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OR, AT CROSS PURPOSES. “ Tint wa-s Monsieur d’Arpigny. I heard him announced. ” A FORBIDDEN PLEASURE. “ Can you see, Stella?” “ Yes ; lean a. little more this way. 0h ! Cecily. do look at that lovely Madame de Pompadonr dress ; and there goes 9. Joan of Arc with a. real helmet and cuirasse ! And see,there is Mosquetaire walking about with a Mephistopheles ! " “ And there goes the old Prefect in a white wig and knee-breeches and yellow rosettes on his shoes. Doesn’t he look ridiculons ?” “And his wife in a hoop and big ruff! Her nose looks redder than ever ! Oh I Stella, doesn’t it seem hard we should be up here whilst all the fun is going on ‘3 ” It 'is a fine old house it: a cathedral town in Western France. 11‘. had probably ween a duke’s palace once, and belonged to some great family in the olden time, for the rooms are large and lofty, and wainscoted, and the staircases have great carved oaken balus- trades, and the ceilings are rich with paint- ings. But now it is all let out in diflerent flats, and Monsieur Halevy, the sous pre/et and his fat little wife had the first floor; whilst Mrs. King, the English widow, and her two fatherless girls inhabit the floor above her. Stella sighs. The two hlnnde heads are close together, hanging over the wide oaken staircase: the two slim English girls, in their heavy crape dresses, are leaning as far forward over the bannisters as they can venture. The guests are coming up-stairs. Madame Hafevy, who lives 071 he floor below, is giving a fancy-dress ball, and the mgtly corgpansi is arriving. Nobody at Valency knew much about Mrs. King. She had come there a year ago, and had settled down 1n the place. The Prefect and the sous prefect had called upon her, so had the doctor and the principal notary gfjhefiown. Mrs. King had returned their visits, but had delined the hospitable invitations to their houses which they pressed upon her. She was a. widow, she said, and her mourning was too deep for her to go into society, and her daughters were too young to go out Without her, even had not their tather’s death been so recent. They learnt, at all events, to chatter French like French girls, They, poor child- ren, for they were little more, would have been glad enough to have made friends amongst their school-fellows and to have gone with them amongst their families and their homes; but Mrs. King set her face against their making friends. They were to be civil and pleasant with all, but to be in- timate with none. It was the maxim she acted upon herself. There was a. good ladies’ college at Valency, where the daughters of the well- to-do inhabitants were educated. The Misses King went daily to the classes at this col- lege ; and it was generally understood that Mrs. King had come to Valency in order to give her daughters a cheaper and better ed- ucation than she could have secured in her own country. By degrees the good people of Valency un- derstood that the English lady did not de- sire to have the seclusion of her retirement invaded, and they let her alone. But many of {hem still thought it was hard upon her gm 5. “'Ah 1 then, let Mademoiselle Stella come. She is nearly eighteen. May she not come?” Only that morning Madame Halevy had panted up-stairs to her neighbor’s room in order to petition that Stella and Cecily might be allowed to come down, if only for for an hour‘ to see her fancy-dress dance. Mrs. King had been horrified. “ It is:quite impossible, madameâ€"1 assure you it is impossible. They are too young. \Vhy, Cecily is only sixteen.” Both girls gazed eagerly down at the new- comer. He came lightly and quickly up the stairs, in the wake of an: elderly man whom they recognized as the Mayor. He was, as Stella said, tall and well-made, and his fresh complexion and curly brown hair would have proclaimed him to be English in any foreign c )untry. “But consider, Madame Halevy, their deep mourning. Icould never allow my child to be present at such a gay scene so soon after her father’s death. It is barely a year ago. I am afraid it is an im- possibility, though I thank yon all the same for; your kind thought.” “It is a. great pity, certainly,” assented Stella, thoughtfully, though whether she alluded to the crape or to the death of her parent is not quite clear. “ Never mind, Cecily, I’ll tell you what we’ll do ; when mamma has shut. herself up in her room,and we are supposed to have gone to bed, we will creep out on the staircase and see all the people come. It will be great fun, we shall see the dresses at all events ; only you must be sure to speak in a. whisper, in case mam- ma should hear us.” “ He is an Englishman, I feel sure; he is so tall, and well-made, and upright. What a beautiful black dress he has! and how handsome he is l” Madame Halevyuretired discomfited, and Mrs. King, no doubt, considered that she hat‘ but done her duty. Stella. and Cecily m'ey‘elfhowygvgr,’ very miserable._ “ Don’t be a goose, Sielia," cried Cecily, who had no hesitation in speaking out her thoughts. “ You know very well that poor papa didn’t trouble his head much about us. \Vhy are We to sham being so unhappy when we are not a bit, and all this while aftegwards, too ‘2" So there they are, hanging over the ban- nisters. Two soft, fair heads, with fresh, English faces, and bright, Saxon blue eyes, leaning against each other, whispering in eager delight and admiration to one an- other. “Look at that man coming up the stairs uow,” cries Cecily. “Doesn’t he look like an_E_ggli_shmag?”__ ‘ “ 05 ! hush, Cecfly ! We ought not to forge} th_a_1t .it is for p001; pgpafi’ “Horrid, hatetuicrape I ” cried Cecily, in a passion, when the two sisters were in their room together. “ What a. shame it is to keep us meweNd up on account of it I” “ There is no young man‘like that in Valency," said Stella, with significant ad- miration, as he passed on below them into the ball-room, and the music striking up as STELLA ; CHAPTER I. he entered, prevented his name ‘ “Ought we not to go to bed, Stella? whispers Cecily! at lasp. Oh ! how tantalizing was that delicious waltz that was going on ! and now every one had arrived, so there were no more wonder- ful dresses to look at, they could only see a blaze of light through the half-open door, and hear the loud hum of many voices and the tramping of many feet from the room below. Happy dancers I how those two poor, lonely girls up in the dark, on the stairs, envied them ! Madame Gambeau was the porter’s wife, anda very important personage indeed in the house. She arranged and ordered every- thing on these occasions, for she was also Madame Halevy’s cook. She was coming up the stairs with another woman, and they were both jabbering loudly together as only women of the lower order in France have the strength of lung and the volubility of tongue to do. Her bedroom was at the top of the house, and she was probably on her way there, She had got quite close to the Engiish girls before she saw them. “What is the matter, Madame Gam- “ Ah ! Mademoiselle King, it is you ! Ah. par example! and I did not see you. Ah I pity me, my dear young ladies. Here is this stupid Madame Marten who comes to tell me that her daughter is ill, and cannot come to-night, and there is the procession quite spoilt ! Ah ! whatever shall we do ?” She cast up her hands in an agony of dis- mayL “Wait a. minute, here comes Madame Gambeau up the stairs. How she is chat- tering to that old woman with her. I won- der what it is all about ? ” beau ? “Why, eight young girls dressed as Swiss peasants ; each was to carrry a tray with lemonade, and orgeat, and such things, and go into the dancing-room between the dances and hand the things to the company. They were to be two and two in different colorsâ€"red, blue, green and yellowâ€"and now, here is Madame Marton come to say her girl is ill, and all my procession will be spoilt. Who ever heard of seven peasmts coming in 1” "‘ Procession ! \Vhat procession? What was it to be, Madame Gambean ‘2” “ Well, but,” said Cecily, laughing, ” is there no other girl who can take her 91%???” . “ Alas ! no, mademoiselle, there are no more that are beautiful and good ; we have hunted all over Valency to find eight young girls who should be beautiful and good. Monsieur will have it so, because he is going to give them each a new gown and fifty francs apiece. You see there were a great many who were good and not beautifulâ€"oh! a very great many of thoseâ€"and some were beautiful and not at all good. That would not do ; but the difficulty was to find the girls that were beautiful and well behaved also. There were only these eight, in all Valency only eight ! And even of these, two are not perhaps what all would consider handsome ; tor Laura. Tressin has a thick waist and one shoulder higher than the other, and it cannot be denied that in some lights Jeannette Dumont has a squint in her eye; still, when all of them were together it might not have been noticed ; but Susette Marton, she was the best looking by far, I should have sent her in the first, and her dress is lying there all ready on my bed, and here is her mother come to say she cannot come l It is enough to break one’s heart.” “But indeed, Madame Gambeau,” cried the other women, “ my poor child cannot lift; her head from her pillow, she is in ter- rible pain . ” ’ “She ought to be ashamed of herself, then,” rephed the porter’s wife, angrily. “ On this night of all others, she ought to have made a. point of being well. Oh! what am I to do with seven peasants in- stead _c_>f eight '2” Stella King was debating something in her own mind. She whispered a word to her sister. "Oh! Stella,” gasped the younger girl, with awe struck admiration. “ Would you ever dare ‘3” - Stella turned to the old woman who was still bemoaning herself over the failure of her beloved “Progesaionr” “ No, not at all. I would give anything to go clown stairs to see all the people. could hand the glasses on the tray quite easily ; that is not difficult to do. Do you think the dress would fit me ?” “ Madame Gambeau, how should I d') for yourizighth ppasaqb ?_‘_’ ' “Yofi, maidemoiselle? Ah X but you are onlyrioking !” “Mamma need never know, she thinks we have gone to bed; It must be a secret of course, Madame Gambeau. Do you think I am good and bqautiful_?” “HAh! mademoiselle, you would be raviiihingly beautiful !” » The two girls ran lightly up to the top of the house, passing their mother’s door on tip-toe. And soon Stella. had divested her- self of her hated crepe dress and stood ar- rayed in the neatest and most coquettish of little costumes. A blue merino skirt, a. square velvet bodice, opening over white lawn chemisette and sleeves, and a black velvet head-dress thickly covered with sil- ver ornaments, were the component parts of her toilet. “Oh! but what would Madame, your 1nan_u_na, say I'” _ “ I am at least as pretty as the girl who squints,” said Stella, laughing ; “so take me up to your room quickly and let me put the dress on.” “Now I am ready,” she cried, excitedly, dancing about the little attic in which her transmogrification had taken place. “ Oh I Cecily, 1 feel like Cinderella. going to the ball in the fairyjs chariot.” “ Look out 'for the prince, then,” said Cecily, who was too unselfishly fond of her sister to grudge her the stolen pleasure she herself could not share. “Oh 1 Stella, you do look so lovely.” ‘ “Yes, madenâ€"ioiselle is most beautiful!” cried the admiring and delighted Madame Gambeau. Stella skipped about excitement. “ Not a creature'will know me, not even Madame Halevy ; she has never seen me ex- cept in that fusty old black dress ; she does not lf’now that I can ever look so pretty as this. But she had no idea how beautiful she wall}: was. “Now come," said Madame Gambeau, them from hearing the room wild with 9y, and held out her hand, and Stella ran quick 1y down stairs by her side. SUSETTE MABTON. Madame Halevy’s salon was fillled to overflowing. There were certainly about eighty people present, and they wele all in fancy-dress. It was a very brilliant scene. There was a huge chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. and numerous wax-candles round the walls, which were draped and wreathed with festoons of flowers, Most of the dresses were very handsome and very well got up. All of them were at least quaint and pretty. Through an open door- way could be seen a table which was spread in an adjoining room, to which in time everybody would sit down to asolid supper; meanwhile it was the custom that light re» freshment, lemonade and other cooling drinks, should be handed to the dancers. The hour was still, however, so early that this part of the entertainment had not be- gun. They were all dancing. Gentlemen in France do not wait for introductions to partners, they walk up to the little groups of young girls and pick and choose for themselves: sometimes where there are many strangers this is embarrassing; but when, as here, in the small society at V alency, everybody has known everybody else from their babyhood, the couples pair off almost naturally, the little flirtatious and amouretlea are all well-known and recogniz- edrthereis no sense of surprise about it all. “Blrt I have no fancy-dress,” objected My Alliqghagn. “Ah, that is soon settled, my dear friend, for my son. who was to haVe been of the party, has been obliged to go to Paris on business ; his dress is here all ready ; it is black velvet of the time of Henri 1V. ; it will suit you admirably, as you are so tall and fair. You must absolutely do me the pleasure of wearing it.” Norman Allingham leant rather forlornly against the flower-bedecked wall, and looked on at it all. He was the only Englishman present, and had arrived at Valency only the same morning; he had come with a. let- ter of introduction in his pocket to the Mayor of the town, who was an old friend of his grandfather’s- and no sooner had he delivered it than that hospitable personage insisted on his removing his portmanteau from the hotel to his own house; not only that, but he had insisted upon taking him with him to Madame Halevy’s dance that evening. _ ‘ Mr. Allingham was, of course, unable to refuse. But when he had come to the dance in his black velvet dress, he did not seem to derive much pleasure from it. The Mayor explained to him that he was free to dance with any women present whose appearance he might fancy. But, seemingly, Norman’s insular prejudices were too strong to endow him with the courage of addressing an unknown young lady ; be- sides, they all looked perfectly happyâ€"â€" Therese, and Pauline, and Clementine, each had her Alphonse, her Adolphe, or her Francois; they did not seem to want any other partners. All the same the gay scene amused and pleased him; it was a. little in- sight, too. into French provincial society, and as such was quite a novelty to him. “ Pleasure to-night,” he said to himself, “and. business to-morrow morning. I won- der what will come of this wild-goose chase of mine, and how my worthy relatives will receive r me 3” At this moment there was a, great commo- tion at the door ; a dance was just over, but the band struck up a. pretty, lively march, and the procession of Swiss peasant girls came Winding in two and two, bearing each a. little gilt Wicker-work tray in her hands. They reached the middle of the room and. formed a. circle, and the servants came tor- Ward and loaded the trays with glasses and with biscuits. Then Monsieur Halevy, standing in the middle of the room, said : “ Messieurs and mesdames; these are the eight prettiest and most modest maidens in Valency, who are selected to wait upon you this evening, and to whom I propose giving a. present of fiftv francs apiece, whilst Madame Halevy will give them each a new gowr-LH I" After the girls had smiled and courtesied their acknowledgements they turned round and spread themselves about amongst the company, ha_nd1i_ng fefreshmenbs. It. Wis-a. simpleglittle ceremony; but: it had a. pretty effect and produced quite a mind of_§.pplausei {rpm the guestga Mr. Allington looked at her 'with a. sud- den interest; she stood before him with downcast eyes, blushing deeply; her fair hair shone like gold under her little black head-dress with its silver chains; her white, rounded arms, dimpled at the wrist like a. child’s, held the little gilded tray to- ward him. Even Norman Allingham thought what an effective little scene it was, and how simple- minded people they were to be so pleased at such a! litt1_e th_ing. And whilst hegwas thinking about it, sud- denly one of the Swiss peasant girls stood befqre hirin‘hapdiqg 13im_ her_ tray. _ _ “ By Jove I” said the Englishman to him- self, “this is the best looking girlIhave seen this side of the water. What long lashes she has ! I wonder what her eyes are like?” Then aloud in very English French, he said: “ What is your name, pretty Swiss peas- ant?” “ Susette Marten. ” replied Stella, boldly, giving the name of the sick girl whose substitute she was, and as she spoke she flashed [her big blue eyes for a. minute up into his face. -“ You are perfectly charming, Mad- emoiselle Susette 1” said Norman, in an aw- ful lingo, as he helped himself to an orange- ade, the nastiest compound, he said to him- self, he had ever been asked to par take of ; but he would have taken Queen Eleanor’s bowl of poison itself from so fair a Hebe. Stella looked up in his face again and laughed. “No, you are right there, mam’zell, I am only a stupid lout of an Englishman; but I know a pretty face when I see it, for all that.” "Monsieur is not French,” she said, with her own perfect pronunciation, and there was a. roguish twmkle in her eyes. At which “Suse’cte Marton” seemed rather offended, for she drew back quickly with a. heightened color, and handed her orangeade to somebody else. CHAPTER II. What a perfectly lovely girl she was ; what a. charmingly lovely figure; what a. dear little foot peep '11 out from below her short blue skirt ; what an exquisite com- plexion ; and then what hair and eyes ! And how wonderful to find all these perfection-s in a little French girl of the lower classes I For that, of course, was what she was. Monsieur Halevy’s eight young girls, who had been selected because they were modest and pretty, who were to have fifty francs and a. new gown, were, asamatter of course, chosen irom the petite bourgeoisie of the town. Her father probably was a tobaccon- ist or abaker, if indeed he was not in a still lower grade of life; he might as likely as not be no higher than a water-carrier or a chifonier; but then where on earth did the girl get that grrceful way of walking, that refined beauty, that lady-like and fascinat- ing manner? When Mr. Allingham came to look round at the seven other peasant girls who had composed the little pageant, he found that they were as chalk to cheese com- pared to this one girl. They were rosy and somewhat blousy- faced girls with black hair and eyes ; they had thick waists and substantial feet and ankles; they looked thoroughly happy and jolly, but also thoroughly common and un- refined. They were good-looking, certainly, if you will, but they were of a. beauty which spoke undeniably of the class from which they came. Norman looked back at the fair-haired girl, and from looking became irresistibly impel!ed to follow her to the other end of the room. A waltz was just beginning, and the Swiss peasant girls, resting from their occupation, stood looking on at the dancers ; one or two of them were busy taking away the empty glasses and carrying them out of the room to be washed and refilled ready for the end of the dance. Susette Merton stood by herself in the doorway, looking on eagerly and some- what longingly at the dancers. One of the other glrls â€"Madame Gambeau’s nieceâ€" who had been let into the secret of who she was, had carried away her little tray to the attendants for her. “ Would you not like to dance?” said the young Englishman, in his bad French, stand- ing suddenly before her. He had been shy of addressing the young ladies of the upper ranks of Valency society ; but he did not feel himself at all unequal to a flirtation with this lovely girl, who could not from her position in the room by any possibility be a lady. Norman Allingham followed her ad- miringly with his eyes as she went round the room. What a perfectly lovely girl she was ; what a. charmingly lovely figure; what a. dear little foot peep '11 out from below her short blue skirt; what an exquisite com- plexion ; and then what hair and eyes ! And how wonderful to find all these perfection-s in a little French girl of the lower classes I For that, of course, was what she was. Monsieur Halevy’s eight young girls, who had been selected because they were modest and pretty, who were to have fifty francs and a. new gown, were, asamatter of course, chosen irom the petite bourgeoisie of the town. Her father probably was a tobaccon- ist or abaker, if indeed he was not in a still lower grade of life; he might as likely as “1‘th “A “:51”... LL-.. .. um»... Anna.” M. p I How they play the Piano in New Orleans. “ l was loafing around the street last night,” said Jim Nelson, one of the oldest locomotive engineers running into New Orleans, “and as I had nothing to do I drop- ed into a. concert, and heard a slick lookino Frenchman play a piano in a. way that mad: me feel all over in spots. As soon as he sat down on the stool, I knew by the way he handled himself that he understood the machine he was running. He tapped the keys away up one end, just as if they were guages and he wanted to see if he had water enough. Then he looked up, as if he want- ed to know how much steam he was carry- ing, and the next moment he pulled open the throttle and sailed out on the main line as if he was half an hour late. Stella-looked up at him again Wifih those beWi‘MnslyloYsfly 9m _. “Oh 1” she said, with a little gasp, “ how I would like it E” “ Then come and Waltz with me.” Half a minute of hesitation. She was a lit- tle bit uncertain as to whether this would be considered correct in the programme laid out for the “modest an .1 pretty” Swiss girls; and she was terribly afraid lest Madame Halevy’s attentions should be drawn to her, and lest she should recognize her as Miss King, from the floor above. She looked hurriedly round; Madame Halevy was no- where to be seen ; probably she was in the next room superintending the preparations for slipper. _“ I don’t think I can say ‘no,”’ she said, below her breath; and the next instant Norman Allingham’s arm was round her waist, and he had whirled her away into the thick of the throng. “ This is my first night in Valency,” he said to her, as they sto ped breathlessly for a. minute after two or time turns round in the room. “ I never imagined I should enjoy myself so much in this place.” "‘Why not, Monsieur? \Va are all happy at Yflegcy. ” “Yes; I shall have to look for her to- morow morhing. But why do yog speak again of such a. disagreeable subject? 1 am Eerfectly happy now, and I want to forget er, for she is sure to be hateful to meâ€" after you,” he added, rather tenderly. ‘ “ Monéieur, don’fi talk nonsensé,” said Stgfla, _a.vertjng her head. “It is not nonsense. you dear, charming little Susette,” said this very naughty young man. “I never imagined there was such a. lovely French women in all the kingdom of France. Now don’t look so angry, for you know very well you must have had lots of men making love to you, and you girls all like it though you pretend you don’t. No. I am not going to let you go. Come this way, out on the staircase.” “Ah! but then you don’t know what a. dreadful thing I have comehere for.” “No; what is it ‘2” “ I have come to find a. wife.” Insensibly,“Susette Marton” drew herself a. very little bit further away from him. “ Surely, monsieur, that is not a. dreadful thing at allâ€"quite the contrary ;” and her voice was a shade colder and more polite. “Ah ! so it may he sometimes ; but When a wife who has been chosen for youâ€"whom you have never seenâ€"whom your grand- fathers and grandmothers have settled you are to marry whether you 11ke her or noâ€" that is another matter, is it not? But you French people understand all about mar- riage dc convenmzces, don’t you?" “ Oh 1 yes, we understand all that,” said his partner, simply. “ Suppose we go on dancing.” And they danced again. “So you are to find this wife at Val- ency ‘3” she inquired, when they paused once more. He drew her out at the open door on to the deserted oaken staircase, with its broad landing. The waltz was still going on ; no one was outside the room. \Vhy do those men Run so fast; this Hot weather? Is anybody Dying? No. How Red their faces are. They will burst a Blood vessel. See, they are almost Fainting, but they will try to run. Poor Fellows ! Have they just Escaped from Prison? No, my child. They have summer cottages out of town, and are Merely trying to catch a. Train. Mme. Nilsson writes from London that she has taken passage for Aug. 18 on board the Gallia. Prior to her departure she will spend the time at various watering places. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Summer Primer. DOC-1-700 “You could hear lter thunder over cul‘ verts and bridges, and getting faster and faster, until the fellow rocked about in his seat like a cradle. Somehow I thought it was old 26 pulling a passenger train and get~ ting out of the Way of a ‘special.’ The fel- low worked the keys on the middle division like lightning, and then he flew along the north end of the line until the drivers went around like a blizzvsaw, and 1 got excited. About the time 1 was fixing to tell him to cut her ofi‘a. little, he kicked the dampers under the machine wide open, pulled the throttle away back in the tender, andâ€"J er- usalem jumpers ! how he did run ! I couldn’t stand it any longer, and 3 elled to him that she was ‘pounding’ on the left side, and. if wasn’t careful he’d drop his ash pain, l‘T)._L1_A 3:: n u ” . _.... r..." “ But he didn’t hear. No one heard me. Everything was flying and whizzing. Teleâ€" graph poles on the side of the track looked like a row of corn stalks, the trees appeared to be a mud bank, and all the time the ex- haust. of the old machine sounded like the hum of a bumble-bee. I tried to yell out, but my tongue wouldn’t move. lie Went around curves like a bullet, slipped an ec- centric, blew out his soft plug, went down grades fifty feet to the mile, and not a con- founded brake set. She Went by the meet- ing point at a. mile and a half a. minute, and calling for morersteam. My hair stood up like a cat’s tail, because I knew the game W119- “ Sure enough, dead ahead of us was the head light of the ‘special.’ In a daze I heard the crash as they struck, and I saw cars shivered into atoms, people mashed and mangled and bleeding and'gasping for wat- er. I heard. another crash as the French professor struck the deep keys away down on the lower end of the southern division, and then I came to my senses. There he was at a dead stand still, with the door of the fire-box of the machine open, wiping the perspiration off his face and bowing at the people before him. If I live to be a thous‘ and years old I’ll never forget; the ride that Frenchman gave me on a piano.”â€"Times- Democrat. In the first place a starcherl and smoothly ironed table clothâ€"which, if neatly folded atter every meal, will look well for several days. Then flowers and terns in flat dishes, baskets, or small vasesâ€"or else a tiny nose- gay. laid upon every napkin. The salt must be pure and smooth. The butter should be moulded into cries-crossed diamonds, shells, globes, with the paddles made for this pur- pose. A few pretty dishes will make the plainest table glowâ€"a small bright-colored platter for pickles, horse radish, or jelly ; and butter plates representing green leaves are also attractive. A few cents’ worth of parsley or crefi, mingled with small scraps of white paper daintin clipped, will causes; a plain dish to assume the air of a. Frentt entree. A platter of hash may be oanament- ed with an edging of toasted or fried bread cut into points; and a. dish of mutton chops is much more impressive with the bones stacked as soldiers stack their guns, forming a pyramid in the centreâ€"each bone adorned with a frill of cut paper. A few slices of lemon, mingled with sprigs of pars- ly and slices of hard boiled eggs, form a. pretty garnish to many dishes; and nothing could be more appetizing than beef, veal, mutton or lamb made into mince meat, and pressed into form in a Wine glass, then fried in pork fat, with a sprig of green placed in the top of each little cone. The basket of fruitâ€"peaches, pears, grapes or apples, oranges, and grapesâ€"should be tastefully arranged and trimmed with flowers. The bowl of salad should be ornamented with the scarlet and orange flowers of the tro- peeolumâ€"their piquant flavor adding zest to the lettuce, with which they can be eaten. It is singular that it has been the fate of this age to be the first to elaborate a philos- ophy of misery. It is remarkable that Byronin England, Leopardi in Italy, Chat- eaubriand in France, and Schopenhauer in Germany were engaged almost simultan- eously in teaching dolcful doctrines. The evil side of things at times strikes every mind, even the most gay, and there comes to everyone a passing impulse to say, with one of our modern poets, that “nature is one with rapine and harm no preacher can heal. The mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, and the whole little wood where I sit is a worltl of plunder and prey.” There seems little room for any originality in the ever-renewed mur- murs, old as man himself, that he is born to sorrow, and that life is but vanity at best. Yet only in modern days was this doleful doctrine systemized. Only in the “Canzoni” of Leopardi, with their recurring refrain about the infinite vanity of all things, has this theme been made the under- current of a post’s whole thoughts ; and only by Schopenuauer and his intellectual de- scendant, Von Hartmann, has the whole force of the dreary, stunning arguments in favor of pessimism been constantly pressed home. Only in these writers and the many who have been inspired by them, do We see it unflinchingly urged that so called progress only increases the capacity for sufiering without bringing any increase or hope of increase of actual enjoyment. Schopenhagfl; would be an interesting intellectual phenv omenon if only because he, for the first time, has labored with consistency and earnest- ness the argument that existence must, in the most favored circumstances, show a bal- ance on the side of misery. It is a singular circumstance that while Auguste Comte was elaborating a philosophy which deified hu- manity, Schopenhauer, in a neighboring country, was elaborating a system which made humanity only an object of commiser- ation.â€"â€"London Times. The Poetry of the Table. Modern Pessimism.