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the new beauty, at this moment turn to

each other. AT THE OPERA.

“Who is she?" asks the younger, eagerIt is the height of the London season. ly. “I have been in town some timeAll the world is alive and eager in search quite three weeks—but anything like that of amusement, and tonight, as Patti is to has not" sing, each box and stall in the Italian “Dear child, don't-don't say it!” inhouse is filled-overflowing, indeed.

terrupts his companion, sadly. "It isn't One box alone on the second tier is like you. Not to know her, argues yourempty, and toward it numerous lorgnettes self unknown! I thought better of you. from the stalls beneath and from boxes She is our beauty par excellence, our opposite are anxiously directed.

modern Venus, and licks everyone else The Diva has appeared, has sung her into fits! She is the very cream of the first solo, has been rapturously received cream, where beauty is concerned, though and applauded to the echo, and the house somewhat shady, I am reluctantly comis now listlessly paying attention to a pelled to admit, in the matter of birth.” somewhat overdone tenor, when the door “Birth!” repeats the young man with a of the empty box opens, and a woman, start. “But look at her-look at her pretty and with a charming expression, if hands, her profile! Who can dispute the slightly passé, comes slowly within the question of birth ? " light of the lamps.

“No one! It is indisputable! That She is followed by a girl, who, coming charming girl up there, with the most irreto her side, stands for a moment motionless, proachable

and the haughtiest gazing down and around with a careless mouth in Christendom, was picked off the calm upon the fashionable multitude with street by her chaperon, Mrs. Neville, which the vast building is crowded.

when a baby, and is probably—at least, so So standing together, the elder woman I hear-the daughter of a woman, poor, sinks into insignificance, whilst the but strictly honest—they are always strictyounger becomes the center of attraction. ly honest—who lived by infusing starch She is of medium height, with a clear, into limp linen! I really don't like to say colorless skin, and large, blue, expressive coarsely that she was a washerwoman, it eyes. Her hair is not golden, but light sounds so vulgar.' brown, through which a touch of gold “ It sounds as horrible as it is impossiruns brightly. She is aristocratic, almost ble," says the younger man, still gazing haughty, in appearance; yet every feature, dreamily at the box that holds his harand, indeed, her whole bearing, is marked mony in black and gold. with a melancholy that seems to check Most impossible things are horrible," even a smile that on very rare occasions says his companion, lightly. “They seeks to dissipate the sadness of her lovely grate; they are out of the common. Percountenance.

haps that is their charm. Miss Neville She is dressed in a somewhat strange charms. Yes, that is her name; her fashion for so young a girl. Her gown is adopted mother wishes her to be so called. of black satin, relieved by some heavy Don't look so excessively shocked, my golden chains that encircle her neck; she dear Penruddock; it is rather a romance, wears black gloves to her elbow, and an if it is anything at all, and should create in enormous black fan flecked with gold. your mind interest rather than disgust." Upon her fair hair a tiny Indian cap of " It is not disgust I feel, it is merely a black satin, embroidered with gold, and difficulty of belief," says Penruddock, hung with sequins, rests lightly.

vaguely. Is that her adopted mother?" She is whimsical, old-fashioned, what shifting his glasses for just a moment from you will, but perfect in every look and the calm and beautiful blue eyes that have movement.

so bewitched him, to the faded pretty Having completed her slow survey of the woman who sits near them. house, she turns and says something in “Yes. She is all right, you knowquite a languid fashion to her companion, quite correct. She is George Neville's who laughs, taps her with her fan and wie w, son to Lord Dulmore, you may remotions her to the chair opposite.

member, who broke his neck, or his head, “What a success you are, Maud!” says or something—I don't know exactly what the elder woman, fondly Even royalty -when out hunting." has taken notice of your entrance! Did “Yes, I remember He was a friend of you observe that?"

my father's. By the by, that Mrs. Neville "Royalty, as a rule, is very rude!” says must be a sort of connection of ours-at Maud, slowly, after which they both fall least her sister married my uicle. But all into line and turn their attention to the friendship there ceased with my aunt's divine Adelina.

death. I don't recollect anything about Two young men in the stalls beneath, it myself, but I believe a coldness arose who, up to this have been engrossed with after my poor little cousin's unhappy acci.


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dent. You heard all about that, of brutally; indeed, the apparent hopeless course?”

resignation in her tone must have been “A very fortunate accident for you, all very perfectly done from all I have heard. things considered. Other fellows' cousins "Mrs. Neville, an unaccountable pang don't drop off like that,” says

Mr. Wild- at her heart, pressed all her remaining ing, in an aggrieved tone.

biscuits into the baby's hands; told the My father was awfully cut up about woman to call upon her next day; heard it,” says Penruddock; “ he has never been next day the child was an orphan; and the the same man since. Moody, you know, end of it was, took her to her house and and that; and goes about for

days heart, to the intense disgust of numerous together without speaking a word. It nieces and nephews, who had looked on preyed upon him. And the Wynters-my Mrs. Neville as their joint prey. There aunt's people—said ugly things about it; you have the whole history, I believe." that sufficient care hadn't been taken of “It is a very strange story; she must the poor little thing, and all the rest of it. have seen a great many pretty children beBut of course it was nobody's fault."

sides this particular one. Why did she “Of course not! Some people-es- choose her?pecially law relations-are never happy Fancied she saw in her some resemexcept when making themselves disagree- blance to a dead sister, that was very able. That's their special forte. The fact fondly and even extravagantly regrettedthat your father minds them betrays in your aunt, Mrs. Penruddock, I

suppose, as him a charming amount of freshness.” she hadn't another sister that I ever

“ And so she adopted that lovely girl!” heard of.” says Penruddock, presently, returning to “ If she—the young lady above-is like his contemplation of Beauty's box, and re- Mrs Neville's sister, Mrs. Neville must be ferring to Mrs. Neville.

very unlike her own people,” says the “She might have done worse, might

young man slowly. she not? I shouldn't mind adopting her Yet, strange to say, that girl is most myself,” says Mr. Wilding, genially. absurdly like a portrait of Mrs. Penrud" And nobody seems to mind about the dock that hangs in the small drawing room linen; she is received everywhere, and has in South Audley Street, where Mrs. refused several very good men.

Neville lives. Not that there is anything “ Tell me all about it; do, now, there's a so very remarkable in that; good fellow," says Penruddock, leaning chance resemblances every day. But you back in his seat, and beginning to look being one of the family, should see this profoundly interested.

likeness yourself.” “There isn't much of it. It is a roman- “No; I have no recollection of aunt. tic story, certainly, and a very Quixotic My father and she were always on bad one, but it can be told in a word or two. terms with each other during her lifetime, Brevity is the soul of wit. To begin with, and there is no picture of her at the castle. you must try to master the fact that Mrs. The one you mention was sent to Mrs. Neville adores dogs, and driving in the Neville at her death. I have been so much park one day about fifteen years ago, she abroard that I am quite a stranger to the drew up her carriage at the railings and Wynters and all their set. You know Mrs. proceeded to gratify the appetite of her Neville ?" Pomeranian by bestowing upon him a "Intimately; and Beauty, too," with an cracknel.

amused smile. “And every Tuesday afterEven as she broke it, a faint cry from noon Beauty gives me a cup of tea with her the world outside her carriage attracted own fair little hands. her attention, and glancing up she saw a " Indeed!” exclaimed Penruddock. very lovely child in the arms of a tall, “Yes, indeed; you did not think such rather peculiar-looking woman. The child bliss could be on this miserable earth, did was gazing at her imploringly, its little you? And sometimes, not often, I take hand extended as though desirous of the a nice boy, when I find one, and introduce biscuit the dog was devouring.

him to Mrs. Neville." Mrs. Neville is tender-hearted. The Am I a nice bov?” asks Penruddock, child, as I said, was beautiful; a very with a laugh. Wilding, if you will inmodel for an angel or a love. Mrs. troduce me to Mrs. Neville, I shall never Neville, who even now is nothing if not forget it for you as long as I live!” emotional, gazed entranced; the pretty And a great deal of good that will do baby pouted, and cried again for the bis- me,” says Wilding, mildly. ' However, I cuit. The cry went to her listener's heart. consent, and on Tuesday you shall make

“ She is hungry,” she said to the your bow to Mrs. Neville, and worship at woman, who leaned against the railings in Beauty's shrine." a picturesque attitude.

“Oh, thank you, my dear fellow, thank She is often hungry, madam,” re- you!” turned the woman, stolidly, yet far from “But one word of warning-don't go and fall in love with her, you know; it wouldn't do at all. I am responsible for you to your father, and it would be the worst possible taste on your part to bring down his condemnation on my head.”

“Do not make yourself unhappy about that,” says Penruddock, quietly. "It may be my fate to be miserable about Miss Neville—I feel inclined to believe thatbut I am not sufficieutly vain to flatter myself that she will ever take the trouble to make herself miserable about me."

(Continued in the June Number.)

Don't overdress or underdress.
Don't jeer at anybody's religious belief.

Learn to laugh. A good laugh is better than medicine.

Learn to hide your aches and pains under a pleasant smile. No one cares whether you have the earache, headache or rheumatism.

Learn to attend to your own business-a very important point.

Don't try to be anything but a gentleman or a gentlewoman, and that means one who has consideration for the whole


If You Want to Be Beloved.

world, and whose life is governed by the

Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you Don't contradict people, even if you're would be done by.”Christian World. sure you are right.

Don't be inquisitive about the affairs of even your most intimate friend. Don't underrate anything because you

Schreiber, Ont. don't possess it.

Don't believe that everybody else in the The Irish may sing of their gem of the ocean; world is happier than you.

The Yankees may boast of the land of the free; Don't conclude that you have never had But Schreiber the vale 'neath the verdure-clad any opportunities in life.

mountains. Don't believe all the evil you hear.

Is the one snnny spot in this cold world for me. Don't repeat gossip, even if it does interest a crowd.

We boast not of ruins or moss-covered towers, Don't go untidy on the plea that every

But Superior's cold water it lies at our feet; body knows you.

And the sunshine of love that adorns every col

tage, Don't be rude to your inferiors in social

With the blessings of health make our village position.


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We have not the legends of long-settled countries, Oh! give me the vale 'neath the shade of the
But we have our heroes and knights of the rail;

And maidens as fair as the dewdrops of morning,

And the scenery sublime around sweet Lily Bay. With cheeks like the wild rose that decks our The one little fault you might liave to our valley, fair vale.

Is the depth of the white snow that falls on the And we have a lake on the top of a mountain,


But with skating and coasting and tramps on the Where the bold Indian chief and the young

show.shoe, Indian maid;

The winters soon pass and it's springtime again. oft roamed on its banks and rowed over its waters,

Yes, the cold blast of winter may blow round our

dwelling, Told the old tales of love 'neath the cool forest But the summer will come with its sunshine shade.

and glee; The poet may sing of the vale of Avoca,

And may peace and prosperity encircle each fire

side, But give me that vale where my dearest ones In the vale that holds all of the sunshine for me. stay;

Schreiber, Ont.

E J. O'D.



Martin's Record-Breaker.

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1. Martin had received a telegram from Harris that Harris wanted to see him, and he presented himself at the general manager's office as soon as he came in on his

He thought it strange that if the official wanted him to do anything he had not sent his orders through the regular channel. He wondered if he had broken any rule which the general manager might deem so important as to require a personal reprimand. Martin was modest, and he did not think that Harris would send for him except to “put him on the carpet.”

“I suppose you know, Mr. Martin," Harris said, when the engineer had seated himself in the private office, “that we intend to put on

new fast trains east and west."

Martin said that the men on the road had been talking about it, but that he himself had not heard anything official.

'Well,” said Harris, and his “well” was always sharp, “it's a go. I have not been in a position to make a definite announcement until this time. But we shall have two of the finest trains west of Chicago. Now, I want you to take one of the

“Don't you feel any better?” his wife asked.

Martin put his hand on his hot forehead. “I feel awful tough,” he said. My head aches as if it would split."

“I guess you can't work today. You better let me send word that you're sick."

“No. I can't do that. I'm goin' to take that run out if it kills me. I can't afford to lose a chance like that. You put your arm under my shoulder till I sit up a few minutes. Mebbe my head will clear up a little.”

His wife helped him to a sitting position. He had to press his lips tight to keep back the exclamation of pain that rose to them, and lie shut his eyes as his lead whirled. In a moment, however, he said he felt better. He slid out of bed and managed to reach a cliair. As he sank into it, his wife left him and presently came back with a glass of whisky. Martin drained this, and drew a deep breath.

That was what I needed,. I guess,” he said. “But I don't like the idea o'takin' that train out with even that much liquor



in me.


" I'm much obliged," Martin said. I didn't suppose I was in line for it.”

On this road,” said Harris, “a good man is in line for anything, as long as I'm general manager. See what I mean?”

Martin inclined his head. He had a vision of a lot of discontented engineers on the Single Track road. He thought Harris was making trouble for himself by showing this partiality, but, of course, it was not Martin's business to point such a fact out to the general manager of the line.

“What we want to do on the first day," said Harris, " is to keep riglit on time all the way and come into the terminals ahead of time. I've fixed the schedule so that the time will be slow from the last station in, and you can easily make up ten or twelve minutes. Out on the road the time is very fast, but not too fast, I think. If we can keep on the schedule and come in ahead of time, I think we can get into the newspapers all over the West for a nice bit of space. That's what we're looking for

That's the kind of advertising that pays.”

I guess we can make the time,” said Martin.

II. Martin lifted his head from the pillow, when his wife roused him at 5 o'clock on the morning on which the first run was to be made, and then he fell back again with a suppressed groan.

When he had laboriously dressed himself, his wife urged him to eat some breakfast, but he only made a grimace of disgust.

Mrs. Martin watched him go unsteadily down the walk to the front gate. “I guess he's pretty sick," she sighed. “I do hope he'll get along with that train all right."

The new train was scheduled to leave this terminal at 7 o'clock, so that Martin had plenty of time to go over his engine and thoroughly groom it. The thin air of the autumn morning revived him, and by the time they were ready to start he felt a good deal better. He held his watch in his hand and kept his eye on the conductor, who was pacing up and down the station platform. The passengers had their heads out of the windows, waiting for the start. The train had been well advertised, and everybody was interested in the trip. It was like the preparations for a horse race for a big stake.

Within fifteen seconds of the time for departure the conductor raised his right hand. Right on the second he brought it down, and Martin opened the lever; the conductor swung aboard, and the train moved easily out of the shed into the sunlight. Martin's lips trembled. “I wish I was feelin' better," he told the fireman. "We won't have any trouble makin' time with this outfit. But I guess I won't enjoy it much. That pain in the back o' my head is somethin' awful."

“ You shouldn't have come out,” said the fireman.

“Well, I'll take her through on time, anyway,” said Martin grinly.


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