roughened and weather-beaten by constant expo- 1 
sure. * 
Ills smile was good-humored; his whole aspect 
mild and benignant; hut It was like the gentle- 1 
ness or the great ocean as it Blghs ltseir to sleep ) 
after the tumult ot many storms,—like the quiet 
of the forest when there are no leaves left In It to ] 
rustle. 
He was a widower, and childless. 
For many years past he had led a useful and > 
unostentatious life In one of the Hebridean isl¬ 
ands, holding an authority absolute among his ' 
own people, and undisputed. If not dcllnlte, over 
other parishes. He was now engaged ro stay at ' 
Gourlodh for three or lour days, but longer than < 
than that they hardly hoped to detain him. 
“ You remember my niece raullne ?" said Lady ! 
Calverley; "and this tall boy? No? He Is her 
brother. And—our friend, Mr. Blundell." 
"And our dog, Mr. Punch," subjoined Klsle. 
“ Mr. Punch, shake hands. You needn’t bow, In 
case It. should turn Into bow-wow. See how good 
he Is! He always knows exactly how to behave 1 
himself, and he always barks at the right peo- I i 
plo." 1 
" Witness my reception,” said Blundell. " He t 
suspected me for t wo whole days,—did not give 
me the benefit of the doubt, which every man lias i 
a right to. One ought to be looked upon as an i 
honest man till proved a rogue, Punch.” 
" A dog’s code Is the reverse. You have to pro- 1 
duce credentials of honesty before he will believe 
you are not a rogue. And I am not sure," con- ' 
tlnued Dr. Macleay, with a humorous twinkle In 1 
bis eye, "that he has not common sense on hh> 1 
side.” 
“ Those collies at church on Sunday, every one 
of them must have suspected me," said Pauline; 
“ and t hey must have had their worst fears real¬ 
ized. Dr. Macleay, do you think dogs ought to go 
to church V" 
“ Certainly not, Miss La Sarte. I command my 
old Trim id stay at home every Sunday, but—” 
" He does not obey ?” 
He laughed and shook his head. 
"Does he follow you Into the pulpit?” asked 
Pauline. 
"Not exactly; he waits at the bottom of the 
stairs. I pretend not to see him till we are home 
again." 
"And what would he do, If some were to rise 
and leave the church?” 
“1 cannot say; he has given me no precedent 
to Judge by. Were any of you unwell on Sun¬ 
day." 
Pauline, with spirit, related her adventure; but 
as she proceeded, her principal auditor became 
grave. 
" 1 very much doubt that crossing,” he said. | 
" The people about here may know when to take 
it, and probably have land-marks to guide them 
across; bui, Miss La Sarte, It. is not fit. ror you. 
What would you have doue tr Mr. Blundell had 
not been there ? The tide might have been back 
upon you before you had got half-way! Take my 
advice and don’t try unknown crossings again: 
you may not always imd a deliverer so handy." 
She laughed and promised. She would not be 
tempted In future; but she could not wish to 
undo the past. 
Did he, her so-called delivered, share the feel¬ 
ing? Apparently he did. Uls eyo boldly sought 
hers, as he Interposed—“ You do not grudge me 
my good fortune, sir?” 
"Very much Indeed," replied the doctor, with 
alacrity. “ You are most unreasonable to sup¬ 
pose 1 could help grudging It. A man who goes 
ahout, staring Into pools of water ought not to ex¬ 
pect to sue any Image reflected In them but his 
own. Especially—" 
A slgntflcunt, movement of the head Interpreted 
the meaning of the unfinished sentence. 
" Nobody pays you and me any compliments, 
Punch," said a low voice, talking softly to Itself. 
“ Never mind. Punch dear, we don't want their 
nasty compliments." 
" Wise little womansaid her uncle. 
" Silly child!” said her mother. 
Everybody said something—good, had or Indif¬ 
ferent ; and. In the hubbub, some one who had 
stooped down to pick up the dog’s collar, whisper¬ 
ed a lew words which reached no ear but that for 
which It was Intended, " How could you say that? 
Would compliments suffice?” 
CHAPTER VI. 
Off to Oban. 
Tt would not be easy to describe the state of 
Blundell's mind at this time. 
Tie was unhappy, aimless, and Idle. 
Having broken away from all his former associ¬ 
ates, he had no resources but In himself; and the 
life he had elected to lead for the remainder of 
his days had, in six short mouths, palled upon 
him. 
At this point he meets Pauline. 
Here Is a woman, so good, so pure, so true, that 
she would seem to have been placed In his path, 
to lead him forward on the way to heaven. 
Here Is a beautiful, rational, lovable creature, 
all that fancy could suggest, all that reason could 
require. 
Now then, why may he not go In and win ? 
She is free, that Is certain. 
An atTected misapprehension, an elaborate apol¬ 
ogy', and three words from Tom, have set that 
point at rest. 
What holds him back? 
The prospect Is bright, serene, perfect in all its 
details, and—It cannot all ure him. 
It. Is Elsie’s doing. 
Ah! that little clilt! What business has she to 
Interfere with his happiness ? What business has 
that saucy smile to come between him and those 
grave, star-like eyes ? 
She is but a plaything, a child. A good child 
enough, but still a child. Nothing In her—noth¬ 
ing. 
He amuses himself now and then with the little 
puss ? Of course he does. Why should he not ? 
He likes children. They are great fun. He Ukes 
to tease and trick them, and cause them to cry 
and pout, and then kiss and be friends again. 
Miss Elsie is rather too old for the kissing, but 
that only makes It. the more piquant. 
He laughs to think how she would have behav¬ 
ed supposing her to have been the fair adventur¬ 
ess on the rocks! He fancies how he could have 
terrlhed her by tales of quicksands and swiftly 
approaching tides! How he would have rallied 
her on her forlorn appearance! on her charming 
spirit of enterprise! W hat sly allusions he would 
have made to It afterwards, and how cross she 
would have been with him—for the moment 1 
With this he falls to considering what the real 
heroine or the act, looked like; how she spoke, 
how she clung to his arm, how haughtily she held 
him at a distance one minut e, and how helplessly 
she appealed to him the next I 
He had never been anything more charming 
than the reserve giving way to eagerness, girlish 
and natural, wuen lie proffered a rescue. 
What a fool he had been to think at her as mar¬ 
ried ! He might, have known—might have seen— 
might have guessed—could not Imagine how he 
could ever have supposed such a thing! Pshaw ! 
She was as unsophisticated a creature ub possible, 
and he had called her a woman ot the world! 
The pendulum oscillates towards the Pauline 
point. 
The more he thinks of her the more he sighs lor 
her. 
His soul loathes the memory ot his wasted 
youth; he shrinks from It—turns from it. 
“Pauline, Pauline, I want to love you. I want 
you to love me. You wore sent to me. You ought 
to be mine. You would help me—would teach 
me—make me good as you are. And 1 can't t 1 
can't! 
nis head falls down upon his hands, he breaks 
out into sobs and tears. 
so strong In his mind was the feeling of aversion 
on other grounds. 
Why had this nuisance turned up just now to 
add to his complications ? What had a good wo¬ 
man like Lady Calverley to do with rioting and 
vulgar revelry ? What would his men think, on 
whom he enforced abstinence with such an Iron 
hand ? 
With a bland and grateful smile, “ Thank you," 
he replied—" only too happy!" 
“You will bring the old place down about your 
ears, Mary,” commented hsr uncle, who had en¬ 
tered and silently greeted the visitor whilst the 
arrangement was being made. 
"My dear uncle we have our harvest-home 
every year, and have never had an accident yet.” 
"Halt a hundred rearing, stamping, thumping 
ne’er-do-weels, every man-jack ot them bent on 
digging hts heels through tho floor If he can—” 
“ And no one enjoying the fun more than Uncle 
Macleay," cried his saucy grand-niece. "And he 
has got to make a speech afterwards, which we 
huve not. So vim! How we will danco In¬ 
stead 1" 
"You dance?” said Blundell, with an air of 
surprise. 
“To be sure we do, and you must dance too. 
Torn’s dancing Is the admiration of everybody.” 
This was enough—BlundeU would not now have 
absented himself on any account. 
" Well, 1 hope I shall be back In time," said he; 
1 will do my best, ir I do not appear, you will 
know it Is no fault of mine. Can I do anything 
for anybody In Oban ?” 
Nobody wanted anything done, and be rose to 
go; having announced his intentions, he could 
not now draw hack. 
"But Elsie 1ms got your stick!" cried Tom. 
“ Klsle, you must give It up, You try mine, and 
you will tind It.la Just os light; or It you don’t, I 
can cut you another, to-day." 
" Which won’t be ready for a week. I will 
fetch lt„” to BlundelL " But you must let me 
have It, when you come back. I can’t walk about 
without one, now." 
When she came down again he was waiting for 
her In the hall.—[To be continued. 
certain species of the palm, and Is only tho hard¬ 
ened albumen of the seed. The vegetable ivory 
palm has but a short, stumpy stalk, and produces 
Its flowers and nuts In a spathe, or valvular en¬ 
velope, quite near to the ground. 
-- -»■»♦ - 
It was very muddy weather when President 
Hayes visited Rhode Island: and when he went 
away, he carried about three-fourths of the State 
on his boots, and had to sit down In Connecticut 
and let his feet hang over The line, while the de¬ 
spoiled inhabitants scraped off their estates. The 
Islanders don’t want him to come back again.— 
Uawkeje. 
-- 
Constantinople wag taken by Mohammed II., 
with an army of Turks, Tartars, and Asiatics, on 
May 29, it,vi, and the Emperor Constantine Paleo- 
galus was then killed. After this event there 
were twenty-four Turkish emperors, who were 
distinguished by their despotism, slaughters, and 
bad government. 
-♦+-*- 
The author of “ Beautiful Snow” will hold a 
mass convention at Long Branch, some time dur¬ 
ing August. 
After the rain came wind. 
What had before been a dull, slate-colored, un¬ 
broken surface of water, was speedily changed 
luto a raging sea, of varied hues and unceasing 
motion, 
Friday night saw the change; and the boat 
which brought Blundell ashore on Saturday 
morning rocked so violently, even In the shelter¬ 
ed part of the bay where he landed, that the ut¬ 
most caution was needed to prevent 11s bumping 
on the rocks. 
“ This Is a new experience," said he, cheerfully. 
“ We are going tho round of bad weather in all 
Its shapes. It is something not to tear being ice¬ 
bound—not that I should care, but the Juanita 
would, 1 am off to Oban t o-night. 
The effect ot this announcement was electrical. 
Lady Calverley uttered a soft ejaculation of 
" To-night!" and by an Irresistible Impulse glanc¬ 
ed at her niece. 
Pauline stirred not, raised not her eyes, but her 
countenance betrayed by a curious, almost Imper¬ 
ceptible something, that she had heard. 
Tom's mouth, from force of school-hoy habit, 
puckered for the whistle which his maturer Judg¬ 
ment refused to sanction, But Elsie alone, with 
dilated, sorrowful eyes, deprecated the cruelty of 
the sentence). 
" Ana we have never had our sail,” said she. 
" You would not come to-day.” 
“Why not? There Is enough wind, Is there 
not?” with eager gaze fixed upon him. 
" Enough ? Oh, quite—a feast!” 
“ Rut are you going yourself?’’ 
“ Not I. We should be tacking from morning 
till night,. 1 shall walk to Che ferry.” 
“And the Juanita will meet you?” said Tom. 
Blundell was looking at Elsie—Elsie, who was 
hanging upon his words as if her very being de¬ 
pended on them. 
Could lie disappoint, her in such a trifling mat¬ 
ter ? Would It not seem unkind, rude, a poor re¬ 
turn ror all the kindness he had met with 7 The 
whole party looked disconcerted by his leave- 
taking. 
Thus In a few seconds of time all was changed. 
“ The Juanita will remain where she Is, Alisa 
Calverley; we may have better weather when I 
come back.” 
“ You are coming back ?’’ she cried, with spark¬ 
ling eyes. 
“ Certainly. I hope to turn up again In a few 
days, like the penny of evil repute.” 
"Oh,” rejoined Elsie, pacified, “then you will 
come In for our harvest-home." 
" You are not going to have a harvest-home 
yet? The corn Is not down," 
" We are obliged to have ours beforehand, as 
we dance lu the big barn, and It will be more 
than half full afterwards. Will you come ?” 
"Am 1 to oome, Lady Calverley?" 
“It will be very good-natured if you do. We 
aro much in need of support. And j’ou will allow 
your sailors to come likewise, 1 hope? They 
would be quite acquisitions." 
lie wished she had not asked them—wished, al¬ 
most wished at least, that she had not asked him, 
wished from his heart there had been nothing to 
ask either him or them to. Whenever ho desired 
to break away, he seemed to he hemmed In afresh. 
An excuse he might have made certainly: Ills 
brother had only been dead six months, and dur¬ 
ing these lie had gone nowhere, be had joined in 
no festivities. 
But such an apology never once occurred to him, 
HURRY AND “HIGH PRESSURE.” • 
It Is the pace that kills; and of all forms of , 
" overwork,” that which consists In an excessive , 
burst or effort, straining to the strength, and wor- ] 
rylng to tne will—hurry of all kinds, for example, , 
that so often needed to catch a train, the effort 
required to complete a task of headworlc within a j 
period or time too short for Us accomplishment , 
by moderute energy—is Injurious. Few suffer ( 
from overwork la the aggregate; It is too much , 
work In too little time that causes the break down 
in nineteen cases out or twenty, when collapse 
occurs. Most sufferers bring the evil on them¬ 
selves by driving off thejflay’s work until the space 
allotted for its performance Is past, or much ro- 
ducod. Method In work lathe great need of the 
day. Il some portion of each division of time was 
devoted to tho apportioning or hours and energy, 
there would be less contusion, far less " hurry," 
and the need of working at. high pressure would 
be greatly reduced, Li not wholly obviated. 
A great deal has been written and said of late, 
to exceedingly Uttle practical purpose, on the 
subject of" overwork.’’ We doubt whether what 
Is included under this description might, not gen¬ 
erally be more appropriately defined as work doue 
In a hurry, because the lime legitimately appro¬ 
priated lo Its accomplishment has been wasted 
or misapplied. Hurry to catch a train generally 
Implies starting wo late. H tgh pressure is, say6 
the Lancet, either the consequence of a like error 
at the outset of a task, or the penalty of attempt¬ 
ing to compensate by Intense effort for Inade¬ 
quate opportunity. If brain Is battered for busi¬ 
ness in this fashion, the goose is killed for the 
sake of the golden eggs, and greed works Its own 
discomfiture. 
-»-*■ * - 
DINNER TABLE HINTS. 
When taking a lady down, do not ask If she is 
“ peckish” or “ sharp-set." 
Do not say, “I hope they will give us a good 
tuck-out 1” 
When you are seated, keep calm, whatever there 
is for dinner. 
Soup should not be chewed; you must swallow 
It whole. 
Never hammer with your feet for the next 
course, or shout, “ waiter!” 
When anything nice Is put on the table, do not 
chuckle, nor rub your chest. 
When the entrees come round, make a free 
choice, but don’t pocket. 
Never take more than four helps of anything. 
Do not sponge your gravy with your bread and 
squeeze it down your throat; it has an uneducated 
look. 
Never speak with your mouth full. First-, be¬ 
cause it’s vulgar; and secondly, beoause you can’t. 
If you feel uncomfortable symptoms arising 
from repletion, you must dissemble; do not call 
for brandy and peppermint drops. 
If your fair neighbor asks what Is the matter 
with you, hasten to assure her that It Is not 
catching. 
Crack nuts for your hostess—If your teeth are 
good. 
Do not say, “I'm chock full I” when dinner is 
over. It nas a foreign air ahout it— Punch. 
-- 
Vegetable ivory, the growth ot the palm tree, 
Is Indigenous to Central America. A few years 
since, It was worth but $20 per ton; now it brings 
readily $so at the ship’s side. It Is the fruit of a 
RECENT LITERATURE. 
Beantiinl Edith, the Child-Wonin n,—” Lor- 
irw's Tales of the Day.” Boston: horlnjr. Price, 
SOc. 
As we hold child-women In special abhorrence 
we shuddered as we caught sight Of the Ulle-page 
of this story, and prepared ourselves to be lDfllctcd 
with one ot those insufferable " Dora” creations; 
but we were agreeably surprised. Eoith, the 
heroine, Is chlld-Uke In her purity and gulleless- 
nesa and in her tilth in the goodness of others; 
but when tho occasion calls for It, she proves her¬ 
self to bo a self-reliant woman. On the whole, 
she Is a vast improvement on the old type of 
child-woman. The love making Is wholesome. 
No sickly sentimentalities on the part of married 
poople; no discovering or affinities after wedlock, 
disgust the reader. “ Every lassie hae’s her lad¬ 
die,” and after a little misunderstanding and the 
killing off of one or two superfluous characters, 
the marriage bells merrily chime for all. 
One peculiarity of this story we must note—that 
Is, the absence ot a villain. It may be that our 
taste Is vitiated, hut we confess to a feeling of 
disappointment when the attorney, M asters, fail¬ 
ed to develope a little of the "old Adam.” We 
were morally certain we had crossed the trail of 
a villain, and fully expected thrilling situations 
and dramatic denouements as the result of his 
machinations; but alas! our hopes were blasted, 
for Masters proved to be one ot the kindliest of 
men! Those who purchase this book, will get a 
return of 300 closely-printed pages for an outlay 
of 50c. 
Vlneta. From the' German of E. Wehneb. By 
Fuanci* A. Shaw. Boston: Estes Jt Luuriai. 
Price, $1,50. "Cot-web Scries of Kictlou.” 
The scenes In this story are laid In a Polish 
province of Germany, and the story turns on the 
Polish insurrection of ism. Waldemar, the hero, 
who, when Introduced, Is hardly one remove from 
a savage, represents the German element, and his 
mother, Princess Zulieski, cultured, refind and 
beautiful, Is the principal Polish character. Not¬ 
withstanding the story deals with Intrigues and 
wars, domestic as well as national, tUere is but 
one really dramatic situation In It. To do the 
author justice, the. scene referred to Is worked 
up in a very effective manner. 
Waldemar, through his love for a beautiful 
Pole, Wanda, becomes in a measure, softened and 
cultured, and the author, by the liberal dispensa¬ 
tion of exile and death, eliminates all discordant 
elements, and leaves Wanda free to accept as her 
lover the enemy of her coantry, which she does 
without much In the line of protest. Though by 
no means brilliant, this novel is wholly free from 
sensationalism, and Is, moreover, pure In tone. 
Cookery and Practical Buckeye Housekeep¬ 
ing. Marysville, O.; Buckeye Pub. Co. (Tinted 
paper-pi>. A25. Price $1.60 muslin, or $1,75 water¬ 
proof binding.) 
We have purposely delayed this book for sev¬ 
eral weeks. In order that Its contents mlgnt be 
put to practical test by some of the good cooks 
near or distantly connected with the Rural's Ed¬ 
itorial Staff; and we thought It might belike that 
famous pudding, and the proof of its excellencies 
would come from eating some of thb-dlsheslt 
so clearly tells how to prepare. Now comes the 
report of said Jury, to wit,—that the “ Buokeye 
Cookery Book" Is one of the best, ll not ihe best, 
work of It* kind in the English language. It la 
plain, practical, and withal, contains Just the 
kind or information that every good housekeeper 
needs and will be likely to fully appreciate. Sam- 
pie pages of the work will be sent free to those 
who send their address to the publishers as above. 
Self-Love; or. The Afternoon of SlDcle Life. 
Philadelphia : T. B. Peterson (c Bros. Price $1. 
This book, also one of the Dollar Series, Is a col- 
1 lection of didactic essays on the "Prospects of 
Middle Age," “ Extinguished Love,” " Girlish Fol- 
1 lies,” el (cl genus omne. These are a collection of 
themes that are as old as the world, but treated 
In a fresh, Interesting manner. The maiden 
, ladles will here find abundant testimony to tbe 
i blessedness of the single state, and wives are 
j shown why It Is better than the honey of Hymet 
i tus to have a loving lord and master. 
