The New York Times from New York, New York • Page 2

4 it '3 It -a IS 1 1 CURRENT LITERATURE, XJ2H2EL fTpou day, bo matter, bra or there, Fweet Philomel was inline end the air Wh beevy with tbe been th of roses every where. 4 Kim Im TrtfiA For bumming's MkTi(iM pre! odes to bo Songs without wordt, that yet eosae to a end too moom. Unknowing care or Jo or lore or pain laia that is leasing, or lore that is vain And asking but to rest, and boar tho bird TUhn1 ttSk nnnmm 4 Via VaVI Am WbM i tbo last ail came lain botaweUlar Aj a atml o'croomo with pionate dealro. Bo, liitonlfi' alond, all boedlomly. muo.

bird, teaeb half thy pain to mo Tttoa shoaldiit not boar alone ao groat a ml- Anawnen i tnrnea, my preiado bad an air. My song found wortii, my careieas boart onnd earo And, ah I it wa too late to pray an other UacmiTlamft 2againe. A lovehb qtjarrell from Tempi Bar. FABT t. "And I aay it ian't Fanny a pause after the word, as If Aho speaker tried to net rid of a lamp in his throat you're playi the fool; you've no Snore notion bow 1 lore you, than you haye of the height you're standing at shore the sea.

I tell you, Td rather see you lying; "down washed tip by the tide, than 3c now that you want to go bock again to the 1each of your own will, and be looked at by Chat Jath-and-plaster follow of a captain." And yet, while the fierce words pass the yoanff fisherman's lips, be takes a firm grasp of his companion's arm, lest some sudden xnoYement should draw her nearer the giddy edjre. The exm had begun to set when these two. John fry and rsuiuy Ily wood, began to quarrel, and now he has just sunk into the purple bed of clouds risen up from the sea to TeociTe lnm. There has been a scene of uagniucent and fast-chancing color: criin- swn, and purple, and gold now by turns, now all at once hare held their places on tender ground of chrysolite-green, fast fading Into grey though its final hue lingers Among the rock-pools IhjIow the cliffs, with rosy gleams that reflect thein- Selves from scattered cloud-lines. The ragged Jterpendicular cliff rises some four hundred lost above the sea, and 'about a third way down its steep side runs the path or ledge on which the lovers stand.

They care nothing for the sunset, nor for the exquisite scene be- Jow them. On the right the tiny Tillage nestling in the gorge of high hills on one si da wooded to the base, on the other a precipice of rock rich in brown and purple hadows every here and there in its depths revealing a glimpse of the white foaming river, that comes struggling and tumbling over huge gray stones to the sea while further still on tho right stretches a range of lof ty clifls, the hues of which mock the pow- or of words to render, asvuccessfully as they elude the painter's resources to depict crimson, purple, violet of richest tones everywhere relieved by tufts of bright golden blossoms, and the fresh green of ladyfern that fringes the Jarired edges. John and Fanny have dLputed before this evening, but only for a few sentences and then a kiss from him, or a tear in her sweet oy, has brought the matter to a standstill. Jnt this quarrel wears a more serious aspect. John looks absolutely threatening.

He is a young feljow, with a true Couth of England face a face that is saturated with snushice, that puts one in mind, all at once, of rip Angust cornfields and, taken in conjunction with bis rich curly hair nd beard, of October nuts and sqnirrels. lot the deep black eyes, that match so well with this guidon-brown, have none of their vsooi expression they are full of angry gleams, and through his parted lips you can see hts teeth set hard. Fnnny looksup.andmeetsthisstern.com-, petling glance; meets it, too as you may tell by the quiver of her rosy month just when loving name era caress might havepre- vailed over the perverse spirit that was ris ing. i It is a puzzle that she has been able (living ao near the sea) to keep her skin so white and 'deUcste-looking. Her hair nearly matches tier lover but her eyes are not so deep in eolor; there is a tinge of blue hazel in hers, thst shines out with almost a golden glitter as John takes bold of her arm.

She thinks bo means to make her "Lot mo go, will you I'm not your wife ret, John and 1 don't know that I ever will be. He draws his band away. Come, oome. Funny you're talking eenss now. I was a miuuto agt carlxi.

"VVhv should yon and me quarrel about a which can't happen, if youH only let yourself be guided The guls eyes filled with sudden, angry w. I'm not onsrroling I only say von don't pat any trust in me. Why." (she tosses her i Lead scornfully.) "even if I choose to go home by the beach, and Mr. Kcssell and Captain St audi sh are there, and they ssy a civil word to me what am 1 the worse for it I'd like to know I suppose you'd like me to wear a mask next, with lust two holes to see out of. Everything that is pretty is looked at, you know it is, and why not girls as well as anything else I aay again, yours isnt what 1 call having trust in me that it The golden light is quenched in the tears, that fairly run over.

Fanny's eyes now are almost as dark as her lovers, and tenderness to be swimming in them. If John eoold only bavo held out against them for two minutes, he might have made bis own terms with the pretty, wayward, spoiled girl but a sensible lover would be a phe- somsnon worthy of exhibition, and John was not The next minute he bad Fancy in hu aursaa, stiminiiis; her to his heart, kissinsr off liar Saarm. ud Tli. himanlf rn n-K Jealous fool for baring brought them there. No.

John. Toxrre not a Iool. but tou axe Jealous, you know you are and if you go onTika this when were married, youll brealc any hears John," comes out-ox those pouting coral lips. I'll never be jealous unless yongiv me eaase, Faany." be says, bis honest faes growing grave "But, you see, men and "women have different natures. Yon can fly In a passion and get oat of it, aQ in no time.

and be as sweet and smiling as if nothing had liappeaod i but that is not the way with us anyhow, it not with, such a sulky chap as 1 one. Once I'm put up I get outof bounds, -aad as to seeiagvou laughing and talking with that young fool of a Captain why, if I wms to eatch you at it, donH know what I xnightnH be tempted to 'You're threatening now, John." Fanny ponts, and draws herself away a little. There is an uneasy look on her lover's face. lie lores Fanny with all bis heart and strength, Be has known her from tho time they went crab-hunting together among the rocks with the rest of the village children and yet. though his heart is so fast bound to ber that he could never tear it away, be has no sure trust in the wilful, bewitching girL VTwa be t.hilr of the futnre Knjiny his wife and the mistress of bis homo an undefined, shifting fesr is apt to coma between John and bis certainty of happiness, a fear newiua loiaas no nas leit among the treacherous quicksands further east when be bas been seeking anchorage.

lis answers, almost solemnly Am I -tnreatening, aarungi Then I dont mean it. 1 mean WarninK. not threatAninir. Yon see, I havo'nt got so many words to fit my meanings to, as such a clever little lass as you, Fanny. All I mean is.

1 want to rat it clear to you that when touts, may he, meaning no barm, only a little teasing in play, you're playing with feelings a-man can Jceep under it's as it the devil was let loose in me, 1 know. You don't think men nurdcr one another of set purpose, do you, 1 'inv. when they're thenisiuve vra Lit, and retreats still far- i i. I ther frees the elir edge then she gives a bule forosd laojrh. it I sous say, John, you've got strange no-nons of pleasant talk first, you scold me crjBdui cuea you speas.

aooul muroer. Mow I most go home, and If you cant trust me to go by the beach. 111 take the long way over the clifls. Are you satisfied now. Sir nesisiieu i jenu is raaiant at seeh unexpected sweet subroission, for the road on ahead over the cliffs is just two miles Tound for Jaaoy.

and when they began to quarrel she had said nothing should Induce tier to go aosoa tmiess she went by the beaen. where, seJoha knew. Cap tela Btaadish and his friend are peeing no aod down in front of tho little bar. You little duck be ssys, and John otters up a good deal of atone- Bni in worn ana set, wnicn aany receives with many smiles; and blushes, and at but ne lets Her go. Why not so bv she lane be aal Fanny nods.

mm was just thinking so," she says, and she looks back over her shoulder, and smiles like an angeL 'John thinks. But the smile fades out of her face more quickly than the rose color from those long ribbon-like cloud lines. By the time she reaches the end of rock path her fore-bead is dinted with a frown. The path ends its shelf-like course along the cliif, i and slopes down to the left in a steep oesoent to the road leading to the beach on the right it mount as steeply to the upper part of the village. A lane with harh hedges fringed with plumy fronds of ladyfern, and nearer the ground, rarer more minute kinds nestle like green tassels in mo cum its oi loose-piiea masses or.

stone bidden by long satin strips of barfs tongue. Faany stands frowning still where the three wavs meet. Khe la thinking khnnt John, I I I don't believe he thinks half enough about me be wouldn't dare be so masterful if he did And then (for a good intention repented of seldom gets a second hearing,) FannV tells hentelf she is an iiiit A ni slsve I shall be when I'm married, if I'm never to look at any one or speak to any one but him. What's the use of good looks if they're all to be bidden out of tight aud she; hardens herself in this one idea, of ber own beauty and the amount of admiration auetoit. Bhe stands still.

Innlrin er wintfnllir Art-am the steep lane to the beach. A sound of voices comes up to her, a hearty laugh, and then some words which bring a blush to her cheeks a blush of pleasure; ber lips part. ma ner neau is tnrown Dock, saucily as two gentlemen come in sight sauntering up the path. "By Jove this is lncky." Captain Standish takes his cigar out of his mouth, and says, Good evening." He is a tall lair youth, with pale hair and eyes there is a washed-out look about him. Alri Kosat'U has a more manlv asoect: he is short and thickset, somothing of the bull-terriof breed.

anil 1a in snch a flnttnr nf vanitv and that she hardly knows what is said to her, sr what she answers. JShe has quite fonrottan her intention of coinir atrajuht hoaie. and stands listening and laughing while the Captain talks. i part rx. John Stands llsteninsr too lust where Fan ny left him listening, and yet not bearing the querulous scream of the sea gulls at the foot of the cliff, dipping their black-tipped wilips in the creaming curl of the waves, and then risina: in sudden tliijht with fanning on Spread feathers, or sinking again slowly as me air resists tneir pinions.

But John is not frowninir. ne smiles at hitnsolfi He thinks that he bos wronged Fanny by his half -formed fears. Dear little creature! how good and docile she is, after sill girl worth notbing if. she hasn't a spirit of her Own. Ah! at liideford there'll be; none of these fellows coming down to plsirne hoiiost men!" John Frv came hark vpnfjrrlair frnm RiHa- has an nnclo there, a fisherman, who has onered him a half share of his boat and his business for a very moderate oom- pensati(MV i John! John Fry, I say! Hollo! where are ye A coast guard.

In blue flannel and a shiny hat, comes running along the rocky lolg as easily as if it were six feet wide. He stops short when ho sees John, sets his legs wide apart, and both hands go down to the bottom of his pocket. i llT. il T-v an Look alive!" savs Davie, with a red f.i. and jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Yer wanted itelow the Bideford boat is ofl the rocks, and there one awanting yo." anung oi me John pulls oft his wideawake, doubles it no. arid then flattens it out with his strong brown hand finallv. this nroceedinir lmvinir failed to solve his perplexity, moves on to wpere uavie thumb Is pointing. There'll be a bit of a (rale to-nio-ht afnre the boat reaches Mineheaa," says Davie; and then he stands still and lights his pipe, while John Fry hurries down to the beach. Unless he had scrambled down the fare of the crag a bold feat for even so fearless a climber he mnst follow the path Fanny has taken, but he is not thinking about Fannv as bo hurries along.

His uncle at Bideford was an old man he had alreadv hiul nn teiznrei and this: might be another. John had few friends or relations, but those he had he loved with the intensity of a deep strong nature, arid his heart was full of anxious foar for his uncle he had left him soj well and hearty, and so full of warm sympathy with his nephew's happiness. oinat wnen joiin, in his headlong race, comes isnddenly Upon the group or, rather, tUe pair, for Mr. ttnsse has moved oil" to a dfccreet distance '-the young fisherman is so silent wonder. iot ail instantOnlv.

It lfiOnitorlirV in trie narrow lane between those high fern-crowned neugee, noiore one can note the changes that have come into the two far.ea. to each olher for- Captain Standish's whiskers touch Fanny's cheek as he whispers-John's hand is on the captain's shoulder, and tho cud tain stumbles backward intn thn- hfd2c4 your distance, will von Jnli savs, fiercely; "that young woman is not free to listen to your foolery i He has grasped Fanny's arm while be speaks, and now. he hurries ber along with hm back by the way he came. Vehement action has calmed down the trmnost of his anirer. As he striHea alnni he is forcing himself to decide what he shall ssy to Fanny.

i Ills nas a aim remembrance of the point where; he left Davie, and he stops short of that, i The light has faded so completely that be can only just see Fanny's face plainly. She is very white and trembling. She remembers what John said just now about murder, and as self ia usually paramount in her thoughts, her terror is that he means to fling ber orer oq to the Bbarp-pointed rotks below terror to trrett, so paralyzing, that the cannot even, shriek for help. Even if she "iuu, dot voice wooia do powerless earalnst the: wailing, screaming sea-gulls, and the roar of the wares as tie wind lashes them into to am in heights. Bnt John has no mind to barm ber.

Spite Of all, he loves her still, but he baa learned at hurt to pat trust in bis own misgivings. Instead of Fanny Heywood. "Fanny." he says, in a choked voice. "I brovghtyou hereto tell you what must be said between us two." He stone and tries to dear bis voice, but It remains hoarse in spite of him. Fanny takes miuo TOmiwrij ua iooks ep, dus his stern Set face brinn back all her her hands over her eyes, and cries out with terror.

i Tho strong awful calm that bad un 4 John after his first outburst gives way at the cry, and bis eager breaks through like a gronod swell, betokening how deep it lies bidden away. I "Be quiet!" he says, savagely, and then the sham rein -at bis heart nerves him. as pain will nerve to self-mastery. Fanny, when I asked you if you could Hove me well enough to be my wifal thought of ybo as a man thinks of a true woman. I thought I wasn't worthy of your lore, even though gave you my heart and soul in exchange.

I gave 'em you, Fanny; you have been first and foremost in every thought I've had since then. I'm not making merit of ao doing? I dont know as 1 can take them dock, Uod knows now I love you still, bnt I'll not take a wife who's not content with the love I've rot to give ber, who'll not keep herself for me alone. Ill not put myself in the 'danger of marrying where I cant crust. I fcvlie had kept her eyes hidden, and he had not seen the shame and the sorrow that had filled them, but his last words stuns' her into sudden fire, "Nobody asks you to," (her Voice has the taunting nng in it he is least able to bear.) I'm nut likely to ank any saaa to merry me, Mr. Fry least of all one whom I've made a great mistake by ever having anything to do with.

1 always felt I'd thrown mvself awsv. aa J. now I'm tuxt of ik I'm fit for soaiedijig better than a fisherman's" wife, I can tell you a rough brute that baa no manners for bis betters. Let me go." She pushes him, aad at the same moment Davie lounges up, "Did tab beer a sis-naif he save. Fra thin kin it came from bevond iledden's Mouth.

Come on and tell the Lieutenants Why, man, where be ye going, off in the aark aione; nu neip noane; wait ana gie me a help wi' the John only shook off the grasp his friend bad laid on his coat, and humed off into tho darkness. i Well, fm blowed says Davie. thereTl be summut mere than common amiss wi' steady cheo like that 'nn afore he'd run mucker along the cliff-edge in the dark." And Davie hurries back to tell the Lieutenant of the signal be fancies be has beard. put m. night no one but the children went to oca in the little fishing village.

At about eight o'clock Davie had spread the alarm of a ship ofPthe Hodden's Mouth, ana tne uanger was too wen known not to muse a stirring, sympathy in all who heard tho tidings. Lieutenant Roberts and his men had soon put off in the lifeboat, and more than one of the fishing boats had followed; though the sea was now so wild that some of the older men shook their heads and muttered that "It were a clean temp tin' of Providence." Even in the upper village stray rumors of the excitement below kept folk waking. Fanny Heywood lived alone with her lather. He had been village schoolmaster, bnt was superannuated now, and almost childish; his chief ideas being the correctness and spotless condition of his clothing, and the beauty and irresistible charms of his daughter Fanny. He saw no use whatever in sitting up burning candle just because a ship hod been so stupid as to get on the rocks, and he toid his dan elite she would do wisely if Bhe went to bed too.

Fanny gave him a careless answer but when he had fairly gone np stairs Bhe placed herself at the window and looked out, in hopes of hearing news from some passer by. The girl's heart was very heavy to-night. She had not said one word to her father. She had joked, and laughed, and tried to bear herself bravely but the pent-up sorrow grew in its struggle to find vent in the deep lone stillness it made her heart heavy as leadt. The nicht was verv dark.

Fannv Tint her head out of the lattice as she beard a far-off sound, and the wind swirling round the house in a wild gust blew her hair into her eyes, the sound came nearer, heavy and lum taring, not like a mere footstep. Who's there she calls, as it comes nearer there is a strong sudden horror in her, though she could not have found a name for it. It's me Davie. I be in a barrow from the rocks down yonder." "He's fallen and amnaliad riia anlcln anira a deep voice, which Fanny recognises as that of the second in command of the coastguard station "I had to come back, so I've brought mm oiong." i Is the ship safe says Fanny. Well.

(the man sneaks mi cried out before she was hurt. 'There's one of the boats stove in that came ont a.ftar the lifeboat." anny's heart gives a sudden bound. Is any one hurt besides Davie she says, in a faint, scared voice. i "Well, yes; and I must go on. Miss, now.

Fm come in to fetch the doctor ont to Joe Porter and another poor fellow" is John ry down helping with you "she says. Uavie strikes in the gasping tone of anny's words had roused him. I'm not easy in i my mind," be says. John Frv left me all in a hurrv to fm oft' to the rocks, and there's no one seen or heard on him since. John's not the lad to stan' by wi' his hands in his pockets while folks is wanting help." Before hts words are spoken army is ont of the cottage door.

She can see the two figures in the vague indistinct light a light that seems fraught in itself with donbt and fear. With all her haste, that strange me chanical quality we call habit" makes Fanny take down a shawl, which hangs in the passage, and wrap it round her head and shoulders as sho runs into the rood. She puts out her-hand till it touches the coastguard's arm. i Mr. Evans, tell any one you see to send help to the foot of the cliffs and tell Lieutenant Rolerts I'm gone there to look for John Fry." i (lone alone God help her But as be speaks there is nothing but the vague indis tinct glimmer round rvans and his charge.

Fannv has sped on for out of sitrht. down the steep fern-banked lane, lighter than it had been in the upper village, for the sea is before her. I She amesses that the fishermen are not gone to bod. and she knocks loudly at the first door she comes to. An old man opens it.

verv old an feeble. with a face honeycombed with wrinkles. He has a lantern in his band, and he holds it up to examine bis visitor. "Let me have it. I ather Pnirslev." savs the girL taking the lantern with a irrasn he is powerless to resist.

"If hero's a man or a boy in the home with you, send them after me to tho foot of Ragged Jack." 1 he wonderful power of instinct has told her that, if any harm has come to John, her conduct has caused it. She sees him hurrying along the cliff-path, when she left him with those taunting words on her lipa. JShe knows every inch of the path, and John's loving, protecting care has taught her too well its dangers. At the foot of this massive pile of gray rocks, whirn the villagers call Ragged Jack," the path seems to end suddenly abin.pt is tho angle it makes round the jagged mass. Fanny shudders when bus think of the jutting-out crags below, and how much care and caution it would require, in the darkness, to follow tho abrupt turns of the slippery, uneven path.

This is scarcely, a thought. She hurries on so fast that visions of what may have befallen her lover soem to lure her on to reach them as they move in bodily shape before, her. At another time Fanny would have been frightened of the lonely darkness now sho heeds nothing but the longing to find ber lover before any one else con reach him. i She is near the point, when a sudden gust of wind blows out her light not for long. She has seen, as she Carried it.

that old Pnira- ley had loft matches inside the lantern. But that moment ot utter darkness, all alone on that giddy height, with tbe moaning, gulping sound of the hushing waves below, shakes Fanny from head to foot. What if she cannot find bim What if he bas fallen to the bottom of the cliff, and the nungry waves, um dock, nave -earned him along with them forever Her tin trees mow unnerved and trmrilinr hho cannot relight the lantern. Even if the nnds him be will not be aliTe. no may be an undiatinguishable mass of broken bones and wonnilit too dreadful to thinlc of.

flame at last, and with it the girl's courage rekindles. She trembles still, but she draws her shawl more closely round her and goes forward, not so fast but more steadily. There is a heart, after all, in her vain little body a heart that almost, for the first time in ber life, is speaking to ber more of another than ef herself and the longing to help and comfort John for his own sake ia overmastering any selfish dread, She stops and holds tbe lantern high above ber bead. Just before her, black in the vague light. Ragged Jack stands out as if to stop ber way.

A sudden chill at her heart and ehe lowers ber lantern to the path's edge. Fanny could never remember why she did this it was a strong impelling instinct. She looks, and then she shrinks nack. sick and white, against tbe rock-wall beside ber. If John yet lives, be is lying below where she stands.

The path is broken away, and there are signs that large bits of rock haye been freshly loosened from ita edge and hurled down to the sea. And as tbe reality forces itself upon Fanny, that she must descend that fearful precipice alone in the darkness, face to face with the moaning, wailing sea a moaning and wailing which heavily and hopelessly, every thought of I terror Fanny's courage nies in one long shuddering sigh, "jd sue sinks on her knees sobbing. The attitude, or a power beyond ber, brings piayer to her lips: Oh, my Father I save him belpmef The words seem to nerve her perhaps they remind her she is not so beipleas. She lies down on ber face, and dratf herself to the edge. "John 1 John xry 1 John, darungt do you bear me 'ihe wind is lulling fast.

ud ber voice sounds clear through the night air, io answer comes; tbe silence seems more awful, and the inoau of the waves mure awfully true tn their foreboding. Desperately, she raises herself, and isends ber vuice oat in on land piercintr cryw Then she strains her ear to iistiiu. Far oft seemingly as far as the bay on the other side of Ragged Jack an answer comes, but in a sound of many voices; audtkuii a ieenie wnisue. All her fears are graie i she only chides at ber own delay. Still holding tbe lantern in one band, she feels her way cautiously, foot by foot, down tbe cliffrtill she finds at last a standing place.

She knows where she is now: the crag juts out here into bugs jagged rock, with a bush or two on It, ana then goes sheer down to the sea. Again, close beside her. the whistle sounds louder than before. She calls, but no answer comes; and then she holds the lantern so that ita light falls below her. I Close to ber so close that ber next downward footstep would have been set on his face John Fry is lying with shut ryes.

He has been eangbt, seemingly, between the bushes growing on the edge, for only bis head and chest are visible. Fanny kneels down she touches bis face timidly with ber band, and then draws it back, shuddering. John 1 John, darling Open your eyes I 8peak to me He lies there as still aa the gray rock, almost as cold. She forgets tbe danger of falling; she twines her arms round him; she murmurs to him, and presses warm kisses on his face. "Oh, John, my darling! mydarlingl Look at me just once; let me hear you say once you forgive my wickedness She might as well cry to the rock itself; and yet, as she pressosher lips on his, it seems as if some warmth lingered in them.

1 Suddenly she raises her bead, and cries ont loud for help. A strange sound hss reached her. She listens breathlessly. Yes, they are coming. Overhead she hears voices, and, from the sea, the strong remilar pull of oars.

John Fry was taken home alive, but there oame weeks of anxious watching before he was able to walk, once more beside Fanny Heywood. to the scene of his fearful fall and then he walked with crutches. anny Biniles brightly in her lovers face. I i .1 i I realize that he is crippled for life hut under the girl's smiles, is a tender, subdued look new to her face. It may be that the bitter tears she has shed, during her long patient nursing.

have left their trace tears. -not onlv of sorrow for her lover's sufierinBrs, but of contrition for the part she had actod toward him. Fanny (John had stood in silence for some minutes beside the broken nathwav) "I don't thiuk you and I will quarrel again wjll we, aarnng i lie looks at her smilinir. with his doen. lov ing eyes, and she tries to answer brightly Out tbe recollection of that foolish quarrel and its endinsr masters her.

and tears come instead of words. Hashr he whispers softly; "youll spoil your sweet eyes, my darling, and they're my eyes now at least they will be after Thursday." anny hides the eyes on bis shoulder. Don't ask me to promise, darling," she whispers. While you've been so ill I've learned more about myself than I ever thought to know. I wonder how you find anything to love in a girl who can put no trust in herself There is no need to tell John's answer.

THREE MOMENTS. Then was it written in the sky And in the stars above, That but three moments should be given To me for life and love. One moment for us to meet, i And one to part, and then One moment tor a rainbow dream To melt in tears again. Yes. thus 'twas written in the sky.

Twos thus tbe stars decreed. And we, far. parted, wander on' Where'er these stars may lead. I But there's a happy distant land Where the bonds of fate are riven, And there we two shall meet again Beyond the starry Heaven. -From tho German.

Cromwell as a Boy. With plenty of tal ent, he as yet locked that without which talent is but of little avail diligence and application. "Sometimes," says Hkath, "be would study hard for a week or two, and then play truant, rob the orchards of the farmers, damage their trees, break down their hedges, enter their inclceures, and finally behave himself so outrageously that frequent complaints to his father were the consequence, which usually ended in bis being soundly thrashed by tbe enraged parent." He is Baid to have displayed much talent of another kind, as a performer of school plays. These generally took place just before the holidays. In one, cal led "The Five Senses," he is sold to have been most successful in the character of Tacitus, the Sense of Feeling a part he was no doubt well qualified to illustrate, from the frequent -re hearsals be endured from tbe cane in tbe hands of Dr.

BkAitDand his father. There is every reason to fear that his extrava gant dissipation exceeded all former limits, a love of gambling being added to his other vices. After a residence in town of a few months, he appears to have given up the stuay ot mo law ana, nis debts increasing, he withdrew to his native town, once more to renew his former friendships, so dreaded by bis mother, and to continue his vicious courses, wasting the parental estate, says Heath, in his debaucheries "tippling, running up a score and ouarrehng so that few durst keep him coinnany." His chief weapon was tne quarrer-stan, ana lew couia contend with him in the skill with which he used it about the heads of the tinkers and rxHldlers. his companions at the public houses be frequented. On these occasions, he was the terror of all the alewives in Huntingdon and the neighborhood, who.

when the saw him coming, would cry out, "Here comes young Ciiomwell; shut up your doors!" Life of Oliver Cromwell, bg J. A. Andrews, Fishing for Herring. Did you ever go out for a night with the herring fishers If you can stand cold and wet, yon would enjoy the thing hugely, especially if jyou have a boating Imagine yourself on board a west-country smack, running out of Boisdale Harbor with the rest of tbe It is afternoon, and there is a nice fresh, breeze from the southwest. You crouch in the stern by the side of the helmsman and survey all around, you with tbe interest of a novice.

Six splendid fellows in various picturesque attitudes, lounge about the great, broad, open bold, and another is down in the forecastle boiling coffee. If you weie not there, half of these would be taking their sleep down It seems a lazy business, so far; but wait By Bunset tbe smack has run fifteen miles np tbe coast many of the fleet still keep her company, steering: thick as shadows in tilt) Sam-mar twilight. How thick the galls gather yonder! That dull plash, ahead of the boat waa the plunge of a solan goose. That tho herrings are hereabout, and in no. small numbers, yon might he sure even without that bright phosphorescent light which, travels in patches in i the water to leeward, Now is the time to see the lounging crew dart into sudden, activity.

The boat's head is brought up to the wind, and the sails axe lowered in an instant, i One man grips the helm, another lugs out the buck rope of tbe net, a third tbe or body, a fourth, ia placed- to see the buoys clear and heave them out, the nest attend forward, keeping a sharp lookout for other nets, ready, in case the boat should run too fast, to steady her by dropping the anchor a few fathoms into the sea. When all the nets are out, tho boat is brought bow on to the net. the "swing" (sa they call the rope attached to the net) secured to the smack's bits," and all bands then lower the most" aa quickly aa possible. The mast lowered, secured, and made all clear for hoisting at a. moment's notice, and the candle lantern set up in the iron stand made for the purpose of holding it, the crew leave one lookout on deck, with instructions to call them up at fixed hour, and turn in below for a nap in their clothes.

Day breaks, and every man, is on deck. All hands, are busy at work, taking the net in over the bow, two supporting the body, the rest hauling the. back rope, save one. wbo takes the net into the hold, and another who arranges it from side to side in the hold to keep the vessel even. Tweet 1 tweet 1 that thin cheeping sound, not unlike the razor-like call of the bat.

is made by the dying herrings at the bottom of the boat. The sea to leeward, the smack's bold, tho bands and i arms of the men, are gleaming like As many of the fnh as possible are shaken loose during the process of bauiin in, but the rest are Wi in, the net until the smack gate to shore. Three or four hours pass away in this wet and tiresome work. At last, however, the rets are all tirawn in. the mast is hoisted, tite ttt, and while the oook klonta cue Ma irking IO cneer me saunens inai, epu-o of his efiorts, clouds the strongman's eyes at times, for it is verv hard to John Frv to CI below to maketveekfast.

the boat makes far Lock Boisdale. Everywhere om tbe water, seerthe fishing boats making for the same bourne, blessing their luck or eorsing their misfortune, just as the fortune of tbe night may have been. All sail is set. if possible, and it is a wild race to the market. All Is scar liomna.

Tbe most ninstrioua afod important of the passengers on board the JdinicA (writes a correspondent of the London Dm TefeyrtzsAj is a Pasha, who is escorting bis harem from Constantinople to Alexandria. Of the eight saloons, the doors of which, open upon ov narrow cabin, six are occupied by the Pasha and his family or, to speak: more accurately, his families, for they are many. The Irishman, when be waa carried, in sedan chair with no bottom to It, remarked that, but for the honor of the thing, be might as well have walked. 1 might almost say that, though I have bad the privilege of a berth in a separate saloon, I might as well, but for the honor of the thing, been an inmate of the Pasha's harem. As I sit in the cabin writing, the door of each of the various saloons opens in turn, and, with the utmost wish not to see, I cannot help becoming 'acquainted with the most intimate details of tbe inner life of the seraglio.

In every pantomime there is a stock scene in which a house is shown upon the stage with any number of doors in the facade, and aa fast as one shuts another opens. I. often fancy that I am the solitary spectator of a Can tomime in which clown and columbine, arlcqnin and pantaloon, have attired themselves a la Turqne for my especial entertainment. The dramatis persona, as far as I have been able to grasp the plot of tbe play, are as follows The chief actor, manager and director is the PoshaUhirnself. I don't think I ever saw a man so fat for his height, or so short in stature for his girth.

When he is a deshabille, he looks for all the world like one of the Chinese mandarin figures which are placed upon chimney-pieces, and nod perpetually. Dressed in a hints bedgown, festooned round bis waist or what was once his waist with a red sash, the lower half of his ronnd figure is twice the bulk of his upper. When in full attire he wears a green robe lined with fur, a green turban, and a diamond ring with a stone so large that I cannot but doubt its genuineness, nis face would be handsome if it were not so distended with fat; his eyes are bright, his skin white and I should question whether, unwieldy as he is, he is much over forty, ne looks intelligent, and as good-humored as a man well can be who loves a quiet life and is worried all day long by any number of wives. They tell me on the boat that he has four legitimate spouses; but, beside them, what with concubines, slaves and servants, he bas at least a dozen women who have a vested nght to his atten- tion. The four wives the lawful ones I mean are of various ages.

There is an old i wrinkled beldame who has a cracked voice and a terrible tongue, and who snenda ber time trotting about with her vail all awry over her face, chattering perpetually and scolding everybody she comes across. Tbe second wife is a woman well on toward forty, with a face already assuming the nutcracker shape.nnd with a sharp, sour look which years are sure to develop. Wife number three is a dark, sallow brunette, with bold Hashing eyes, and the look! of a woman able to hold her own in any position in which she may be placed; while the better half or better eighth I suppose I ought to fray number four, is a young, sprightly, daik-eyed damsel of nineteen or twenty, who wears lavender kid gloves with four buttons. and-has a white silk parasol lined with black lace, and a veil so tightly bound round her straw sailor's hat that you might take her for- a European lady. Each of these four dame bos her own separate suite of servants, and most of them have children and nursne, though to whom the families belong I have not been able to discover.

There are two pretty fair little children a boy and a girl of whom the Pasha is extremely fond. He is always feeding them with cakes, sweets and fruit, and they have their abode in the largest saloon, where is also a baby in arms. But, betides, there is a dork little boy somewhat older, to whom nobody pays much attention, and who is more or less in everybody's way, and evinces a disposition to be friendly with the Giaour which is not to be observed in his more favored playmates. It is easy enough to guess that he is the Ishmael of the household, though who is the Hsgar I cannot tell. It may be the pretty soft-eyed woman I sometimes catch a glimpse of peeping through tbe chinks of the doorway, and who.

for some reason or other, never appears on deck. Bnt this is surmise only. There are any number of female servants one of them being a tall ne-gress, dressed in white; the other women who are perpetually trotting to and fro from one saloon to another, and whose facecan scarcely be seen under the I blue cotton shawls, which they keep folded close over their faces. The service between the harem aud the outer world is conducted by three body servants. The highest in dignity is a black, eunuch very tail and hideously ugly, with protruding under jaw, a nose flattened to his face, and immense blubber lips, who spends his time perpetually in 'one saloon or in an ether, bnt only waits upon the ladies, in the way of bringing food or lighting their pipes, as a matter of favor and condescension.

Next in rank comes ai good-looking young fellow, with a trim mustache, who acts as a sort of major-domo and volet to the Pasha, who is on the best of terms with all the ladies, and is always talking with, them through the doorsj and fetching andearryinK for thein, thouith he never enters the saloons at any rate, when anybody is looking. And last, not least, there is a wretched little scrub of any njfA between ten and twenty, a sort of Turkish Smfke," who acts as nursemaid to all tne children, is bullied by all the nurses, culled by the eunuch, and run off his legs by everybody, till I wonder sometimes that he does not make a hole in the water and betake himself to a better world. Possibly on shore his life is not so hard as it is on board ship, where all his mistresses are cross, bored, and out of temper. I hope so, at any rate, for the credit of human nature. But; even with the assistance of his male attendants, the life of the Pasha is by no means an easy one.

There is always something going wrong in some one of the cabins, and the podgy little man has to pull down from the deck scores of times duringthe day to set things aright below stairs. The steward tells me that during all his voyages in the Levant he has never traveled with a party of Turkish ladies who were quiet or well-behaved. Depend upon it, the days are not always halcyon days even for a Pasha of many tails. All through the morning the cabin ia in a state of perpetual worry and eon-fusion. Some article of toilet is wanted or an excursion bas to be, made to somebody eWs cabin, or the pipe has gone out, or the contents of the water jugs exhausted-or the beds heva to be made, or the breakfast has net appeared in due order, or the chUdrea are crying; and for one cause or another there is a perpetual rapping at the doors, a jibbering and rustling all the midday hours.

There is an end to everything, even to Molding woman's, tongue; toward midday, when tho beat ia stilling, there la a sort of siesta on board, the boat and when the noonday sleep is. over, the Pasnaquits the saloon where the chief wives are assembled, and comes forth in the glory ef his green robes and turban, baa bis nar, ghile brought up on deck, squats upon a carpet and smokee placidly. 1 ben. after a little time, the ladies of tbe brri oome up. escorted by servants, laden; with folds shawls; and after much arranging and rearranging of pillows and cushions, they, too, seat themselves apart in a sort of circle, within the range of the Pasha's eyes, and moke, cigarettes, or even I chibouks, and drink cottee and use their eyes freely.

Tbk Giant Guakds. The month railed rapidly on, and Fkitz, the future Frkdkjuck tbe Great, having entered ibis fourteenth year, waa appointed by his in May, 1735. Captain in the Potsdam Grenadier Guard. This giant regiment bas attained world-wide renown, solely from the peculiarity of its organization. Such body of men never existed before, never will again.

It was one of the singular freaks of the Prussian King to form a grenadier guard of men of gigantie stature. In the prosecution of this senseless aim not only bis own realms were ransacked, but Europe and everuAsia were explored in search of rianta. The army was with Frkdiirick William the great object of life, and tho giant guard waa the soul of the army. This fruard consiated ef three battalions, tiki in each, 2.400 ia all. Ihe ahurtost of the men were nearly seven leet high.

The tallest were almost nine teet in height. They bad been gathered, at aa enormous expense, out al evsry country where tfy found. Ko (Tester favor enuM be eonf erred upon tbe King than toobtaia for him a giank alany amusing anecdotes are related of the stratagems to which the King resorted to ob tain these mammoth soldiers. Portraits were painted of all ef them. Fkkdrkick William paid very little regard to individual rights er to the law of nations if any chance pros anted itself by which he could seize upon one of these monster men.

Reigning in ab soiunsm eomparea with which tbe oespo ism of Turkey ss mild, if be found in his do- snaine any young woman of remarkable stature, be Would Mond her te mrrr one of bis giants. It does not. however, appear gigantie race. Prussian recruiters ware sent in all directions to search with eagle eyea for candidates for the Potsdam Guard, Their par was higher than that of aay ether troops, and they enjoyed unusual privileges. Their drill and discipline were aa perfect as could by any possibility be achieved, i-Veoortc tks Great, ia Harper's for October.

TO MT LoVfl FTer eyes are almond-shaped and flashing; Brighter far than fanlchions clashing; Dancing like the brooklet plashing I Down its rocky mountain-bed. Upon her cheeks see roses blushing Her voice is like a fountain gushing, Blent with the buibul's note when hushing All the grove with thrilling plaint. Ah, met what lithe and stately As though a bark should ride o'er ocean I Oh she can win a life's devotion From whoe'er she will, I trow. ITer smile Is like the sun. that chases i Storm-clouds from wiptry sky; ber face ia So moulded, as if all the graces xiaa conspired to moke ber fair.

i And shall I make this peerless creature lioad love for me in evVr feature Ah en rely, I must needs first teach ber Ao believe she's lees divine I Yet eostlv nmi shine more br setting. Thence oftentimes fresh charms begetting i .1 i ji soaoe i uov, my unm, vuiw mia uvtuius Ahou canst ma ten ner love with tnina. Tetnplsliar. ZXT BAB x-TjAITO. Condensed from Saint Pauls.

Nursery, Sir said an affable policeman first turning to the left house with brown wire blind, green shutters and three steps The guardian of the publie peace bad evi dently an eye for color, or be might have saved some needless scrutiny of doors and windows by simply mentioning that an inscription on the house-front would enlighten any one, capable of reading his mother-tongue in six-inch letters, as to the object of bis search. The institution further in vites attention to its speciality by a notice on either side of its doorway, to the following effect: Children under three years. one penny; children over three two "Twopence! we exclaim in our moq scathing tone, as we think what it has cost to fetch up our little Jack to bis present form. "If they pretend to say that they can keep children for i twopence a dav, it Is all rubbish and then- we fall to. musing upon the table exploits of certain four-year-olds of our acquaintance, and become hopelessly entangled in mental arithmetic as to how many diurnal twopences wonld contest our own nursery baker and milkman, let alone draper, shoemaker, coal merchant, doctor and the rest, not forgetting Jane's wages, and a weekly tribute to dyspepsia in the shape of lollipops and cakes.

So we pull the bell with a savage eneriry, that is meant to record our fixed conviction that any one who offers to carry out tbe nursery programme of feeding, clothing and tending youngsters as aforesaid must do it on baby-farming principles, and get mighty little by tho job after alL Our virtuous indignation has hardly had time to explode itself before the door is opened by a moonfaced girl, in a clean print dress and closely-fitting cap, suggestive of French or Flemish markets, and tied where alf good honest caps were wont to be tied under tbe chin. She looks most provoldngly good-tempered as we make ber the bearer of our card and compliments to the Lady Superior, with a request tnat we may be permitted to inspect her institution for. babies, adding a touch of irony to the last expression, which, we flatter ourselves, would have found its way between the joints of the harness if its point had not been turned in process of transmission. Yes we see our folly now. You might just aa well aim your lost new joke straight at the head of a rhinoceros as to hope to impress that dumpling of a serving-maid with a sense of anything but doing pood-hunioredly whatever ber hand finds to do.

i Please to step in," is all that the occasion demands; so here' we are across the border of babyland, or, to speak more correctly, seated on a deal chair with rather more than the proper share of knots in its composition, and surveying a dean, but barely furnished room. Soon the door opens, and a middle-azed lady, in a secular-looking bonnet and shawl advances with a cheery greeting, and inquires whether we wonld like to see tbe nursery. That, we politely intimate, is the object of our visit. So she briskly throws off her shawL and declares herself ready to attend us. As she hauds us the visitors' book, in which we are invited to inscribe our names, a little precaution, possibly, against evil-minded strangers departing with a baby or so concealed about their persons, we have a moment's leisure to look into her soft gray eyes, and begin to think that if, by any lucky accident, we have caught the Mother Superior of the baby-home disgnised in the habiliments of the world, the lines of the youngsters will have fallen in pleasant places.

If ever a face in this world could tell its meaninir, the one before us spoke of a mild and tender rule. We had better begin at the back, for it Is there that the children arc received, and you would like to see our work from the beginning." So we stepped out into a courtyard which opened by a swing door into, a network of alleys. At this moment the swing-door of. the yard was pushed open with, a jerk, and a slatternly woman without a bonnet, and leading a child of about three years old. shambled across to a bell-handle conspisu-ously placed on tbe back wait of the- establishment.

A sturdy pull was immediately answered by a sliding panel being drawn back, through which the child was. banded to a nurse, who at once saluted grimy little Fred as an ancient friend. The regulation penny baring been dropped Into an adjoin-iae money-box. tbe ill-faTOwd wonua wok her departure to spend tbe rest of the day. as our seids inl oimad us, amoog sarslo ox congenial friends ia a neighboring taproom.

"How comes It, then," we inquire, that the is careful enough about ber child to bring it here "On she began to do it wnen she bad aome washing, and now that ehe has fallen into the wretched, atata in which you see ber, a kind person pays for tbe poor little fellow. You see bow dirty and tattered je We certainly had observed these points, and bad likewise noticed that the urchin -was by no means as reluctant to leave bis tvmm mother ae in dutr bound be should have been. His imftlial behavior entirely destroyed the effect of jokelet that we had been privately preparing, as to the propriety of th trap-door being labeled Bochim, by reason of the infant tears that must needs bedew it. But not drop did Master Freddy shed. So we were obliged, somewhat constrainedly, to inquire whether a rood deal of bowlinsoid not, aa a rule, celebrate matutinal importations, i "Not at all." said our conductress.

"A new child is sore to cry on his first admission, and now and then ne may make others discontented for an hour or two. Bat, generally speaking, he is so glad to find himself among toys and playmates, that he gives us no kind of trouble. We have bad one or two fractious children, to be sure, who have been spoilt at borne; but tact and patience in the end prevaiL" "Tact and patience we murmur to ourselves, and wonder whether the terms include those shakings and bum pings which our invaluable Jane-of-the-oursery upholds as the sovereign remedy for all Infantine frailties and disasters whatsoever. But here we are inside tbe nursery walls, not sis the baby-trap, but as beseems our figure, through the back-door which opens to notbing but a written order from the ruling powers. Yes, and here is our Lttls Freddy apain.

up to his midua in a warm-bath, ana spiAtuuc? and blowing Lko a younjr rr-pitise. 'ihe room. Has everything tise ia tlie etm make it. Tbe floor is bare it wouli asltanMteeoverap anything white a i the furniture consists of tures or four t. baths of vscious suee, end about asmery chairs.

Each child brought ia hrop i mediately on lU arrival, and i clothes are taken oft, tied up ia a bundle. -and bung on a peg anis-i the wall, with a ticket attached to tLera responding with the number borne by u. -owner ea the nursery books. its nan? address, it should be observed, are eater i in a ledger, and. when they eau be ottaiaei.

the occupation and wages of the parentaT And do you make no distinction, of ra ligious donominattosi I Nooe whatever- In the course of a twelvemonth all forma ef believer-. oi cf unbelievers, too, for the matter of 4 -1 representatires within our walla. i is rejected on any ground whatever i there is a suspicion of a eutaaeous disor in which case be is kept bask far mo.y.f apeetion." tVe have arrived just in time to see r-r friend Freddy's scanty and, we are bound add, cloudy garments folded together 4 as much eeremony as if they were owned I the bLoed-royal. and to superintend rubbing and combing that succeed t. bath.

This done, a complete set of just tut clothes as tbe child of a bettermost kind ci meehanio might wear are produced, and cc-litlle friend ia transformed into as clean aiii healthy a sample of has kind aa the mot exacting connoisseur ia baby points would desire to see. The bathing operation, it should be mem-' tionetL is dexterously conducted by a strapping girl of sixteen or so, attired la piuuiaa ly the kind of dress that every nurse, who docs not aim at sinking ber own identity in a feeble imitation of drawing-room, skirts and ribbons, might copy with advantage, A close cap, cut after a French model, and setting on to amazing advantage a pair of ruddy cheeks, a colored print frock and a white apron, reaching from the shoulders te tbe feet, with list aliosem worn over or dinary shoes, make np a seemly aad service- aoieeostume. Master lreddvB toilet beino now eomnlsta. and a parting touch having been administered to a favorite curl on the top of bis head, the nurse catches him in her arms, and carries bim upstairs, for babyland proper begins on the tint floor, and we have hitherto only been skirting the borders. As we Vrepare to follow, we notice that tbe bath, room is adorned with a double row of little bundles, like that belonging to Freddy, which are dangling from the walla.

These are the clothes of some nvs end-thirty little ones up stairs, whose ablutions have already been performed with Mohamedaa precision. The bouse clothes in which the children are always dressed on admission from the long robe of a six weeks' infant to the frock and pinafore of the sturdy youngster of as manny summers We subsequently discovered to be of every color known to the drapery bazaar. They are under the charge of a lady who makes the wardrobe ber special business, and reigns supreme over drawers aod presses that might supply a moderate sized town with habvdotlia far twelvemonth. Nearly the whole are presents, some ef them memorials of little darlings that never lived to want them, and not a few bearing tokens of having done duty in lordly nurseries. Every article, we notice, is neatly marked Tbe Good Shepherd." attempt is mads -to enforce uniformity either of shape or texture a very sensible regulation, which avoids the distressing air of monotony which the adoption of a single type of dress must necessarily insure.

We like bright colors," said our conductress; "they are good for children; and we never allow black or sombre tints even in the gowns of our nurses." Any stores of wisdom that might bare distilled from our lips in recognition of tbe prudence of this sumptuary enactment were unfortunately lost to posterity by a earount-stanee apparently so trivial as the onenina of was a few inches in front, bad no sooner shown herself on the threshold of a large room on the first floor, than a crowd of little urchins of all sizes, shapes and colors, came tumbling toward her in such confusion that our majestic legs, vested in a holiday specimen of the tailor's art, became an tm prompt breakwater for the infant tide. A couple or so, beaten out of time by their seniors, are performing aome serpentine evolutions on the floor, and are spared the waste of a good deal of power by the lady of tbe house catching them up in ber arms and administering a good kiss all. around, Here was a nursery row" with a vengeance, Bnt everybody was In high good humor, aod there was no pinching, or screaming, er kicking no, nor sulking, either. It was-. right-down fun, and nothing else.

So when our guide bad bestowed a recognition upon the most irrepressible of ber friends, and Bad fondled half a dozen or so who demanded, instant hugging, we wore presented ta dae form to the head nurse. And here let us at once relieve our minds by chronicling that the mere appearance of this functionary sup-poaing that she sits in a chair all day. like a Chin use idol, and did nothing would be a permanent guarantee for the easy good nature which is ths dominant feature of toe place. If the roundest and rosiest house--wife that Dutchman ever painted were sod-denlr to step out of the canvas and plant herself in the midst of group of romping children and if. moreover, instead of being stolid and lazy, she were to roll round ths room in merry pursuit of her vivacious littls charge, aome idea might be gained of ths quaint and beery personage that now bobbed a curtsey in Mknowleugment of our presence.

There are three under-nurses, we ascertained one a middle-aged woman, who bears rule in the nether regions amidst a perpetual savor of soap suds aad flat-irons for every article that is used in the bouse is wsshsd on the premises. The others are active girl of eighteen or twenty, who are undergoiair a course of special training to fit them, tut nursery work in private families. The room in which we are now standing is large and airy; but witn the exception ef some highly-colored prints upon the walls, ss bare of furniture as those upon the basement floor. It does not even buaat a table a circumstance that grievously perplexes us whea we are told that all the meals are eatea here. Why even tho conventional baby-chair, witaout which on the authority of our nursery-Jane uo creditable establishment is complete, is not to be discovered I But stop tnere must be some mystery in a 'kind ot raiL about a foot high, which runs along one aide of the room, aud fence oil a strip of floor, aay a yard and a half in widts and as at this moment one of the nurses is seating a row of children upon the ground with their backs against the wood-work, while an eager and expectant air pervades the line of upturned, faoes, we are evideDtl in the fair way of getting aten important secret of the beby-bne.

Twenty pair of little hands are now prettily joined together in ae stt-t of demotion as the head, none a abort grace, and the Amen has Bzxdly died away when kitchen maid tog basins. Thia. then, IS the where ths of the Good bhepberU alld. toaetlMt to ess, are.ot coc invited to taste the dinner, which torni to be Scotch bioth none of your water, with. lew lumps t- noaouig ftiseonsoiazeiy ea but a savory compound, to meat and vegetables have been used wi Ji niggard band.

Having duly cerUned oar i proval. one of tbe nurses passes down the rv of children basin in hand.administeru:? spoonful to each as she goes. There arrv to be no limit to the meal, except the i bilHv of the diners to eat any more, tot i patient attendant moves quietly np wd the line until littls heads ars aoaken ia ot baring bad enough. Grace is then again, the youngesters are hoisted over rail, crumbs and spots are earefuJy -from the floor, and dinner is complete. Breakfast and tea, we are told, are in exactly the same manner, muk and i aad butter being substituted for Lrc whatever else may compose tie dirr ths occasional addition of -even eggs.

This is independent of mzyt ninnliM thai wiav be imoorted cr the tie visitors. Thus, then, three nia th fnod beinff in -all eases cf procurable quality, alioted besides special provision for avcu.o But sleep ia becoming Cie order eft' Towel and basin in band, a nurse i i Into a corner as many of tlie jcz ehe can catch like a sherheri rca-dives among bis flock end when riw fingera have been purged. i chudren are led into an which has a space raiie-1 c-, i into which a mattre is respects it is exac'Jy Li i the eating room. AlocjCit-; nowliid-sidetysiJ ienJtit feet to the rsul sad wcn duoed to eea tlieir r'et4 tiieir eyes, -i a a a 11 ctoy rjt -icvcri..