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0R, AT CROSS PURPOSES. Lily’s illness had softened'his heart to- wards her, and he longtd intensely to see with his own eyes that she was better, to hold her soft; hand within his own, to look into her gentle eyes, and to say to her just onceâ€"“Forgive meâ€"ii I have wronged you") “ 0h, of course 1 have given her plentyd moneyâ€"â€"she will not have to be a burden upon anybody,” and that was all the infor- mation that he could extract from Lady Dy- BOD. THROUGH THE FOLDING DOORS. When' Sir Edgar Dyson had discovered, upon his‘h'eturn to Barfield, that Lin Finch had been already spirited away, he had been very much disturbed indeed. There had been a yearning to see her once more in his heart, that not all the duties of his new re- lations towards Lady Honoria. had been able to quench ; and there had also been misgiv- ings in his own mind as to whether he had not possibly been too ready to misjudge and to think evil of her. Mrs. Finch possibly knew more than she chose to say, but she was too (lever to impart the desired information. She had not for- gotten that Lily had been once what she called “foolish” about Sir Edgar ; and new that he was engaged to be married to Lady Honoria Rosett‘, of what possible interest could Lily Finch‘s movements be to him? She had always hated the Dysons, and to encourage the baronet’s empty and meaningâ€" less attentiors to her daughter, would be, sheconsidered, worse than useless. There was one more person whom Sir Edgar con- sulted concerning MiFs Finch, and that was his own brother. With a strange pang of anxiety at his heart he spoke to \Valter about her. “ I c'annot tell, Lady Honoria,” answered Lily, smiling. “ Guess, then." “Lord Alchester.” “ Oh, dear, no; the last person in the world who would come.” “ Lady Dyson. perhaps.” “No; try once more.” And then Lily bent her head very low, and her heart throbbed rapidly aLd pain- fuly. - But all this was seemingly to be denied him. \Vhen he came back to Baxfield, Lily was gone, and he could not find out fromhm mother where she had been taken to. “She has gone to friends at the seasideâ€" I really cannot tell you where,” was all that Lady Dyson would tell him, and she said it in a manner that made him fancy she knew no more than he did himself of her where- abouts. “It was the best thing in the world for her to have a thorough change of air. Of course she will comeback to me by and by, when sheia strong enough to resume her work.” “ I ? My dear fellow, I assure you I have not theremotest idea! Look here, Edgar, you have run your head against this idea until you have gone insane upon it. I give you my word that I have no more to do with the girl thanâ€"than you haveâ€"not so much probably !~â€"don’t look so savage, old man, I’m only joking l I dare say we both of us made a little love to the pretty gover- ness, just for the sake of something to do; but upon my word of honor, she is nothing at all to me. Good Heavens! I have got my hands full enough as it isâ€"if you only knew !â€"â€"” But; Sir Edgar was too much absorbed in his own troubles to remark the significant manner in which W'alter disclaimed allknow- ledge of Lily’s doings. He was annoyed with his brother for speaking of her so light- ly, and yet he could not but believe in his earnest asseverationa. “ I have been a madman,” he said to him- self, bitterly. I have wrecked my own hap- piness, and possibly hers too, because I judged her too hastily, and condemned her without giving her a chance of self-defence. But scill. she had no business to allow Walter to kiss herâ€"a women cannot be quite true and pure who permits a. min to embrace her, even in sport.” In his perplexity Sir Edgar even rode over to \Vrexham, and asked Mrs. Finch, who was a person he cordially detested, for news of her daughter. “She has gone to the sea, was that lady’s answer. “1 really haven’t troubled myself much about it. I suppose Lady Dyson knows where she is, as she has been kind enough to send herâ€"you know I never cor- respond much with Lilyâ€"it is somewhere in Essex, I believe.” _ But though he blamc-d her still, 1181 lamed hir'nself far more, Egd Awas_ yery uphappy._ As to Lily, she only heard the news of Sir Edgar's advent from Lady Honoria’s lips upon the same day that he came. She was sitting by the couch of the invalid, domg her best to amuse her, and to vary the dull- ness and monotony which she complained of, when Lady Honoria. said suddenly to her : ALI! It was not possible for him to do anything elseâ€"he could not in conscience set himselr to work to trace Lily Finch and to pursue her. The scandal for her and for Lady Honoria, whom he deeply respected and sin- cerdy liked, would have been too great. Then Lady Honoria. went to Sandyport to get rid of her cold, and there came the news of her sprained ankle, and then the letter from her which summoned him to her side, and with itâ€"at listâ€"the information which he had been seeking for concerning Lily Finch. "Who E10 you suppose is comifig here to- day,_by the very 116x}: train ?" _ “Perhaps it is Sir Edgar.” “ Yes, you have guessed it. Fancy Sir Edgar coming to a fearful place like Sandy- port l”â€"-nune of the Norton family, it may be mentioned, were presentâ€"“ls )t not de- voted of him to subject himself to such a fearful boredorn j ustrto qqmerarnd see me ?" “It is natural he should wish to see you,” murr_n_ure_d _Li1Ay. r ‘ _ A "\Valter, do you knowâ€"surely you do knpvgfvggxerg MisflsuFincb is gone 1’” “ No, I don’t think it is natural at all for a man to condemn himself to the discomforts of a. second-rate country inn, and to the in- tense stupidity of the most dead-alive little seaside town in the WOIld, merely to see a woman whom in course of time he would be able to see With perfectcomfort and conven- ence to himself. Men are not so fond of “ But, my dear mother, have 3 on not pro- vided for her at allâ€"how is she to live 2’” STELLA ; CHAPTER. XXIX. “Oh'! please, Sir Edgar, don’t speak like that to me l” said the gul's trembling voice. “ My pretty one, don’t cry! I can’t bear it ! OnlLily, I can see in your {we I have wronged you crutllyl You lave, always “Iâ€"I have some letters to writeâ€"indeed I must go,” stammered poor Lily, and made her escape as quickly as she could from Lady Honoria‘s weH-mtant and good-natured en- treaties. Accorquly: on Vthis particular evening, when Sir Edgar, who had been sitting with her for an hour or so in the afternoon, had gone awny to the inn again, in order to dress for dinner, Lady Honoxia also retired through the fuldingdoors into the inner- room, to make sundry changes in her toilet for dinner. Before, indeed, it was half completed, Lily Finch, arriving quite punctually,was shown into theadjoinmg room, and neither she not Lady Honoria perceived, what the latter be- came aware or soon after, that the folding- door was not quite closed between the two rooms. It was, as Lady Honoria. knew, Sir Edgar coming in ready for dinner from the hotel. It came into her mind that she would make haste and finish her dressing, so as to join him as quickly as she could; when all at once she heard his voice so plaiLly, that she discovered instantly that the door was ajer : and the words which she heard Sir Edger speak was such an utter shock to her, that it did not even occur to her to close it. “ Lin l” she heard him say. “Liiy, is it reallyvou ! Oh ! my little darling, how white and you _look l”n_ putting themselves out, and of giving up their own creature-comforts, I can tell you, Miss Finch. But then, perhaps you don’t know so much about them as I doâ€"and lucky for you that you don’t. \Vhy ! what are you getting up for? You are not going away so soon, are you ‘2" " I’m afraid I must, Lady Honoria.” She had risen, and was putting on her hat and gloves. " 0h ! do stay a little longer. If you wait you will see Sir Edgarâ€"and he must be herein less than half an hour n0w. 0h ! do stay to see him. I believe you are rather a favorite of his, Miss Finchâ€"he told me so one day ; now do stop a lxttle longer to see him. \Vhat a relief it was to tlte poor child to be out~of-doors, away from the good natured. handsome woman, whose unconscious tongue inflicted such terrible stubs upon her poor. wounded heartâ€"how glad she was to feel the cm 1 sea-breezes blowing upon her cheeks, and to smell the fresh, salt spray as it dashed up against the sea. wall The tears that in Lady Honoria's presence the had been forced to drive back and to hide,welled freely up into her eyes now she was alone. 0h 1 how hitter it was to hear him spoken about; by her happy and successful rival l to wimess her contented appmbation of him l and worse still, to listen to the idle words of commendatlon of herself that he had spoken to her ! ) “ Mamma. hopes you will come,’ wrote Marian Norton, “as Sir Edgar will be here, and Lady Honoria thinks he will like to meet you.” Lil); had not the strength of mind to de- cline this invitation; she sent back word thgf she wouid go._ Now, the buck drawing-room of the Rec- tory had been for the last; two days trans- formed. by the kindness of her hostess, into Lady Honoria’s bed-chamber. In this way she could, with the help of her maid and a. strong crutch-stick of the Rector’s, hobble backwards and forwards from her room to her sofa. by the window, without the pain and fatigue of going pp-stairs. The maid, a Frenchwoman whose fashion- able appearance had filled the minds of the sober Rectory servants with astonishment mingled with awe, was desired to re-dress her mistress’ abundant dark locks. which, from lying down all day among her sofa- cushions, had become extremely disordered and untidy. Then, of course, it is a diffi- cult and tedious operation to dress a. lady who is unable to put her foot to the ground ; and also, there was the injured limb to be bathed and bandaged; so that altogether Lady Honoria. was a very long time indeed over her dressing. _ Lily sat quite quietly by herself in the bow-window, looking thoughtfully out upon the gray line of sea, beyond the sands. She was rather pale, but not otherwise than calm and self-contained. The light was alveady rather dim and indistinct, and yet it was by no means dark enough for candles. None of the Nortons were down stairs. They were rather anunpunctual family, and were never quite ready in time for anything. So Lin sat on alone in the window and hoked at the sea; and Lady Honoria, on the other side of the folding-doors, sat having her ankle bandaged by her French maid. She wan "a. favorite cfSir Edgar's,” so he had told Lady Honoria. Uh ! how could he speak of her soâ€"how could he, who had so often sworn eternal love and devotion to her, even mention her name to this other woman, who was to be his wife ! Oh it was hardâ€"very hard to hear 1 And yet, deep down at the very bottom of her heart, there was a great gush of guilty gladness. He was coming againâ€"and she would see him againâ€"he would speak to her kindly and gently, perhapsâ€"would tell her he forgave herâ€"and though she w0uld never be able, probably, to explain to him how terribly he had mistaken her in deeming her guilty for the unmanly persecution of his own brotherâ€"«yet if he were only to say, “I forgive you,” would not that be comfort enough to brighten her life through many of the long. dismal, unlovely years that spread themselves out gloomin and drear- ily before her. And here, when she knew that the train must have arrived, and Sir Edgar actually be in Sandyport, Lily Finch felt: strongly inclined at first to lock herself up in her bL d- room. All at once she heard the slam of the front door. and the rapid footste s of a man as he ran lightly up the stairs an entered the ad- joiping roomL “0h ! I wish I had died whenl was so ill 1” said the poor child, miseral 1y, 1;) her- self, as she sought the seclus‘on 01 her dull- looking lodgings. But during the course of the aftirnoon, a. little note came to the lodging-house by the sea. from the Rectory. It was an invitation to Miss Finch to come to dinner that very evening. ‘7 Oh? I don’t; tl'link you have behaved shamefully at all. I don’t see that you could help it. Your mother wished you to marry “Lady Honoria, 1 think that you are a. noble creature.” said Edgar, earnestly. “I can never forgive myself Iornaving behaved to you so_shz_im§fu1!y_ 11’ And then, as soon as she was dressed, and installed upon the sofa. by the bow-Window, and had finished the tea. and toast that had been set upon a. little tray by her side, Lady Honoria sent round a note to the hotel, beg- ging Sir Edgar to come and see her as quick- ly as possible. He came in brightly and cheerfully. “ \Vell, how are you this morning. Honoriaâ€"better, I hope? I was sorry you felt so unwell last night ; we must get you away from here; this place is too quiet for youâ€"" L “Then, Honoria, let me tell the truth i" he cried, eageily. “ The truth is, that I was once engaged to Lily Finch, but my en- gagement with her has long ago been at an end. I am pledged to you, and nothing on earth shall induce me to break my faith to you ; I would not do you such an injury for the wholeworld ! Do not imagine that I will not keep true to you I I shall never see Lilyâ€"Miss Finch I meanâ€"again. Last night Iwalked home with her, and I have said ‘Good-bye’ to her, and she quite under- stands that all is over between us. Believe me, I have too high a regard and esteem for you, to be guilty of wanting in anything that is your due. Honoria, upon my homr that is the truth I” She smiled rather sadly. “ My dear Edgar, do not deceive yourself; the truth is what I can tell you far better than you can meâ€"the truth is, that you love the girl, and that you don’t love me; and not all the sophistry on earth can alter that l Pray recollect that I heard all that you said to her last night 1 Do not blame yourselfâ€"I can see it all quite plainlyâ€"you loved her, and you like me, and in some way there was a quarrel or a misunderstang be- tween you. I gathered so much as that from what I heardâ€"and then you were angry with her, and you fancied that you liked me the best. Well, perhaps it is all for the best that I have found this out in time. 01 course I am fond of you. But I don’t suppose I have given you quite as much as you expected from me ; and though naturally, I am verry sorry, yet I would not marry you now upon any consideration. I am not mean enough to make myself happy upon the ruins of other people’s lives. It will be a disappointment to my father, and to your mother, of course , and, well, yesâ€"â€" I don’t mind owningâ€"to me, too ; but I am not the sort of woman to go out of hermind, or to fall into decline, for this sort of thing. I shall have a good gallop across the Downs, and perhaps go yachting for a month, and then I dare say I shall be all right again, and feel very glad indeed to think that I have done only what is my duty after all I” “Yes, yes; Iknow! I know I have thrown awav your love, child, and behaved like an idiot l and Lady Honoria is very good, and I am quite unworthy of her. I shall try to make her a good husband, because there is nothing else left for me to do; but, oh ! she is not lxke my Lily lâ€"-my little darling, that I love so well I Do you know that I have come here on purpose to see you, childâ€"~ just to look at you once more and to say good-bye? Yes, my pet, I must have seen you once more ; and now we shall have to say good-bye, and prey heaven that we mav forget each other, and never meet again 1” ' “Henriette,” said Lady Honoria. in a. whis- per to her maid, "go away at onceâ€"I don’t want you any more; and go to Mrs. Norton’s room, and tell her I feel too unwell to come down to dinner.” Henriette left the room. And there was great consternation amongst the Nortons that evening. because Lady Honona Rosetta poaivively declined tu leave her mom. And then something in‘ her face stopped him, and he saw, by the way in which she looked at him, that; something was wrong with her. “Edgar.” she said suddenly turning round again and looking at him, “ do you know that I overheard what you said to Miss Finoh in this room last night l" “I feel much better about it to day than I did last night,” she said to herself ; “ and now I can see my way plainly, and I know what my duty is I Can I ever be thankful enough 101' the accident which has prevented he wreck of three lives ! “ Is anything the matter, Honoria?” he askggl'hey, gravely and kindly.- ' He had no idea what was the manner of thing that she had to say to him. He smgled at; he; in‘a kind and frignfily wgay‘." For a minute she did not speak,butlooked away out of the window. She had. not, per- haps, loved him very deeplyâ€"it was not in her nature to do do so ; but she was dis- appointed in him, and she felt the slight to her vanity and her self-love very keenly indeed. WV. He looked startled and his face flushed, and then he said, earnestly .' “ 1 am very, very sorry for it, Honoria.” " But 1 am not sorry at all,” she an- swered, bravely, with something of herusual downrightness and dash of manner ; “for it has shown me the truth, and has prevented us all from making a. very great mistake. You know, Edgar I love the truthâ€"«at any price 1’” Iovud me truly, have you not, my sweet I Don’t turn from me child ! Let me look at you o_n_ce gorg’f â€" “ Oh! Sir Edgarcâ€"you know you ought not go speak to melike this. Lady Honorm “\Vhen one has a great and important re- solution to make, there is nothing like sleep- ing a. night upon it before making up one’s mind as to whwE is to be done.” This was Lady Honoria’s waking reflection the following morning, as the sun came shining brightly into her room. She rang the bell for her maid, and began to get up._ _ He sat down upon the low chair by her side. “Yes,” “she said, “ there is something very much the matter. I have a. very serious and important thing to say to you,” ‘ “You know very well {shit I firill give my very best attention to anything you have to say to me.” LADY HONORIA -DOES HER DUTY. CHAPTER X XX. â€"-â€"â€"â€"MGO4â€"â€"â€"-â€" What is most prodncve of malaria? A squeaky-voiced scp'an 0.1 Tuesday and \Vedasday Oct. 2 and 3, the Hebrews throughdz the world cele- brated their New Yea which Opened the year 5644 in their cahdar. On \Vednes- day evening, OctobeliObh, the day of Atonement, or Yum lpur, began, when services were held alHaV at the various synagogues and other ces of worship, and all devout Hebrews stained from any food for twenty-four htrs. He lifted his hat from his head as he stood foraminute outside the Rectory hall, and drew a long breath of relief, inhaling the fresh sea-breezes as he did so, “Now for Lily l” he said to himself, and id] awa. from thg Rectory 1n A3 for Lady Honoria, after she was left alone she lay back for some minutes upon her sofa-cushions, with her eyes closed. She looked rather pale, as though she were very tired, and there were two large circles round her eyes, which certainly had no accustom- ed place there. in the direcf-l‘c-J'n 0“! ed )odging-hpusgs. “ So ends that chapter of my life,” she said, aloud to herself, as she drew her writ- ing-case near to her on the table by her side. Then she dipped her pen into the ink, and wrote the two following notes: “ MY DEAR PArA, “ You will be supfised to hear that I have broken off my engagement with Sir Edgar. I find, when it comes to the point, that I do not care for him sufficiently to marry him, so I thought it best to put an end to everything betweenus at once. My ankle is getting on very well, and I shall make a. great effort to come home on Friday or Saturday. Please tell everything about me before I come back. “ Your affectionzm daughter, “Hoxonm.” “ My DEAR LADY DYDN, “ Sir Edgar and lhave settled that we are not likely to make uach other happy, so we have mutually agread to break off our engagement to each othex You must not blame him, for it is reallymtirely my doing. But I hope that there my be no interrup- tion of our friendly relathns together, and that after a while you me: resume your kind frxendshiprto _3 ours, __ A “Al'ways' afi'ecionately. " HNORIA ROSETT.” The second of these ntes gave hat more trouble than the first, ad she read it over several times before shefelt quite satisfied with it. At last, howevr, she folded them both up and qddreseeq ad'eealed them. “That is done!” shenaid aloud to her- self, with a sigh of rebf, and leaned her head once more back amng the sofa-cush- ions. She was not goinsto break her heart, as she had told him, bl} she would have been more than humamad she not felt it. And then he got himself away somehow out of the room and the house, feeling just a little bit ashamed of himself for the part he had played in the whole business, and yet with a load of care lightened from off his heart, such as he had not experienced for many q. long day. After a. minute or two she opened her eyes,” and sat half up. “ No ! \Vhy should I not? We shall al- ways be friends, I hope. You mean to marry her, I tgust if" “ Of course I shall marry her,” he said,, in a. 10W voice, .nof. daring to look at her. “ That is right.” sho answered, heartily. “I am glad of that.” And “then she stretched out her hand to him. He took 11: almost reverently between his own, and raise-d it 130 his lips. “I dare say ; but then, you see, I had rather have a. husband to whom it would not be an qflbrt to be good and de- voted ” she said, quietly. “And now, Sir Edgar, I think you had better wish me good-byeâ€"and â€" and â€"â€"- give Lily my love, and tell her I am not at all vexed with her. I have always liked her very much, and by and bye, whenâ€"when I come back from that yachting, you know, and when you are settled down at Bzrfield â€"I shallcome over and call upon her, and I hope we shall end by being very good friends. You need not trouble to write to my father; Iwill do thatâ€"and to your mother, too. Now go, Sir Edgarâ€"good- me, I know that; and of course from a. worldly point of View, Miss Finch is not a good match for you. But I think if you have made her love you, that you ought to marry her, will you not, Sir Edgar '2” “Oh ! Lady Honorid, pray 30 not speak to me like that!" he said, in a. distressed voice. " No one shall ever know,” he answered. “But you have behaved very nobly, Lady Honoria. 1 must tell you once more that had you not accidentally discovered my secret, you should never have found it out from my conduct to you. The effort 01 my life would have been to crush my love for Lin out of my heart, and to be to y0u the best and most deoted of husbands.” bye ! She held out her hand again, and Sir Edgar kissed it once more, murmuring a de- vout and heartfelt “Heaven bless you,” as he bent over it. There was a little quiver at the corners of her mouth as he did this. “Say that you forgive me, Lady Hon- ori_a,:’_ _l)e said,_father unsteaglily. " Of course,"she answered, in a. cheerful voice; “there is nothing to Iorgive You made a. mistake, but we have found it out in time. that is all. I liked you very much â€"I like you still. We shall always be good friends, I hope ; but you know I am not going to break my heart, nor die an old maid, not at all ;” and she laughed a little as she said this. “ We need not tell anybody about this,” she said again, presently, after a moment’s pause. ' “Nobody need know exactly what has happened. We will just say that we have quarreledâ€"that we agreed to break our engagement by mutual consent. There is no occasion to let everybody into the s3eret." And there was a little flush of wounded pride upon her face as she said this; for, after all. it was hard upon Lord Alchester’s beautiful daughter that her lover should have preferred a. little unknown gov- erness to herself. She felt the humiliation of it more intensely than she would have liked to own. The Hebrew bw Year. (TO BE CON'NUED.) Wréen:snufwr- Goes without sayingâ€"the deaf and dumb alphabet The world is a looking-glass, and gives back to every man the reflecLion of his own face. Frown at it and it will in turn look surly upon you ; laugh at it and with it, and in is n. jolly, kind companion, and so let all young persons take their choice.â€"â€"Thac’c- eray. A singular game at chess has just been finished in the north of Scotland. l‘ho game was begun about twelve months ago in Brooklyn. The first player,Mr. .J. R. Munoz, made a move, and then passed the scoring sheet on by post to a friend. That friend made a move in reply, and then passed the paper on by post to another well‘known player, who made a move in continuation. n this way the document found its way to Baltimore, where Mr. Scllman, who played lately in the London tournament, added a move and sent the paper on to Jamaica. From Jamaica. it was sent to England, and, after passing through the hands of well~ known players in London and other towns, who each added a move, it began a tour among the chess players of Seotland. After travelling as far north as Dallwillington, the document was sent back to Sheriif Spens of Glasgow. That gentleman examined the position, and decided that the game waslost for white, as black could force an exchange of rocks and win with the pawns. Be there- fore returned the game to the first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz, who now sentit to London to be published as a curiosity in the Chess Month’y, where it has just appeared. The scoring sheet bears the signatures of seventy players, who each made a move in the game, and the document shows that it has passed from hand to hand through thirty-two towns and cities of England, Scotland, and America. There was no money in his clothes when found. It is noted now that there was no blood on the raili or anywhere about the track at the spot where he was found, and railroad men say that it would be next to an impossibility for a person to be hit by an engine or run over there without the fact being discovered at once either by the en- gineer or fireman. The belief is strong now that Scott was murdered and robbed and placed where he was found to give the im- pression that he had been killed by the cars. The case is to be re-investigated. â€"â€"â€"â€"««4 ‘-'> 00,â€".â€" The Boned Shirt. \Ve would like to know, says Gilhooley, what sort of an idiot the man was who con- ceived the idea of the boiled shirt. We would like to speak to him calmly and coolâ€" ly, and point out to him where he was VA long. The flannel shirt is sensible, useful, warm and comfortable, but the boiled shirt is a whited sepulchre, and a starched, expensive ornament, of no use whatever. It is a vanity, and taken in connection with the modern collar, a vexation. To begin with, the boiled shirt has no shape or style about it ; there was some tone about the ruffled shirt of our ancestors, but the shirt of the present day looks like a pillow-slip with a drawing string at one end of it and the bottom out out of the other end. Then there is an ahsurb tab at the l)wer end of the breast with a button‘hole in it. We have oftened wondered what that meant. We don’t know whether it was intended as an appropriate place for the owner to inscribe his name, so that if anything should happen to him suds denly the coroner could tear it off and iden- tify the man, or whether it was merely orna- mental. We judge it as merely ornamental, however, in consequence of the button-hole, as the most careful research has failed to find a button to fill it. Then, look what a. world of contingencies have arisen because of the modern boiled shirt. In our grandfathers’ days the collars and cuffs were tacked on, and the sleeves were made of a length ap- proximating to the length of the arms of the wearer. N 0W we have to buy separate collars and cuffs, and sleeve-buttons, and gum-elastic bands to hold our sleeves up (as they are generally about six inches too long), and we have Chinese laundry-men to pay, and altogether it lJOkS like working for a dead horse to own a boiled shirt. W’s do not want it to be understood that we desire the civil‘z 2d world to retrograde and practise barbaric customs, but our society days are over ; we care not what the world may say, and we believe it would be a relief to several millions of gentlemen in this country if the boiled shirt were barred (some of the flannel shirts are already barred) and the plain go- as-you-please bleached muslin shirts of our forefathers, with collars and cuffs attached, adopted. ‘ On the same day a sister of Mott’s. who lives in Rochester, sent wortq to a friend in Olean that She had a dream Tuesday night, in which she saw two men beat her brother to death in the woods, an 1 take money from his pockets. She avwwke screaming. “ Don’t touch the money! There is blood on it!" She says she was frightened so that she arose from bed and struck a. light A clock on the buveau showed the time to be a, little past 11:30. These singular declarations led to bring- ing to light the fact that on the day of William Scott‘s death he harl sold some pro- perty, for which he was paid $1,000. In the afternoon he was seen in an out of-the-way saloon kept by a. man named U’Mara, in company with two strange men. He was intoxicated and exhibited a large roll of moneyI and boasted of the bargain he had made in the sale. Between 4 and 5 o'clock he was so drunk that the men carried him out to a barn in the rear of the saloon and left him there, About 11:30 o'clock that night he was met by an acquaintance on the road leading from O Mara’s to the Erie depot, near a piece of woods. He was not seen alive again. The dead body of William Scott was found lying along the track of the Erie Railway, 8. mile from the Olean, N.Y., depot, about midnight recently. There were bad cuts about the head, back, and abdomen. A Coroner’s jury returned a verdict that Scott had been killed by the cars. On Thursday,“ word was received from a brother of the dead man that he had dreamed on Tuesday night that his brother was murdered in a piece of woods and robbed. When the dreamer awoke he was so nervous that he was unable to sleep again during the night. He awoke from his dream between 11:30 o’clock and midnight. Murder Discovered by a Dream‘ A Game of Chess.