie pewter measure, He poured out a giasstul and drank it off, and then turned to his neighbor. “An’ what be news goin?” “ Nou’t,” said old Bidker, promptly, from the one side of the table, * "cept abvot thoo.” “Ye gay 80?” ‘There was no change in his look or tone. But Dr. Mahoney knew how Bidker delighted to engender strife, so he turned at once. “Fact ig, Joon, 1 just told them as how ye were mad aboot something io your aunt's will; I dida’c know what, but——” “Knaw? Cod! How should ye knaw?” He Poured out and drank the rest of bis brandy. “The old Jady may ha’ leit him the house and me the land——” But,” cried the patriarch, “she wur fonder 0’ thoo than o’ Gea ge. “—or,” continue: Grewelthorpe, without heeding him, “ste may peradventure, a3 pa’son Si ha’ left me the house and him the land” Ge that what she’s done?” asked the patri- arch eagerly. Grewelthorpe turned and looked at him a moment; and then sald sententiously, “‘Mouse- taps, old Cocker. Maybe ne’I—” A face darkened the little window, peering in. It was his—the brother's. “ D—nation:” slowly growled John, staring at the window. ‘That's jus’ how he’s aye a-inter- ruptin’ me now. But I done him out a’ along, and I'l do’m out again!” He rose suddenly, and went as if to Intercept | his brother. But they heard him stop at the bar and call for more brandy. They all agreed with Bidker that he was “going it,” and that he must have been going it for some days. He'll be havin’ tae divils,” sald Long Rib- } Pal ston. * Not he,” sald Mahoney, with s skilled, supe- Tor air to which all deferred with a wistful iuterrogative *No?” ‘The doctor went out. In a moment he put his head in at the door again—‘'He’s at it.” what? They all pushed and stumbled into the street; even the patriarch, after a little hestta- bes put down his pipe and shuiligd after em. ‘The market-place (which was no more than a Portion of the street widened on one stde by the retreat of a row of well-to-do house; upa sloping bank) was filed with men and beasts. The beasts were penned; sheep and pigs, on the shop side ank the cattle on the bank. The men usually talked and laughed and felt handfuls of grain in groups, stood contemplative over store big. or gathe: atat Pottiethwaite the auc- Uoneer 8 little pulpit at tho top of the bank, as | much to hear bis jokes as to make a bid; while tue sharp horsedealers from Barford, with loud tones and cri whips, trotted wild little bags of ponies up and down the street. But how sheep and cattle lay unheeded in the heat, Panting and ruminant; every man was pushing Low: the auctioneer; shopkeepers and cus- tomers crowded ther to their doora; and even Mr. Parr, the vicar from Easterwyke, lin- gered on the grocer’s step. iS Me ” sald Bidker, “it ba just like a preach- in’; Z, NO doudt, of what he had seen in Methodist days. Nota volee was heard but thatoft Pottle- thwaite, which sounded loud and clear, “Seventeen; seventeen-ten; eighteen. The Greweltho! brothers were bidding against each other fora roan heifer. The auctioneer was very serious; the bidders did not need the spur of bis wit; their mutual hate urged them on. Many pushed and pressed to get a sight of the brothers’ faces. But there was littie to be Seen in them; a resolute lip, an eye fixed on the auctioneer, and a light nod first from the one and then from the other. Up and up went the Bidding, ttl spectators began to Stare at each other and to raise their eyebrows. Every one knew the value of the heifer hag leng been passed; it was plainly now a foolish, relentless duelin which the helfer was fergotten and hatred only remained. “ Twenty seven; twenty seven-ten; twerty- eight;” the eye of the town brother dropped a moment — “going at twenty-eight,” — turned sideways it caught the flash of triumph in the country brother's eyes and the satisiied sneer on his lip, and it again looked resolutely at Pottlethwaite. “Twenty-elght-ten,” said Pot- Uethwaite. A nod from the other; “twenty- nine; twenty-nine-ten; thirty.” The excitement grew intense. The brothers knew they were merely throwing their money away, Dut bo, neither would yield. In the ten- sion of their passion they gradually turned to face each other. ‘The lips were firmly set, the eyes fixed and flery, as if the men were engaged in a belt-to-belt ight with knives. Every ight nod the one cast at the other was a flerce stab. ‘Tae passion of it began to glow in the bosoms and in the eyes of the crowd, and Pottleth- waite showed signs of anxiety and hesitation. “Thirty-nine; thirty-nine-ten; forty; going at forty; any advance upon forty—" ue you!” cried the town-brother and fell down in a fit. They gathered around to recover him. The victorious brother looked fora moment as it Stung, and then turned away muttering, pari out again. I swore I’d do it, andi jone it.” In this bitter fraternal feud the sympathies of most had hitherto been, for no tcular reason, with the bluif, obstinate miller rather than with the retiring and reserved corn fac- tor and agent. They had observed with satis- faction, and pointed out to wondering stran- gers, how the town-brother would give the ig miller the wali whenever troy in the street, how he would submit to be out- Didden at sales, outdone in subscriptions, out- voted in parish meetings; though they could account for their partisanship no vette than by insisting that “the agent looked such a poor creature.” But after this extraordinary exhibition of passion over the sale of the heifer, and the apparent indifference of the miller a8 to his brother’s condition, a change of 100k and tne came over the crowd, T! followed the miller’s eee ee neure wit barrow eyes and something. Tepulsien; another degree of heat to their feelings —— pare Bison ee ae hoot him. ‘ey turned to rej agent, who was now sitting up, with a hog Phat once sae thick to the other, serldlng of ith nis ene ae hla coat tail tweet ‘there's nou’t sae queer “He dean't took ower strong,” said Bidker, th agent, now — led into the chemist’s. “It be cruel 0” that to harry and drive tye . sont the expression of the carry It t0o far now.” “He be price up and throw At | Isays. “Nou’t,” says they. gangs oot past me an Saya se ‘bar, “There’ a glass broke. I'll pay for 1.” (An’—he! he!—he has paid fort.) An’—” “ An’ naebody knaws yet,” put in some one of those who had heard the story before, “what it wura’ aboot.” int iption of the steady flow of his nar- “eo “Nae! ”” said he; unless it be thoo.” There threatened to be high words between com- eking all at once, but not ‘unison, about the sensational auction. ‘agreed that the feud of the brothers had ished and disgraced Fulford long enough. “Why, next thing they'll be killin’ t une anither!” The cause ot the quarrel should be ascertained, and the men brought to Shake hands over. But how? and by whom? Cocker shook his head: they had always been “cruel, passionate and obstinate lads.” had tried to bring them to- Even the parzor had done his best— communicated them. He Pp rectly at them that the eyes of a full, pleblan evening congregation were incontinently turned on the two stiff-necked, stern-eyed men Who sat on either side the aisle, each io his place as cos warden; and when they rose round the addressed them by name, and ordered = 2 desist from a tele CS oe oe unless were ready to forgive and embrace each other, upon which, without hesitation and without a word, they had surrendered the Plates and wal out. He had forbidden their Le agee at the sacramental tabie, and their holding any office in connection with the church, s6 that for a long time the church had ceased to know or to see them. No; how or by whom the feud was to bo stopped no one could say; and old Cocker wen back to his chair and’ his pipa in the rner. But Fate had already begun to prepare the end of the feud In a way quite her own, by means which showed she understood the lives and tempers of men rather better than the parson. That evening George Grewelthorpe, the town brother, sat in the dusky shadows of the litte bar-parior with Cocker, “I have Cocker; you know I have,” he was sayibg In a voice of remonstrance, “tried to let itdrop. But he wean’t. An’ seé what a fool = do make me, But I'll be even with him aw.” “Um—m,” murmured Cocker, “But it wur thysen, Gearge, played fool first—that I knaw. Now, look ye here: canstna get at him thro’ his fags, Kitty? ‘Thou wert aye fond o’ her reached |. mother, wertna 2?” “Now, Cocker, you knaw better than tell me to try thro’ t’ lass. You knaw he was aye Jealous 0’ me.” “But It werena aboot that ye fell out—eh 2” George looked full at him. “Thoo'rt tryin’ to draw me, Cocker.” After a@ pause; “It he’d just drop it; but he wean’. An’ I bain’t goin’ beggin’ and holdin’ oot my hand to him—after he make dam-fool of me all aboot !” Si He was silent. There was a pause, during Which Cockerfelt abouton ths tabie, and got up and felt on the mantelshelf fora match. Ha. ing found one he returned to his seat. lie Scratched the light and held it up a moment to peer under at his companion, who sat stern and angry, with his eyes averted, nervously Plucking at his whiskers, Cocker iit bts plpe and continued: “John, thoo see, be gey different frae thoo In soom’ ways. When thoo tak’ to thinkin’ On’t, 1t mak’s thoo look ill and sort o’d—d drunk like, But he—he allus look as it *twere his meat and drink, and as if he throve on’t uncommon weel. Weel, thoo see, he has nou’t else to think on scarce, as thoo has;s0 oot in fleld, or in mili wi’ hoppers clatterin’ and dust flyin,” he nurse it and nurse it, and keep thought o’t fair coddied aboov's heart. But, for 4’, he can do non’t wi’ ’t onless. throo cross and conter Lim.” “* He makes me: and so does she—Aunt Kitty, Imead. The last thing she doin her will was to try and make fool of me. But she didn’t kaw how she gave me such fine chance to pay off scores wi’ John!” *Humpb! What is this? 1 ask John, and he on’y say, ‘Mouse-traps, old Cocker.’ Mayba, ‘Uhoo'll say, ‘Toasted cheese, old Cocker.’ ” “Ob, it dean’t matter. Everybody’ll knaw very soon; for it'll be up in court and in news- rs; an’ I think 1°) gét it. She put into her i, just for flout at me, that John was to ha’ a Proputty in Fulford parish, and that I was to ha’ a’ in Thexton parish. Now thoo knaws it Wwur joke that Aunt Kitty had just enough land in Thexton—a bit corner at bottom o’ fleid—as much as would mak’ a grave.” “He! he!” Cocker could not help laughing. “ Weel, weel, I'll laugh too by-’m-bye. Now, ye think: I goes to lawyer Norton to arrange bas) — Ower my little bit land—” “He? He!” — “when what do we find? The real old original boundary o’ parish comes up by dratn which was onst a bit brook, and goes thro’ en o’U house! So all John has be three-quarters 0” house, an’ a bit o’ back yard!” “ Whew! Thoo say so!” Some months after the case came on In a Lon- don court. Of course all Falford and the nelgh- borhood were agog with speculation as to the result and the cost of the trial; and there were a good many of the frivolous sort who had laid wagers on the event. So, when one wintry forenoon old Cocker was seen bare-headed and bespectacled, trailing an open newspaper, and Shullling across the street to the house of his friend, the officer of excise, the word flew round, and before he had climbed the bank he was pounced upon 4 the grocer and the baker, followed by Miss Hicks, uhe mii- liner (commonly re] to have her maiden eye on one of the brothers), who in her haste had forgotten to put off her spec- tacles, andto put hercap straight. Then up came the butcner, and out came the excise man, and then another and another, each one quicker and Pipe ed than the last (which is the law of lon among human and other particles), till quite a crowd had gathered. But, Diess you! ne one need have ,hurried, for every one “knew” the case would have gone 80. How could ithelp it? The will ran so and So, and the parish boundary ran so; it was clear. A man with half an eye, old Cocker Said, could see that, much more then a judge and jury. ‘An’ they two born idiots gone an’ may) pent hundreds 0’ pounds on settlin’ What might ha’ been settled ower a twopenny pot o’ ale!” “‘An’ it a’ goes out ot’ town!” exclaimed the ies "Except what the witnesses get,” sald the exciseman. It proved to be a terrible blow to John Grewelthorpe, the miller. He was for the first time “done out” by his brother; he was muic- ted in heavy costs, and he was lett in posses- elon of the most ridiculous fragment of prop- erty man ever inherited—three-quarters of a house, and asmall triangular section of back- yard. If all the property had been won trom him—that he could have endured; the loss would have been serious, but people would have regarded it serlously. As it was, he felt that every one ie at him, and that every one had a right to laugh. His brother sent his jJawyer with a kindly-meant offer to surrender the right the law allowed him toa partor the house, but the lawyer came back with a boung- log flea In his ear, “Noo,” said the miller, “just tell Goarg: you, if he send onybody here wi’ou’t, or come himsen, I'll stick him head first!’ that sweet duck-dabble! Dom his favors! Dost knaw he began wi’ doin’ mea favor? Dom! Nae matr! Law gi’es him quartor 0’ hoose, an’ {quarter 0° hoose he’l ha’e! Noo, sir, thoo can wag.” ‘The miller’s answer of course soon got noised abroad; and it became a quest!on of great in- terest at gossiping corners, and in the tap- room and bar of the old inn, how the division of the house was to be effected. Run up the petition wall,” sald old Cocker; hat’s w’a’ they’ll do.” “ Fatx!” cried Dr. Mahoney, “I’d manage aizier than that. Let it out in ‘rooms to ten- ants, and divide the rints.” “Ah, well,” said the excise man, “they might Saar let it to one tepant ana divide the “Yes, of course,” said the Irishman, “of course. It comes to the same,” 2 But one day Fulford became aware of the it scaffolding was being put up about one end of the house—The Gearge end, as it was called. On closer inspection it was observed os line oF wnitewash | had aan crawn obliquely across root ‘straigi Gown the wall. The very curious went to ques- tion the workmen, and for answer that it “warn’t to be told; but” (with a sly twinkle) ” People wate! “cbis bit be comin’ tae work of Gemanition, how caret fi conducted: taken from roof whole, and the bricks cleared of mortar and piled. looked at each other and eke expected such a solution of the mi De geonmes was enraged at getting hig quarter of the house handed over to him 1a this ‘ahal But he sald not not oe and at home he had none but 4 deat 0! Perhaps he was the more inclined tencme of feealiation, whlch threatened tsb of which to be in consequences to his brother that he heaitated itinto execution till he waa stung to it by new instance of im- On one of which his Aunt Kitty had unwit- ety He Others Would 800 It Was, and’ ory “Shame” Se Re Fer yf ee CE Se nN a P FASHION WRINKLE: aay why should ee Bhs aay ne possessed a worth! ground; ‘woul Tisk the bi ie ot &mitl for the ot cemmunity. But George need have @x- Risa 80 elal . He took very few in by his talk; and he it have known e ent wes built and became ree poe lar, Steam power was then in its youth, (at in that district.) and was belleved to Sanaa a © belief, in- i ed among the older and more Ygnorant folk that it was & manifestation of the ni e. “But if tt be divil,” sald old Bldker, “as om a it will be very good divil; eh, inl Cock Carts and ies ot fran from the uplands, instead of rattling and lumbering on to Bar- ford, now turned to Fulford, and Miller John had the chagrin of seeing them slowly come down the hill, tearing open one side of the road pans, and dash past him king of whips and wild “Woa- hos,” to take the opposite slope, up which the broad-hoofed horses pantea and scraped On their way to his brother’s, If any one came upon him at such a time and ventured to con- Cole with him on that ‘‘divilish trick of Gearge,” he would face him with ‘Folk ’ll soon find dit- ference atween divil’s steam sn’ God's watter, and till that time, Godamoignty can look after’s ain watter an’I can look after mysen,” and then he would turn sharply off and enter his mil Big John’s faith that the popularity of steam Was & mere passipg whim was severely tried, All that year, even right through the busy eroding: Months that follow on an abundant arvest, team after team of tolling horses orar their rich load of wheat, of barley, or of pulse through the hollow past the old water mill, on to the town, and drew up under Aunt Kitty's house; which still stood as the workmen had left it, with one end completely open to wind and weather, a woeful witness to the fool- ish strife and spite of Kindred. It became a general belief in the town and among the farm- ers that the occupation of big John and his ancestral water mill was gone. There was no unseemly rejoicing over the fate of the miller and his. mill; on the contrary, there was much expresston of sorrow, of a calm and unproductive sort. A féw, indeed, who did not like to see an old friend and neighbor and an old institut!on grow mnouldy and ~ass away without an effort to Save them, took John an occasional hurried job or two—a sack of oats to hash for next day’a provender, or a bushel o! wheat to grind for Friday's baking. But the work was done so badly—“The grit and dirt in’t,” said one, “‘be just a8 if ‘twere swept off barn tloor’—and customers were received £0 grumplly—“ Why,” he asked them, “didna ye tak’ this where ye took t’ rest?”—that they were not tempted to return to him. And their consciences were the more at ease in forsaking him, in the knowledge that he had curtly re- fused one or two ‘“ilttle jobs,” saying that he could get plenty to do without such dirty bits, and in the comforting belief that since he said soit must be true. And cor- tainly 1n this belief they were sustained by the evidence of their own eyes and ears, Whenever they passed the water was rushing and splash- ing, the wheel turning and Gripping, and the hoppers Clattering, just as in the busy old days. To shrewd and observant persons ees of course the men and women about Fulford were) this was all very puzzling, for no inquiry could discover any one who employed John the miller. Some, however, were found who had met him, sometimes early, sometimes late of @ night, going or returning on the Barford road, driving the one lean horse lett to him with @ Cartload of full sacks. “Good right, John,” they had satd. “Thoor’t busy at mill then, late and early.” “Business must be done, sirs,” he had an- swered. If any one pressed a question, where he was taking his sacks to or bringing them from, he wong say, Noger on nose, “Government ¢con- tract.” For want of another this explanation of his continued activity was generally accepted, though itdid seem singular that government should come out cf its way to employ big John, “The officer of excise declared, if it was SO, it must be a job, big-John must have somehow got at thelr member, Sir Thomas. ‘The schoolmaster and the literary tailor (who had both tried to “get at” Str Thomas and had failed) exclaimed it was “scandalous,” and even the successful George, who had been having some qualms of conscience for having stripped his brother of business, again hardened his heart against him. But, job or no job, either the government contract was very unprofitable or John was become a great miser. He contrived to work the mill without any assistance, he even al- lowed his daughter Kitty to go as matd into Squire Srpepee family (some were *‘particu- lary” told he insisted on her going); is jolly figure shrank to a gaunt skelevon; lis trousers altracted passing notice, from tne’ trans9irent tevuity of one part and the thick clumsy pitch- tng of another, and whenever he furned up to public (which now was seldom) his manner was trueulent and suspicious, From all which (since it could no> be that the govercment pald bin.) 1t was readily conclud:a John wasa “miserable hunks.” There was another thing which lent color to this view: he never now tried to “do ou” his brother at sales; when heap peared at them he would fidget here and there ou the skirts of the crowd, feeling and tumb- jing in bis pockets, ani if Poutlethwaite ap- pealed to him fora bid ne would seam to wake up and stand irresolute a moment, and then would shake his head and stride away. “He got some sense at last,” sald off ee “He wean’t throw away nae malir rass ” Yet his balance at the bank (as the clerk let friends know in confidence) did not tacrease; on the contrary, it was gradually growing less, But that was at once taken as excellent evi- dence ofthe miserly instinct working in him, which craves and lusts for the nightly flnger- ing of the precious gold; he was of course hoarding away his large savings somewnere about the mill, and he intended, bit by bit, to withdraw what the bank held of his, and add it to the chinking, shining pile. But that government contract was surely an unusually long one. Winter had softened into spring, spring had brightened and settled into summer, and summer deepened and swelled into autumn, and sill the gaunt figure of John, wita dis gaunt horse and loaded cart, was met of an evening coming and going on the Barford road; still, whenever you et pass the mi the water rushed and splashed, the wht turned and dripped, and the hoppers clattered. The door, Indeed, was never seen open now, not even Its upper half, in the old sociable way, and no one would think of putting his nose Into the miser’s den and asking how he was. It is not to be wondered at that a feel of something mysterious in all this shou! arise and spread. Sober, canny men began to shake thelr heads aud purse their lips when talking of big John. It was agreed that it was not to the credit of an honest, respectable Pewosip ike Fulford that John should ba allowed to continue unquestioned his “secret, nefarious traffic.” (These last werethe words of the tailor, with a taste for literature.) “Ab, now, be alsy,” said Dr. Mahoney one night as the miller was being thus discussed in the old inn parior—' be alsy. Tae ola Joan's doing nothing wrong, I'l be bound. Ob yea, it’s true he shuts himself up. Now, now! ba- cause a man’s lost his flesh don’t ye go for io take his skin!” When the doctor had gone out, switching his boot with his ri whip, muci disgust was €Xp..c.cd at his defence of “t’ au’d miser.” Some one,on the back bench spoxe up and sald he knew why “t’ doctor beso foando" au'd John.” Belng pressed for an explanation, he said, “Doctor be sweet on t’ lags Ab,sbut I cee um! Ge ies a hae sf ae au’d man’s rags ag he hides away stockings an’ rathole3.” “Ab be that 1t2” The wise topers at once found an explanation of a great deal, and Made it an incentive to action. For might it Not well be that Mahoney wasin the miller’s secrets, and was sharing—eh? Esod! why should they not go down to the mill one night, while the miller wag out on the Barford road, and enter and see what games he was up to? “ And hunt out @ rat or two from the holes,’ So “Cod, yes !”" low, it chanced that the doctor on leaving the parlor had turned into the bar—“ just a hor whiaky, me darlin’, wid a bit o’ lemon”—anm being suspicious that the topers might é f 3 an EEE ea | ee Fubeeee Ail i i . ark tn less than two hours. Yes; he could do | it. He ran up the yard. j The doctor, after tying up the hi . jorse to the Guaky yew, paused and looked at pay ole ‘com! e's BAN2tION to ment, and now the airof the place seemed to damp his ardor. The only sound was the morotoneus spill of the “waste-water.” The great wheel looked sodden and mouidy. Tae cart stood propped tn the tumbled down she. It was full of sacks; had the miller just returned Or was he just about to set out?) They went to the house door, and tried it, and knocked. No answer. They went to tae mill door: it was also locked, and no sound came in reply to kn . Ah, the little abutter window was uni 0; Should @, Mahoney asked, enter wi and then open the door for Kitty? Perhaps something bad happened to her father, In any case ‘Dot were curious to se8 what it was the mill had been so busy with for months. Soon they were both in the mil They looked about them in the dim light. Strange! A mere damp fustiness Of smell; none of that warm fragrant Odor of flour and meal in which mills are em- balmed. perarte Seen Open the shutters all *_* * Not a single sa*k; not a srain ot even a floury festoon of dust oa Wall or root! They looked at each other in silent amaz ment; not a rat squeaked; the hoor, the platforms, the hoppers were swept utterly empty and ‘@. A common impuiss Sent them out to look into the sacks In the cari. ‘ * * Filled with sweeplags, decayed ropes and cord, musty hay aud straw—anything, eveiything: They did not need to speak. 10 was plain .o botu that during all these months the old mill had been Se nothing: Through the mill they made their way into the house, In the klichea they tound the mii- ler—he that had been cailed “big Jona”—sit- upg in at arm-chair before a spark of fire, looking like an unwinktng, ghastly death. At sight of the two, a warm flush suffused h's cadaverous face, and burned into hiseyes. He tried to stand up, but he sank back in his chair again. He had always been a stern, undemon- strative father, and his daughter was always afrald to show any emotion; but b's sad condl- tion now so moved her she could not restrain herself. She threw herself on her knees before him, and ed and sobbed with her face in his lap. He looked this way and that a moment, and his stubby chin an to work strangely. At length he looked suddealy at Mahoney: “Weel—I s pose thoo'st found a’ oot la there?” motioning with bis head toward the mill. “Weel. weel. It be a’ up, eb! Or,” again dush- Ing and sitting up, ‘‘b2 ye come to say folk got back to right mind?—eh? Nae mar divil’s steam, eh? “Cod! Tl do that Gearge oot yet! Dom him!” But the excitement was too much for him. He sank back pale and fatat. He crossei and pressed his arms over his stomaca, closad his eyes and uttered a faint moan. Mahoney guessed what this was—starvaiton. Tul now he had stood in utter blank surprise. Now he recovered his wits. He spoke to Kitty and sent her to get a light and to find what food there was, made Jobo drink some brandy trom the flask he always carried, ana felt and counted his pulse. He tried to persuade him to let them help him to bed, Dat ‘No,’ sald Joha, “I bea’ rigut. Til bide here.” Kitty brought a piece of resiny wood and lit it, whisperiog there was neither candle nor coal, crusé nor scrap, to be found anywhere. {n @ minute or two Mahoney was driving into the town for food, in grave doubt whether it would be of any use. 1: suddenly occarred to him to stop at. the house of the other Grawel- thorpe; be ougut to know of his brother's con- dition.” George Grewelthorpe, when be beard, Was overcome with consternation and remorse, called bimseif a fool for ever having believed in such athing asa government contract, and begged to be taken to his brother. “It been a’ my fault from t’ first, doctor! 1 moun gan to him.” With such things as were necessary they returned to the mill. Kitty met them at the Goorin great distress; hep father’s behavior was 80 unlike what she had@ever kaown it b> fore; he had been calling her by honeyed names. “And, oh, what do you think he’s been living on all this time?—rats! ugn!” They entered the kitchen. Joun looked up sharply. “You've ne ceed bim veo much of the brandy,” said Matoney to Kitty. at the sight of his brother he seemed to swell ana bristle wito the old malice and obstinacy. “No, no,” said he, trying to rise; “I bean’t dane oot yet!” “John,” satd his brotherin a choking voica, holding out his hand. “Gearge?” said he, looking at the extended hand & moment, and then g:asping it and sit Ung down. The hands Kept pressing each Other with a percepilble vibration. “Hast left off steam then?” asked John. * Divil tak’ steam!” “Ah, I thought so, sald John, with a smile, In which he almost fainted away again. In a Little Ume some chicken brovh was ready for him, While taking it he kept glancing furtive- ly at his brother, and letting something of an augry Cloud re-gather about his face. =. ” said he at length, pressing his hand again, “i warnt now—eb? “Drunk the evenin’ o° her “N—no, John; no.* Thus the Grewelthorpe feud ended. Next day a wagon from the steam-mtll brought semeuning for the empty hoppers of the old Ill to clatter about, and next week 1t was ann unced that the milis would be worked in cucert by the firm of “Grewelthorpe Brotkers."—Lemple Bar. HIGH HEELS AND LAME BACKS, A Simple Cure for a Disorder—Some_Pecu the Feminine "itd. A reporter croasing the Fulton Ferry some days ago, was msde an unwilling Ustener to some feminine confidences on backache. As all Women and the greater partof thelr men folks are directly or indirectly interested In the Subject, the reporter visited a man of science Who was named by one of the young ladies as having cured her trouble. “Oh, yes,” said the doctor, “backache is very common among women; more than two-thirds of them suffer from it. But there 1s one kind of this trouble, caused by a prevailing fashion, which women ought not to allow themselves to suffer from.” a — you & specialist for fashionable back- ache?” The doctor laughed, “I will tell you all about it,” said he. ‘Three years ago a fashionabie Foung. lady called upon me saying that her ack Was Very lame, and had been so for a con- siderable time, the pain had lately so greatly lacreased that she became frightened about herself She had been obliged to shorten her promenades, 80 she sald, was almost incapable of dancing, and her life was gradually becom- ing a burden. She had “tried everything.” and taken medicine all the time, but—and then she broke down in such a way that I began to sus- pect “She looked tired, and her face bore an ex- pression of pain and despondency which was not compatible with her years—she was about 23—nor her evidences of constitutional fo! which I judge to be strong. I confess I was al @ loss to account for her trouble, and close questioning gave me no indication for treat- Trent. I at last prescribed a tonte—on general Principles—and asked her to call in about a week, When she appeared azain, a glance sufticed to show that she was no better, and I was Guess as I saw her walk up and cown the office in nervous excitement, exciaim- ing that-she would. never get well, she knew She wouldn’t, &c. As I looked a certata pecu- Uarity in her walk led me to;think that there might be some spinal trouble, and I commenced @ cross-examination, which she brought to a sudden close by saying: ‘Why, doctor, several of my friends are suffering con- my ashing her o‘call agata cu thenext aay acd my er to cal in on the nex’ au bring one of her friends with her, when I would make another effort to discover the real cause of the trouble. I had, in fact, mind that ull i i & T i eal HW ei n i [ F ae Ae KENTUCKY TROTTING HORSES. (Chicago Times | Ittsa dificult matter to get at the actual magnitude of the trotumg-horse interest in Kextucky, or the revenue that is derived trom the business, for the reason that the sales are most'y private, and no record is kept of them. Nearly every farmer bas a Drood mare or t and the gress income that is derived from the actual sales is SE ee wor wild guessing to attem} ve &n approximate estimate of the sum thus added to the wealth of the state, but it ts probable $1,000,000 would not be extra’ it, “plood” in ge ag roadsters at fancy prices. . Dr. Herr of Lexington trained and sold a tro: ter for $1,500, ly mn they heard of it. The Price seemed to them to be extravavant. Now nothing — them. A few years ago Black wood, Sire of Proteine, Bl.ckwood, jr., and Rosewood, was sold by Andrew Steele to Peter Durkee of New York for $40,000, and last year Robert Stelle, proprietor of the Cedar Park stud farm near Philadelphia, bought twenty-two weanlings (the entire product) Sis per heads ataeptara,b “George Wiican, 0 per hea: entara, by vilkes, out of Alma Mater by Mambfino Patchen, was sold by Dr. A. S. Talbot of Lexington to Eulnu Smith of Mi $17,000, when only four Kentucky Wilkes, raised and developed by J. T. Shackleford of Rich- mend, Ky., was sold by E. H. Broadhead of Milwaukee to C. J. Patterson, of Boston for $5,000," Robert Bonner has also been an ad- mirer of Kentucky-bred horses. a fact which is shown by his purchase of Grafton and Lady Stout, from R. Pentstan, for $15,000 earn. Stelnway, who showed ast ~—'s speed a three-year-old, was sold by Col it. G. Stoner of Paris to a Californian, two years ago, for £13,000, and not more than ten days ago, Isaac Smith of Lexington sold the famous Jewett, Ubree-year-old record of 2:23%, to Peter ‘Schatz of Allegheny city for $15,000. ‘The same Smith also raised and sold Alite West, Jewett’s sire, foralike amount. These are only a few of the Sales that are called to mind, but they will ex- = why it is thatthe Kentucky mind has me familiar with big figures since the era when Dr. Herr’s $1,500 horse paralyzed the porular imagination. the prominent breeders of trotting horses, the name of Dr. Herr comes first by right. There are others who do a larger business than the Doctor, but as tne father of the Kentucky trotter he is entitied to precedence, He has a magnificent place about a mile from Lexington which be calls Forest Park. On this he has raised hundreds of noted txotters and sires of trotters, and !t would take a column in the Times to give the list. He bred, owned, and develo} brino Pilot, the sire of Hannts; 2, Lady Stout, with @ record of 2:29 a8 a three- year-old; Bonner Boy (2:26), Mambrino Kate (224), apd a dozen more equally well known. die developed Proteine, and last year drove Di- rector, LOW Owned by Col. Coney of Caicago. Ife has at the head of his stud at this time the stations Mambrino Patchen, a full brother of Lady Thorne, and Mambrino King. the hand- somest horse in the world, according to the testimony of every man, woman, and chiid in Fayette county. Gen. W. T, Withers established himself on a farm about two miles from Lexington, after the war, and is now one of the largest, If not largest, breeder of trotters lr the state. He has on bis place from eighty to one hundred brood mares. He is the owner of Almont, the sire of Pledmont. He also owns Cassius M. Clay, jr., Happy. Medium, and has lately added to his stud Aberdeen, the sire of Harry Wood- ward, Sir Walter, &c. He does not train or trot, but sells his crops young. The General Calls his farm Fairlawn. B.J, Treacy of Ashland Park, a farm of 200 acres, adjacent to the old Clay homestead, has elghteen or twenty brood mares. Ii trains and develops as well as breeds trotters, and brought out Alle West, the sire of Jewett, Glendale (2:203<), Puss Thompson (2:30), John E. (2:25%), ana ugany other, Col. k. West of Geol lown Is one of the get best known breeders in the siate, but he 13 not 80 extensively interesied as formerly. He re- cently sold bis farm, Edgewood, and is now looking for @ new location nearer Lexington. The famous stallions Blackwood and Diciator are in his stud. He has bred and raised a great umber of celebrated trotters, and has at the Senge writing fifty or sixty animals on his ace. W. F. Simmons, the proprietor of Ashland Stud Farm, situated four miles from Lexmg- ton, on the old Frankfort turnpike, has thirty or forty brood mares, and the celebrated sire George Wilkes. In their day Mr. Simmons and his brother Phil, who is now the possessor of the Novwood Stud Farm, have owned Jim Irvin, Maybird eS Prospect Matd (2:28), and Kansas Chief (2:214). Bryan Hurst of the Bethel Church Farm, a lew Lexington, ts not a lar breeder, but he has owned 4nd developed Sallie Chorister and her progeny, Proveine (2:15). Ad- miration (2:30 as a three-year-old, private tria'), and Homer. i Lexington, is a bi and trainer of twenty years experience, He lives on the Penderson form, Six miles from Lexington, and has four- teen or fifteen horses in training this season. Hiehas bred and handled famous trotters, le got $5.009 for Maggie Brigzs (2:27), $4,000 for John E. (2:27). He sold the trotiér Humboldt to W. H. Wilson for $2,000, and within thirty days after the transfer Charlie Green paid Wilson a ponus of $5,000 for the animal W. H. Wison, Abddallab Park Stud Farm, Dear Cynthiana, ts quite celebrated. Mr. Wil- son isa breeder and handler of tro:ters and coach horses. He brought George Wilkes and Sauer to Kentucky, and now has the stal- ion Indianapolis. Abdallah Park is a beau! ful oat, hh track and fair grounds at- tach Col. KS, Strader of the Lexington Fair ds was formerly a large breeder, but of te he has turned his attention chiefly to the meg eg stock. Col. Strader has brought out Purity. (2:30), Crittenden (with a 2-year old Tecord of 2:30), the Memento tilly trotted a mile in 2:303¢ when only 2 yearsold, and Al- cantara, with a 4-year-old record of 2:23, made last fall. He is a big dealerin property. A. S. McCann of Ashland, a farmer two miles from Lexington, is up lately as a breeder. He Is the owner of Red Wilkes, a son ot George Wilkes and the sire of Pall Thomp- So, the colt that was to trot inst Sweet heart's 2-year-old record of 2:26: fall, but Was prevented from dcing It the weather. Woodlake Farm, a large phd land near ee the property of Major H. C. Mc- Dowell. Js a very breeder, and has in bis stud Triton, a ‘Trinket, Kt Rene, anda yi Belmont stallion. McDowell developed 271 brought out with @ four-year-old record of 2:19%, Mageata (224%), Romana (2:29;; a8 four-year-old}, and others. Col, R.G. Stoner’s Hamiltonia Stock Farm, near Paris, 13a fine place. The Colonel has Strathmore at the head of his stud, and Mam- brino Russell, a half brother to Maud S. fora good sec4snd. Among the trotters Col Stoner is responsible for are Santa Claus (2:15) and Stelnway, with a two-year-old of 231%) and a three-year-old record of 248°, James Miller, of the Sunnyside scud Fa-m, three mes from Paris, is the owner of the Stallion Joe Downing, sire of Dick gameson (2:26), the young stallion Westwood, and a uwumber ose 4 eae Jim Monroe, the sire of Monroe :13%4). South Elkhorn Farm, hear Frankfort, is the ro, of KR. P. Pepper, a very extensive reeder, and the owner of 140 or 15v horses. He brought out Woodford Chief (2:22%). Catch Fly-(2:30), andi Blanche Amory (2:26), and maby others. He is strictly a breeder. J.C, McFerran & Son own Glenview Stock Tin, 8ix miles out from Louisville. This is a (2:203¢), and bred Lucy Cay- own Orange Girl made a public record of 2:25 when ler, who 8 16th, at which time about pry soung: trotters, the get of Cayler, So} = R.8. Veech’s Indian Hill titles from Se noble farm of 300 acres, He has will i sit afl Ff u Be (From Punch.} That of brains and beauty; That my feet are huge and splay, Russian soldiers aa and al- are ie ¢, or Ike Smith, as he ts best_known, of oot id Swapping Names im Siberia. (Prem “Buried ite,” just by Ben San oe pees y Henry ‘To “exchange oneself” means in Prison slang to exchange! ames and consequently sentences with som: one else. However Incredibie this may Seem it is trae, nevertheless, and the Custom existed In full vigor during my Ume in Siberia; 1 was sanctified by old traditions, and the transactions were conducted according to Certain forms, I should never have belleved such @ thing to be Teena nae om ible {f a simnflar instance riscD, and the rest to a convict colony. On the road one of them—a certain Mikhatom ex) & desire to “excl ” hl at ie presses is sentenced to penal servitu: years, and does not in the least care about Going to a convict prison. So he casts his eyes about, and finally discovers some poor Wreich whose punishment is less severe than hisown; he may be going to the mines for a Short time, or fo a settlement, or bave Daen sentenced to penal servitude for a few years. We will call Poor wretch Soushilo™. He nos Deen bas A serf, and is sent to the cot- on Perhaps for sonie (rifitng offense, throug some Caprice Of his master, etc. SoushiloiT is hungry and cold and tired; he bas waiked 1,500 Yersts without & copeck th his pocket, Ving On the coarse food provided bythe govern mevt, and not being adie to afford himself evn Acup of tea, His convict garb is barely sum cient to protect him from the tnelemencies of the weather. Mikhalloff makes up to Soushtlof: th come friends, ana one tine day, on arrivt be- ic at the next stage, where they ate to rest a day or ‘two, he treats him to as much liquor as the other can drink. Finally he proposes to him to exchange names. “You see my name ts MikhatioN. I am not going to a common prison like the rest of you, DUt to the “special department,’ and being ‘special’ IC must nat- urally be better than one of your common prisons.” ‘The fact is that few people knew anything about this so-called “special department.” Tae convicts who were in that department did not know whether they were sentenced for a life lime or only for aterm. It is, therefore, not to be Wondered at that neither Soushflo nor any of his party knew anything about this place, perhaps with the exception of Mikhatlof, Who had reasons of his own for suspecting What it might possibly be. Soushtlof was ex- fled to one ‘of the convict settiementa. Was there ever @ more fortunate coincidence for Mikhallof? “Would you Uke to exchange bem Poor Soushtlof is drunk: hts simple soul ts filled with gratitude toward Mikhatio? Who has been €) kind to him; he cannot find tt in his beart to say “no.” Besides, he has heard the other convicts talk among them- selves about exchanging names, and kuows that it is frequently doue. They agree. Mik- halloff takes advantage of Soushilof’s child- like simplicity, and buys bis name from him for a stiver ruble and @ red shirt, both objects being handed over to him on the spot in ux Presehce of witnesses ‘The next morning Sousbilof has sufficiently Tecovered his senses to realize tont be has plecged Limself rashiy; but Mikhailof! stanas Treat again, and when he refases to iet bis victim have any more liquor, why, there is the ruble to fall back upon, and the red shirt fol. lows the rubie, He has got into a scrape now and cannot get out of it again. He must efther give back the money or keep the faise ame; and where is Soushllo™ to get a waole ruble from? In vain be asks for mercy. The #flair comes before the ari, and he is plainly Told that he must elther keep his promise or else the arte’ will force bim to give back the ruble. It stands t? reason that if the arte! were to excuse one of its members trom keep- ing his promise the whole system of exchang ibg names wouid fall to theground. The poor fellow knows that if he persists in making & Tuss about the matter and in refusing to keep his promise he will be severely beaten, nay, Perbaps killed; and with a heavy peart he ac- cepts his desUny, The exchange of names 1s made known to the rest of the party. Mik- hatlof stands treat onee more, and the others gon’t care where Mikbatlof or'Soushilof go to Hinally, especially after the former has treated them’ so ely. At the next stage the roll 1s called. *Mikhalloff!” shouts the oficer on duty, “Present!” repiles Soushilof, and vice versa. In Tobolsk the convicts separate to go to their respective places of destination. Mikhallof waiks of to the settlement and Soushliosi ts sent to the “special department’ with adouble escort. The matter can't be belped now, for the poor fellow has no means of proving his identity. Nobody knows waere the witnesses are now, and even if they could be found they would be sure. to swear that ‘Soushtiof ts Miknallof. And this ts the way in which Soushiloff got into the “special de- partment” for a ruble and a red shirt, and was engned. at intothe bargain by the convicts tor having exchanged names for such a trifling sum. Generally tke convict who gives his bame to another and takes bis instead de- oo a high price, not unfrequently 30 or 50 Tu bles. freaks of the Telegraph. Nemes are always a great stumbitag-block to the clerks, and addresses are composed of names, Most of us have tricks of writlug names d although the Post Cfice persistently remin on the forms given to us to write our telegrams on, that tue writing should be plain, this advice, ‘ike mos" ‘olher advice, is but 100 often Legiesied. many telegrams get altogethor Semetimes “to the not slight discom- fruie of thawe into whose Bands the; fail, end who, unwitting that any error has been made, forthwith act upon them. It ts related that a woman residing in some ‘Swwall street in Manchester once received what appeared to be a summons from her husband to come up to him in London. Very much 7 they the same quarter rin Sanester, oat tt panany transpired that the telegram whic! been Gelivered to Ube first woman Was the very one which the second had been watting for—the error in delivery having been cavsed by some such mistake as “Hamilton stree.” for ““Hen- rictta street"—a mistake very likely attriou- table to Want of distinctness In the writing. Another curious case of colcideace of which we have heard was that of a telegram addressed “John Stilingwise, brookdean, mr. Kirby Lonsdale,” from Robert Stillingwise, his brother, begging bim at once to come to him ata hovel wuich he indicated, in Leeds. Tho address * dean” Was in some way altered, and the ram was delivered to another John ‘Stillingwise living somewhere tn the — hood of Kirkby Lonsdale. Tals unt ate man, who had not heard anything of us brother Robert for some 20 years, at once started off in stormy, Wintry weather, reached Leeds tn the evening, and Was told by the landlord that he could Bot see his brother that night, as he was very far from well, aud had gone to bed. The Rext morning he was ushered into Robert Sul- Mugwise’s room expecting to see Luis 10ng-lost zrother, When, to his extreme astonishment aud , he found himself confronted by an utter suranger.—Blackinood's Magazin: English Appreciation of Amcrican Leuers. household words than the literature of any other country, except France. Mr. Lowell's own “Biglow Papers” bave lent us some— notably Skeptical criticism of John *P. a ng to circumvent uno Abeolate. One ts attemptiny al From a writer much less frivolous than he is refresh and renew the whole system. If Mark Twain had Wien ‘nothing BUC th ao- his purchase Sen eee. at his secount of how he ono an ae i Fd i gee aif ek & i= at be if : A : i il i li i i 83 ee 2 HI NE is ae os