| dhriving poor craythers out of house Grace. It's not my ailments that I do and home. It's little he's iver seen of spake of. It's the thinking." hardships or he mightn't be so fair and airy about it." "And does Duffield-grinding Duffield-I mean does he act by the young master's orders?" "Of course. So I'm always tould. And isn't it the young masther he laves all his mane, low-lived actions on? It's not the ould masther that's dead, God be good to him, would dirty his hands wid such meanness I'll be bound." "But, Mr. Logan," Miss O'Connor's soft sweet voice interrupted; "but, Mr. Logan, you are too ill to let this trouble lay on your mind. I am sure Mr. Cholmondeley cannot be such a hard-hearted man as you represent him. He will listen to your story and he cannot treat you harshly when he hears it." "Miss Grace, you're an angel. It's not the likes of you that knows the blackness of men's hearts. Do not soil your purty lips with the names of Cholmondeley or Duffield. They listen to me! 'Deed an' you're innocent, my lady, of the charackther of sich men, and I thrust to God that you niver may know it. But you can belave me whin I tell you that they could see Cholmondeley was about to reply when a light step behind startled him, and he rose to meet Grace O'Connor face to face. She gave him a hurried look of surprise as the poor woman had done, and then, moving past, saluted the latter. "How is your husband to-day, Mrs. Mary and the poor childhre' here dying Logan?" Wisha, thin, poorly. The thought o' the trouble we're in lies hard upon the man. Come inside, Miss Grace. Patrick was axin' for you not a minute ago. Patsy, go in out of the door like a good child. Katie, haven't you nothing to say to Miss Grace that gives you all the good things?" before their eyes and they wouldn't be the men to lave the roof over their heads." "There, there, pray do not excite yourself, Mr. Logan. What you tell me may be true, though I can hardly force myself to believe it. At any rate, I shall see that you are taken care of, even if the Master of Bally In this way, dividing her conversa-gavin is so inhuman—” tion between the visitor and her chil- She was unable to finish the sendren, Mrs. Logan entered the house. tence. The odd-looking tramp she "Are you here again, Miss Grace?" had seen at the door came right up to said a feeble voice, which Cholmon- the bed. A glance at the fine face, deley with a start recognized as that the slender white hands, showed her he had heard beneath his window on that the stranger in spite of his shabby his arrival. "God be good to you, clothes was apparently a gentleman. young lady, as you've been kind to a poor, broken-hearted man." She inquired about his health. “Oh, I'm comin'`round, I'm comin' round. But slowly, very slowly, Miss "Are these things you have said true?" asked the new-comer. "As thrue as that God's above me," said the sick man, reverently bowing his head. “How could Mr. Cholmondeley | It was the stranger. "And who are oppress you when he was far away, you, pray?" Duffield asked, as the when-" curious figure came into the light. "Yis, he was far away. But hadn't he Grinding Duffield to give his ordhers to, aih?" "I believe I have had the pleasure of Mr. Duffield's acquaintance," said the other, raising the battered hat "Did Duffield say that he acted by which half hid his face, Mr. Cholmondeley's orders?" "Cholmondeley by ———,” cried the "In coorse he always did. By steward, losing his wonted presence of whose else would he act?" mind, and almost stricken dumb with astonishment. "If I had known this," the stranger muttered to himself; then he resumed, aloud, "Is yours an exceptional case, that is, are there no others who have suffered as you have?" "Others! yes indeed, and scores of them. There was Paddy Craig, God be good to him, was turned out wid his family one could winther's day. They raiched a cousin o' theirs in the town but poor Paddy went off from pure fretting when he saw his wife and the young ones dying from their exposure. Then there was the widow Manus-" The invalid's words were here interrupted by the tramp of horses, and and as all turned toward the door a voice was heard calling, She went to the door, where Mr. Duffield stood, leaning on his horse. "No," said Cholmondeley, "you did "Ho, Mrs. Logan! Here, my good not. But what was worse I did not woman!" know you. My friends, the experience of this day has taught me a good lesson, of which I shall be mindful. "Well, woman," he asked, "are It has shown me that I have duties to you ready to leave this place, or is perform I have heretofore neglected; that lazy husband of yours still hud- that while I was squandering my time dled up in bed? Tell him that I shall and money away from home my not be humbugged any longer. He fellow-beings were suffering for me. must get out at once. I want this And I have seen, too, that my own piece of land—or at least Mister Chol- tenantry were being taught through mondeley does, and it is his positive my own negligence to hate the name order that you leave here. Do you of Cholmondeley. I shall see, Mr. understand?" Logan, that your case be properly attended to. Miss O'Connor, I wish you a very good day." "Yes, Mr. Duffield, I do." It was not the poor, sobbing woman spoke. He turned and went away, with the shabby garments clinging to his fine, manly form. But the group in the cottage saw only the man, and that man they had already learned to love and respect. So sudden is the transition of human passions. This story need not be pursued farther. Duffield was dismissed at once and the young proprietor himself assumed the management of the estate. When the ensign on his return inquired about his adventure, cured of an hereditary disease in our family." "The deuce," said Vallance, "what was that?" "Absenteeism," Cholmondeley replied, "I have been cured of absenteeism." And he was. Ensign Vallance went home alone to tell his English friends about Cholmondeley's resolution. "He is going to be a very father to his Irish tatterdemalions of tenants," Vallance said. "He is over head and "Vallance," said he, "I went hunt- ears in agriculture, stock-raising, and ing a romance and I found the only all that. But to tell the truth, I think grain of common sense I have had in there is a certain beauty, one Grace possession for some time. I went to O'Connor, who has a great deal to do play the fool before a lady who is a perfect angel of goodness, and I had Perhaps she had. But however not been in her presence long be- that be it is certain she has a great fore I found myself a wise man. deal to do with them for the presnow, The fact is, Vallance, this is a lucky ent mistress of Ballygavin had Grace day for me. I have been effectually O'Connor for her maiden name. with Cholmondeley's resolutions." SUGGESTIONS TO STUDENTS.-That a to be influenced by one man alone; young man should have warm admira- and yet every ardent disciple necestion for the eminent teachers of his sarily exaggerates beyond all bounds day is most desirable; that the moral the influence of his master's teaching. atmosphere in which he lives should be If all prophets were carefully shut up purified by the presence of men whom and allowed to publish what they he can respect is essential; but it is please, their teaching would have a very doubtful whether he should not better chance of being judged on its be warned more carefully against ab- own merits, instead of degenerating juring, than against abusing his intel- into the shibboleth of a clique. lectual liberty. He will get a great many falls by trying to stand on his own legs; but at any rate he will learn to use them; and if he loses a little of the pleasure of youthful enthusiasm, he will be more liable to escape the narrowness which overtakes most adherents of a sect. Nobody can afford If It is a very high mind to which gratitude is not a painful sensation. you wish to please, you will find it wiser to receive, even solicit favors, than accord them; for the vanity of the obligor is always flattered, that of the obligee rarely, SUMMER. BY WILLIAM GEOGHEGAN. When summer brings the roses In glades and valleys low; Her beauties, half conceal'd, As though afraid of showing Her charms at once reveal'd. But ere we miss the sweetness A bounteous hand she reaches A new and sweeter strain; Where ferns are cool and green. She veils the thorny hedges And Summer reigns indeed. LIGHT LITERATURE. BY J. G. The press generally has come in for ing it to be greatly demoralizing. In no small share of the odium due alone one respect the perusal of light literato the department comprehended under ture bears a curious analogy to the use this head. Sensible people are occa-of alcholic drinks. They are both stimsionally heard to question the truth of julants, the one mental and the other the statement that this same press physical, and produce similar results is less of an evil than a good, in view in their respective spheres. As the of the flagrant delinquencies of light nervous elation created by the physical literature. But light literature col- stimulant is invariably succeeded by lectively is regarded by an influen- a corresponding nervous depression, tial mass of opinion as one of those so is the interest which works of ficsocial cancers indigenous to an ad- tion excite succeeded by a correspondvanced stage of civilization. And ing indifference to the realities of life. facts only too strongly support so Indulgence in each ends in an increased emphatic a judgment. Those who desire therefor, thus leading on to have made it an object of special the destruction of the reason. It is not observation, meet with little difficulty excess, which, with both, culminates in in tracing to its influence many a commonly known that novels have broken heart, many a blighted life, sent victims to the mad-house as well many an early grave. It is notorious as gin, or whiskey; but the medical that Ainsworth, the writer of "Jack profession has been cognizant of the Sheppard," and his host of miserable fact for some time. About three imitators in the cheap weeklies of to- years ago the well-known English day, are responsible for a large in- journal, the Lancet, gave a diagnosis crease of criminals in this country of what it called the "novel-reading and in England. What the effect is on disease," illustrated by a summary of the general character of society cannot statistics which specified several cases be reduced to a table of statistics; but, of hopeless idiocy and premature death, when we mark the innocent, guileless that could not be ascribed to any other youth, developing under a course of source. The symptoms, it stated, novels into that horrible abortion of were pale faces and unnatural languor, manhood, a precocious boy, with a con- accompanied by a decrease of interest tempt for simple amusements, and a in ordinary occupations and events; decided preference for vicious ones, which, at an early stage, lapsed into an there can be no hesitation in assum- incurable decline. Testimony of such |