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CHAPTER III. The moment when Madeline de Breteuil's sense of her duty as a wife had triumphed over her loathing for a cowardly crime had been to Louis a. revelation in his knowledge of Women so astonishing, so complete, that a revival of her love for him might, perhaps, have worked in his hard yet not specially strong character some sort of repentance, some sort of temporary reformation. But that was beyond her pOWer. Pity for his abject state after her discovery of his crime lent her manner a gentleness which he mis- took at first for the old fondness; but he ‘Was too sharp sighted to be long deceived ; and when he found that it was with difli- culty that she schooled herself to receive his tardy advances passively, that she would talk, laugh, Work, cook, do anything to keep him for a little while at a distance, his wretched pride took fire, and he kept aloof from her insullen disdain which she could only make most faint-hearted eflorts to break through. So they passed ten days of an uneasy do- mesticity : Madeline living in a fever of horrible imaginings, picturing the murder about which she dared not question him, fearing that the police might be on his ‘track ; while he, on the contrary, seemed to fall into a state of torpor, in whichâ€"as far as his wife could seeâ€"neither remorse nor apprehension had any share. She wondered 'how it was that, since robbery was his only E rpossible motive, Louis seemed now to be i Worse off than ever; for, whatever his moral defects might be, he was far too keen of in- tellect to handicap himself with the danger- ous responsibilities of an unnecessary crime. She knew also that the securities which Mr. Staunton had told her, in Louis‘s hearing, that he had with him, would he property so dangerous as to be almost valueless in the hands of a man unconnected With the Stock ‘ Exchange and ignorant of the course of af- iairs on it. At first De Breteuil spent all his time indoors. smoking and reading nov- els in stolid indifference to everything but the quality of the meals she provid (1. But at the end of a week he showed signs of awak- ening restlessness, and went regularly out, by himself for twenty minutes at a time every morning and every night. He never brought home any newspapers and never asked to see any, but Madeline used to buy and read them with feverish haste on her There is a. touch of nobility, a. grace beyond the reach of commonplace humanity, in a. nature which can bear the strain of a. deep grati‘ tude. When Louis de Breteuil discovered that Madeline would not break the monotony of his retirement from the world by return- in his reviving passion, he soon found the burden of his debt to her extremely irksome. But he had no money, and for the moment seemed to be without the energy to make any, by fair means or foul; and Madeline, whom early training had taught to be frugal, could at least, with the proceeds at the sole of her dresses and with her small earnings, keep both him and herself from starving. way to and the school where she now gave lessons in English for two hours every ay. Twice she read short paragraphs statingi that nothing further had been heard of the l missing Englishman; but the affair had! evidently taken no hold upon public curios- ity until the tenth day after Louis’s return, when a long sensational article appeared in 'the “Figaro,” containing copies of tele- grams sent from London to Turin, from Turin to London. and from- both these places to Marseilles and Lyons, all con- cerning an English stockbroker who had not been heard of for thirteen days, and who ‘Was supposed to have absconded with se- curities to the amount of between eighteen and twenty thousand pounds. The missing man had held the high character essential to a daring and success- nful coup of this kind, and the fact 'that for more than a. week no letters or telegrams had been received from him had aroused no suspicion until the dis- covery was made that certain shares openly sold on the London Stock Exchange were the property of a client of Mr. Staunton, a gentleman residing at Turin. It was a‘ clerk in Mr. Staunton’s office who made this discovery and communicated it to the junior partner. The latter at once set in- quiries on foot, and traced the sale of the shares, for the delivery of which in Turin Mr. Staunton had been responsible, to a. 'young clerk on the Stock Exchange, who had disappeared on the morning after the fortnightly account, after cashing to the amount of several hundred pounds the checks 'he had received for the sale of shares and bonds which, on examination, proved to cor- respond, with the exception of some foreign bonds not easily negotiable which had dis- appeared, with the property Mr. Staunton had undertaken to deliver to his client at Turin. The “Figaro” gave the name of the absconding clerk. supposed to be in collusion with the defaulting Mr. Staunton, as, “ Memdish.” Madeline crept home that afternoon all most stupefied by the weight of guilt which seemed to fall only on her. It was four o’clock when she reached her little sitting- room, and Louis was out. She sat for a. few minutes staring stupidly at the white clouds in the sky ; then, having long ago exhausted every feeling of sus- picion, misery, and fear, she rose and won- dered dully why her husband did not return. It “as the first time he had been out at this hour, and the fear seized her that suspicion might have fallen on him, and that he might be already in the grasp of the law. She had not yet taken ofi" her bonnet, so she ran down-stairs to watch and wait for him in ‘the street. He never told her where he went during his daily absences, so that it was chance which made her turn to the left, stop at the first corner, and look up and down the street which crossed hers, until she saw, going into a cabaret some distance 03', two men, one of Whom she fancied she recognized as Louis. She went quickly up the street in that direction, and, unnoticed in the crowd of foot-passengers, managed to peep into the little wine-shop. Sitting at a table close to the door were the two men whose entrance she had watched. One “Mn was De Breteuil, and she saw at ‘ance, that his sullen listlessness He was flushed and animated, was erect, and he wore, for the . since his do anallâ€"nut into crime, 1 povertyâ€"the expresslon of bold IT 0R, and cynical recklessness which had been the most striking and the most; admired char- acteristic of his face in the days when he was king of the boulevarde. Madeline noticed'all this curiously, won» dering what was the reason of the change in him ; and then she saw him put his right handâ€"which was the one nearest to the windoWâ€"â€"ca.relessly into his coat-pocket and drew out a tight little roll of paper with an elastic band round it. He slipped ed“ the elastic, and, smoothing out the paper, began 1;) count them ; and she saw that they were English bank-notes. “ Whose money was that 2” she asked herself, shivering and pressing closer to the Window. She had been so fascinated as she watched every movement of Louis that her eyes had not turned for a second to his companion. whose back was towards her. Sne would have been able, had she left the window at that moment, to tell that he was short and broad and shabbin dressed, but no more. How- ever, at thet moment he sat back and mov- ed his chair a few inches, so that the light might fall upon the glase of wine he held in his hand ; and by the movement, though she could not see his face. she knew him. It was her first husband, Robert Mertdith I The moment after her recognition of him, Madeline suddenly remembered where she was, suddenly became conscious of the hurrying crowd around her, and glanced from right to left with a hot blush in her face, under the impression that she had uttered a wild shriek; but no one was taking the least of her. So she looked again, shaking from head to foot, and trying to understand. One thing only in the confusion of her mind was clear to her : she was not the wife of a murderer. Her heart leapt up with pas sionate relief at the thought. But fast upon that followed the consciousness of the ter- rible position in which the perfirly of these two wretches had placed her; and then came the longing to be revenged upon them both, 'a longing fierce and hungry as the impulses of an enraged animal as she stood panting before the window, with her hands curved like claws, her great eyes luminous with passion, and her red lips parted in straight lines over teeth that looked hid- eous and dangerous in their gleaming white- ness. Again she had lost herself in intent savage contemplation of the two men, when a disagreeable croaking laugh close at her ear startled her. Turning her head sharply she saw Rosalie, the old chambermaid, Whose lean leather» colored face was wrinkled up with most flattering interest in her neighbor’s affairs. She glanced alternately at Madeline and at the pair in the wine- shop, and seemed to perceive enough sig- nificance in the situation to enjoy it most heartily- Still, she was evidently curious ‘to understand it better, and she gently jdetained the young Englishwoman by the lhand as she was turning abruptly away. “ Pardon, madame,” croaked she softly. “ I have not met you for a whole week, and. I should so much like to know how you are getting on , if you would be so kind as to et me walk with y0u a little way.” Madeline assented with no very clear in- tention, but with the feeling that this shrewd Freuchwoman, with her world know- ledge apd her professed acquaintance with a. secret in Louis’s life, might be useful or might be dangerous, but was not to be de- spised. She gave one last look into the wine, shop, where De Breteuil, still in high spirits was trying to raise those of his companion to the same level by liberal draughts of wine, which the other swallowed steadily, and cursed for “ dâ€"d French rubbish ” at the same time., Then the two women mov- ed away together, and Madeline told the other that she had some pupils and hoped lto have more, and that she was getting on very well indeed. But ROSalie’s informa- tion was ahead of all this. WJAnd monsieur has come back, I hear, so that madame is no longer dull,” she sug~ gestfid simply- ..nn .uuruu 0 “0h, noII am not dull,” said Madeline, with irrepressible bitterness. “ And monsieur looks gayer than he used to do While at the hotel ; I never saw a. mm more changed in a. short time. I used to think how hard it was for a devoted young wife to see her husband so miserable; but to-day_â€"” r Maideline turned sharply toward her, with such a look of agony on her face that the woman’s tongue stopped. A ‘ _ “ \Ve Will not talk of him,” Madeline said, with difficulty “ he isâ€"notâ€"my hus- band." And the shame of the woman, as she faltered out the terrible admission, with an eflbrt to assume a. tone of callous indiffer- ence, brought a. blush into her face which burned like a. brand. “ Let us talk of Mr. Breteuil; he was a. nobler man, he would not have treated me as thisâ€"this Louis, Monsieur Louis, is doing. I cannot bear it ‘ â€"â€"I hate him, he neglects me ; Iâ€"I think I , amâ€"tired of him.” But the afl‘ectation of flippant indiffer- ence with which she said this was far too transparent to deceive Rosalie, who shrug- ged her shoulders, but looked rather sorry for her. “ Ah, yes, M. de Breteuil, he would no doubt have treated madame differently,” said she, in a. tone from which it was impos- sible to tell whether or no she guessed M. Louie’s identity. “ He did everything en prince.” ‘ “ Yet you told me once that you knew something which would change people's opinion of him? Will you tell me the se. cret, Rosalie ‘2" “ I cannot, madame. I am getting old, I am nearly fifty, and I look upon that little secret as property which may some day in- crease my incomeâ€"a. retiring pension, per- haps, when my limbs grow too stifl for ac- tive service.” “I cannot afford to buy secrets now, but I have still, as you can see, some fondness left for M. de Breteuil, and I should not like to see him hurt withoutâ€"” “ Without having a. hand in the matter, I understand, madame," said Rosalie sim- ply. And her keen commercial instinct pen, oeiving a possible customer, she added, “ I shall be probably at the same hotel for the' rest of my working days, madame, and the proprietorl M. Denis, will always be able to give you my address when I leave. I hope madame will never be so ill-advised as toâ€"to attempt to quarrel with, or to stand against M. de Breteuil,” she added in a kindlier tone of warning. “ You are young, handsome ; you have the world before you, and with the power of your beauty you DONE can rule menâ€"other men. But leave M. de Breteuil alone. He has resources you do not know of, which you had better not guess. If you are dissatisfied with his treatment of you, revenge yourself, but on other men. Believe me, it would be better for you to throw yourself into the Seine, or even to be scarred with smallpox, than to tempt Fate by defying M. de Bretcuil.” “TEank you, Rosalie,“ said Madeline, more impressed by the unexpected earnestâ€" ness of the hard-featured Woman, with the lines of avarice and suspicion so strongly marked in her face, than by the warning, which she did not: intend to heed. r “ I shall inoitrsrge you again, Rosalie, for I am ggingtp leave Paris very soon." They were at the corner of the street. The young Englishwomau held out her hand, which the other took with more than conventional respect. “ n p 'r “UGoovdbye, madame {wherever you may be going, I wish you all prosperity 1mg happiness.”_ V - v But even as she spoke this good wish, it. was evident that the last part was only a. conventional utterance, for in the face of the young Englishwoman as she thanked her and walked away there was a. fixed, hard expression which told that faith and hope, the springs of happiness, were dried up in her forever. Madeline, left alone, reached her rooms very quickly, unlocked one of her large trunks, and began to pack it for a journey. She collected the few things she wanted to take with her besides what it already con- tsined, and felt pleased to find that the one trunk would hold everything she wanted. Then, when she had only the top tray left to 611, she remembered that she must pay her rent up to the end of the week, and going quickly down stairs to the little cigar-shop, she found her landlady, haggled with much spirit over the point of the next week’s rent in lieu of notice which the ex-vivandierc wanted to exact, and came up-stairs again victorious, after having persuaded her to be content without it, and, moreover, to buy for a small sum her spare trunk and a few other things she could not take away with her. She was tossing on to the floor out of her writing-cases. couple of notes and a dried flower out of a bouquet from Louis, when the sound of his footsteps on the stairs sud- denly destroyed her busy calmness, and forced her to lean, trembling and cold with dread, upon the edge of the trunk she was filling. She heard him enter the sitting-room, singing. He called her by name, and the sound of his voice, to which she did not: re- ply, braced her for the meeting. When he flung open the bedroom door, she was still on her knees quietly packing. - . Vi‘rlfiaLdiéline’!” said‘ he, if; astonishment. “ What on earth are you doing? Didn’t you hearlne 93.11_y_oq '3” ..-.-. 1 â€"VIE_Y;§,’; 32.121 she quietly, “ I heard you : butrI am busy‘ reazrrangin‘g qu Prunks.” 11-. 1 Her tone evidently surprised him. He had been used lately to tones in which duty pre- dominated over love, but today even the duty seemed to fail. He stepped forward into the room, stooped down, and looked into her face. His own was bright with the same expression of guy triumph and content which it had worn in the wine-shop. “You are dull, my princess,” said he carelessly. “You have lived too long in these wretched little pigeon-holes; you must come back to the boulevards, and your spirit will come back with new dresses and new trinkets. No wonder you are gining: it is three months since you have Worn diamonds. ” u â€"‘_"I icivon’tr’. wfint diamonds indeed, Louis, thank you.:’_ u 1 ,, H1, ” Ah, well, the taste will come back with the means of satisfying it. You want change, you want excitement, Madeline : thank Heaven! I have at last the means of supplying you with them. Toâ€"night we will dine together at Brebant’s ; and cham- pagne shall bring the color to your cheeks, and the light to your eyes, and the love to your heart too ; even that has run a. little dry of late for want of its proper food of presents and playthings.” s- ... 1 :r r_._ r-v~-â€"~ «WV .7 .l u Madeline looked up suddenly : it was im- possible that he did not know the absurdity of his accusation. Yet he stood there play ing with his purse, as light-hearted, as full of happy excitement, as a ,.schoolboy who had just: been “ tipped ” by his maiden aunt with a five-pound note. -.‘ “ Look here,” he went on, without notic- ing her expression or without heeding it. And he took her left hand, and poured into it a. dozen or so of twenty-franc pieces. He felt her hand twitch and tremble as if the coins had been red-hot, but he closed. her fingers upon them and laufhed into her face. “ These will ease the bur en of life a. little, I think, Madeline.” Again she looked up at him, her face pale and damp, her great eyes glistening. “ Where did you get this money?" she ask- ed slowly, in a. voice so hoarse, so hard, so unlike her own, that he dropped her hand, and stepped back from her imp‘atiently. A “ \Vhorhus put it into your head to cate- chise me ‘2" he asked coldly, “ and to treat me to an unrehearsed tragedy when I offer you the pleasures you used to delight in? You should not ask questions, especially when you know that you would not he sat- isfied with the answers. The best thing you can do now, Madeline, is to forget as quick- ly as possible the disagreeable interlude of poverty and wretchedness which I would have spared you if I could, come back with me to the bright life you enjoyed so much, and rely upon me not to let such an unfor- tunate accident disturh your peace again.” ‘wr‘wfififéRIIBfiR accideht !” stupiffly. “ Yels ; and take care, you are dropping your money. You will find it slip through your fingers quite fast enough ; and, then, for all your contempt for it, you will come asking me for more.” askm me 101‘ more. “ ’ ore ! More of this money !" she whis- pered huskily, as opening her hand she let the gold fall on the floor, and drew her dress away from it. Then she cleared her throat, and, attempting to go on with the work of arranging the contents of her trunk, she added quietly, with strong constraint upon herself: “You have misunderstood me,‘ Louis; I have never cared much .for your‘money.” ‘ . "Lnjnmr, 1 , ,, 1. “ Perhafis I have misunderstood you less than you think, Madeline,” said he, with some tenderness, as he drew a. little nearer to her ; and she grew suddenly still, fearing least he should touch her again, knowing as she did that she shcull not be able to bear the horror of it the second time. She wanted _to repress herself until he should leave her, so that she might escape quietly and without disturbance out of his sight, out of his reach. But he continued in tones that grew warmer as he proceeded : “ You Ehe refieated think, perhaps, that becauseI have been too much cast down of late either to cheer you Sortobe cheered by you, thave not noticed your devotion, or besn touched by it. But I have. And though the weight of anxiety upon me has made me morose and bearish to you, I have said to myself all the time, ' When the cloud has passed, she will have her reward.’ It has pissed now, and my ill-humor has melted as your coldness must melt, and we will have the old times, and better times still, Madeline, and tonight we must seal the new bond with champagne and laughter.” He flung his arm around her as she cow- ered on the floor. But she wrenched herself shivering away from him, and rose, white and panting, to her feet. For one moment he paused, drawing himself up with a frown which frightened her; then he threw the end of his cigar out or the window, and crossed the room to her. “ Is this the congratulation lam to re- ., .. ceiv€"t}3}fi 133; fife?" And he laid his hand heavily on her shoulder. “ Come, be lewouable. Kiss meâ€"isgy yop‘rgsorry.” Madeline was tall and broad and strongâ€" in physical strength almost his equal ; mov- ed by an overpowering impulse of rage, ter- ror, and disgust, she pushed him away from her with such force that he fell staggering back against the door of the small room. “ Don’t touch me.” she hissed as he recov- ered himself; “ I am not your wife 1” De Breteuii steadied himself, and made no further attempt to approach her; but the horrible puller of his dark face as he looked across at her, and the lurid light that seem- ed to shoot out of his black eyes, for an instant made him appear less thn human. Whether he had seen herat the window of the wine-shop that afternoon she did not know, but he said quietly :‘ U “ That is true, and if you are anxious to go back to the husband who got over your loss so easily you are quite at liberty to do so. But if you are wine you will stay with me, and thank Heaven I am still willing to have you. I may be as great a. villain as he, but at any rate I am a. more successful one. No woman has ever had for me the charm you have had since Ifound you ready to stick to me through everything, in spite of circumstances which I own would have frightened off a namby-pamby woman. I will forgive you this little outburst of this afternoon, I will love you the more ; and if you will stay with me I will give you every- thing in the world you can wish for, pro- vided only thet you will have the sense to be content with your own happiness, and not pry into the means used to procure it. Will you love me on those terms ‘2" 1 u “ No. I loathe you from the very depth of my soul. I bore with you, sheltered you in spite of my horror at your crime, because I believed you to be my husband ; now my icy at findin'gIam notbo'und to youisstrongér than the sense of my own degradation. You have tricked mg shamefullyâ€"” “ Nonsense I” be interrupted sharply. “ You were lonely, poor, deserted by a scoundrel ; I_ gave youâ€"you acknowledge“: â€"love and fortune and happiness. 1 re- spected you enough to know that; you would not come with me except; as my wife ; there- fore I had to prove to you that your hnS» band was dead. Now that you have found out than: he is alive, the best; thing you can do is to forget it; again,” “ Unfortunately I cannot, for I have found out more than that,” said she plovyly. There was a pause, during which they looked at each other steadily. Madelme had cast off all restraint, and the hatred that shone out of her gray eyes and made lines in her beautiful face was notless strong and scarcely less terrible than the fiendish maligniny that from time to time flashed out from his when her fierce words stung him. In“ What have you found out '3” -*“I have found out that you and my dear husband have entered into a partnership which ought to be a most successful oneâ€"for a. time. You are hard and (lar- ing, he is clever and easily led; he has a. conscience it is easy to stifle, you have no conscience at all. Don’t scowl at me â€"I am not afraid of you ; I know you both well, though I have only learnt the lesson this afterncon. But some day success in crime, for I suppose you will hardly stop at one robbery and one murder â€"yes, murder Jâ€"Touuh me if you dare!” as be started menacingly, with scowling,‘ livid face, staring at her in the dusk over the open trunk and the scattered unpacked trifles that strewed the disordered room. “Some dav success will make you careless, and one of you will make some little slipâ€"â€" my husband most likely in a fit of drunken pleasure or drunken remorse," said she, with biting contempt ; " and that little mistake, whatever it may be, will be forgotten, and you will think yourselves safe. But Where ever and whenever you make it, I shall find it outâ€"I, the woman whom you both have conspired to ruin anddegrade as no loving woman, as I “as, ever was degraded yet. And I will work and wait and watch, wherever you are and whatever you are doing, until I have made a net about your feet which will bring you both down." It was not a. pleasant discourse to have to listen to from the white lips of a. woman whose eyes seemed to shoot fire, and whose voice grew lower and lower, until the last words were hissed into the ears of the man before her with a. venom which left its mark. As she ended, De Breteuil sprang at her ; but she was prepared for this. and, evading him, she ran around her trunk to the hell- rope, and pulled it twice violently. This movement brought her to the door of the sitting-room, which she pushed open. ‘ 1 I â€"--l“-â€"‘â€"‘|7B:e£rdill you do flat for? savagely. " 1. 1 1x 1 “ Toicall up Madame Despland.” “ What do you want her for '3” “ I wish to declare before a. Witness that you are the murderer of Mr. Staunton ; that; you are in collusion with Robert Méredith, who disposed at the stock stolen from Mr. Shaunton by you ; thatâ€"” “ Are you mad '2” “ No. If you wish to avoid exposure, leave me this instant ; if you remain, I swearâ€"” had said enough-51“), had looked enough. I)? ‘Bfeteuil opengfi the outer door, against which he was standing, and treated her to one last scowl, which would have frightened any one but an enraged woman. Nothing more impressive than the ordinary threatof the Wife-beating costermonger oc- curred to him, but he said it with more than the costermonger’s significance: “ I’ve not done with you yet 1” " Aa footageps §vere heard upon the stairs, heflippeé on; 0‘, tbs romp- “\Vfie‘n De Bretefiil rejoined his aceomplice his spirits had fallen a good deal, and in ex asked he planation he Ni Meredith of the Scene which had just 122. en place. He made iight of Madeline’s thX‘Aets, but the other was really alarmed. “ Fancy her turning so nasty I" he said plaintively. “ I don’t half like it, that I don't: she always was a woman for keeping her word.” “ Not go emyiagdi Vfibt worth While. Be- fore the week is out she will have found some one able to make her forget you and me.” 7‘7‘ All infernal bravado : she can prove nothing,” saigl De Bre-zteuil short-1y. . 14a 1' “xiiâ€"u? y'oEVkéep her i]; sight? I think it would be safer.” “ And a. good thing too 1 F01: she was a. lot too good for either of us,” said the ongr with maudlin compunction. " Couldnt youâ€"couldn’t you at least: find out what she's going to do, andifâ€"if she’s got money, and isâ€"is all right '3” - _ i u x He insisted Duntil De Breteuil. moved also by another motive, went round to the house that evening, crept tip-stairs, and tried to open the rloors of the rooms Mad- eline had occupied. But; they were locked. He went: down stairs to make inquiries, and found that she had left Paris two hours be- fore, alone. And as be lit a fresh cigar he drew out of his pocket with his match‘box a little case that looked as if it contained a. pipe, and, opening it, looked affectionately at a. beauti- ful little revolver which lay in it, and con- gratulated himself that Madeline’s abrupt disappearance had saved him from adanger- ous temptation._ “ But if we should ever cross each other’s path againâ€"" he said to himself aloud. And withnut finishing his sentence, he blew out the match with which he had lit his cigar, and tossed it awav. A woman came down town the other day with a “ yearling" in a baby carriage, and when she reached a certain dry goods store she left the cab at the door and went in to trade. The youngster was good natured over being left alone, and one of the clerks in the ‘store who knew the mother well thought to play a trick on her. \Vhile she was busy trading he slipped out and wheel- ed the carriage into an adjoining store. A rush of customers prevented him from see- ing the woman as she went out. She stood at the door for a moment, as if wondering if she had forgotten something, and then started ofl and Went straight home. By that time “ bub” had become uneasy and was raising a. row, and they sent in for the clerk to come and get him. The mother having departed for home, he was obliged to follow her with cart and baby, the latter howling at the top of his voice and attract- ing general attention. The clerk had reach- ed the gate when the woman came out, and as she saw baby and cart she threw up both hands and exclaimed : “ bééli'rhle, but I thought it was a. spool of twist I had forgotten !” Bald-fleadedness. There is much weerisome and needless dis- cussion about bald-headed American men- Wash your head thoroughly once aweek with a. lather of soap and water rinse all the soap out, and rub the scalp lively till it is entirely dry. Never wear an unventilated hat, or any hat at all when you can avoid it. Wear a. straw hat, instead of felt, when ev‘er possible. Give your scalp plenty of sunlight, also plenty of air. Don't smoke too much. Follow these directions, and you never will be bald-headed. Even if your hair has begun to get thin, it will revive. Canadians are bald beeause they wear fur caps. It; is the wearing of hot and unnatu- ral head-coverings that makesthe hair fall out. If a quite bold man should go bear- headed in the sun and air a year, it is likely that his hair would come in again, and he would never take cold, Remember this: Nature means your hair to keep your head warm, not fur caps or felt hats. Felt hats and silk hats are an abomination. These are the wretches that make American men bald-headed. It is not their mighty intel- lects or their excessively fine nervous sys- tem. ' The project of demming up the Chagres with 26,000,000 cubic meters of earthwork, accompanied by a. culvert large enough to admit the issue of a. stream gauging 4'30 cubic meters per second, and needing for its course a. cutting nearly as wide and deep as that required for navigation, depends, among other things, for its accomplishment on the forbearance of earthquakes. One tremour of the ground will bring down the whole mighty structure. Altogether, M. de Lesseps and his shareholders are in a. terribly awkward plight. They cannot very Well abandon works which have cost over fifty millions of money, and yet they cannot with prudence go forward. They have two ; alternatives, and only two, before them. One of them is to sell the Whole thing for, say twenty millions to the Americansâ€"Who are quite willing to buy the concernâ€"and the other is to suspend M; De L'esseps, and to put in somebody who will personally su- perintend the works. Who that somebody ought to be we have, we confess, no idea. To make a. serviceable telephone from one farm house to another only requires enough Wire and. two cigar boxes. First select your boxes and make a hole half an inch in diam- eter in the centre of the bottom of each, and then place one in each of the houses you Wish to connect ; then get five pounds of common iron st0vepipe wire, make a. loop in one end and put it through the hole in your cigar box and fasten it with a. nail ; then draw it tight to the other box, support- ing it when necessary with a stout cord. You can easily run your line into the house by boring a. hole through the glass. Support your boxes With slats nalled across the win- dow, and your telephone is complete. The writer has one that is two hundred yards long and cost forty~five cents that will carry music when the organ ispleying forty feet away in another room. Upon the weather is accepted by some as real, by others it is disputed. The moon never attracts coma from the tender, aching spot. Putnam’s Painless Corn Extractor removes the most painful corns in three days. This great remedy makes no sore spots, doesn’t go fooling around a man’s foot, but gets to business at once, and effects a. cure. Don’t be imposed upon by substitutes and imitations. Get “Put- nam’a,” and no other. A Home-Made Telephone The Panama Canal. The Hoon's Influence No Joke on “or. (TO m: CONTINUED.)