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“Shun I light the candles on your dressing-tab‘e. ma‘am? " Mary Anne's voice wakes me out of what was perhaps as much adresm as a reverie. “ What u’clock is it 7 " I ask, yawning. “ It is half-past seven. ma'am. 5 this your dress? I'll unpack it for you and lay it on the bed." ,,,_ L-A as he need. Olive says it is because he thinks “sweetheart” a prettier word. I do not care about sweethearts. Inhall never be so foolish as to fell in love with any one. I think love is all nonsense. And most of the men who have wanted to marry meâ€"I do not mean poor Gus, of course ;and, besides, he never asked me to marry himâ€"were in love with W006- hay, and not with Allie Scott. If I had no money I might believe in loveâ€"a little ; but, as it is, I do not believe in it at all. u vvu u..." -.. . _.-.. I " v rueâ€"but I have up to this time walked “in maiden meditation, fancy free." 1 am not a. flirtâ€"my worst enemyâ€"if I have any enemiesâ€"could not accuse me of flirting. It is an amusement which I both dislike and despise. And I do not flirt with Gus, though he is and has al- ways been my “chum.” Ha doe: not care to be called my chum now so much as he need. Olive says it Is because he thinks “sweetheart” a prettier word. I do not care about sweethearts. Inhall never be so foolish as to fall in love with au-n u.- . “n. .,_‘ The drawin-gqoom is my bed~ room. I leave my easy chair reluctantly â€"il: in a cold n‘ghtgvenfgr March, sharp CHAP I‘ER III. It: is Friday eveningâ€"the evening of the mlleatonn' daqce. .- n.1,. anaâ€" f-xjoVerâ€"andu fullow Mary Anne into the hunt room, where a newly lighted fire burns in the grate. STRMGER THAN LIFE. mesâ€"has been devoted to me since we were children And Gua is not a. had- looking fellow by any means. He is a. little fair man, and I do not like little fair men as a rule. But then he is a Captain in the “ Biues." and I believe he really likes me. 1 do not care for hlm,of course ; but it is fun to have a. lover. I have had a. good mngy loversâ€"so at least they tell u g, L:.._.‘ _...“nul “ Why didn’t you light that before '2" 1 ask. shivering. “The Cmntâ€" he curve in um xpectedly, wsnting his dinner," Muy Anne answers, kneeling downto put rome life into the fire by means of a rapid fanning with her apron, “ and I had to atttnd to him He's just like that alwaysâ€"malkirg in when he’s least expected. Gentlemen is a. botherâ€"you nevu- know when they‘ll be in and when they Won‘t, ! ” I take Lu‘. my dress from its flak paste- boaxd box myself, unwilling to must it to the tender mercies of Mary Anne’s grimy fingers. There is a note from aunt. Rosa in the box, and another bunch of my dear Woodhay violets. Aunt Rwa tells me no newsâ€"they are all well at. Yabten- den, and have had very cold weather. I lay down her note and take up the vio. lets. thinking, as I place 1ha deny, fra- grant purple blossoms to my lips, of the , L __L.U.. uuw Lwllvuuvuw m--. I have heard and seen nothing of “ the Count; " since yesterday ; nobody has mentioned violets, nobody has accused me of pflfering Whether he in in the house or not I know not, not whether he has been in since I changed his dead cam- ellia. for my bunch of purple \Voodhay violets yesterday. 1 have been lully oc- cupied between my singing-lessons and my vlaits to Dexter Squireâ€"so fully tha‘. such a person as Mrs. Wauchope’a hand- some ill-tempered lodge: could certainly find no room in my thoughts. If I am thinking of any one now, as I 1951] back in my comfortable hammock-chair, with my buckled ahOea on the fender, it is of Guaaie Deane. Poor Gas is devoted to naeâ€"has been devoted to me since we warn nhlldren And Gas is not shad- “Send M’s. Waochope up to me,” I say to the maidvof all woxk, When she has done what she can for my su'ky fire. Mrs Wauchope wnll maks a. better at- tempt at getting me into my dress than she could, and will not perhaps leave such traces of the stain she must neces- sslily put. upon my sky-blue laces. I have arranged my hair in its usual simple fashion before my landlady comes up, gathered closely round my hqad into 2; loop of close plaits at the buck, and curl- ing in a. slight natural fringe about my forehead. And before the Deanea’ car- riage comes for me I am ready, standing before the dingy old-fashioned glass and ._â€".. r__r.- __, , E ’ v . dear old u'ees at. Wondhay about whose mossy rootinfhev grew. _-- I n 1 riage comes for me I am ready, standing before the dingy nld-fsshinned glass and wandering what Olive will thlnk of me and of in dress. What I see in the glass is a tall girl, in a long closely~fittiug cuirasse body of blue silk, ending in sashes of crepe cf the same color, and with: billowy blue skirt, lying along the carpet like the crisplng waves of a. summer-seaâ€"a girl with a pre ty white neck and arms, with hair neither fair nor dark, but. of a curious asli~color, with eyes neither blue nor gray, but. a. mixture of both, with a nose neithtr '0 1g 10? an r‘, a mouth neither large nor smallâ€"a face then denies all lawa of beauty. yet a face which Olive um: she would never be tired of looking laws of be says she w« titâ€"but th4 judiced; I verdict). V says she would never be tired or looking atâ€"but then Olive is my friend, and pre- judiced; I do not not much store by her verdicb. What I know myself to be is a. glrl with a swinging galt and a. well- poised head, whose outdoor life has de- veloped muscle and straight limbs, and who, oddly enough, has a pair of eyes whlch have not looked out of 'the family face since my great-grandmother died, about; a hundred years ago. While I camider myself, gravely and dispaasionately, as though my reflaction in Mrs. Wauohope's depressing greenish tinged mirror were another person, I hear the Counb’a voice upstairs, talking to my landlady. My heart beats quicker for a moment. Can he have discovered M unpeue In! 'by I kEow not what spirit of walking int dead luuv u... v ,... “I know everybody here," Olive res marks, looking round the room. ‘- If you see him again when 1 am in your neigh- borhood, point him out to me, and 1 am almost sure to know who he is. Allie, you look jolly ; I hope you are enjoying yourself as much as you seem to be doing." “ Oh, quite as much l" “I am having such fun with him,” Olive says, glancing after her late part- ner, with a world of mlschlef in her saucy dimpled face. “ He is so sillyâ€"you’ve no idea. what a donkey he makes of him self 1" _ _ _ l “You'd better not make a. donkey of yourself. ’ Gus remarks severely. “ Oh. he doesn’t know I‘m laughing at him 1 Men are so vain. they would think anything sooner that that. you were mak- ing fun of them.” {You know a. lot about them 1" says Gus, with a glance of brobherly acorn di- rected downward at his pretty little ais- tar. “ I know enough to know that. Here is Captain Cathcart coming for me. And there is the ‘ Weit von VDlg.’ Op.__A}1m, mischief or of folly, I sit; down at; the piano and begin to sing “Thy voice is near." I do not think my voice is audible in the attics, I feel sure the words are not distinguiahuble ;and, even if they were, who could tell what; silly freak led me to Sing them '2 “Word after word I seem to hear, Yet strancex 3:1»mb me That though 1 Mann: to thy voice, Thy face 1 nm or see." "W‘s-are standing near 3 doorway. Gus and Olive both turn their heads. “ Which gentleman ’1 ” Ulive asks, blinking through her spectacles. “ 011, he has moved on nowâ€"yon can’t. see him with the crowd ! " “ Why did you ask 7 ” Gus says. “Was there anything remarkable about him '1” “Ha was remarkably handsome, that was all." “Why, Allie my dear, you’re by far the niceab girl in the room 1 " The reniark is Olive’s, of course. “So I have been telling her,’ says Gus, who has been my partner in the waltz which baa just come to an end. “Don’t talk nonsense! Who is that gentleman who has just come into the room ’1” 7 H u I... .... “Oh-I” says Gus, screwing his glass into his eye. don'é ~w££o a note of that delicious wal‘z l” V 'i‘en. minutes later I am in Olive’a neigh- borhood again, this time waiting for Fred to bring me»an_!ce. 1- ru- , "Thgre is the man I scandmg with his back to tall dark one talking to ( ton.” “Yes; I observed him just now. I thoughtI knew everybody here; but I (’0 not know who he in, nor does Captain Gathcart. Isn’t he splendidly hand )me, Allie ;I don’t think I ever saw umh a haut‘s :me face in my life." “ He is very handsome,” I answer, glancing at the grand-looking boyâ€"for be scarcelv seems more than thatâ€"as he stands talking to Colonel Rolleston, and looking with splendid careless eyes about the room. His face is dark, almost for- eign looking, wlth a straight nose, a slight dark moustache, and a pair of the nu uv unun ...\.....v...-..-, _____ 7 ‘ most beautiful, fierce. tender, laughing, long-larhed eyes I hava ever seen. " I shall get Katie Rolleaton to tell me his nama,” Olive prom‘aea, as her partner whirls her away ; and Fred returning with my ice. that and the waltz put everything else out of nqy head. It is nearly half an hour later when somebody introduces me to a partner for the coming waltz whose name 1 do not citch ; and, looking round carelessly, still ta king to young Rolleston, I find the un- kno wn standing before me with his eyes fixed inquirmgiy on my face. I accept him, of course, and walk away with him, wishing I had caught his name. ‘ He ll :1. rather silent partner, appearing to he more anxious to study me than to make himself agreeable ; but whatever he does say is clever and amusing, and so boyish withal that it is absolutely refresh- icg after the “society” talk to which I have been compelled to listen for the last two hours. He dances well, and knows how to take care of his psrtner. Once, when somebody by accident steps on my dress, he turn round with a wicked flash of the eye which brings Mrs. Wauchope‘s ill-tempered ledger into my mind. And once or twice I find him it oklng at me with an expression which puzzles me a. little. It is not admiration, nor criticism, nor depreciation ;,but it is easier to say what it is not than what it isâ€"rabher a mixture of amusement and curlosity, as if trying to read some riddle in my face. When the waltz is over, he resigns me to Gus, having just put. down his name opposite to the only disengaged dance on mv nrngramme. a muzurkn. I can make mixture of amusement a if trying to read some ri‘ When the waltz is over, he resigns to Gus, having just pun down his in opposite to the only disengaged dancc my programme, a muzurkm I can u nothing of the hieroglyphic scrawlel. pencil ; bub lfmcy the last letter of initials looks like “B.” “ Is that your handsome man?“ asks, looking after him as he makes way slowly through tho crowd. “ Yes," I answer ab once. “Do know his name? " “ Don’t you know it 2" “ No ; I could not catch it when he infiroduced to me.” “ Why, that is Baxterâ€"Gerard Baxter, the painter, a clever fellow, but no ‘ stay’ in him. If he had, he would have made a name for himself long ago.” “ He looks a. mere boy.” “ He is one-and-twenty. He could paint plcbu take the tr this is tabâ€"e whi‘ tfilking to Colonel Rollea I mean, Oliveâ€" to the wallâ€"the hit when he was 1 can make : scrawled in letter of the key of JOWH in! his twenty 1 It has be to be carried awn; which have been m; of adventure which often tried to nip i‘ known that Mrs. V‘ bnck“ waa a. person have dared to play of propriety now practical juke, all ii the victim would 1 the via: petrated upper devoubly second d iah enm Mrs. ‘ What if the victim would never know who per- petrated it. Standing with Gus near the upper end of the room, I wish devoutly that 1 had not promised him a second dance. What if 1 should be fool- ish enough to betray my identity with Mrs. Wenchope’s “ drawing-room 7” What if he should ask me where 1 am staying in London? I shell be very cool to him, very reserved and distant, so that the idea of asking such a question shall never enter into his head. I am sorry now that I got myself into this scrapeâ€"I should liked to have known my fellow- lodger who is so poor and so proud. But I have made any further acquaintance im- possible. all through that wretched little bunch of violets ! I avoid his look for the rest of the rest of the evening, though more than once I am conscious that he is quietly studying me. Gus seems rauher annoyed at my absence of mind. Once or twice he has offered me a penny for thoughts which E certainly would not have com- municated to him for agreat many pounds. Retribution has not been long in follow- ing on the heels of my «dance ;but I hope hav man whom I christened Ginx's baby ! It is strange, it is astonishing, it is not to be believed ! The episode of the violets rushes to my recollectionâ€"the words I had so lmprudently snug this very even- ingâ€"snug to him I It is well for me that he has no idea who I sinâ€"would never dream of ifientifying me with Mrs. Wau- chope’s spinster tenant “of a certain age." Aunt Rosa would have mod reason to be ashamed of me if she knew what pranks 1 have been playingâ€" good reason to say that she was right and I was wrong about the advisability of my coming up alone to Carleton Street 1 I shall never be so fool- ish again. I ought to have had more sense-~ a girl of very nearly one-and- twenty i It has been a lesson to me not to be carried away by the M”. spirits which have been my bane always, the love of adventure which my good aunt has so often tried to nip in the bad i If I had y known that Mrs. Wsnchope s “four-pair- municnted to him for ngreat many pounds. Retribution has not been long 1:: follow- mg on the heels of my ( {fence ;but I hope the lesson will be a salutary one, and con- gratulate myself that no worse mischief has befallen me. The dance I have begun to dread has come at lastâ€"the dance for which I am engaged to Mr. Baxter. He comes up at the first notes of the muzurka. “ This is ours, I think 7 " I take his arm ; and, as I take it, my heart given a sudden bound of dismay. In the button hole of his sombre evening coat he wearsâ€"a bunch of half-withered violets ! 'H‘i‘iThh has been a pleasant evening,” he says. when we have taken a couple of circuits of the room. “ Small dances like this are much more enjoyable than gigantic crushesâ€"don’t you think no?" “Yes.” After the first game at the violets, I do not; dare to look at them. Any one might want violetsâ€"almost every one wears violets in March. But these are myviole‘eâ€"I know it inbutltively, though T‘Yea," I answer vaguely, my heart beating {as}; wfxyrheiahould care to wear that-n, havlig no clue to the giver, puzzles me more than the name of the givxr can have puzzled him. “ You do not go out much 7 " ” No," I answer, wondering if the to- mark is a question or an assertion. If it is an ads-onion. how does he know 2 “ Shall we take another turn, or are you tired '1” “ I am not tired," I say, thinking what an amusing companion he must find me. We take a. few more turns, and then come to a stand-still. Mr. Baxter seems to prefer to talk. “ You are fond of violets ? " glancing at the bouquet in my dress. A rush of foolish guilty crimson dyes my cheeks which I would have given worlds to have kept out of them. But it comes there, and it stays, while my part- ner lowers his dark imperial head to look into my half-frightened, half-defiant eyes. “ Very fond," I answer glibly. “ I think every one is fond of violets." “ I am," he says, smiling a little. “You must be to wear so poor :3. bunch." xow that I go hould likgd 1 edger who is :aymg ) him, “ Unless what 2 ” “ No matter,” he returns, laughing “ But it: is not very polite of you to dis pursue my violets." “ In is not indeed. I hope you will for gin: me,” I say, conscious that, unless h! stupl died f< glastH “ Indeed I ” I observe quietly, looking past him at the dancers. “ It; was kind of her, was 't notâ€"to me â€"nob to the violets ? " “ So much depends upon her motive,” I answer carelessly, wondering if he knows. we Yéu would not call them poor, un icâ€" 1:110}; Vinidreéd. I hope you will for- me,” I say, conscious that, unless he n an entirely wrong scent, I have .idIy betrayed myself. Certainly. There is nothing to fior- V anc You 'only spoke the unit]: when l my violets were a. little fadedâ€"â€" rare badly treatedâ€"poor little Mia, 311th. Enore silly t 11 would never know wl lat )I] ll hat ndinz with Gun n E the room. BUG ,t'l ” I ask innocently. ya, dolibeqatgely lqpkjng known my and so proud tn: ifI t my'laggard sense matizas as a. HUI] 2. lady whose name 1 Ihad notforbunately me, they would have water in a dusty the violeti, ull be ver] 1 dlebanu, a a question ad. I am nothing to tor- the truth when his her 1' cm ance in‘ onus 110w the uld 16 ‘ I breathe a great sigh of reUef. He does not know then-he does not connect me with the suspected party, whoever she may be. Perhaps he thinks it wa the younger Miss Prycei Mary Anne told me they aometimea got flowara up from the country. Of all destructive foes none are more dreaded in most Eastern lands than the locusts, whose dire visitation! may well be deemed national calamities. In point of fact, the lands which are exempt {r m their occasional presence are the favored few. A very few details of their invasion of southern Russia in the years 1879 and 1880 will give us some idea of their mul- titude. They fell upon the province ef Caucasus, nuterly destroying vineyards and gardens; blockading the streets so that traffic was suspended; filling the “She never meant you to know who left them for you probably." “ Probebly.” “ You say you do not. know her name 7” ” I did not know her name." “ But you know in now ? " “ Yea, I know it now.” “ And ih is " He shakes his head. “ I know you do not think so badly of me as to suppose I would answer that; queetion.:’ On the road from Tiflzs to Poti the lo- custs lay so thick on the line that the trains were obstructed. Large districts of southern Russia were swept as bare of all vegetation as if a fire had raged over the land, and hundreds of peasants, utter- ly beggared, abandoned their homes to seek bread wherever it might be found. In the province of Cheoson alone, a sum of fifty thousand rubles was voted by Government for expenditure in the effort to free the land of this plague ; in another district, twenty thousand persons were employed daily for three months in the same work; the Government expenditure on the whole organization was estimated at two hundred thousand rubies, without any calculation of the loss on crops of all descriptions. Another notable scene of locust-plague was Algeria in the year 1866, when the damage done by these insects was esti- mated at fifty million francs, and resulted in a. famine so appalling this two hundred thousand natives died of starvation. Two mysterious men bearing 9. package, twoloud and quick reports, some displaced stones and fa.|_uug player, _a. t‘sgvere ’ scalp wouud and noboby seriously injured, flying detectives and ub’qnltuus inspectors of explosives, a rattled home secretary, and the blackened face of an Amoricsnclockâ€" these served up with every suggestion of an alarmed imagination, and the world is asked to be shockedover another dynamite outrage. View the hysterical cablegrams of tne clay as the reader may, he can- not; suppress a. smile over the dispropor- tion between the damage and the scare. If the entire admiralty building with all that it contained had been deem-owed it could hardly have inspired more excited dispatches. For the moment the pros- pect of two great nations entering upon a. desperate struggle for an empire was ob- scured by thedust from an exploded tin can. Of course suspicion is immediately direct. ed against Insh sympathizers in London. The utter futility of the explosion insures this. If any one had been killed there might be reason to question the origin at the outrage. But there is no mistaking the Irish outrage. Ten explosions in London, counting this one. have been laid at the door of Irish agitations. Not one of them has been followed by a death. They serve to keep the English incensed against the Irish. Thst is the chief mis- chief they do. An Army’s The Afghan matchlock or jmzeil has no parallel as a firearm on the face of the earth. It is about five feet) long, and is fitted near the muzzle with a prong which supports it on the ground when it. is about to be fired cff. It is fitted with a. powder pan and a. catch for holding a fuse. An Afghan marksman has to depend upon the shame of his fuse, and therefore he is by no means a certain shot. During the last Afghan war it used to be a. joke among the British soldiers that on Afghan would poise his jazail upon a. rock. calculate when his enemy would be likely to arrive Harmless Dynamite Outrages Jen The Funny Afghan Gun 0 BE CONTINUED 18 March Arrested by Locusts. anapeude several da‘ lestlou me libt If the aya'bnklng was and so choking a. cup of water )1 his' fuse, and the distance and nemv at Dr. Seltzer, in the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal. recommends beef tea, made very hob with red pepper. for de- lirium tremene. A London sutgeon is stated to have treated )50 cases success- fully with this remedy alone. It is said that the rate of the filtration of the water supplied by the various water companies to London down not: in any one exceed 640 galou per square yard of filter bed in twenzyiour hours. It is not generally known that nutmegs are poisonous, but a physician writes to the American Journal of fharmacy detail- ing the case of a. lady who nearly died from eating a nutmeg and a half, and he points out the fact that the tcxic effects of the drug are described in both the National and United States Dispensatories. The trial of the dynamite projectiles near Washington has aroused curiosity concerning the peculior efi'ectof this power- ful explosive differing from that of gun- powder. It is explained that by reason of its quickness of action the armor of a ship or the wall of a fort, in a word, the solid offers less resistance than the miles of at- mospheric surrounding. This has been shown by a recent illustration. By plac- ing 100 pounds of gunpowder on a hard surface, then applying a light to it, an ex- plosion would of course follow, and the eprOslon would take an upward course ; but should ten pmnds of dynamite be placed in a like position and exploded the action is so quick that after being fir- ed it would tear up the earth for many yards around. Geologists assert that if the continents and the bottom of the ocean were graded to a. uniform level, the whole world would be covered with water a mile deep. A S )uehem page: says theh five fingers of I near) women’s righb head are the best cotaou pickers invented yet. Profeaaors Ayaton and Perry are of the opinion that a gee engine will be the mo- hive power of the vessel of the future. In India cats are sometimes attacked by cholera, according to a French au. thority, and any communicate the diaeaae to ma. A new theory of the causation of vol- camc eruptions attributes them :0 the for- mntion of axon or cores of molten matter by atmospheric preuure. The wuminzof flmr and the o 39‘- quent abatnanion of the moiltu! aids greany to its durability. The death rate of Russia is the highest in Europe. This, the Medical Recorder says, is attributed to the paucity of medi- cal men and the habits of the rural popu- lation. According to late returns, the~ average duration of life is only twenty-six years and the mortality among infant: is frightful. More than 60 per cent of in- fants die bef ire they reach their fifth year, and nearly 2100,000 perish every year. OS 8000,000 boys only 3,770,000 attain the age of military serviceâ€"that is to say their 25th year : and of these at least 1,000,000 are found, by reason of short- ness of status and weakness of body, to be unfit for military duties. Dr. Baugless, before the Nineteenth Century Club, describing the cemetery of Kensal Green, in London, where Leigh Hunt, Thackeray and others famous In English history were said to be buried, said that seven acres of the cemetery were set apart for the burial of London’s poor. The directors of the cemetery in a coun- try whichlaid more stress on burial than any other in the worldlsaid that there were in the seven acres 133,500 graves. Each grave held ten ctflius, making the total of 1,335,000 bodies of poor people buried there. It was figured that by burying over the same ground once every ten years the seven acres would last indefinitely. This gave 2.2 feet of surface space to each body for one diy only. German Designs on Africa. The Manchester Guardian's London cor- respondent writes that from intelligence which has been received in this country from Germany and Zmzlbar there seem good reasons to believe that the Germans meditate fresh annexationa in Eastern Equatorial Africa. on a much larger scale than has hitherto been attempted. It has already been announced that Dr Oscar Let Z is about to preceed from Berlin to the Congo at the head of one of the most important geographical. expeditions ever sent from Germany. At the same time Dr Fischer, who preteedgd Mr Joseph Thomson in his exploration of the Masai country, is to go to the regions between the Congo and the Nile, approaching it throng Uganda, the kingdom of the late Mtesa. The two travellers are to meet, but before they do so it; is understood that Dr Fischer willholsttheflag of the Father- land in the region on the south side of Kilimandjaxo, and which Mr H. H. John- ston has recently deocribed as one of the most. fascinating, fer: ile, and in every way promising portions of Africa. Dr Fischer has been already concerned in the recent German acquisitions in the vicinity of Zanzibar, the territqrial area. of which has been, however, very much exaggerated, as it does not amount to more than 2,500 square miles. The importance attached both in Germany and Africa to the enter- lmine of Drs Lenz and Fincher points, however, to a. much more formidable ex- muniou on the Cart of Germanv in the re- SCIENTIFIC an 13