" I think I will drive round that way and just see him ; he may have something to send to his sister ; and I feel sure Sir Henry would wish it. Yes, I will certainly 5 do so; he must be at home by this time. Then good-bye for the present, Claude ; you will let us hear from you. will you not? And remember that you must spend Christmas wnh us at Worthington, if you can, but don't refuse a. better invitation." “ Poor child 1 And that motherless household is the very worst she could have gone to. I will try to get at her, indeed. You must want her here sadly,†and Lady Worthington glanced round the bare. com- lortless room, with its ï¬relesa grate. flaring gas-burner, and unourtnined window. “ Now will you tell me candidly in what way you think I can be of any use to your sister ‘2 One might call for years at the deanery, and never learn really to know a. person.†Lad} Worthington was in too great a. hurry to waste words, she went straight to her ppint. ' “ Maflame is very good. I think all that Esperanoe wants is to be loved. She misses the home petting which she has always been used to.†“A thousand thanks, mndame. you are very good; and Espernnoe will be very mgoh_ple_a_sed,_1_ am sure.†" So Mr. Magnay was telling me ; and I thought perhnpa I might come to see you, so that I might take the last accounts of you to your sister. We live only two miles from Riloheater, and I must certainly go to see her.†“ We knew no one at ï¬rst, madame ; but my sister went to Rilohester in the summer to live with Dean Collinson, our uncle,†replied Gaspgrd. “ Ah I so long ago as that ? I wish I had known before. Both Sir Henry and I knew your mother. as, perhaps, you have heard. I hope you had other friends in town, though, or you must have had a cold welcome to England." “ I was so afraid you would think me rude. I did not recall your name just now in Mr. Mngnny’s studio ; neither my bus- band nor 1 had the least idea. you were in London." Arrived at the baker’s shop, and having ascertained that M. de Mabillon was at home, Lady Worthington hastened in, and was shown upstairs by the netoniehed lend- lady, who was fairly dazzled by such an unexpected advent as a. carriage and pair, undo lady in seal-akin and eeblee. She opened the sitting-room door, and an- nounced the visitor with delighted pompoeity. Lady Worthington had just time to see Gaspard standing by the mantle piece, his face buried in his hands, before he hurriedly raised his head and came forward, doing the honors of his shabby little room wit-h a grave courtesy which pleased his guest. She Began to eiplain her reasons for coming. “ Indeed I I must go and see her when we go back to Worthington ; the exodus is is already beginning; the ï¬rst instalment of nurses and children went oï¬ this morn- ing, and I only meant now just to come in and wish you good-bye, but as usual I have been betrayed into gossiping? " _ Lady Worthington Ioekeï¬ anxiously at her watch as she drove away from St, John's Wood. It was very much out of way to visit Gaspard de Mabillon, end her last day in town was, necessarily, a busy one, but now that the idea. had once entered her head she would not give it up. Her ooachman, therefore, received orders to drive fast to the address which Claude had given. and being accustomed to her lady- ehip’e freaks did not even grumble, though nbed fog was coming on, and the horses were elreedv far from fresh. “ We came over in March, madame,†said _Ga_ï¬pnrq. Lady Worthington was quite an old family friend of the Magnays, and since they had been left orphans. she had taken them speoially under her protection. Claude owed a great deal to her ; she was undoubtedly very fond of him, and after his eiBters had gone to India, and he had been left to himself, she had spared no pains in helping him, constant-1y inviting him to her house, and what was better, really winning his conï¬dence, and ‘giving him almost a. son’s place in her aï¬eclviona. “Thank you, a thousand times," replied Claude, ngeIully. “ For me there could be no better.†Claude was by no means her only protege; she was genuinely warm-hearted, and really were herself out for other people when she like& them. She had, however, strong dislikes, as well, and when any one was not in her good books, she allowed it to appear in her manner quite as much as good-breeding would permit. This, added to her carelessness of appearances, was no doubt the reason why she was often not so Smueh appreciated as she ought to have een. ADOPTED BY THE DEAN: Claude knew that the Collineone were not particular favoritiea of here. Worth- ington Hall. Sir Henry’s country house, was only two miles from Riloheater, and the families were of course acquainted ; he was. however, not sure how far Lady Worthington cared for the intercourse, and began rather hesitatingly to ask What had long been in his mind. ‘ _ 'E'And that is really her likeness? such a young face, and so utterly miserable I You have_been qxaggemtlpg, glgpdez†“ I am afraid not," said Claude, smiling. “ But that you will see when you are at Rilohester. You do not think it a bad return for your kindness to me, that I bring you fresh ‘ oases.’ " Lady Worthington laughed. “ It is like the story of the man who cured a lame dog, which, as soon as it was well, ran away and brought its lame friend. I shall be only to glad, though, to help this little girl it I can ; but the deanery is a terribly unapproaohable house. I wish I had known that young Monsieur de Mabil- lon; he must have thought me inconsiderate not to recall his father‘s name. Where does he live ? " " In some wretched rooms at Penton- ville,†answered Claude, wondering if Gas- pard: alga! w_ere__§o‘b.e adoptefi.‘ “ Have you time and inclination to add one other to your long list of protegee? Because, is so, little Mademoiselle de Mnbillon, is the person of all others, who is in need. She seems quite miserable at the dengery.†_ “ Po-or child 1" said Lady Worthington, oompussionately. “ It must indeed be a dreafy house ; tell gap algput heg."_ > “ Perhaps this will tell you better than words," said Claude, bringing forward his picture. Accidentislly her brother caught sight of that when he was here, and I wish you could have seen his face of grief and dismay ! He says she used to be the brightest child imaginqble.jf_ ‘ While mothers are in every clime Extolled in verse from time to time, Who plods along with nary a rhyme Your father. Who goes alon out to the track And puts up w an for cash you luck, And with you cheerin walks back ‘2 Your mnher. And when your head begins to grow, Who is it warns you to go slow, And tells you lots you didn't know ‘2’ Your father. Who is it puts the key at ni he Beneath the mat, just out o si ht, And in the hallway leaves a. ï¬g t ? Your father. And when you seek the burlesque show And want a. seat in the front row, Who got the last an hour ago ‘r‘ Your father. Who. when the pot is nice and fat, Soon lays your self-esteem out flat, And wins with seven high held put '2 Your father. A STORY OF TWO COUNTRIES A Tribute to the Old Man. ‘7 You met Monsieur de Mabillon, did you say ‘2 †asked Sir Henry, half abstractedly. “ No, his son," answered Lady Worth- ington. “ He, poor man, was killed during the siege of Paris. Curiously enough, when I went to say good-bye to Claude He answered by steeping to kiss her on the forehead, and there was a moment's silence, while Frances, understanding it all, could not resist watching her sister's beautiful and still wonderfully youthful face, softened as it was by love and hspgineee. "There has been less traveling this year," said Sir Henry ; “ that may, per- haps, account for it. The state of France has frightened peoglp." “ Monsieur de' Mabillon ! †exclaimed Sir Henry, smiling; “ my some time rival, whey} I havg beenlylessing ever since Iâ€".†" Now, Henry! †inferrupted Lady Wgrthington, pgloripg 331d smilipg. _ †Ah 1 your speaking of France reminds naeâ€"whom do you think I met this after- noon?â€"â€"a son of that Monsieur de Mabill on who married Amy Collinson.†A shadow crossed Gaspard's face, and he pauagd a migufe before; angyvgring. . “ If I had only thought about it and come home sooner you would have been spared all this,†she said, with com- punotion. “ People seem to come back to town so much earlier than they used to do â€"I can’t imagine Why.†She had only arrived at the conclusion that morning calls were necessary and right, but without having discovered any way for improving them, when her sister returned. followed by Sir Henryâ€"e tall, handsome man, with iron-gray heir, a. very powerful face, and the bearing of one accustomed to commendI tempered by the most perfept courtesy. Lady Worthington, distressed by her sister’s pale, suffering face, hastened to arrange her cushions, tending he: with an assiduity which might have been tiresome had it not been done with such grace and with such loving anxiety. “ I am glad she should be living in a comfortable house,“ least. The separation is ol.‘ course hard to bear, but I shall feel happier about her now that I know she will have your kindness, madame.†Lady Worthinglon was toucheï¬ by his simple, unaffected way of speaking. She would gladly have seen more of him, but it WAS already so late that this was impossible. She rose reluctantly. “ This is a very short and unceremonious visit," she said, holding out her hand to Gaspard, “ but I hope when we are in town again, in the spring, we shall learn to know you well; and, meantime, I can at least tell your sister I_ have seen vou.†Gaspard could only reiterate his thanks ; and Lady Worthingtun, getting into her carriage. drove quickly home, trying to think of any means by which she might help the poor, proud, and apparently half- Btarved Frenchman. What good came of those calls which she had received that day ? Had not her after- noon been Wasted? She had intended to do so muchâ€"to ï¬nish some of her work for the poor, to learn an accompaniment for Sir Henry, to go to afternoon church, and all had been frustrated by a weary succession of callers. What good bad they done her ? what good could she have done them? me asked herself. Had not every one of her visitors probably regarded the call as a tiresome duty, and been only too thankful when their “ten minutes †or “ quarter of an hour " was over, and they were free to go 7 Ana what had they talked of? The weather, the returns to town, the “ 'I‘iohborne †case, the latest marriages in high life, the music at, some of the West End churches, and the recent publications. Was this worth all that it had cost her ‘2 It was quite six o‘clock before her lady- ehip's tired horses reached Kensington. She herself was cold and weary, but in spite of it there was an alertness in her step as she ascended the broad staircase, which bespoke her indomitable energy. She opened the drawing-room door, and gave a. relieved exclamation to ï¬nd within only her younger eialer, Frances Neville. " I am home again, at last. I was so afraid you would have a. whole roomful of visitors,†she exclaimed, drawing off her glovgg, and warming her hands by the ï¬re. “ You have just escaped mhem,m said Frances. smiling. “ I have had six editions, and Colonel and Mrs. Vigar have only been gone a few minutes._" †Yes, very. I will tell you all when I come down, but I must ï¬rst speak to Henry if he is at home.†And Lady Worthington hastened away. Since her mother's death, which was Several years before, Frances had lived with her sisterâ€"an arrangement which seemed to suit nllpartiee. Lady Worth- ington liked having some one to nurse and tend,and anoee, though not an actual invalid, always needed great care. Her influence, too. in the house was exactly what was required. Her two romping nephews, Harry and Fred, and little " tom- boyish." noisy Kathie. were quiet and gentle when “Aunt Fanny " was in the room, and she seemed to have the power of drawing out all the good in themâ€"the ohivalroua love of the boys and the woggpnly tenderness in her little niece. When Lady Worthington left the room, something (I the brightness faded, how- ever, from Frances’ face. She was very tired, and as she lay on the sofa. Wit-h throbbing head and wearied limbs, the oft- reourring question, which must have sug- gested itself to so many, began to trouble her. “'I‘he uiioonacionnble people to stay so late I Tiring you out, t 0, poor child. You look as white gs a gheret. Is Henry in_? ’f _ “ I fancy I heard his step outelde ; qu I am not certain. Tell me where you have been, Katharine. You have had a long afternoon.†The two sisters were a. strange contrast. Frances was many years the younger ; she was now about eight-and-twenty, though her complexion of almost infuntine fairness, and her abundance of pale golden hair made her sppcsr much less. She was evidently very delicate, her features were sharpened as if by constant suffering, and the month, though sweet, was still more expressive of ï¬rm endurance. Her eyes were like Lady Worthington’e, clear greyâ€" but while with the elder sister they were full 0! humorous brightness and good nature, with Frances they expressed patient happiness and a. rarely disturbed serenity. Yet her life had been by no means an easy one. A tiny, sickly baby, she had lievd and grown almost miraculously, struggling through illness after illness, and at length gaining some degree of health, though strength could never be hers. What was denied to her body, however, seemed to be added to her mind. Almost every one who knew her leaned unconsciously upon her, for there was in her that steadfast love of truth, and that earnest following after good, which only can engender real trust. This, added to a clear perception and ready sympathy, made her almost universally loved, and gave her greater influence than Lady Worthington, with all her kind deeds, could ever obtain. The two sisters, how- ever, worked very well together, each recognizing her own peculiar calling; Lady Worthington describing Frances Neville’s as the " ghostly " mission, and her own as the “ bodily." All this had not of course been attained without many struggles, nor was Frances ever entirely free from the 6iï¬ioult~ies and perplexed questioningu which will always attack an active mind, particularly when bodily activity is at all restrained ; but she had long ago learned the secret of a happy life, and though her scrupulous exactness would not allow her to think even the moat trifling thing immaterial. and laid down for her the most carefully drawn dis. tinotion between right and wrong, she was kept from narrowneaeâ€" orrather necessarily widened by her high, indwelling motive. CHAPTER XVII. " Ice is too expensive, Mary. You must get along without it.†“ But how am 1 to keep the beef fresh and the butter and milk cool 3'" " You have a tan, haven't you '2" Mrs. Fangleâ€"Lizzie, what time was it when that young man lett last night ? Lizzieâ€"about 11, mamma. Mrs. Fangleâ€"Now, Lizzie, it was two hours later than that, for I distinctly heard him say, as you both went to the door. ,,Juat one, Lizzie.†You can’t fool your mother. The feeling you have for a dead man, the people will have for you after you are dead. You want a. dead body out of your sight as soon as possible; that will be the feeling with reference to your clay. You are a. morsel of earth yourself, like of}. 1‘ people. You may think that your funeml will be largely attended; notice the funeral of a man in your walk of life, and you can count the carriages in your ownâ€"Awhison Globe. Magnay this afternoon} I hand young Gna- pard de Mabillon at his studio. and hall recognizsd him. Afterward Claude told me who he was, and I- went to see him my- self at his rooms. It seems that he and his sister left France in the spring ; she is now With the Collinsons, at Rilchester, and be trying Ec-r work here, but quite unsuc- cessiully.†Among the various remedies for sleep- lessness lately advised is that in which the subject, after taking a. deep inspiration, holds his breath until discomfort is felt, then repeats the process a second and a. third time, this being, as a rule, enough to procure sleep. A slight degree of asphyxia is thus relied on as a sporiï¬o agent, but the theoretical correctness 0! this method is somewhat open to questionâ€"London Lamcct. “Vina you, of contae, adopted 111m at once, and said that 1 would ï¬nd employ- ment,†said Sir Henrytsmiligg. “No, not quite; I really was very prudent; mv precipitation in the case of that young architect, the other day, has taught me wisdom. I made no rush promises; but seriously, Henry, I do wish you could‘ help the poor fellow in some way †“ I will hear him in mind then, but you remember that I have two of your protegea commended to my special attention ever since June." “ Julius Wright, you mean, and thm young Mt. Frankland, I wish we could get them disposed of. Certainly all the pro- fessions are very much overstocked.†The lurk does not rise until after the chafï¬nch, linnet, and a number of other hedgerow folk have been merrily piping for a. good while. “ Why does not Dean Collinson help him ‘2 " asked Sir Henry. †He has done so in a manner by taking the little girl to live with him. but I fancy from what the poor boy said thisnfternoon, that it went sorely against the grain to take help from that quarter. And that reminds me, Francee, we must really take the deanery by storm as soon as we go home, and rescue little Mademoiselle Mabillon. who, from Claude‘s account, is very unhappy there.†--u The house sparrow- and tomiit come lasï¬â€˜inï¬ha List of eprly rising birds. 7 At short intervals lifter 4.30 the voices of the robin and wren are heard in the land. The greeuï¬noh is the ï¬rst to rise, and ain_g_s as_ ea._rly_as 1.30 on g summgr mprniqg. By 4 the bIsTckbiL-d makes the Woods regund _wit~h his melody. The duail’s whistling is heard in the woods at about 3 o'clock. The blackcap turns up at 2.30 on a. sugamer {90:11}ng » , Ll»! “ A name during a. morning call I†said Frances, laughing. “ I will go wilh you, if it is only for the pleasure of seeing your tactics, though I am afraid you will never baffle Mrs Mortlake.†But if leap year is omitted regularly eaoh hundredth year. we pay back nearly a day too much; so Pope Gregory further ordered that every oenturial year which could be divided by 400 should be a. leap year after all. So -we borrow eleven minutes each year from the future ; more than pay our borrowings back by omitting three leap years in three centuries and ï¬nally square matters by having a leap year in the fourth centurial year. This arrangement is so exacl; that: we borrow more than we pay back to the extent of only one day in 3,866 years. Sixteen hun- dred was a leap year, 2,000 will be,but 1,900 will not be. Any centurial year that can be divided by 400 will be a leap year. â€"Hartford Times. The thrush is auï¬ible about 4.50 in the mo_r_ning. “ We shall see,†said Lady Worthington, with a smile of anticipated success. (To be Continued.) Some interesting results of a naturalist’s inquiries are sent us by Mr. J. Law- rence-Hamilton. M. C. R. 8., Brigh- ton, who says that. in proportion to its size, the limpet is probably the strongest of known animals, excepting the Mediter- ranean venus verrucom, a cockielike crea- ture,which pulls 2,071 times its own weight whm out of its shell. “ At Folkestone. by means of accurate appliances,†says Mr. Lawrence-Hamilton, “ I found that the common sea-shore limpet, which deprived of its shell, weighed a minute fraction less than half an ounce, required, which pulled according to its plane of adhesion, a force exceeding 62 pounds to remove it from its powerful grip upon the local littoral low- tide rock. or upward of 1,984 times it own dead weight. The superï¬cial area of the base of this individual limpet measured 2.4 square inches. Taking the atmospheric pressure at 14 7 pounds to the square inch, this would even then only account for 35.28 pounds, or little more than half the power exercised in the air by this sea-snail, which, acting upon immersed objects in the water, would. of course, have pulled a much greater weight than that of 62 pounds. Thus in the air a limpet pulled up to 32 1 pounds,but subsequently,in spite of its previous fatigue, when covered over by the incoming tide, it then took upward of 54 pounds to remove it. I doubt whe- tber the limpet’s adhesive force has any- thing to do with the question of atmos- pheric pressure. In other experiments even bits of rock came away sticking to the limpet's embrace. An ancient Greek author compared this animal's adhesion to the ardent attachment of an ugly old woman to a handsome youth. In carrying out my experiments upon the limpets I was ably assisted by the eminent practical scientiï¬c naturalist, the Hon. Walter Rothschild." The same correspondent says: “The force required to open an oyster appears to be 1,3195- times the weight of the shellrless creature."-Lon- don Daily News. The question is ofien asked, “ Will the year 1900 be a leap year ‘2" It; will not. When Julius Cmsur revised the calendar be appointed an extra day every four years, and his calender lasted until A. D. 1582. Now the ordinary year is 11 minutes and 11 seconds short of being 365% days in length, so that there isn't really a full eizei extra day to be added to February every four years.. Caesar didn’t know this, or didn‘t care about it, and for 1,600 years We kept borrowing from the future, until in 1582 we'd borrowed ten days. Pope Gregory XIII. started tooorreot this. He ordered October 5th, 1582, to be called October 15th, and to square things, ordered that centurial years shoulfl not. as a rule, beleap years. Why 1900 Will Not be H. Leap Year. The Strongest Known Animal. A Solemn Thought. Early Rising Birds Mother Knows. To Obtain Sleep. An entirely new style of hair-dressing is threatened, says a fashion writer. In Paris the frizzy bang has meekly subsided to give the Javanoise head dresses a chance. Fashion appears to have gone daft on those peculiar ornaments, and the great jewelers of the Rue de la Paix have been ordered to reset diamonds of more than one grande dame alter the pattern of those ï¬at metal ornaments. At the opera a few weeks ago a dazzling light in Parisian society appeared with her hair dressed perfectly flat to her head, on one side, right over the ear, an oarnment as large and as flat as an individual butter plate, composed of diamonds and pearls, and medallions as large as an English penny, of the same gems, going round to the other ear, across the forehead just at the line of the hair. A Young Princcse' Taste. The young princesses of Wales take after the princess herself in their quiet taste in dress and in their liking for tailor-made gowns of tweed and cloth for day wear. I Navy-blue seems a favorite color with Suggestion for Wives. Here is a new wrinkle with regard to roasted duck that some good wife, fond and foolish and out of fashion enough to care about pleasing her husband, may enjoy serving up to him some night when he ‘ comes home a little more perplexed and annoyed with business than usual. Take the duck, which has been roasted in the ordinary way with sage and onion dressing, score it deeply with the carving knife, scatter into the furrows so formed salt and white or black pepper, and pour over it a glass or two of Burgundy warmed, not heated, so that it will not chill the duck. Baste the bird with the wine a few mom- ents, cover it up, and let the seasoning soak well in, and when it is served to your lord and master it will be as much of a revelation to him as was the far-famed pie of “ four and twenty blackbirds.†which was set before the king. When this last juicy morsel is still lingering in his mouth, making life indeed worth living, then ask him for your new spring bonnet or tell him that the coal is out or that “ mamma " is coming for a nice long visit or that you must go and hear Patti, and see how he will rustle his angel wings and tell you that he only lives for the sake of carrying out your wishes and supplying your wants, and the only thing needful to perfect bliss is a visit from his mother-in-law. ’ihe Lady Barber. The lady barber has come, and the heart of every young gentleman who thinks that his mustache will come up it only the ground he ploughed sufï¬ciently, is glad within him. Happily, the lady barber is a noun of multitude, and it is likely enough that she will Very soon add considerably to her number. At present her operations are conï¬ned to the sedate and deoorous shades of Chancery Lane; but if it be true that to know the lady barber is to love her, we may he sure that she will presently establish herself in the gay and giddy West End. Shaving is, at the best, an ordeal; but if, instead of the coarse and lumpy hands and the inane politics of the male, we can have the pretty ï¬ngers and the art- less prattle of the feminine practitioner,most of us will hasten to Chancery Lane. The ladies are hair-cutters as well, which is exceedingly nice, since it is obvious that the operation of hair-cutting, which lasts close upon half an hour, is full of opportunities for conversationâ€"St. James‘ Budget. ‘Svmpathy in Raising a Child. How many parents there are who are readicr to provide playthings for their children than to share the delights of their children with those playthings ; readier to set their children at knOwledge-seeking than to have a part in their children’s sur- prises and enjoyments of knowledge-attain- ing; readier to make good, as far as they can, all losses to their children than to grieve with their children over those losses. And what a loss of power to those parents as parents is this lack of sympathy with their children as children. There are, however, parents who sympathize with their children in all things; and, as at result, they practically train and sway} their children as they will; for when there is entire sympathy between two per- sons, the stronger one is necessarily the controlling force with bothâ€"Sunday School Times. Things Which Every Woman Ought to Know. HINTS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS. Frills, Fashions, Fancies, Foibles and Feminine Oonceits. Supexflnous flJBh troubles the minds of many persons in addition to its physical burdeneomenese. How many women do we daily meet who would give all they have and stop at no inconvenience or sacriï¬ce could they by doing so reduce themselves to the lines of grace and beauty. The Duchess of Marlborough, who lately re« turned to this country, has amazed those former American friends who knew her as Mrs.Hammereley. Then she was fatâ€"â€" grenly to her discomfort, not: to say mor- miï¬sation. Now she in as pretty and lithe a ï¬gure as one could hope to see. Not a morsel of bread, Lakes, rolls or poetry. No tea, coffee, chocolate or sweet wine. No potatoes, peas, rice, carrots, turnips, macaroni, cheese. butter, cream, custard, jellies or sweets. Not a drop of ioewater. No worm baths. No flannel, and only enough clothing to keep from tsking cold. No bedroom heat. Not a. drop of any liquid food at meals. In place of bread she had fruit, a section of apple or orange, some fresh grapes, ber- ries, cherrie or stewed fruit being used when ordinarily one craves a bit of bread or & swallow of Water. Her diet was limited to two meals a dayâ€"breakfast at 10 and dinner at 7â€"with the following bill of fare to select from; Rare, lean meats, game and poultry, soft-boiled eggs, sen foods, toast, lettuce, spinach, celery, otessee, irruitsc How did she work the transformation ‘2 Well, according to an investigator. who has given the world the beneï¬t of his or htl‘ investigations through the medium of the New York World, she offered an adipose specialist a. fat fee to take her in training, and pledged herself to carry out minutely his commands. Here are some of them : She had half a gallon of hot water to drinkevery day. with lemon juice in it to take away the flat taste. Cold Water was denied her, and ales, frsppes, champagne and claret strictly forbidden. She was even forced to forego the luxury of both- ing in wster, in place of which she had sponge end vapor baths. Every few days she took a fast, allowing the system to consume the adipose tissue. While no limit was put upon the pleasure of driving or riding. she was asked to select the roughest, rockiest roads, and to walk from ï¬ve to ten miles a day in the open air. Thia practice of self-denial the Duchess of Marlborough has persisted in for the last two years, and to-day she is perhaps the haudsomest woman of her age in New York society. She weighs about 140 pounds, her eyes are bright, her complexion xs as clear and smooth as a school girl‘s ; she has the carriage of a cadet and the health of a child of nature. HOW TO BECOME HANDSOME. FOR AND ABOUT THE LADIES. The Frizzy Bang Has Gone. More people are worried to death by kind- ness than by abuse. ' There are many sovoalled Eaa‘ter novel- ties in leather goods, including the new leather chatelaine with leather ornaments. Special glass jars or vases are now made to hold violets. They are mounted in silver and are beautiful enough to ï¬nd a. place on some table in the drawing-room. Mousquetaire gloves come in all the new and beautiful shades, and the ones with the greatest number of buttgnq ae_ll quickest. 7 The country house muzst now be fur- nished as near as possible in the India style, which is as useful as it is cool and ornamental. Old-fashioned silver poohetbo’ok‘éï¬hhe form of a shell, such as our grandmothers used to curry, haye come back agaiq. In the Scotch tartan dress godas, the small, inconspicuous patterns are held by the dressm‘nkerg tug-be the 115109}: elggapt. 7 (\I‘Il There is a bewildering variéty in sash ribbon this season and they are wide enough to_com§2 ugundgr the wearera’ arms. Ornamental hairpins now include been and butterflies of the very natural looking I;ng that_come_onl}f gram Paris. them, perhaps out of compliment to their sailor brother. Bedfern is building two neat dresses for the Princesses Victoria. and Maud. They are of gray-blue tweed, interlined with threads of navy-blue. The skirts are very simpls, depending for style M1 the way they are hang and arranged. ‘,,(=\’r\ the hem three narrow bands of nan 1 im- clnthare stitched on. The coat- like bunnm npen on vests of navy-blue cloth. Also; the: the gowns are quiet and unobtrusive in the extreme, and yet are mat, trim, and very good style.â€"London Star. Among the handsomest of the fans now exhibited for sale are those of natural col- ored ostrich feathers. Straw hats and bonneta are already seen. There are already women who will get ahead of the season. Mascï¬line fashions are adopted by the women again this season, which is to be regretted: Fixing the Hair, There was never more freedom shown in the arrangement of the hair than to-day. More attention is paid to the contour of the head and face, and there is less anxiety to copy a set style. The two styles most prevalent for everyday Wear are the full graceful coil of braids, which covers the back of the head from the crown to the nape oi the neck, and the long English ehatelaine of braids which hangs low at the back of the neck. The front hair is generally dressed in a very slight. light bang, curved up a little at the sides, and a and is sometimes carelessly arranged in the centre, where the face will bear it. . In the evening the hair is worn very high. in full loops in French etyles.â€"New York Tribune. It is a. peculiarity of the bonnets this season that the smallest are said to be the mega} exp_e_nsiye.i r Orchid jewelry is the latest novelty, and has created an immediate and decided sensation. About the only nautical feature of the albatross tea. gowns is the name of the material. ‘ Ornamented jewelry is having high favor, the most popular designs being flowers. To Decorate the Home. Here is the advice of a decorator in making overa house: Have your library dark and rich, your dining-room bright in coloring and your sleeping rcoms as near white or custard as possible, draping the windows withlawn, banishing carpets or upholstered furniture. If the rooms are very high a deep frieze will lower them, and paper on the ceiling will also bring them down. There are few floors that can- not be rubbed, polished and ï¬lled in ï¬r or hardwood effects. The cost of wood carpet can be saved in doctor‘s fees. The cool, clean, bright, colonial (ffeot is to be pre. ferred above every other period for the drawing room or parlor. It costs money, to be sure, to uppomt a. house, but tnete goes a. very long way. A Bleach for the Hands. There is an old-fashioned preparation which our grandmothers made for whiten- ing the hands, says the New York Tribune. Two cakes of old-time brown Windsor, soap, e wiueglaes of German cologne and e wineglass of lemon juice added. In a day or two the liquid became incorporated with the soup so that the mixture oould be molded into a cake. Though old, this is an admirable prepara- tion or bleach for removing stains from the hands. A band of ribbon tied with a bow around the wrist is a new fashion. A gown of white satin brocade and rare old point lace, and a. Iongtulle veil caught with orange blossoms. The bouquet was of white roses. The fashionable ï¬nd at present is for an- tiquitiea. Some of the flowers seen on the new bon- neta are an impossibility in nature. The tailor-made jacket and vest 8.11 in one has started in to be very fashionable. In light summer silks any one can see with half an eye that stripes will prevail. Agown of white brocade and point lace, and tulle veil held by a half wreath of orange blossoms. The bouquet was of white lilacs. A gown of white satin adorned with feather trimming, and a t-ulle veil caught wnth diamond pins, her mother‘s gift. The bouquet was of white violets and orchids. 'lhe greatest simplicity prevails in the out of all French undergarments. Any at- tempt at elaboration of trimming or cut is considered in the very worst taste. Chemises are low and sleeveless, with a simple band around the neck; they are daintin trimmed with a deep fall of lace, or lace and insertion, meeting a (all front ï¬nished with lace and insertion to the waist line. Glrls' Schools. In Paris there are ï¬ve professional schools for girls. These have a. course of instruction embracing modern languages, domestic economy, industrial designing, cutting and ï¬tting garments, and accounts. Each school is equipped with a kitchen and workshops for making corsets, is ethers and other staple articles of trade. Girls are admitted at 14 years of age and remain three or four years. A Royal Wedding Dress. The Empress of Austria has caused her wedding dress to be out up and made into a set of vestments for the Church of St. Matthew, in Ptsth. The dress was of white brocade with silver threads, embroid- ered all over with beautiful garlands of roses in silver. Her bridal wreath en- circles an embroidered picture of the vir- gin, which is to be hung up in the Loretto chapel of the some church, which the Empress selects for her devotions. The vsstrnents will be used for the service in honor of the Virgin Mary in May. Red is a. Perfect; Craze. There seems to be a. craze for red this spring, and this lurid hue is observable in many branches of my lady’s toilet. Red costs and jackets of box cloth are very fashionable for walking or driving, red cloaks are worn over evening gowns to ball or opera. Issw a girl on Twenty-third street the other morning in a. gray gown with bright red glovesâ€"Chicago Hearld‘a New York Letter. Here are the costumes of four brides at fashionable weddings yesterday. A gown of white corded silk and dach- esae lace. and a. tulle veil caught with a comet of orange. blossoms. The bouquet was of white roses and violets. The Cut of French Underwear. How the Brides Dressed. Fashionable Fancles. yuan _yvu uuumng AUA .1 unu, anu u. \v1u tut: you. nuulc: ., B'Féinéimomce, use; WEST ADELAIDE STREET, TORONTO. "‘ V V I ‘ h†TO THE EDITOR:â€"~Please inform ymn‘ readers 6" t I have a positive remedy for tbs above named disease. By its timely use than: «.ml‘, O’Ha' n «m ‘es have been. permanently cured. I shall be glad to send two bottles cf my rcmmly l-n‘tu. to any of your readers who have con sumption if they will send me their Express and Post Ofï¬ce Address, Respectfully, T. A: Shogun. Mlcll !86 West Adelaide. 8%., TORONTO, ONTARIO; > , ‘v. a" .v'rwavr .-4~ é ;"â€"=.-.’-i who will riot go to a. game. E When I say Cure I do not mes-ll E W W E a % a v3 mereg to stop them for a time, and then have them return again. I MEAN A RADICA L C U R E. I have made the disease of Fits, Epilepsy or Fnuing Sickness a life-long study. I was-rant my remedy to Cure the Worst cases. Because others have failed is no reason for not now receiving a cure. Send at gnce fora treatise and a Free Be tine of my lnf‘allible Remedy. Give Express and "05:3 Ofï¬ce. It costs you n v for a;_t‘r’i'a_1,.a;t_)_d_it.\zi_!‘l_r_u£e £11.};AIEQL1K‘E'SS 'â€"H- G; $10013 5--....1‘ nm_» .A Tommyâ€"Papa, what is a. crank ? Papa â€"Oh, W9 call a peculiar eccentric person a crank. "Tomme And arbaaebnll crank is Watches are worn by women more than ever before ; or rather there is more than the usual supply in the jewelry-box, on the side table, and among the articles unac- countably lostâ€"for women never wear watches except on those occasions when they forget to leave them behind.â€"â€"Judge. The A win] Experience an English Aera- naut Passed t hrongh. Great excitement was caused at Croydon on Saturday afternoon in connection with the ascent from the old fair ï¬eld of Prof. Higgins, the parachutist, and for several hours doubts were entertained as to his safety. The balloon, which has been named “Ilia Duke‘s Motto,†and was of the capac- ity of 12,000 cubic feet, was fully charged by 5 o'clock. Higgins said the direction of the wind. which was notheaet, would neces- sitate his travelling a considerable height, but he hoped to return to the ï¬eld in about hall an hour. When he gave the signal to the attendants lo “ let go," the machine gradually rose and appeared to go' in the direction of Norwood. Upon reaching an altitude of something like 4000 feet, the parachute be- came detached from the net of the balloon, which was evidently proceeding upward at a great rate, as the parachute was fully ex- panded, although inverted. It was now evident that something was wrong with the apparatus, and amid breathless excitement, the parachute dropped iromthe balloon and tell intoa garden in East, Croydon. The balloon rapidly disappeared in the clouds. When darkness set in and no news had been received of the parachutist much anxiety was evincrd as to his fate. Shortly after 8 o’clock, however, all fear was dispelled by the receipt of a telegram stating that Hig- gins had landed safely near l‘unbridge. Higgins and his balloon arrived at East Uroydon by the 9,20 train. c I." ‘1 ' ‘3‘ axm’""337"rrym â€™ï¬ Old reporterâ€"No; don’t need any. It the dispute is anything about cards, go into that room across the hall and ask for the religious editor.â€"New York Weekly. Stranger (in western newspaper ofl'i'oe) -Beg pardon, sir, but myself and friends need help to decide a bet. Have you a eopy_ot Hoyle? 7 First Theatzioal Managerâ€"Well, you ought to have seen our audience last night; we hardly needed to turn on the electric lights, such a brilliant audience, you know. Ha 1 Ha I Second Theatrical Managerâ€"Yea, I understood that it was a very light house : Bo ! Ho ! Female doctorâ€"Ail right. I’ll be there as soon as I’ve got on my new dress and have done up my hair. Let me see; hadn‘t I better wear my dark blue dress or that light violet colored one ? The blue dress is more becoming to my complexion ; but the other is so stylish. Many people are troubled with itching eyes and try all sorts of washes. The eye is one of the most valuable organs of the body. Unfortunately for careless humanity, it is also one of the most delicate. It does not [my to trifle with it. The best way to treat itching is to use a. cool, weak salt water wash every few hours. If this does no good, go to a. physician who makes a specialty of eye diseaaea.-Ncw York Journal. Excited messenger -- Mrs. ~Snwbones. come quick! A man 1138 tallen from the rogf of }_1iS_ house v.95! ia»b}eedipg t-q deqth I In an interview with a correspondent Higgins stated that he had experienced the most wonderful of all his eerinlvoyagee. When he had reached a height of 4,000 feet he began to get into a. strong current and the balloon twisted right around. The current then caught his parachute. causing the wooden ring of it to catch him very tigbly under the arms. The test cord which held the parachute then broke. Directly that happened he saw the parachute was hanging below him fully inflated and the pressure on him was so great that it was impossible for him to descend into the middle of the town with anything like safety. He therefore opened his penknive with his teeth and cut the parachute away. This caused the balloon to shoot up 6000 feet higher, and on ranching that altitude he met another current, which brought him back and he saw nothing until he passed through some sleet and snow. He could hear. however, the sound of trains. The balloon then turned round three times, and he felt he was descending. He did nothing more to the balloon. merely sitting on his trapeze watching for terra ï¬rma, which he did not see for some time. At length he saw plowed ï¬elds, and close by there was what he took to be a large park with white roads across it. He then travelled about ï¬ve or six miles at a very rapid pace and saw more plowed ï¬elds, which he thought would be a suitable place to land on. When he was about 2,000 feet from the earth he prepared to descend by hanging by one arm to his tra- peze rope as if he were using his parachute. When his feet touched the ground the bal- loon, which was in front of him, dragged him for ten yards and then rebounded some 60 feet in the air between two trees. Two laborers ran from opposite directions and, in response to his signals, they arrived just he came down a second time and held the balloon until he let out the gas. He found that he had landed on a farm in the Occupation of Mr. Nash, of Penshurst, about 30 miles from Croydon, In reply to questions he said that one time he must have been ï¬ve miles above the earth, the highest he had ever been. He added that the ball 0011 had no escape valve. All of n. sudden he found himself in dark- ness. caused, be presumed, by the snow and the thick atmosghere. He was in this snowstorm for at least ten minutes and when he had passed through it the sun wns shining beautifully. Below him he could see what appeared to be snowy mountains rising up and down for miles. He could see a distance of some 40 clear miles and was able to discern the sun glistening on the water at Brighton. I It was evident to him that he was going towards Tunbridge Wells. He found the air getting very sharp and keen; icicles were hanging from his moustache and he had no sooner rubbed them off than others formed. For a few minutes he was quite deaf. He now seem-ed to be descending on the mountains of snow and he thought he was getting near Hastings or Brighton. He could smell the sea. Thinking he was coming down he took hold of four of his guy ropes and pulled the balloon partly over on one side to allow the gas to escape at the mouth. Box-Ofï¬ce Receipts Not Mentioned. gspaâ€"A baseball crank is a man Don‘t Toy With Your Eyes. Femaï¬e Doctor in a. Hurry. UP IN THE CLOUDS. An Authority. Something About the Famous Strand May-pole Ereeted in 1661. The custom of raising May-poles on the ï¬rst day oi May originated probably in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. It was quite general in .Great Britain and other European countries for several hundred years, but after the advent of Puritanism it died out almost completely. The most renowned London May-pole, and the one longest in existence, was that put up in the Strand immediately after the restoration. The Parliament of 1644 had ordered the demolition of on May-poles. and enforced the decree by heavy penalties. When the populace again gave way to their May-day jollity, in 1661, they determined to plant the tallest of these poles they could ï¬nd in the most conspicuous pert of the Strand. They brought it in triumph, with drums beating, flags flying. and music playing, from Scotland Yard to the opening of Little Drury Lane, opposite the Somerset House, where they erected it. The lane was afterward known as “May-pole Alley.†“That stately cedar erected in the Strand," writes a contemporary author. “was considered as a type of ‘golden dsys’ about to return with the Stuarts." It was raised by seamen, ex- pressly sent for the purpose by the Duke of York, and was decorated with three gilt crowns and other ornaments. In 1713 it was surmounted by a globe, with a long streamer beneath it. Four years later this famed pole, having become decayed, was taken down and sold to Sir Isaac Newton, who used it as a support for a telescope. ' Paper and particulars of society Mflrrlagemthaipgysgwp a't‘muriage. Thirty years have elapsed since a select committee of the House of Commons recommended that the British museum should be open to the public between the hours of 7 and 10 pm. Throughout three decades oflicial passivity has successfully withstood innumerable efforts on behalf of the people to bring about this desirable innovation. At length, however, those in high places who emulate the conservatism of Mrs. Partington, and cling as tightly to the “ ret-and-bethankful " policy as that reactionary old lady did to her ocean spurning broom, have been compelled to comply with one moiety of the recom} mendatlon put forward by the Parlia- mentary committee of March, 1860. To the otherâ€"namely that'the National Gal- lery should also be thrown open thricea week until 10 p.m.â€"they will, in all proba- bility, reluctantly accede thirty years henceâ€"Galignani‘s Messenger. Five of the persons injured by the ex- plosion o! balistite at Aviglisno, Italy, have since died, making the total number of deaths nineteen. Three hundred work- men were present at the time of the acui- dent. Thirty were seriously injured. This is the fourth explosion that has occurred in the factory since 1873. George Francis Train has not shaken the hand of a. man or woman for fourteen years. †Your hair is red and my dining-room il decorated in robiu’s egg blue." " Your refercences are very satisfactory, but _I_can‘nAot epgagq you." The Bank of England doors are new so ï¬nely balanced that a clerk, by pressing a. knob under his desk' can close the outer doors instantlyI and they cannot be opened again except by special process. This is done to prevent the daring and ingenious unemployed of the great metropolis from robbing this famous institution. The bul- lion departments of this and other great English banking establishments are nightly submerged in several feet of water by the action of machinery. In some of the Lon- don banks the bullion departments are connected with the manager’s sleeping- rooms, and an entrance cannot be efl'eoted without setting oï¬ an alarm near that person’s head. If a dishonest oï¬ioial, dur- ing either day or night, should take even as much as one from a. pile o! a. thousand sovsreigns the whole pile would instantly sink and a. pool of water take its place. let- ting every person in the establishment know of the theftâ€"Exchange. Jim Was There. The two sons of an eastern merchant stated for India. Some months afterwards the father received this telegram : “ Jim’s dead.†In reply he cabled : “ Ship corpse." In due time a large box arrived which was found to contain the body of an enormous Bengal tiger. The parent again cabled : " Mistake made ; tiger in box." To which his surviving son replied : †All right ; Jim inside tiger.†Young Paris mashere are now said to wear colored shirtsâ€"pink, blue or redâ€"in the evening. They are displayed with the regular low cut evening waietoonts, and to heighten the contrast they are fastened by large jet studs. The demand for such shirt: is Already so great that they cannot be made fast enough. The young Prince of Naples introduced the fashion. “ May I inquiFe 'th'y not, madam ?" asked the would-be butler. WA“. ‘PALATABLE AS DIILK. Scott‘sEmulsian is only put up in salmon color wrapper. Avoid all imitations or substitutions. Sold by all Drugpists at 5%, and $1.00. SCOTT & l?O\VNE. Bellevillc. if; {a 'wondm'ful F'leslhv Best Remedy for CONSUMPTION, Scrofula, Brouchitis,Wasting Dis- eases, Chronic Coughs and Golds. 'EHEESRMDS 8F BGTTLES GWEN AWAY YEARLY. Snow: AddreEs Thé'Glbbfwï¬oik, Pa. The British Museum Open at, Night. A STORY OF THE DAY. Wonderful Mechanism. x: Of Pure Cod Liver Oil and ’ HYPOPHQSPHITES 4 of Lime and 7 Soda ' ' r .v /t ,s Emulsmn magma D. (7. N. L. 22. 90. Would Never Do. WREW ééé SHRED Mashers’ Shh-ts.