THE  BAIN  DBOPS, 
parted,  the  old  man  j^olng  away  with  a  smile  of 
Incredulity. 
Robin  tliought  neaale  Hall,  the  shephord'a 
dauffht^r,  was  the  sweetest  maid  he  knew.  She 
was  neat  and  comely  and  fair  withal,  sue  had  a 
simple  gr.aec  In  every  movement  of  her  lUlio 
flsruro  and  two  charmln?  dimples  when  she 
smiled.  She  had  boon  well  spoken  of  at  the  Sun¬ 
day  S(diool  and  her  mother  called  her  a  devoted 
daughter.  She  hail  Innocently  engaj'ed  the  u  ffec- 
tlons  of  the  farmer’s  SOI}:  but  the  {.inner  had  sot 
his  face  against  the  mdteh.  Ilo  liked  Bessie ;  but 
On  the  third  day  tho  farmer  passed  hy  and 
p.a.nse(l  with  amazement  to  see  his  corn  all  laid  by 
hl3  son’s  single  arm.  Robin  wag  very  pale.  He 
had  fallen  upon  the  stubble  and  Rcsslo  knelt  b.v 
his  Hide,  She  hold  a  cup  to  his  ll|is.  Her  eyes 
wore  full  of  Joyful  loars  and  a  prayei-  of  thanks¬ 
giving  vvjis  upon  her  tongue.  Karmi.T  Dlmsdalo 
approached  tho  group  slowly.  He  was  ngU.alcd 
b.v  eonnictliig  emotions.  For  a  moment  he  was 
silent;  tlieu  he  said, 
“  r  conld  not  have  bollcxed  In  this;  but  since  It 
is  HO,  ovory  laborer  la  worthy  of  his  hlro.” 
A  FARMBK  had  a  Held  of  corn  of  rather  large  extent. 
In  tending'  which,  ■with  anxious  care,  much  time  and 
toll  he  spent ; 
But  after  working  long  and  hard,  he  saw  with  grief 
and  pain, 
His  com  began  to  droop  and  fade  because  It  wanted 
rain.  , 
So  sad  and  restless  was  his  mind,  at  home  he  could  not 
stop. 
But  to  his  fields  repaired  each  day  to  'view  his  wither¬ 
ing  crop. 
One  day  when  ho  looked  up  despairing,  at  the  sky. 
Two  little  rain  drops  in  the  clouds  his  sad  face  chiinced 
to  spy, 
“  I  feel  so  grinved  and  vexed,”  said  one,  “  to  sec  him 
look  so  sad, 
1  wish  I  cotild  do  him  some  good ;  Indeed  I  should  bo 
glacL 
Just  see  the  trouble  ho  has  had,  and  if  It  should  not 
rain, 
IVhy,  all  his  toll,  and  time,  and  care,  ho  will  have  spent 
In  vain." 
"  What  use  are  you  !”  cried  number  two,  "  to  water  so 
much  ground  f 
Vou  are  nothing  but  a  rain  drop,  and  could  not  wet 
one  mound.” 
"  tVhat  you  have  said,”  his  friend  replied,  ”  I  know  is 
very  true. 
But  I'm  resolved  to  do  my  best,  and  more  I  cannot  do. 
'■  I’ll  try  to  cheer  his  heart  a  bit,  so  now  I'm  olT;  here 
goes !” 
And  down  tho  little  rain  drop  fell  upon  tho  famier’s 
nose. 
“  Whale vor's  that  ?”  the  farmer  cried;  "  was  it  a  drop 
of  rain  ? 
1  do  believe  it's  come  at  laet;  I  have  not  wat(!hed  in 
vain !” 
Now.  when  tho  second  rain  drop  saw  his  willing  friend 
dejiai-t. 
Raid  he,  “  1  ’ll  go  as  well  and  try  and  cheer  tho  farmer’s 
heart.” 
But  many  r.alH  drops  by  this  time  had  boon  attracted 
out 
To  see  and  bear  what  their  two  friends  were  talking  so 
aljoiit. 
“  We’ll  go  as  well,”  a  number  cried ;  "  as  our  two 
friends  are  gone. 
We  shall  not  only  cheer  his  heart,  but  water,  too,  his 
corn. 
We're  ofT,  we’re  off they  shout  with  glee,  and  flown 
they  fell  so  fast. 
"Oh'  thank  the  Lord!”  the  farmer  cried,  "the  rain 
has  come  at  htst.” 
THE  HAEVEST  BEIDE 
It  had  been  a  liot  day,  but  the  heat  was  past.  A 
pleasant  warmth  lingered  ami  a  rofreshiug  breeze 
was  rustling  Ihrongh  the  thick  leafy  masses  of  the 
trees.  All  the  leave.s  In  the  \ven(J.s  wore  tinted 
with  the  mellow  richness  of  nuMimn  and  under  a 
gleaming  sky  tvaved  acre.s  of  rlpo  .yellotv  corn. 
Farmer  UlniHilalo  and  hl»  HOu  Robin  were  re¬ 
turning  home  after  work.  They  had  liaij  rather  a 
long  spell  of  it  and  the  perspiration  stood  in  groat 
drops  upon  their  brows.  They  wctp  very  glad  to 
enter  the  Iasi  field  and  to  Oorue  In  view  of  their 
dcsUnallon,  but  ns  ir.  was  neared  they  walked 
much  slower.  'I'he  way  was  a  narrow'  footpath. 
The  fanner  walked  Unit  and  Robin  followed,  Tho 
path  iDcllned  over  an  elovaHon  tow.ards  a  stile 
and  the  elder  man  aat  upon  the.  stile  for  a  rest  as 
soon  .as  he  reached  tt.  Kobm  leant  his  elbows  on 
the  topmost  rail  and  lookiW  westward,  llhs  gaze 
followed  the  wings  of  a  windmill  and  hl.s  thoughts 
entered  a  little  cottage  hidden  In  n  profu.slon  of 
foliage  fanned  by  the  air  agluitod  by  the  white 
wings.  The  fanner  s  posltlou  on  ilic  stile  com¬ 
manded  a  splendid  landscape,  'i'he  sun  was  sink¬ 
ing  upon  the  water  and  tho  whole  earth,  as  far  as 
■the  horizon,  was  bright  with  the  reflection  of  his 
glory.  Tlie  hrlghtest  spot  In  the  land.seape  wius 
the  farmers  great  field  of  ripe  corn.  'I’hls  en¬ 
grossed  all  hla  attention.  It  was  well  grown  and 
the  enrs  were  largo  and  fiilK  The  held  l  eprcscniod 
many  pieces  of  gold  and  ought  ui  he.  cut;  hut  for 
three  days  no  laborer  was  to  be  had  and  Fai’iner 
Dimsdale  was  sore  ve.ved  and  troubled  about  the 
matter.  He  sat  on  the  stile  swinging  his  thick 
slick  between  lits  knees.  He  stared  sorrowfully 
at  hLs  great  field  of  beautiful  corn  and  wondered 
what  he  should  do. 
“.Sou,”  said  he  prc-senLly,  “If  so  be  I  could  get 
yonder  meadow  cut,  I  tJihik  1  would  give  my  con¬ 
sent  to  thy  marriage  with  penniless  Bessie." 
“  What !"  tried  the  son,  sttullng  from  a  reverie 
lit  with  Bessie’s  blue  eyes. 
Tho  farmttr  smiled  gilmly.  “  I  was  speaking  of 
an  Impossibility,  of  coui-st!,”  said  he,  “but  it  came 
Into  my  mind  and  1  must  needs  say  It.  I  am  so 
vexed  to  have  tlds  good  corn  stainl  three  days 
more  when  it  Is  full  ripe,  that  l  said  I  think  I 
would  give  my  consent  to  your  marriage  with 
penniless  Bessie  if  you  could  manage  to  get  itcut.” 
“You  promise  me  thy  consent,  father,”  said 
Robin  “and  the  meadow  shall  be  cut.” 
“Son  Kobln,"  replied  the  old  mqn,  “you  talk 
nonsense.  If  I  cannot  get  hands,  I  wist  you  win 
not.” 
"  Trust  me,”  said  the  son,  “  1  will  use  my  own 
hands ;  Bessie  will  not  take  me  without  thy  con¬ 
sent;  so  I  will  cut  down  the  corn  In  the  meadow 
and  thy  consent  to  our  bridal  shall  be  my  wage.” 
The  old  man  laughed. 
“  Can  yon  cut  it  down  In  three  days?"  8.ald  he. 
“  God  helping  me,  I  wlU,”  answered  Robin. 
“Then,  verily,  tbou  shall  marry  Bessie.  But 
mind,  she  lends  no  hand  to  thy  help.” 
“  So  be  It,”  rephed  Robin.  Then  he  shook  hands 
with  Ids  lather  to  seal- the  compact  and  they 
BEMSHi;  rAUIC  HACK  IN  Tllk  MoUNINO  AND  kOUNlJ  HEU  IjOVKU  HTIfA,  nUNT  TO  IITH  WoKK 
sho  wa.s  not  tho  wife,  ho  said,  tor  Robin.  Robin 
innst  look  higher,  it  wa.s  truo  the  shepherd’s 
rainlly  was  as  good  ns  his;  but  riches  made  all 
tho  dllferenco.  good  marriage  might  better 
Ilobln's  conilitlon  in  life.  Ho  was  a  handsome 
young  man  ami  the  chance  was  not  unlikely  to 
fall  In  Ills  way.  Bessie  was  a  good,  arfeotlonate 
lassie :  but  the  farmer  was  very  amhlUous.  He 
could  not  consent  to  receive  her  ns  a  daughter. 
Ilo  thought  there  w:i8  no  possibility  of  his  con¬ 
sent  bi‘ln.g  won  In  tho  m, inner  ho  had  suggested 
on  tho  spur  of  the  moment  and  ho  went  homo 
lauglilng  in  his  sleeve  at  his  sons  folly  In  Indulg¬ 
ing  In  sueh  an  Idea. 
Kvenlng  had  fallen.  Robin’s  sickle  Hashed  to 
and  fro  and  the  corn  fell  ear  uj/oti  Ciir  ul  Ills  feel. 
One  Of  the  farm  hoys  followed  him,  gathering 
them  Into  slieaves;  and  pretty  buxom  Ue.ssle 
stood  by  looking  on,  finding  It  dinieull  to  restrain 
licrsolf  from  lending  a  band.  Robin  was  silent 
and  swift  over  his  work.  He  had  not  time  to 
look  up,  when  the  moon  came  out  of  the  tdouds, 
aoeompanled  by  a  single  star  and  Bessie  said,  “  It 
Ls  night.”  When  she  went  away  he  did  not  g.aze 
after  her.  He  sharpened  Ills  sickle  and  fell  to 
work  with  a  stronger  will.  Hts  lieurt  was  throb¬ 
bing  with  love.  It.Hcntnew  life  and  new  strength 
through  all  his  limbs  as  Im  thought  of  Bessie. 
Beside,  blithe  and  bright,  came  trliiplng  b:ick  In 
tho  morning,  .she  found  her  lovitr  still  bent  lb 
his  work.  He  had  uoi  fal led  or  llagged  all  through 
the  nlglit-  Tlic  farm  hoy  slept  a  brief  sleep  on 
the  stubble,  but  Rohm  tvorked  on  as  If  ho  had  but 
just  begun  and  a  great  heap  of  mown  corn  lay 
about  him.  Ho  smiled  as  Be.ssle  o.ame  liuo  the 
field  and  made  a  .short  pause  to  Ciit  t  he  breakfast 
sho  Imd  brought.  Tlien  he  woke  the  farm  boy 
and  went  on  as  steadily  and  rapidly  as  before. 
The  sun  advanced  to  the  merldhin.  It  slanted 
perpendicular  rays  through  the 
"SllTar  beech  and  maple  yellow-loavort,” 
until  the  scarlet  berries,  the  wild  roses  and  the 
night-shade  dropped  upon  the  hedgerows,  it 
gleamed  upon  tlie  haymakers  and  the  pedestrians 
until  they  called  out  with  thirst.  It  was  many 
degrees  of  heat  In  t  he  shade,  but  tho  lovere  stood 
out  In  the  open  field  and  heeded  It  not,. 
-Ml  but  the  bees  had  left  off  work.  Once  more 
Bessie  said  “  Good  night,”  and  tho  dew  gathered 
upon  the  herb,  once  more  the  nightingale  trilled 
forth  her  lay  In  the  hay-sceated  air  and  tho  har¬ 
vest  moon  rode  high  in  the  heaven.s.  Once  more 
the  lann  boy  fell  asleep  and  all  the  land  wtis 
quiet ;  but  love  had  not  Ured ;  still— still  from  eve 
till  morn,  from  mourn  till  eve,  itohlu  went  on 
with  his  work,  sustained  by  love  and  hope. 
Then  he  took  Bessie’s  hand  and  placed  it  In 
Robin's ;  so  when  tho  corn  was  garnered  In  Robin 
took  the  wife  home  he  had  chosen  and  she  Avas  a 
good  wife  to  him  all  her  cl.ays.  -M.any  a  time  did 
he  sit  b.v  Ills  fireside  and  tell  his  clnldron  how  he 
had  won  her  in  the  blessed  harvest  lime  and  In 
the  harvest  thanksglAdng  she  av.ts  remeinhered 
by  him  as  u  gift  from  lUo  Lord  with  the  golden 
corn. 
Tho  year  Is  about  to  tike  up  Its  bright  Inheri¬ 
tance  of  golden  iriilt.s.  The  Lord  of  the  harvest 
gives  ns  signs  of  great  ahnndance.  Ho  Inilli 
visited  the  earth  AVlth  Hl.s  goodness.  Ho  halh 
watered  the  ridges.  He  hath  settled  tho  furroAva 
thereof.  He  has  made  Ihein  soft,  with  showers, 
and  blessed  tho  springing  thereof ;  and  songs  of 
thanksgiving  are  ready  to  burst  forth  for  the 
pronil.se  which  He  makes.  B!cs.sed  bo  the  name 
ofthol.ord!  K.  Hunt. 
MES.  VANDEEDUYNOK, 
LETTERS  FROM  ROGER  FLOYD  TO  HOPE  STANHOPE. 
BY  MISS  E.  w.  OLNEV, 
RIverbend,  Jime  lo,  1S7-. 
Y'ou  complain,  dear  Holt,  that  in  taking  up  onr 
corre.gpondence  afresh  since  your  return,  I  treat 
you  AVlth  that  “  accursed  pride  of  mine  Avhlch  has 
always  stood  in  my  own  light.”  But  then,  don’t 
you  see,  you  are  no  longer  the  Holt  Stanhope  ot 
old  days;  and  how  avus  I  lo  gness  that  the  uonll- 
dcnce  I  gave  you  until  you  went  abroad  might 
not  bore  you  noAV  that  you  are  so  big  a  man? 
Besides,  It  is  .success  which  renders  men  buoyant 
and  e.xpan.slvc,  and  T  have  begun  to  consider  my¬ 
self  unlucky,  and  to  shrink  meanly  from  those 
who  are  more  fortunate  In  making  the  world  gdvo 
them  what  they  a.sk  for.  Not  that  I  envy  success¬ 
ful  men— you,  tor  instance— so  don't  think  it.  l 
am  out  of  spirits,  out  of  sorts. 
The  fact  Is,  my  constitution  has  not  yet  re¬ 
covered  trom  the  dram  made  upon  It  during  my 
two  fatiguing  yeai>s  In  South  America.  What  I 
required  was  a  year’s  utter  repose.  I  did  not  Jet 
It,  but  set  to  working  at  my  book  by  night  and 
day.  I  w,as  correct  Ing  the  first  proof-sheets  while 
I  was  flnlRlilng  the  Inst  chapters.  When  I  saw  It 
In  print  1  fell  111,  and  for  four  mouths  wa.s  sick  al¬ 
most  unto  death.  Could  1  have  been  delirious, 
Holt,  that  might  have  been  a  comfort;  but  I  did 
not  lose  consciousness  even  in  iny  scanty  feverish 
Bleep.  Every  torture  with  which  pagan  and 
tdiri  ;’i  III  (iiike  have  endowed  tho  inferno  was  ex¬ 
pend '  1  on  mo.  IRiavon,  and  perhaps  my  doctor, 
only  know  Avhy  I  recovered;  for  iny  disease  Avas 
suniclenUy  deep-seated  ana  Adrulent  Ui  have 
dostro.vod  any  one;  hut  I  at  length  emerged  Into 
coiivalescenco,  and  sat  up.  feebly  regarding  iho 
Avorld  through  the  vista  of  a  dlrly  fourth-story 
window. 
You  have  knoAvn  me  all  your  life,  and  you  have 
knoAvii  mo  for  ii  Avorker.  1  have  hoped  lUtle, 
dreamed  llftlo,  have  stmlled  when  not  actively 
employed ;  bur.  after  my  sickness  I  loll  utterly  cut 
ofi'  from  the  Intero.sts  of  my  old  life.  I  could  have 
drifted  out  of  life  AAdthout  a  I'l'gri't.  Relatives  I 
have  none  for  whom  I  care  a  dolt;  my  literary 
friends  regard  mo  with  as  .superficial  an  Interest 
ixH  I  feel  for  them,  study  has  .so  fully  made  my 
life,  1  hat  r  have  iieglecUvl  i  liose  IniercstH  which 
make  e.xlBUmoe  a.  pleasure  and  death  a  serious 
calamity.  But  nevertheless,  wlUunit  wlrthlug  to 
do  so,  1  grow  better,  and  about  six  miuiths  after 
my  fiiASt  sclziu-e  1  was  on  the  fair  Avay  to  complete 
health  once  more,  l  need  not  lell  .a'oii  I  had  no 
money.  A  poor  man  (aAunot  thriftily  bn  sick  for 
half  a  year.  1  h.ad  lacked  tho  Hense  to  order  my¬ 
self  sent  to  a  hospital,  but  laid  paid  a  fabnloua 
prlco  tor  llie  Avrei.elKal  room  I  lived  In  ;  so  t.hat  all 
my  expenses  taken  logcthei’  were,  considering 
my  means,  onorinous. 
So,  Holt,  limiKlne  me,  like  the  iicro  of  a  novel, 
pale,  gaunt,  emaelaied,  In  ag.arret,  without  money 
In  my  purse,  my  mind  dully  dlslnelliied  to  exert 
Itself,  notone  of  iny  mental  iimver.s  fully  aiisAver- 
Ing  my  will,  and  yet  aiisoliitn  ueecsslly  for  effort 
staring  me  in  the  face.  )  thouglit.  I  wa.s  equal  to 
copying,  so  looked  Into  the  moruiiig  piper  fora 
possible  advertisement.  I  carne  aoroHs  Mils : 
Wanted;  A  resldeni,  tutor  for  two  hoys  aged 
respcellvely  iiliio  and  eleven,  ’i'he  applicant 
must  be  a  genitemaii  by  lilri.li  and  education,  and 
or  unexceptionable  uuinner.s,  besides  answering 
edueal.lomil  riajulreineiit.s  wideh  avIH  be  fully  set 
fortli  by  letter  upon  applleutlon  to  K.  II..  Brevoort 
House, 
1  Searcel.v  know  Imw  I  caiiio  to  .answer  tho 
adverMseineiit,  hut  I  did  .so,  halt  laughing  at  my¬ 
self  for  my  eoirilng  down  in  tue  world.  Tlio 
response  from  K.  H.  was  curt  and  busluess-llko, 
and  tho  “cuueuMonai  reqiilremeaUs”  Avere  ad¬ 
mirably  set  tori  li.  1  referred  iny  correspondent 
to  the  collegos  tliiil,  knoAv  me,  and  when  a  per¬ 
sonal  Interview  was  appointed,  I  erawled  one 
aftiTnoon  to  Hie  lirevoort..  Miirlonsly,  uniil  I  had 
sent  up  my  card,  lUe  lull  meaning  of  the  adver¬ 
tisement  hail  falli'il  In  Impress  me,  i  am,  i  Hiip. 
pose,  a  gentleman  by  birth;  tlmt  Ls.  lor  I brec  or 
fourgciiorntlons-for  all  I  know,  sinen  the  Hood 
-the  Floyds  liave  lived  re.spoelahly,  havo  dressed 
well,  dined  well  ami  owned  family  portraits.  By 
cdueallon  1  am,  l  suppose,  agonllemau.  although 
not  according  w  tiio  social  code  whieh  makes  tho 
edncalloii  of  a  genllemau  a  simiUeilng  of  the 
acfpdreinents  or  a.  rone,  a  JoekOj , Dartemler  and 
a  hllll.ird-nuirker,  .\iy  manners  I  had  never  con- 
slderfid  at  all ;  they  have  never  known  but  one 
rule— thorough  seir-emumand  and  a  eaieiul  ob¬ 
servation  Of  t  he  wishes  and  requirements  of  those 
aliout  mo. 
I  expected  one  of  my  own  sex  to  answer  my 
call,  but  It  Was  a  laifv  who  entered  I  he  private 
parlor.  .She  IniToducod  herself  iw  .Mrs.  I Iimt  and 
her  HODS,  niy  preseul  pupils,  were  wdli  her. 
Apparently  i  reached  her  standard.  She  en¬ 
gaged  m.v  .snrvlees,  olTering  lesi Imonials  of  her' 
husband'.s  position  and  eharaeter. 
“Allow  inctoask,”  she  Inquired  politely,  “  how 
you  do  me  the  honor  ol  accepting  this  charge  V 
Each  one  of  the  gentleme.i/  to  whom  you  referred 
me  remarked  that  you  conld  have  a  good  appoint¬ 
ment  In  any  college  in  tho  country.” 
*•  Madam,”  I  returned,  “  i  am  poor — my  health 
la  still  delK.ate.  .My  e.ve  fell  on  .uuir  advmTlse- 
ment.  and  knowing  myself  lo  bo  at  present  un- 
equ.al  to  rouilno,  ItnccuiTod  to  me  tli;it  I  might 
try  tciuihlng,  .since  he.sldes  liavlug  occU[iatlnn,  I 
should.  In  helng  u  tutor,  gain  tho  comforts  of’ a 
homo.” 
“  Vou  have  no  home  then?” 
“Oh,  no,”  I  replied.  “  l  w.as  orphaned  from  my 
birth,  i  have  never  Inid  a  home.” 
That  comprised  my  pei-sonal  explanations  and 
two  AA'ceka  later  I  mot  her  here  and  took  iqi  tho 
charge  of  tho  hoys,  Iioth  lads  ot  energy,  though  a 
pair  Of  cults  sadly  needing  licking  Into  shapo 
before  their  society  can  lie  a  boon. 
Yon  know,  perhaps,  the  geography  of  tliLs  place. 
The  .Susipichiuiiia  Is  here  one  of  Mio  mo.st  pld  ur- 
esqiic  ot  rivers  and  .Mr.  Jlunr.'8groumls.  extending 
over  Home  twenty  acres,  have  Mmsi  ream  for  their 
boundary  on  tlirce  sides,  thus  making  a  eUarmlng 
llltle  peninsula  of  Uie  esiaie,  Avlilch  they  call 
“ Rlvcrheiul."  The  house  Ls  stalely,  ;iUaough  tlie 
archliectun!  comblne.s  the  fault.s  or  every  style  • 
but  money  has  heeii  lavLshed  to  make  It  an  agree¬ 
able  resldeuco  and  nothing  in  the  way  of  comfort 
or  elegance  Is  lacking.  .My  employers  are,  in 
fact,  monied  people.  Mrs.  lluni  's  private  Income 
Is  twenty  thoitsand  dollai'a,  wliile  her  iinshand’s 
wealth  Ls  something  too  vast  for  any  surmise  of 
mine.  He  Is  tho  great  Hunt,  llw!  broker,  banker, 
railroad  m.ari-\vhat  not ‘.'-a  man  noted  and  no¬ 
torious,  as  astute  and  shrewd  as  ho  is  .seemingly 
reckless,  vulgar  In  mind,  hut  at  his  avIU  gifted 
AVlth  t.act  and  knowledge  of  men  beyond  any  one 
It  was  ever  rav  fortune  to  meet  before,  in  public 
life  he  Is  full  of  bonlmaia ;  In  private  no  words 
cm  vxi.rota  111-  Insnii  iudogmiiihiii.  I  suspect 
hlB  h  bl's  Hre  ihe  levurse  i  l  iiomivstlo,  for  dur¬ 
ing  my -ix  month.-v  lit  ri  lie  lla^  fpeut  but  two 
w.0k-  will!  till  f.iniiy.  Fur' bei mare,  1  sus¬ 
pect  hi  I  w.f :  pret.MH  Hist  n.i  ^houbt  b-  w.th  her 
H.s  llitio  us  sue]  il  converi'inccs  m-rtn'.i  she  la 
anxious  In  her  m.  ns  ne  .UcuuMi;  hence 
her  xiK'  nce  In  ocmamHi  g  brcedliiK  in 
ibelr  tat'.r.  Th^y  are  Mu-irt.  tmyj,  born  for 
hurliiers  men  ;:rid  ponew-lng  tew  Fcbolarlv 
IrisllnclH.  yet  they  aiu-ly  well  and  I  have 
