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She did not recover her usual serenity for some time. The name seemed to haunt me â€"Aniue Vane, who was she 1’ Why must everything of hers he put away ‘3 \Vas there another mystery ‘3 The very atmo- sphere of King’s Norton _see1ned full of such. The charmles mterested me no longer. “"110 was Anice Vane, that her name was not to be seen or heard ‘3 A restless fit was upon me. \Vhile they looked over them, I was searching for a. little volume of plays. 1 found one, and, opening it, I saw the name “ Anise Vnne” on the title page. I repeat- ed in to myself, “ Aniee Vane. \Vhat zL stmge‘ quaint, pretty name I” 31.: \Vnile l was looking at it. Miss (Iarleon came and bent over my shoulder. Her face suddenly flushed crimson, and she took the hbook out of my hands. “\Vhere did you find this ‘2” she cried hastily. “ I. had no idea it was here.” She took it from me, and put it in her pocket. “ I am thankful that pap-Mild not see that,’," said she. " l thought they were all put away.” THE MYSTERY OF THE HOLLY TREE. One morning, during breakfast, there was along discussion about some chm-mics that were eonbemplated. Lord Estcourt had suggested that the dresses should be his- toricqu correct. Miss ()m‘loon said that there were some books in the library de- scriptive of the costumes of all nations, and that we could not do better than look through them. I left he library and met the housekeeper, 1Airs. Leaning, with a large bunch of keys in her hands. She told me that she was going over some of the spare rooms in the eastern wing, and asked mu if I wqud like to see them. The lull was a very large building; though the party of guests was numeruus, and the number of scn‘zuts very gg'eat, still, mzl‘ny of the mums in the eastern wing Were unoc- cupied, and these the housekeeper, attended to anl l; t well Lire I. \Ve fourâ€"Miss Umrleon, Lord Estcourt, Captain Norman and I went thither, and, after some little search, the books were found. I was looking over some books, when my attention was attracted by a. picture that was standing against the well. I turned it to the light, and my eyes fell upon the most exquisite face that I had ever belield~the face of a fair young girl, with sweet lips, and large, sad, violet eyes, fair as a rose in earliest bloom. The golden hair lay in wav- ing masses on her white neck and shapely shoulders ; the ripe red lips were parted with a smile ; but in the Violet eyes lay a deep shadow, monrnful, drearyâ€"an expres- sion often seen in the eyes of those who die young. The sad, smilingr beauty fascinated me ; the eyes looking into mine told of some secret unknown to me. The housekeeperis footsteps aroused me. ; She came into the room. “Mrs Leeming,” I asked, “whose por- trait is this?” Her kind, comely face turned white. “ 0h, Miss Ayl‘ton, pray do not touch it put it away! How careless of me to "bring you here! I beg you will not; men- vtion having seen it.” Another five days Il‘hdda, and I felt quite at home. It s mum! in me that I had lived at King's NJI'EU‘I for “may yt‘zu's. My love for its m‘nmbifu'l I. i mu increased every hour, and the 01‘! 5:111:39 was wondronsly kind to ma. Ha mm lay his hand on my head 5501:130th and my : “ Yuu h we :1. 5,00 l fawn, Ghuiys~ gkod and trim '1'!) ml; He Well you have non the curse of 34: mt beauty, child, for beauty is a snare.” Then he me forget, me, and would page Im a. (1 down the room, repeat- ing to himseTt', “ Bzzulty is a. auurc ; it is a. cursv to the wom‘m who possesses it, and the mini who goes mad for love. of it.” W'c weflc through several large and vely beautiful apartments; and then, while the housekeeper was opening windows, I made my Way to an old dissused lumber-room. “ It is the portrait of Miss Anice Vane. 'She was a. ward of the squire’s, and if you mention having seen this I shall lose my place.” I gave my promise, sore against my will, I must say, and then we went on through the rooms. “7e came to a suit that were very beautiful; the windows on to large square balconies that in summer-time were wreathed with fairest flowers. I tried the handle of the second door of the suit, 1 ut could not open it. Again Mrs. Leeming hurried to me. Perhaps it might be so, but I was profane enough to wi-;h that same little share of the curse had fallen to my lot. I. \\ ondcred, too, at the same moment, why, ifI was so hopelessly plain, Lord lflstcnurt cared for my society. He certainly did care for it; for, whenevsr Miss Carleon was either on- gaged or not disposed to entertain him, he sought refuge with me ; and Iâ€"â€" Ah, well my story is of Philipsz Curleonâ€"uot of my- self " “ That, “I promise you, I will not, if you ill only tell me who it isz” She came over so me and spoke hurriedly, taking the pictu 1-0 from my hand. “ You seem bent upon doing what you should not do, Miss Ayrton,” she said with an impatient laugh. “ This is the locked cllahilwi'; you cannot enter. It will never be Opened again in our lifetime.” I looked at her in zmmzement. “ The lockud chamber 1 What do you mean '3 )0 tell me.” “The squire lucked this room,” she re- plied, “three years ago and flung the key into thedepths of the lake. It would be more than 0116’s life was Worth to open it while he lives.” “ Certainly not,” I rejoined hastily ; “nor would I ask you, Mrs. Lecming. You shall see that I am prudent. Pray do not think that lwould mention what I have Seen or heard this morning.” When I had left her, my brain was in a perfect chaos of thought. Every family has secrets, but there was a mystery here. Had this fair young Anice Vane anything to do with Miss (Jarleon’s refusal to marry? \Vas she living or (lead? \Vhat had she done that the squire sought to remove all “ But why did he lock it? \Vhat is in I agglip qsvkod. “ That I cannot tell you, Miss Ayrton ; if the squire or Miss Carleon do so, that is another thing‘ A servant of the family cannot speak of the family secrets.” (THA 2 "TH 11 l n,” she re- ng the key I; would be to open it He went away so sad, so despairing, and I vas so grieved for him, that t} l, to evening 1 ventured to do what 1 11ml never (lone he- forewspeak to Miss Galleon about her Elovers. It was a. glorious summer evening, ‘ and we were in the beautiful Old-fashioned garden. Our favorite nook there was an arbor composed of fragrant lil;L -€rees-, with all kinds of mlorous flowers gruwing near it, making it a. paiuulise of perfume ; and, as we sat there, watching the sun set over the 2 western hills, I began to speak to her of at: is in it?" s Ayrton; so, thatis the family is.” ale . “unv- Lord Estcourt. She turned to me with a grave smile. “I have been expecting it, Gladys,” she said. “ I know you are very sorry for Lord : Estuoui‘t.” I caught both her hands in mine ; my face fliishcdirmy eyes filled with tcui'smmy i. whole sou] seemed to come to my lips. “ Do not take notice of this scandal, child," he said. “ I know it Is the time for peace on earth and good will to men ; but there are some injuries, look you, Gladys Ayrton, that man cannot pardon, though Heaven in its mercy may. Such an injury that man, my mortal foe, did to me. If he were dying of famine, 1 would not give him one crumb, because of the cruel, wick- ed wrong he did to me.” An expression of deep, patient resignation came over Philippa’s face. She made nu reply, and the squire closed his eyes, lest they should ‘look on the fair home of his mortal foe. \Vheu we had left \Veat Deane behind, and were within fair sight of King’s Norton he looked at me. Looking at his daughter‘s facemfor I knew not how to answer himâ€"I saw that her lips moved as if she were praying. The squire swid no more. As we neared home he talked to me 011 different matters, but the impression of awe and dread did not wcm ‘ a ‘uy from my mind. ' “ I would repeat these words with my last breath,” persisted the squire. “ He is my mortal foe, and if it be given to one man to curse another, my curse lies upon him.” That day Lord Esteourt said he muat shortly leave us. Captain Nornim, I have forgotten to mention, lived at Norman’s Court, only a. few miles distant from King’s Norton. Before he went Lord Estcourt rc- newcd his olier ; and, despite his eloquent pleading and his great love, he was firmly rejected. Tl e squire was not angryinnger is 110i} the word for the anxious sorrow than was to be traced in his looks and words. As men plead for dear life, I heard him pleading with Philippa, one morning that she would marry Lord Estcourt, and make her father happy in his old age. “ That is Deane’é Chase, Miss Ayrtoniâ€" the home of the man who is my mortal foe. ” “ Nay, father,” pleaded Miss Galleon ; “it is Christmas-timeâ€"the time for peace on earth. Say no more.” His face darkened with anger ; he raised his right hand as though he would utter some terrible curse, and then said : “ I will make you happy,” she replied. “ I will be the most devoted and loving of daughters. But I cannot; marryâ€"not even to please you ; and there is no need to trou- ble about my future. \thl} I shall have lost you, it will matter listle whether I am rich or poor. ” The Equire turned away with a. groan. That very morning Lord Est/court came to bid illegqu-bye. “ I shall see you again,” he said ; “ for, while she lives unweded, I shall never give up the hope of winning her.” I hid never seen his face so stern, and, looking at Philippa, I saw that she had fal- len bank, pale and trembling. Yet no one of us uttered a. word. \Ve drove in silence through a. domain of surpassing beauty, when suddenly to the right, I caught sight of a superb hill, on the summit of which stood a noble mansion, I cried out in ud- mimtion. “W11th place is that?" I asked the sqliiye: Some months passed, and the mysteries of King's Norton were mysterious still. _ I never heard the name of Aniee Vane, the story of the locked chamber, or of the hid- den picture ; and l respected Miss Carleon too much even to ask her one curious question. Perhaps that is the reason Why she trusted me afterward so implicitly. As the months rolled on the lines deepened on the Squire’s face, and his anxiety became greater ; but in the beautiful, noble face of his daughter came no change. The summer months came round. Captain Norman was a constant Visitor at King’s Norton, but he made no progress in the heart of the heiress. Lord Estcourt had been over, and had re- newed his offer, meeting with the same kind courteous, grave rejection. When he had opened his heart to me, and told me the story of his sorrowful love, he asked me if I thought Miss Carleon had any other attach- ment. I told himâ€"What was the truthâ€"â€" that no letters that could be called lovelet- ters ever eame to her, and that most (leeid- edly she (lid not favor any of the numerous suitors for her hand who came to King’s Norton. The next morning was beautifully fine, and, the frost continuing, the squire propos- ed a drive. I 0an hardly remember how it happened now that I was in the carriage alone with him and Miss Curleon. \Ve drove fur some miles over the hard White reads bordered by tall leafless trees, and then we came the pretty town of Aberdnre. The squire gave orders that we should re- turn b] way of \Vest Deane. But it hap- pened that some repairs were going on at the bl idge we had t.) 01035, so that the era. :11- mau could not proceed. He told the squire. “ I must drive around by Deane’s Chase, sir,” said he. ‘I‘Do so then, if you must,” was th angry reply ; and than, to my utter astonishment, the squire closed the carriage~windows. Even as he sad the words I knew they were useless, for Philippa Cal'leon would never marry him. “ I wonder why she cannot love me,” he said. ‘ I ask no fairer gift from Heaven than her love. I would devote my whole life to makiuu her happy. \Vhy cannot; I win her lave . traces of her? Should I ever know or un derstzuuL these mysteries? “ Miss Carlcon why will you not marry him? He is so noble, so generousihe loves you so very dearly.” “Ivknow it,” she 1'5plicd. CHAPTER VI‘ “ I respect l “Gladys, when you love, yourself, you i will understand me. I was young. full of l poetry, and enthusiasm, and it appeared to me that a. heavenly light had fallen over me and all belonging to me. Guy came ; over to King’s Norton every day ; my father 3 was never so happy as in his presence. We i spent the fair spring mornings, the long 5 summer gloamings, and the happy winter evenings together, until my soul wholly E grew one with Guy’s soul, and we appeared a to have but one life and one being. Many, S many times, Gladys, he has held me in his 4 arms, and has made me promise that I i would love him always, and that I would be 3 his wife. There is not a tree nor shrub lthat grows here, not a. brook that sings, .3 that has not heard sueh promisos. In sum 2 shine, the moonlight, the starlight, at all l times, I have pledged my faith to him again and again. Can I break it, Gladys? i I am true to my love, and he is true to me. I had not a thought but for him. I have known the brightest earthly bliss. I have loved and been loved. Iwas so happy in ‘ my own love, in the golden future before p me, that I paid little heed to Aniue‘s flirta- tions. She was coquettish. Smuctimos, ' when the mood was on her, she would ilirt ? with Guy, who laughed, and teased her. Then she would give all her attention to , Arthur Brandon, and then distribute her smiles elsewhere. The squire used to warn I me, laughingly, to beware, or she would i’ win Sir Guy from me. I laughed, and he ; laughed, little dreaming how our laughter ' would turn to tears. “Six years ago, Gladys, King‘s Norton was very different from what it is now. First, I must tell you that my father, Squire Carleon, did not marry his first love. In his youth, he loved a beautiful, fair girl, whose name was Anice Lile. Fraud and treachery parted them; but yetrs afterwards he saw and loved my mother. He married her, and I was their only child. My mother died whenl was ten years old, and five years afterwards my father’s first love, whose marriage had been a. very unhappy one. died also. She left her only child, Aniee Vane, to my father’s care ; and now you will un- derstand why my father loved Anice with such passionate love. She was the daughter of the woman he had worshipped ; she was a legacy left by a (lying mother. I used to think at times that all the love he had once given to the mother was lavished on the child. I was not jealous of her ; she was like a sister to me. I remember the night my father brought her home. She was so beautiful, Glady~~so fair, with violet eyes and golden hair; her lauqu was like a silver bell, her voice like sweetest music. She was gay, graceful and animated, yet, strange to say, when in repose her eyes had in them a (leap shadow that always struck me as prophetic of coming sorrow. “ She soon becaine one of us, and was quite at home with us. At my request my iather made her the same allowance of mon- ey as he gave me: we Shared every advam tage. \Vo \ve‘a now a large famiiy, coni- parativaly speaking, for my father’s young- est brother died, having his only son in my father’s charge. So Arthur Brandon came home to live with usâ€"you must have heard his name a dozen times each day since you have been hereâ€"but, though Arthur is my cousin, I cannot tell you whet-her I liked him or not. He made love to me, but I only laughed at him. He is either what he seems to beâ€"a genial, light-hearted, debonair man of the worldior he is a most accomplished hypocrite. We were a very happy family. My father told me of his intention to pur- chase a commission for Arthur, and to give Anice a dowry when she should marry. A smile came over the beautiful face. “No; the man I love, Gladys, is a. man who has no peer, who is brave, noble, con- stant, generous, patient, with a. lofty kind of pride that no words of mine could ever descrilic. Noble, chivalrous, a king amongst men, he is, nevertheless, the man my father calls his deadly foe.” “ \Vho lives at Deane‘s Chase 7" I asked. “ Yes, the sameâ€"Sir Guy Brooklyn of Deane‘s Chase. I will tell you my story, Gladys ; and you will see that life is all pain for me, that my heart is torn, that my soul is as it were dividedâ€"one half belongs to my folller, and the other half to the man I love, Guy Brooklyn. I love him‘ I hzwe been his plighted promised wife ever since I was seventeen. My whole life belongs to himâ€"and I cannot disobey him. Do you see how my heart is torn in two ? I love my loverAâ€"I would follow him even unto death ; but I cannot disobey my father. Do you understand now the secret that robs my days of peace, my nights of sleepâ€"~tliat has made the world o desert when it should be a blooming Eden? I cannot give up my loveâ€"I cannot take back my plighted truth â€"I cannot tear my soul from his ; nor can I disobey my father. Living or (lead, his commands are sacred to me, and so ~â€"oh, Heaven pity mo! 1 h we given up my dream of happiness, and only look for peace in death. You look at me, Gladys. Ah, child, my eyesa‘re bright still, so people say, but I have shed torrents of tears. I have len'nt to smile and look happy, While my heart is breaking ; even the light of the beautiful sun and the fragrance of the flow- ers bring nothing but pain to me. Now I will tell you my story. “ Gladys,” she continued, with a. weary sob, “ I was just sixteen when Guy Brook- lyn came home from France and took pos- sesi )n of Deane’s Chase. He came over to see us; and he loved me, my darling, the first moment he saw me, and he has loved meâ€"‘ie has been true to insâ€"ever since. We were both young ; he was just twenty- one, and I was sixteen. Though the squire gave his most Cordial assent to the marriage he said we must wait at least until I wa nineteen. This seemed quite reasonable, and I had two, or nearly two, such happy years.” - u Her dark eyes filled with tears, her beau- tiful face glowed as with an inward light. How dearly she loved himâ€"how true and noble she was 1 Lord Estcourt too highly even to marry him.” “ Why ?” I asked, in surprise. “ Because I do not 13ve him; and I do, with the whole truth of my heart, love some one else.” “ ls it Captain Nornmn ‘2” I enquired tim- idly. “ I was just seventeen and a half When two evoan lmppened, Arthur Brandon 01)- t xiued his ccmmissionia. 1d Sir Guy Brooklyn \ms offered an embassy to Vienna, where he was to remain for a. year. You may imagine how this changed our quiet lif -. Guy would have refused if I had only said one word ; but I would not say it. I was proud that my lover should be chosen to 1‘e< present his country ; it was an honor due to his high talents, and I saw in it the har- x‘v‘Wm-u‘a“ flunk fl.“ “â€" m.- NicUnAmic OINTMFNT. we Menthol, 45 grains ; Cocaine, 15 grains ; .Chlorid, 10 grains, Vmeline, 5 (lraehms. To be applied 1 to the painful parts. Jul. Pharm. ct Ohim. If the hands are stained, there is nothing that will remove the stain as well as lemon. Cut a. lemon in halves and apply the cut . surface as if it were soap. “-mâ€"“aâ€" l A harmless remedy for moth patches is as § follows : In a pint bottle of rum put a tea- l spoonful of llowe 's of sulphur. Applyto the l patches once a. day, and in two 01" three 2 weeks they Vs ill disappear. “ Looking at her, Gladys, I saw her face wet with tears. A suspicion that all was not right flashed across me ; but she was the elder, and I did not lilie to seem curious, or a. :k a confiden e she did not give me. Have 1 made you understand what she was like, Glady’s? She was fair as an angel, with a lovely face, a gay, graceful manner, and a loving heart. She was like a. sunbeam in our home. My father loved her with a won- drous aifectionâ€"I loved her as my own sis- ter. Every one petted, indulged, and ear- essed her. She looked like one of those born to be caressed, indulged and loved. Trouble and care ought not to have come near her “ ‘Tlmt is 11030 likely to be your case, Anlce,’ I said. ‘ Some knight will ccme riding by some fine day, who will love those Holden locks better than all the diamonds in Golconda, or all the mines in l’eru.’ “ ‘But, suppose some one loved you very much, Philippa, and could not say so be- “ Let me shorten my story, Gladys ; it is not a pleasant one. My lover and my cousin left us on the 20th of June. They both par- took of luncheon with us, and then went away I Anice did not come down ; she sent word that she was not well, and should prov fer keeping in her room all day. 'ou were IX) ()1‘ “I have always blamed myself that I gave way to my great sorrow ; but it was the first time I had been parted from Guy, and l was really sick from crying over it. The squire 1nd some country business on handâ€"he went away to Aberdare. About seven o’clock I went to Anice’s room. and knocked at the door; it was locked, and there came no answer. My maid appeared at the moment. rich “ ‘But, Anice, no one whose love is worth having would care more for you because you were rich.’ “‘Miss Vane is asleep,’ she said. ‘I have tried the door several times. She complained of a bad headache ; perhaps it would be as well not to disturb her.’ “ It was in June,” continued Miss Carle- on, “that my lover, Sir Guy, and Arthur Brandon both left us. For some weeks pre- viously I had fancied that Anice was out of spirits. She asked me one day if I thought Arthur Brandon loved me. I laughed as I mnweced her, ‘ Sure as of my own life ;’ and the next day she asked me if I thought Arthur Brandon loved me. I laughed again as I told her, “ No ; he might say what he liked, but I knew that he «lid not really care for me.” “ She sat looking at me, her fair young face raised pleadingly: to mine, her Jmmbi- ful, wistful eyes seeking 10 read my thoughts “ ‘Everyone loves you, Philippa,’ she said. ‘ I wishâ€"0h, I szh that I were very “She sighed deeply, and clasped her soft, shiny, golden hair with both her hands. Art is not confined to bigumd expensive 5 paintings, marbles and ornamental brie‘a- l brie or to old silver plate. One with a very 3 limited salary mly enjoy the pleasureâ€"â€" within his meansâ€"of having as artistic a a home as the recipient of an income of thou- i sands. Some bunches of flowers hero and! there, a few pretty pictures, a few good‘ books and the essentials in the way of or- i nament are named at once. For one poor 5 shilling a weoka wife can buy blossoms" enough to make her home look bright and I blooming from January to December. Even ‘; with a. very small salary this is a sum which may indeed be well spent upon the daily 3 beautification of the house. Pictures, too, are almost as cheap as wall paper. Evenf those given away by some business houses ; as advertisements are sometimes pleasing; enough to be an addition to any room. A ; common carrot will throw out broad, green 5 feathery fronds if supplied with a little a water daily in a small hole in the top ; will ; thrive and make a thing of real beauty, to ' say nothing of the delight to be found in watching the tiny leaflets grow. A sponge filled full of flax seed, kept wet and hung in the window, will soon make a beautiful 5 ball of the daintiest, tx‘esliest_greeii:_ A few sprays of {L plant calléd “ \Vander- ing Jew,” which any florist will gladly give away (01‘ sell a. great newspapcrful for 10 cents) will grow in a glass of water all winter long. A bit of charcoal in the water will keep it sweet and fresh. binger of future fame and renown. Vthn he hesitated, I urged- him to go. Strange to say, the departure of both Arthur and Guy were fixed for the same day. They were not to travel together far. Arthur‘s regiment was stationed at Dover, and he was going thither. Sir Guy was on his way to Vienna. “Gladys, do you see that large blackthorn tree there? Underneath it I stood With him in the morning he went away. He held me in his arms, and kissed me again and again. He made me promise once more that I would be true until death to him; and I will, I must beâ€"yet I will never disobey my good, kind father. How it. will end, Gladys, Idn not know. Sometimes I think that, young and strong as I am, the struggle between my love and my duty will kill me.” A deep sob stifled her last words, and. she wept with such passionate abandonment; that I began to have some idea of what she suffered. The hull) of El. hyacinth will cost 0110 shill- ing, the peculiar 311 as vase used to grow them will cost another, but both the bulb and the glass will last, winter after winter, keeping a. yearly blossom hidden away to glmhlcn your eyes when tired of the dreary g‘myness of the cold weather, In fact, it only requires a careful house- wife with her watchful eye ever searching for the things within her means, and at an almost inilnituinml outlay the home may not Only be att "active but artistic. USEFUL RECIPES. Taste at Home. (T0 B1: CONTINUED.) “ One of the best laid schemes to (lo mur- der,” says Mr. A. H. Canby of the Carleton ‘ Opera. Company, “ was a plan that was de- tected by the merest chanee in the Kellogg- Hess Opera Company, years ago, when Mr. Carleton was the baritone of that organiza» tion. A certain artist playing prominent roles was suspected by a. member of the 1 chorus with paying altogether too much at- tention to the ehoristor’s wife, and the artist was duly warned by his: friends to keep a close watch on the movements of the hus- band. One evening, as he was passing across the stage tohis dressing room, he chanced to hear one of the wardrhbo wo- men say to smother that there were buttons off all the soldier uniforms. The St. Louis Globe gives the following account of Col. Pat. Gilmore’s experience in the hands of a couple of youthful modelers : “ Iwent to the studio at the hour fixed, and was to be met there by a well known sculp- tor, who had courteously undertaken to do the modeling himself. By some unfortu- nate mischztnee, he failed to put in ah ap- pearance. Two apprentices were vigorous- ly stirring the liquid plaster of Paris or Whatever villainous compound is used for the purpose. After about half an hour’s wait- ing, it was decided to preeeed in the great man’s absence, and I was invited to disrobe. Last Sunday night about 10.13 o’clock Brown met Rachael Jones and Elvira Smith, colored women, who together occupy a house in his neighborhood, as they were coming from church, and accompanied them home. One of the women asked him in« side, and he entered. Several. more colored people came in, and the company were sit. ting around the fireplace talking, when a. religious controversy sprang up between two of the men. They were arguing their point, when Dr. Brown stopped them. He said they were two fools, and were talking a. mere lot of bosh. He said there was no Christ, and that the person of that name was merely an ordinary person, who hap- pened to be better morally than the people among whom he lived. He said there was no God, and that He was an imaginary per- son whom people like to believe in simply because it makes them comfortable. He made fun of sacred things and was in the midst of a. tirade of awful blasphemy, when sn<ldenly_a11 ashy paleness came over his yellow features, his voice faltered and failed as if the tongue had cleaved to the roof of the mouth, and with a terrible expression on his face he tattered from his chair, stood steady on his feet a secondfiantl then fell a corpse. A much beplasterod White shed) was wrapped around my neck and shoulder: tightly, and my face and hair were liberally greased to prevent the plaster sticking to the flesh. Pieces of paper were stuffed into my mouth, nose, and ears, and I was told to shut my eyes. No sooner had I done so than my persecutors commenced pouring the liquid on my head. One poured while tlk. other pressed the rapidly hardening com]I pound so as to fill every recess and get a cast of every feature. They poured a. great deal too much on, and soon my head was incased in a. mask as hard as iron. The heat was insufferable. The Fate of an Educated Colored Man who liltllculed Sacred Things. Four years ago John A. Brown, an intel- ligent colored man, for many years a resiâ€" dent of Louisville, studied medicine under Dr. Edward Von Donhoif, the well-known surgeon of 109 East Chestnut street. Brown was an apt pupil, and followed his studies with much application under Dr. Von Don- hofl' for two years with much advantage to himself. At the end of that time he went 011' to New York, and attended lectures in one of the largest and best medical colleges in the country. \Vhen his course was fin- ished he graduated in the upper half of his class, and came back to Louisville to settle and practice his profession. He Was well acquainted with the colored people, con- Versed well and dressed smartly, and before long he had a. large and lucrative practice. The only drawback to his popularity was the fact that he never attended church, and openly boasted of being an atheist. Dr. Brown, being a single man, occupied a sleeping room over his office at 1,411 Gray- son street. I could not move my head, for the awful weight threatened to (lislncate my neck if I did ; my eyes seemed being pressed into my brain, and the paper circlets not provin r adequate for their purpose, I began to fee the first symptoms of suffocation. I could not call out, and believed myself to be dy- ing. But my troubles had barely commencv ed. The apprentices had not fixed the centerboard, or slit, properly, and when they mercifully decided to release me, they found the cast would not come in half as it usually does. In a. successful operation the two halves are joined together after remov- al, and a perfect reproduction of the face and head easily produced ; but in my case both dividing board and grease had been over- looked, and the only course left was to smash the mask off. Mallet and chisel were used, producing an ofi'ect like concus- sion of the brain. Finally my face was freed, and I was able to breathe, and make a few remarks to the boys on their careless- ness. Then it transpired that they had omitted to grease behind my ears, and the plaster adhered to the skin like glue. To remove the former, the latter had to be torn away, and when at last I got away I was a mass of blood and sores. After two weeks’ medical attention I got about right, but the memory is still fresh.” FELL DEAD WHILE BLASPHEM- IN G. “ Now, as the husband was to be one of a file of soldiers whose duty it was to fire a volley of shots at the artist as he made his escape up a. rocky pass, the absence of the buttonsilittle halls of SteelASOOH awaken- ed suspicion in his mind. Before the cur- tain went up on the not in which this i‘x’i» dent occurred, he went to the property 11 ‘in and insisted on having the charges in the chorister’s gun examined. The firearm was taken from the husband’s hands, and when the load was drawn one of the buttons was found rammed down under :1. wad. ()ne but ton had been out from every uniform so as to conceal the positive proof that the missile came from the husband’s gun. H ad that shot been fired and proved fatal, no evidence but the thinnest of Circumstantial testimony could have connected the true murderer with the tragedy.” flow Plaster {lasts are Made. Betrayed by a Button.