HAPPIEST DAYS, The clouds in many a windy raek Are satling east and west, And sober suns are bringing back The days I love the best. "We poet as he will, may go To summer's golden prime, And set the roses in a row -Aiong bis fragrant rhyme, But as for me. I sing the praise Of fading flowers and trees, For to my mind the sweetest days Of all the year are these : ‘When stubbey hills and hazy skies Proclaim the harvest done, Axd labor wipes his brow, and liea A dreaming in the sun — And idly hangs the spider on Her broken silver stair, And ghosts of thistles dead and gone, Slide siowly through the air— ‘Where all is still, unless, perhaps, The cricket makes ado, Or when the dry-billed heron snaps Some brittle reed in two— Or schoolboy tramples through the bars His tangled path to keep, Or ripe mast, rustling dow nward stirs The shadows from their sleep. Ave, he that wiils i! The lilies and the Put as for me the swe Ui all the year , RO may praise TRUE TO HER PROMISE, *Oh God! spa ne, for this 1s than [ can bear!’ and Claire Devere bowed her proud head, and sank, weep- ing, on her knees, at a low, easy chai in her exqui i : For some form, but gradu she remain uried in her A half how she was still in the same position, he door opened, and t] : stood looking att ure. Claire ha entrance and for ¢ without speaking, when he said, ina cold 8 voice: ‘Claire!’ The rn a mora 100k her slender hey subsided, and quietly kneells her face, ed ki: Claire D her husband ‘he was very beautiful, thi stately Claire, den brown | to her waist, tures as cla large, gr: ness, and : a Crimson 38 half proud. half 1 whose beauty ned given up al ! hope of winni Andout of all bh sen Grey Devere. Some sald that it was his wealth that won her, otners, the tion it would give her, for Fe was {f the leading men of the day. Dat the few that xuew her said she married him for love, and they w She loved him with a passionate akin to adoration, a love so fervent that even he himself never dreamed of its depth, and now she stood before him, her hands clasped tightly together, her face pale as death, raised to his She was the first to speak, ‘Grey,’ she said, and voice trembled, despite her effort to be calm. in me for a short time.’ “Trust you—Dbelieve in you?’ he said, 1nmense ane re right. 1 Ove, and my name, unsullied till you bore it, traitress; you are no longer wife of mine; we part to-pay, and forever,’ pleading, but as he continued, changed; a crimson flush of indigna- met his with a questioning look. ‘Do you hear me, he continued, do you hear me, madam?’ ‘I hear you’ she answered, ‘and I ask manner?’ band with a mocking smile. Again the pale face crimsoned, but she made no answer, ‘We part forever, to-day,” he con- tinned. ‘And I intend to sue for a di- vorce, Claire, lover till your last, and now you ask me to believe in you, to trust you still. Explain these meetings, and ask then.’ floor at his feet. I am true to you! honor, in my—' “T'his 1s useless, Claire, I cannot trust you; I believe you are false to me. 1 will uever look on your face again, 1 ask you to give me some explanation of your conduct, and you refuse. What am I to believe? I have proof that you met this dar x-eyed stranger time after time; you do not deny it yourse'f, and yet you ask me to believe in you, to trust you stilll’ Claire drew her slender figure up to its height and said, proudly: ‘It’s better, then, as you say, that we should part, and at once. I will listen no longer to your insults, I will plead no longer for your trust. A day will come when you will know how you have wronged me. Leave me now, I can bear no more. Gol’ He tried to speak again, but she tur- ned haughtily away, making a jesture toward the door. Without a word, he turned and left the room, and his wife sank senseless on the floor. Four years have passed away; how quickly to some, but how slowly to the tortured heart of Claire Devere, After her separation from her hus. band she returned to the home of her childhood. She had a smal! income of her own, and refused to take anything from her h usband. ‘I have plenty in my own right,’ she said, ‘I will fo live at Oakland Grange. 1 wish to aie out of his life forever. She is standing now at the jasior window of the Grange, gazing sadly out at the green fields and meadows that stretohed far away in the distance, Thas had been ber childbhood’s home; here she had grow beauty, the idolized darling of her par- ents’ hearts. Her thoughts strayed back to that time, she thought of the day her loved mother died, how her proud city aunt had taken her home, of the excitement her wonderous beauty had caused in London, but most plainly of all stood out the day she first met Grey Devere, How handsome he was, with his proud, dark face and kingly bearing—how she had learned to love him, day by day— she thought of the bliss of her brief married life. to love her, until the dark shadow of suspicion had come between them, and then how he had turned from her. She turned slowly from the window, and went over to a picture hanging abova the mantel piece. likeness of a beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, ‘Oh, mother—mother!’ she sobbed, ‘have I not kept my prounise?’ At this instant servant entered with a letter, opened it mechanically, note, and was as follows: ‘Dear Crare.—Come to me, . WILLIE. Three hours after Claire stood beside of a dying man, her hands clasped her tears falling his in ois, on picture hanging above the mantel in the of Oakland Grange. was speaking: rou would never break your Nawre, and 1 have let you suf- fer for me. I was always weak, and though you have known the depths of which I have been led, you till mother's sake. t the truth, from Devere, and vindica- Pariolf crime in love tha i But Claire beg i nd. to Grey YOill i ted. ill be ifted it. The first words whol 1 were: GE I8 Hien lare.—Th marriage of Grey Devere, to Eva, ond dane of Wilham M. Stewart Thea followed a long description of l Bt what was that an heart, alone in she are late!” moaned, *Oh, Grey! my darlin we forever!’ When Claire's old g you lost to nurse came Lo yy uy senseless on the floor, ‘My poor pet!’ she said, loosening the i held in her hand, She looked to see what had so affected she smiled, ‘She thought it said: ‘she cannot have read it through, and she forgot thers was another Grey Devere, the youngest brother of her husband's father, Grev Devere was alone. he held an open letter, white as ce read it and suddenly it dropped from his nerveless grasp. *Oh, God!’ he moaned, ‘Claire, Claire! my darling, my beautiful love, my love! In his band ‘To Grey Devere, Sir: be told She was beautiful and of ne'er-do well, called Captain Nernett. Well, the girl loved him, or thought she did, while h-r father was bitterly opposed to him, he had forbidden his him. But this only tended to make the to come to the point at once, there was a secret marriage between them, and two months after the captain's regi- spected for his own sake, independen’ [ of the questions to whem or what he was, he became ‘catspaw’ for a trio of clever scoundrels, ‘Iis sister still clung to ham, even when he degraded himself bayond mea sure. She dare nbt meet lam openly, | and he unmanly coward, as well as e3 erything else, constantly reminded he of her promise to her dead mother al rays to give him all the help in her power, and never to forsake be sides, villain thongh he was, she loved him with a sister's holy love, *At last her hushand found out their meeting, and accused the falr youn His jealous rage was dreadful; he cursed her fora traitress, she could not denv hel meetings with a man she did not know, and she refused to give an explanation. They parted,a divorce was granted and | “The woman first spoken of, the wife | Doug~ | the mother I have the proofs of my I am the hail brother of Claire Everton, and I the man she met and shielded, (10 i her and all will be This is | written whose days are num heared, and sign g time, I fear, For almost letter, Grey 1) lass, my mother, and also of your wife. atu | ty forgl Ven. myself, for the WILLIAM an Dour allel Were Claire.’ he sa H . and then he repeated $i fit leep like, like a ™ » sé hag Three mths af wedding in a little country church, and } 3 + 3 1 - the bride had hair of golden brown and eyes of the deepest gray, and her hus. tor £3 . 4 113 at LET LOBTe Was A QU i -_ - in Revea Seconds, Gentlemen,’ he began in a smooth, “lam dead I want to raise | | broke bul no beggar. | | legitimate manner. Now, then, let me ask you to inspect this.” He took from his pocket a piece of chain as large as his thumb and | six links and passed it, After it had been carefully | tinued: : “I want to bet my overcoat, which is from the others.” The piece of chain was passed around | machinist, returned ii with the remark: | “*And I want to put up thal sam | it yourself, “sPDonel” said the stranger as he Coat and cash were put up in the | The unfortunate woman despair. ‘11 her sorrow she turned to her fos ter mother for consolation. shorten my story; let it suffice to say ger asked the group to follow him. He | across the street and into a blacksmith's shop, and picked up a The erowd stood around like so many pumpins at a county fair, but when the the stakes the machinist recovered his “Sold by a professional dead-beat! The money is vours, old fellow, but in | eret, her child was born at her foster. mother’s home and ne one ever sus- pected the truth, Some years past and the girl married again, and one year after the second marriage a daughter was given to her. ‘When the daughter was seventeen the lady died, but not before she had {old her daughter the story of her first marriage, and made her promise to give all the assistance in her power to help her brother (‘or the child of her first marriage was a boy) in nis endeavor to prove his night to his father's name, and also to swear that she would keep the affair a se¢ret until they bad proof of the secret marriage, and if proof was naver found, to keep it hidden forever. She told the boy the story as well, and bound him to the same promise, “The orphan girl learned to love her newly-found brother, partly for his own sake, but principally for their mother’s, *After a few years she marrried a jestisman, and for a time she was very “Her brother was of a weak, timid and so, nature, easily led into Wrong instead of manfully se'ting {s mind to ve lls mother’s mariage, or if that wed, to make himself honored and re- better be twenty rods off!” “ “Thanks—glad to bave mot you good day!” replied the stranger, and he was out of sight in seven seconds, Bell of Justioe, It is a beautifnl story that in one of the old cities of Italy, the king caused a bell to be hung in 8 tower in one of the public squares, and called it the “Bell of Justier,” and commanded that any one who had been wronged should go and ring the bell, and so call the magistrates of the city and ask to receive justice. And when, in the course of time the lower end of the bell rope rotted away, a wild vine was tied to it to lengthen it; and one day an old and starving horse, that had been aban. doned by its owner and turned out to die, wandered into the tower, and, in trying to ¢at the vine, the bell. And the magistrate of the city. comin to see who rang the bell, found this ol and starving horse, And he caused the owner of the horse, in whose service he had tolled and been worn out, to be summoned before him, and decreed, that as this poor horse had rung the “Hell of Justice,” he should have jus Sioa, and that during the remainder of the 's life his owner should pro- vide for him proper tood ang drink and Inthe Far ast. The shops of Cairo, Egypt, line each side Hike a succession of moderate-sizui cupboards, though they are some six feet wide, The tloor of each rislaed wbont three feet, Upon this the merchant sits without his shoes, generally smoking his pipe, while all around, within easy’ distance, are his shelves, where goods can often be taken down without the trouble of rising There scriptions over many of the shop, suc as, **O, Allah ! thou who gates with profit I'’ or, **O, Allah Ithou who helpest us in want!” Aid from Allah snd rapid victory’ and these are repeated by the shopkoesper as is are in Oise ur Or, t % MYC The different special districts, () 1 shoe bazar has nothing but red shoes, and apother nothing but yellow ones, and You Can gee the peopie mak - The coppersmith’s trades each iN. then img them, quarter alley you find the their odd- 1 with 00K ng goat-skin bel gold and silversmil 1 3 i 5 and their fur- ind tools on the 1 fen wi s doorways lead el w 8 Of gray re. while the «1 hit uy rE taller CiOLh spread them or Keaps oul scrap of vi go $ Aes ol vivid sunshine, an » i Lhe Very n he places where Lhe Tugs am made give dash yalery 10 the whole thing. Butthe purchase is over, aud you turn lowards Loine once more, past the bookshelves, where you can buy the “Arabian Nights" in Arabic, and past the mosques, which are placed there a if to remind men not to forget God in their busiest hours. Next, perhaps, you meet 4 man with a tray of candy, which like our yellow jack; another has starch in bowls, and, as sweets one thirsty, a waler-carrier is enough to follow him Sometimes he bears a large stone jar with a long spout, supported on his back by anpetting; or be may have a goat-skin full of walter, held on his shoulder by a big strap; and, as he bends over with the weight of 1t, it is not & pretty sight, not apt to make one thirsty. Each vender goes along clink- ing two brass cups together to aliract Having seen about all you remount your donkeys and merrily ride home, a of nu sme of 100k 8 Swaed make smart an mm 5 sor MIRAI — Not Transferabie, classes who resent the The feeling against such practices is very common, and vet how many people are slow to “Not transferable’ might be inscribed on many things beside season tickets. The wisest of fools, Wamba, in *Ivan- than when he remarked that “kind ser. hand like a shuttlecock or a steel-bail,’ yet many fond of attempting the feat. Offers of themselves personally are hy them cooly transferred to some outsider, whom the profferer of the Kindness has no reason to desire to oblige. ‘My son cannot accept the appointment you offer, bat I have promised it to a young friend, whom it will just suit’’< “the child you undertook to vote for is elects ed, but I have filled in the poling pa: wer for another most deserving case,’ fave not many of us experienced this kind of benevolent transference of our proffered favors, and resented it as much as do the railway directors the handling about of the tickets? A far more common description of attempted transference is that of claim- ing a share in the fame of an illustnous relative solely upon the plea of kindred. History is tu'l of examples of men who attempted to obtain wealth and consid- eration by this system. *‘I was the son of my father,” or *‘the relative ot the pular hero,” has proved a valid rea- son for the transfer of such reflected glory. There is a story of an old Scoteh pexton who possessed a guinea at a time when such coins were rare in Highland parishes, He used to exhibit the trea. sure as a curiosity on Sundays after the Hard times came, however, and the sexton was forced to spend his cherished colin Next Sunday applicants came as usual to view it; but in vain, Budden ly a bright thought struck the old man, “Here, lads.” he cried, *‘yve canna see the guinea, but ye shall the purse that held it for a pine ‘sneeshin’,” Munv names chronicled in history have remembered rather after this fashion. They were not the guinea itself, but associated with it in regular estimation, and some consequent transference of fame took place, MONE men have reserved sharing of their dignity; others have readily avreed 0 To raise his family to wt equal to has 1m a portion constant “The Bonaparte who steadily fifa 1 Of bse ny happened Lo be & ¥ i great this fortunes PN, and to transfer t f his own greatness of the first one wise membar family,’ the refused to exchange his HCE A/S B pat ish prie 1 advancement { greatly enrag was Lhe attempt Napoleon. the of old unol for any Lmperor, ious relative by his refus other hand excliam ib of Wamba had } 4 i pled? r sakes’ neiple to its extremest Limit when he pote toh ecommending lady Y armouth graces on the extraordina lea, “You must the Walmoden, you know that But alin ost is the free and manner 3 MANY Persons to be. stow. not their own affections only, but isn those of their friends certain favored persons. **You will be sure to be delighted with so and so. I have told him t wi nove she loves mel ai bie generous which engage on in various forius, and one nearly always resented, secretly, perhaps, but none the less deeply. by the I'stener. Does introduced to the people to whom we are thus bidden to transfer our attach- ments? Are we not inclined to rank them with that detested who was our torment In Affection, as the poet truly remarks, must give itself unasked, unsought, and a teeling of friendly attachment can never be transferred at bidding. a shuttle-cock, kindiy feelings are still ssn AAI AS A Vigorous (Mid Canadian Farmer. A remarkable feat of physical strength a pioneer farmer of Aldborough town- ship, Canada. Mr. Biue is. the oldest ninetieth year. A short time ago he went into the field after one o'clock in the afternoon and pound 64 sheaves of wheat in a short time. The work did not fatigue him to any extent. He possession of his faculties. Ie 18 the father of Mr. Archibald Blue of the Bureau of Statistics, Fortune befriends the bold. Order is Heaven's first law, Youthshould be a saving's bank, Industry prevents vice. Betray no trust, divulge no secre. There is only one stimulant that never fails, and yet never intoxicates— Duty. Duty puts a blue sky over very man