though pa has been cheated of his
bishops and senators and things (poor
dear, he never dreams that sons of his
might have turned out farmers like
himself, only not half so good) the girls
have certainly made up his loss in
husbands, Indeed, pa seems to have
more sons-in-law than he knows quite
what to do with—and as to grand-
sons |
“If one could only feed them
like chickens !'’ sighs poor ma plain.
tively.
After that little business talk pa and
I had behind the barn I've settled in
ay mind that the Browrs have got to
economize, and I mean to start with
the grand children by way of a noble
beginning.
“Now look here, ma,” I say Lo the
dear old soul who is already swearing at
me with big auxious eyes, like a hen
with her feathers ruffled, “‘this thing
has gone on long enough, and I just
mean to hitch old Calico to the cart
and dump every scrap of a grandehild at
his own lawful door—I do! It's down-
right mean in the girls to impose on
us in this everlasting way—as if there
wasn't work enough of our own
ys
“There, there, sis,’’ interrupts ma,
pathetically, ‘‘they only mean to please
pa"!
“And a nice way they take to doit!
Pa’s an old man now, and after pinch-
ing and slaving all his live for us army
of girls, what right bave they to keep
him pinching and slaving to the last?
Oh, you needn't look at me like that,
ma, dear: children, like good mane
ners, ought to be found at home—hi,
you, Tom, Dick, Harry, etc., ete.”
and when at last I have packed them
in the wheezy old cart, and we go
laughing, scratching and squalling
down the road, I feel like the
pied piper of Hamelin, only there's
no hill with wide, greedy jaws, wait
ing at the end of the trip——more’s the
pity i"
That sounds as if Sis Brown was not
fond of children : but I really am, when
they come like silk frocks and other oc-
easional luxuries ; considered as every
dav affairs, however, if I am to be al-
lowed a preference between the two
why, give me the 1eusts of Egypt and
accept my grateful thanks.
When I have impartially divided
their howling household gods between
the eight sisters who live so uncomfor-
tably near, the sun is sinking behind
the trees in a blaze of glorious yellow,
There is a long road with many leafy
turnings, that Calico knows as well as
I, and while she dawdles along it with
languid elegance that suits us both, I
git, tailor fashion, in the bottom of the
cart. thinking. heedless of whip or rein.
I read a story once
MEMORIES.
——
BY A. ASHMUN KELLY.
a
All softly falls the sunlight this peaceful
summer day,
Thro the open casement ins flood of crys
tal spray:
While the ony Birds without the shady
maples throng, 2
And fi) the morning air with the richness
of their song: f
“I'he scent of blooming roses, the murmur
of the bees,
The soft and tender sighing of the oderous
summer breeze, :
Oh, how they thrill the soul with a strange
and sweet delight,
And makethis dreary world of urs more I
beautiful and bright!’ i
Oft the heart in sudh moments a tender
sadness fools,
When a shade of mournful fancy in silence
o'er it steals
When some recollection of the past will
come to mind,
As if it were a message born on the drowsy
wind.
Back to my sunny childhood to-day my
memories go . ;
i live again the pure young life I lived so
long ago,
Ere aught of sin or sorrow had furrowed
oer my, brow, :
Or brought the early snow-flakes which
frost my thin locks now.
Dimly thro’ the mists of my foolish heart 1
ae
My mother's loved image and I upon her
knee; :
How sweetly plays the warm smile upon
her sun lit face,
On es h familiar feature heaven's reflected
light I trace.
And for her boy she’s breathing to heaven
a farventi prayer, :
Fhat the L .r might make her darling his
one especial care;
Nor let thro life his footsteps from truth
and honor stray,
But teach him e'er to love his God, His ho-
ly will obey.
My mother dear! no other name sounds
half as sweet as thine, a
Around thy ssinted memory love's tendrills
closely twine!
And tho thee storms of years have seared
my weary heart,
The love I bear for thee shall neler thro’ life
depart!
The birds sing sweetly o'er her, and just
above her grave
The willows in the sunshine their graceful
branches wave:
There the sunshine and the shadews of
years have come and gone,
Leaving mo in sadness and tears to follow
on.
How peacefully she slumbers in the city of
the dead,
Where the grass is springing lightly above
her pemceful bed; ;
While I sitsa ily dreaming oer the mem ries
of the pnast, :
A nd longing still to slumber with the silent
and the blest
0 happy singing birds, this happy summer
Sing on your careless songs and sing my
grief away!
Impart the sunny mood of thy little breasts
to me,
Wha lives but in the pastand in a memory |
Bryn Mawr, Pa, Hous Naw
a
Sis Brown's Fortune.
To begin with, I am a young perscn
witli big bones and plenty of them—
and I don't care a button if my hair is
1! I have good reason to know that
I am cousideradde beantiful ; that
my instance—but there's
really distressing de-
tals,
My falbe:, Peter Brown—ihe best
farmer living in all Foirfax, be the
dead one whom he may —is the unfor-
tunate possessor of thirteen children,
every single one of them girls—and the
magried ones, too, for that matter ! "Of
course, girls are all very well as far as
they’ go, but one gets too much of a
good thing sometimes, and so when
poor pa takes a notion to upbraid fate
because alt his boys turned ont girls, I
must say I rebel aginst the decree that
condemns me to slavish frocks and
frizzes. Most good folks sing out that
they want to carry harps and be augels,
put” I-if only 1 were Peter Brown,
junior, and had a farm like pa! 1 don’t
blame ma, of course, but I really do
think the even dezen ought to have
contented her—and, what's more, I
say, 50, when pa and I get beyond the
subduing influence of her eye-for
there’s nothing trifling about ma’s eye !
When pa and ma’s love was young,
and their future a rose-colored rose—
there! I've heard pa say it a dozen
times, but ‘when a girl happens to be
shackled with a memory like a bey’s
pocket upside down and the middle
nowhere, snd got that memory from
her ma, [ suppose there’s to be allow-
ances—anyhow the first girls got the
benefit of it all Tn the Way of mugs and
soral, and hames as finda fiddled ; then
there came such a disastrous lull in pa’s
enthusiasm. that ma says, ‘when he
panted up from the fields one hot noon
and found out dear old twins waiting,
insted of his dinner, it set him so fran-
tic that he threatened to“bunch the
whole family together like a string of
fish and do a dark and desperate deed.
But ma just kept ont having her own
way—which means girls— until by the
time she wound up the home circle
with me--at your service—sbe bad sc
worn ber intellect down at the heels
thinking up double-barreled names for
the other dozen, that she handed my
chris over to pa, and pa ever-
lastingly disgraced himself, in my esti.
mation, by heartlessly calling me Sis
abs dutely nothing but Sis,
If I had been a boy this indignity, at
loast—but there are some wrongs so
great that the only thing one can con-
veniently do is to forgive them | But,
f ¢ £ a.
B® apr
: Hse
of a devil-fish
crawling over the roof of a pretty cot-
tage bY some I don't
suppose there was a word of truth init;
re southern sea
not
nose,
o need for
for but, some way, ever since pa made a
sel clean breast of his troubles, 1 can’t get
that shiny black monster out of ms
Eh nvm wih # dav
Dime ie %
a nord
a mot
indeed, that tgage like ours was a
trifle the worst
of the two, becanse
there's only one weapon to fight it, and
where in the world is pa to get the first
red cent of that terrible three thousand
dollars ¥ If pa had only told me in
time, perhaps I might have done some-
thing heoric with my poultry—a flock
of grey geese did grand things for his
tory once on a time—but no, he kept as
dumb as Cheops, until I found it all
out myself, and no thanks to anybody.
The way of it was: Ma started me
down to the meadow one evening last
week to see what pa meant by keeping
supper waiting, and when I found him
leaning against the barn there as quiet
and gray as the twilight shadows, why,
I think the One who doeth all things
well must bave put it in my heart to
wake him up and tell me the matter.
There is no woman in all this big
glorious world so weak as Samson with
his head shaved, and so he told me be-
tween sobs—I don't ever want to see
my father cry again—how the big fam-
fly had gobbled up the small earnings,
and how at last there was nothing to do
but to borrow money on the dear, shab-
by old place, and now a villainous bill
of some sort was coming due,
“Never mind, dad,” I said, ‘come
along to supper; I'll get you out of
your fix.”
I don’t think pa realized at the min-
ute—and 1'm sure I did not—that I had
never so much as seen a hundred dol-
fares in all my life together, for he fol-
lowed me home contentedly, put his
head under the spout while I pumped,
and then, with his hand on my shoul
der, went into tne house and ate supper
‘@wugh for two! The next day pa was
out of his head with 4 fever, and now
to see him prodding about the farm with
a stick in his hand and a pain in his
back—poor, dear pa! Of course, the
first thing that suggested itself at his
bedside was blood, and plenty of it, and
I did saddle Calico and race off to mur-
der the mortgage man—but I might
have saved mys<elf the trouble, for the
vile creature wasn't at home ; then I
turned the old man's head toward the
fami! p-law, but there waso't a
! husband among them who had the cash
4 3
oi vy
thing quite as conveniently as children.
I even decided to——
“Say, young woman !”’
I am not a coward, but the creature
who has brought the cart and my
thoughts to such & sudden balt looks so
like some great famished wolf standing
there at Calico’s head, that I shiver
from head to foot, and he sees it,
“You needn’t be afeard,” he gasps,
in a rasping sort of whisper, *‘I haven't
the strength to harm you, if my will
was goed for marder—look at this,”
His eyes turned toward his breast
his right arm lies stiffly across it, clotted
with something that must be blood and
the fingers look like the flesh of a dead
Han.
I think he understands that I am
SOYTY
can jump back to its right place again
he drops the reins and touches his man-~
gey cap.
“Dye been skulkin’® in these ‘ere
woods Miss, nigh onto a week, and
what with starviu’ and the pain o’ this,
I'm most about dead played out,”
“If you will cut across the fields to
that farm house over there,” I said
kindly, I am sure—for God knows I
pity him from the bottom of my heart
—*1 will see that you get & good sup-
per.”
“J couldn’t crawl there much less
walk, and my time for supper is over
for this world, 1 reckon.”
I am so sorry for the poor, misery-rid-
den creature standing there in the
summer twilight, with the fragrant
woods all around him, and the birds
chirping sleepily in the trees—so very
sorry, and I tell him so.
He totters as [ say it, and 1 am just
making up my mind that Calico and I
have a disagreeable job before us, when
he lays one miserable hand on the
wheel and drawing his face near
enough for me to see the ghastly seams
that want has seared there, cries im-
ploringly :
“There's them that are hinting me to
my death ; for God's sake won't you help
me 7’
All my life 1 have wanted to be a
man, and now the time has come to
act like one; I am rubbing Calico
down in her stall—pa and I being the
only men—I mean pa being the only
man about the place, we do this sort
of thing ourselves—when the dear old
fellow hobbles down the path.
WAY puts his head the
door.
“Ris. " he begins, with wide excited
eves, “‘did you meet a big fellow down
the road—a dark chap with
of bumps, and black, frizzled
ers 7"
I had not, and said so.
“Well,
scamp
and
lots
wisk-
he came by here hunting up
who robbed
Richmond and got down to these pm
with the
a beuk in
its
and
/OINE
money in his pocket
I started hit
the main road, I wonder you didn
bullet in his flesh,
him.” »
I drove around by
apswerad
I feel like a
cateh his scamp
“Think not ¥ Why ?
‘Because I've got him snug
barn I
“Goodness gracious! then 1'H ji
quietly enough considerin
srnado @ “but
to-night, dad.’
in
Pa is making his way toward jus-
tice as fast as his weak legs will
let him, when I steady him against
the stable door and take away his
cane,
“Dad,” I cry savagely, ‘'1 adore you,
but if you take another step to harm
that man why-—you've only got a dozen
daughters to go through the rest of your
life,”
“Youl” gasp pa—and I wonder the
wisp of straw he has been chew-
ing does not strangle him black on
the spot—‘‘a child of mine help a
thief.’
“Exactly | and she means to make
you an accessory after the act. Now,
see here, pa, I don’t set up to be a
cherub, but when a fellow creature,
starved and bleeding, asks me help
him in the name of God why I
mean to help him if I break every
law in Virginia to atoms-—so there !”’
Pa looks stunned a bit, and then
laying one big brown paw on my
head, as likewise expected, Kknow-
ing pa's way as I do, cries stout.
ly:
“Spoken like a man, Sis, and now
let's have a look at your villian,’
When we stand at last before the
poor fellow he looks so pitifully help-
less stretched out there on the friendly
straw that pa's loving heart gets the
best of his law-abidirg principles, and
he bathed the hurt arm as tenderly as
if it had never been raised in crime.
When pa first hotices the jug of water
I have brought him from the spring,
and carriage-robe rolled up for a pillow
with the rough side in, he looks at me
wondertully for a second, and then
ejaculates with most contented bappi-
ness :
“Thank God, Sis, you are only a
woman, after all |”
1 suppose pa meant well, but it does
not sound encouraging I've been trying
RE —
ers are human !
the wound. “I'm goin’ fast, boss,
but she sald they should not—touch
TE en ??
“Don’t worry, my lad,” cries pa,
cheerily. “Right or wrong here yon
stay until?’
“It won't be—long—I feel it coming
fast—and harde would have died out
there on the black roadside except for
her, God bless her! If you—don’t
mind”’—and here he looks at me so like
some gaunt, faithful dog, that I lean
over him by pa to catch his dying
words—*'if you don’t mind—will you
take this bag from-—around my neck ?
It chokes me—it chokes—-—"’
“There, there,”’ says pa, tenderly,
“and now, my lad, before you go to—
sleep, tell, me, does this money belong
to the bank ?”’
“Yes, yes,” cries the dying man,
with an imploring glance at pa, while
he tries to touch my band with his own
poor, feeble fingers; ‘‘take it back,
boss, and tell them--tell them-—that
the—reward—belongs to—her—-"’
¥ * * * * #
Yes, that is the true and simple story
of my fortune, no matter what the pa-
pers said. For a loug time pa would not
let me touch a peuny of that $5,000
but when the people at the bank insist-
ed that business was business, I had
earned the money and there it was,
why =e
Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper.
Chats about Horses.
“Hally, Doctor, what have you got
there 7’ shouted a man to me one day,
few years ago, as [ was going my
rounds among my patients ; “‘a new
one, Joe ; what do you think of her ?*’
this Joe was, what's called in England,
a rough rider, oue who broke colts to
saddle, and one of the best men in that
line of business in Lancashire.
“She's a beauty, where did she come
from 7" “The Eccleshill stables ; she is
only a blood weed.’ ‘My, she’s a pic-
ture ; call her a weed, eh ¥ Why if she
aint fast enough for a galloping race
she has style enough about her for a
lady's pad ; better let me break her to
saddie, there's good money in that
mare, I tell you.”” “No, no; I have
taken a fancy to keep her, she is like a
child, and knows as much as a man,
I'll. keep her as she is, Joe, she just
suits me as she is.”
This mare was a perfect beauty, she
had the beautiful well poised head usual
among thoroughbreds, the springy
elastic gait and free motion so alluring
to the lover of a good horse ; color, a
bright bay with black points, square
wuzzle, but so fine **it would have gone
nto a pint px £,”’ as we say in England,
“sprefty as paint,”
ing as & man. I bought her to fill
the place of one of my horses that had
fallen lame, intending 10 sell her when
rone had recovered : she was
what is called a “blood weed, ’’ that is,
me bred for racing but on trial not
ound speedy enough for the turf; a
class that make the best of light driving
horses for Vets’ work as you can’t kill
he was as and as
the othe
them by any amount of fair work.
On breaking her to harness she proved
#0 tractable and knowing that 1 made
up my mind to keep her and can tell
you she grew into my affections in
a way that mone but horsemen can
understand. However, | want to tell
you about her tricks an! cunning ways.
One morning while ha ing breakfast,
Juck, my stable lad, came in and said,
“Master, do you know what Pet has
been doing #'? “No ; has she hurt her-
self ¥' “No, she was put in No. 3 box
last night as she had had a hard day
and 1 bolted the doors as usual and this
morning after feeding her she started
to play with the bolt of the bottom door,
pulled it back and walked into the
shoeing forge (almost every Vet in Eo-
gland keeps a shoeing forge for the
benefit of his customers), and one of
the men asked me what 1 wanted done
at her; when I told him she came of
her own accord, he said, ‘she knows
better than you what is amiss ; look at
that foot, the shoe is broken and one
half is off ;* well, the men shod her and
then she walked back into her box,
quite comfortable, as if she knew all
about it.”
Another time as I was driving her
through a small country town after
dark, some chidren ran across the road
right in front of her; one fell and I
was badly seared, as I ould not pull up
in time to save the child form being
hurt, however, Pet broke her bearing-
rein, ana absolutely picked the child up
from under her feet, enrried it like a
dog would for a few yards, stopped,
and sst the child down as carefully as if
she was a nurse, You should have
heard the crowd cheer her, and seen the
AA SARI. Ar ———
out L did not know the road, I slack-
i ened the reins and said : “now Pet, go
home ;’ well, sirs, that mare turned
right round and went back nearly two
miles, then turned into 8 narrow lane,
1 made sure she was wrong but let her
go on, but she was right after all, as
she brought me home as straight as if
it had been broad daylight, A few
weeks after this, I had occasion to call
ata farm to see some horses suffering
from influenza, of a very contagious
form; uniuckily I drove Pet, and as
usual did not tie her but left her free
as she was in the habit of standing
still without hitching ; this time she
followed me to the box door where the
worst case was, and being busy, I took
no heed of her until [ had examined
the case, when I moved her and tied
her up while I saw the other patients.
A few days after this, Jack, the stable-
lad, came to me and said Pet was not
eating ; had left her breakfast and
seemed very thirsty ; on looking at her
I found her sick from the same kind of
disease as the patients | had seen a few
days before when she followed me to
the box, Although I treated her, and
gave her every attention she gradually
got worse, and one afternoon I found
she was dyin ; as I petted her, she
turned her eves on we with a half hu-
man expression of affection in them,
put her nose on my shoulder, rubbed
the side of her had against mine and
seemed as if she wanted to speak ; it
made me feel bad, for she had been a
companion to me when on the lonely
country roads seeming to know all that
to her and returning in her petted way
all the caresses I gave her. As she got
weaker she straddled her legs so as to
stand up, but at last she fell gave a sort
of sigh or two and died. 1 was senti-
mental enough to have her taken out
of the town where 1 lived, and buried
instead of selling her carcass to the horse
some years, I think I would do the
same again.
C.B. Bostock. M. R C, V. 8.
Veterinary Surgeon
- sm. So ——
A Great Emigration Scheme.
sssap—
An Ottawa (Can.) despatoh to the
New York Sunday Times says: The
British Government has decided to
officially undertake to aid Irish emigra-
tion into Canada on a colossal scale,
The proposition made by President
Stephen, of the Canadian Pacific Rail.
road, on behalf of a syndicate of Cana-
dian interests, has been practically
abandoned. Stephen offered to settle
50.000 of Irish poor in families of five
each upon stocked and equipped farms
in the neighborhood of Winnipeg, pay-
ing all the expenses of and
settling them (yovern-
ment loaned the syndicate
moving
providing the
£1 000 000
without interest for ten years,
dicate in turn to take a mortgage of
£500 upon each farm, without interest
for the three first years, and at 3 per
cent, after that, the settlers to have the
option af securing thelr holdings in fee
simple at any time upon the payment
of 8500, The British Government at
first favored the proposal, but Catholic
priests in Ireland opposed it so strongly
that the Cabinet finally refused to en-
tertain the matter unless the Dominion
Government guaranteed the repayment
of the loan. Sir Alexander T. Galt,
ex-High Commissioner to London, and
Sir Charles Tupper, his successor, both
endeavored to secure this guarantee,
but failed, owing, it is said, to the
opposition of Lord Dufferin, who has
strong faith in the future of Canada,
and who bent his energies to secure
direct action on the part of the Govern-
ment in favor of the largest possible
emigration to Canada,
The Canadian Government having
finally decided to lend no official in-
dorsement to any railway schemes of
immigration, the British Government
took up Lord Dufferin’s ideas, and
decided on undertaking to carry them
out. A special conference was held at
the Mansion House, and after a long
discussion on elaborate scheme of as-
sisted emigration was resolved upon,
based on the principles of the United
States homestead laws, The details
of the scheme sre not yet ready to be
placed before the public, but it has
been decided to remove from Ireland
and settle in Canada 200,000 of poor
Irish people in familiss. Lands will
be divided into sections of 100 acres,
each section te be provided with all
buildings, equipments, animals, seed
and food necessary for the beginning of
farming on unbroken land. Each
settler will be given the use of his
homestead free for the first three years,
and after that will be required to pay
#8 rent 3 per cent. upon $500, but may
at any time acquire absolute title
up onpayment of the latter sum.
nw ———— so
~] say, Paddy,«that is the worse
looking horse that I have ever seen in
harness. Why don’t you fatten him
up?’ “Fat him him up, is it ? Faix,
{ale ureuat’e on him now,” replied
*
the syn-
¥
res semsmeme—————,
Culinary.
Swerr PickLep Beers, —Boil them
ina porcelain kettle till they can be
plerced with a silver fork ; when cool
cumber ; boil equal parts of vinegar and
sugar with a half tablespoonful ef
ground cloves tied in a cloth to each
gallon ; pour boiling hot over the beets.
COFFEE ICE CREAM, —Make a cus
tard, without any flavor, of a pint of
cream and four yelks of eggs. Put into
this four ounces of freshly-roasted
Mocha coffee berries; they should, if
possible, be used hot. Cover up the
stewpan closely with its lid, putting a
napkin over to keep in the steam, Let
the custard stand for an hour, strain
and sweeten, and when cold put it into
a freezing-pot. Cream thus prepared
will not take the color of the coffee,
and when carefully made is very delicate
and delicious. Coffes ice cream is also
made with a strong infusion of coffee.
To make the infusion, put two ounces of
ground coffee into a French cafetiere
and pour over it a gill of fast boiling
water. When the infusion bas all run
through, boil it up and pour it over
two more ounces of coffee, Put the in-
fusion thus obtained to a pint of sweet-
ened cream or custard an. freeze,
EGo-PraxT.—Cut the egg plant in
slices a half-inch thick, sprinkle a thin
layer of salt between the slices and lay
them one over the other, and let stand
an hour ; this draws out the bitter prin.
ciple from the egg-plant, and also the
water. Then lay each slice in flour,
put in hot lard, and fry brown on both
sides. Or boil the egg-plant till tender
remove the skin, mash fine, mix with
an equal quantity of bread crumbs, add
salt, pepper and butter, and bake for
thirty minutes.
TasTELESS JELLY.—~Procure one-
third of a pound of ivory dust and boil
it for eight hours in a quart of water ;
when done strain through a jelly-bag.
It can be flavored, but its main use is,
that being highly now ishing and at the
same time tasteles, it can be introduced
in tea or coffef, and unknown to the
OATMEAL WATER, — Brown a suffici-
ent quantity of coarse meal, before the
fire or in the oven, and pour over it
boiling water ; cover it close and use it
cold. This is considered very useful
for stopping sickness.
Lemon WaEY.—Take milk and
water, a pint of each; add to it the
juice of two lemons, and let the mix-
ture boil for five minutes ; strain and
add sugar to taste, Recommended for
a cold.
EGG-PLAST (STUrFED).— Take half
a dozen ege-plants ; split them in twe,
lengthwise, and scoop out the interior
until only a mere shell is left ;: salt these
and let them drain. Chop the interior
of the egg-plants with three onic
then with
some chopped mushrooms and parsley
and a few crumbs of fresh bread ; sea
son well with salt, pepper and nutmeg :
then bind with velks of half a dozen
eggs, Fill the body of the egg-plants
with this stuffing ; cover them witha
few bread crumbs; put them into a
roasting-pan and wet them with a little
sweet oil ; then into a quick oven for
about ten or fifteen minutes to give
them a nice color,
BanLey WateER.—Wash 2 break-
fast-cupfui of pearl barley twice, once
in cold and again in hot water and throw
away the water ; then put the barley
ints a covered quart jug with a very
thinly pared rind of a lemon and a
small piece of sugar; fill up the jug
with boiling water; let it stand till
cold. and pour off clear without strain-
ing it. To make thick barley the bar-
ley must be boiled.
Sort Crass Friep.—Fhrow them
into boiling water aad let them boil
ghout ten minutes. Drain and dry
them well, and remove the spongy
flesh or “dead men.” Season with pep-
per and salt, dredge lightly with flour,
and roll them in bread crumbs. Fry
them in boiling lard,
a——— >
The Consul and His Wife.
A Protestant Bshop who bad just
been appointed to a missionary see in
China wished to pay a visit of ceremony
to the Taostai, er Chinese official who
was in charge of the city which was en-
trusted to the Bishop's spiritual care.
Asthe British Consul, who was to aceom-
pany him, would be in uniform, the
happy thought struck the Bishop that
it would be well for him to appear in
his episcopal robes and lawn sleeves.
This was carried out, to the great be
wilderment of the Tao-tal, who had, of
course, never bebeld anything simsilar,
He treated his visitors with the usual
as
render butter ;. add
the
yesterday ; but, tell
Why
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