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- RACHEL RAYMOND; OR, LOST…
RACHEL RAYMOND; OR, LOST AND FOUND. BY THE AUTHORESS OF Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird" Is Almnsf a Criminal,"$*c., 4"c' [ALL RIGHTS RESERYED.L CHAPTER XI. STOLE AWAT. AND while all this was going on at Lord Addeleigh's bouse, Christine Bartlett was speeding away on her journey to London. She bad told Lionel the truth concerning herself. The money he had given to her, and the help she obtained on the road, took her safely to London, where she met her husband, who was as she had said, a travelling acrobat, or mountebank as the country folk called him. But that assertion was true only to a certain extent. Henry Bartlett had only been a stroller, since evil fortune had landed him, penniless and friendless, in Englai d. He bad lost clothes, proper- ties, and everything that he possessed, by the founder- ing of a boat which was bringing his things ashore; and, after a week or two's vagabondising, had managed to get a situation in London. With only monov enough to pay his own fare, ha made his way to it, leaving his wife to follow. She was no nervous, feeble woman, frightened at her own shadow, and she pushed boldly on, ignorant of her road as she was, until, as we have seen, she was met and relieved by Lionel Temple. How she managed her journey matters little to our 8tory; she did manage, and four days after her inter- view with Lionel Temple, she stood weary and worn, but happy and hopeful, at the stage door of one of the east-end theatres. "Well?" interrogated a dirty door-keeper, as she showed herself. What is it ?" Mr. Bartlett's address, if you please." "Mr. Bartlett! Who ,s he?" "The ballet director—the new gentleman." Ob, him!" The tone was contemptuous in the extreme, as was the look which accompanied it. What's he to you ?" I am his wife. Where does be live ? That is, supposing I can't see him here." Oh, you can't see him now. Here, Joseph; where does that new fellow live ?" Over at Mrs. Gwyther's, four pair back, and be careful how you ring the bell, for fear of taking the polish off the handle," retorted a dirty lad, who finished his speech, and went off to inform his fellow- Supers that Herr Bartlett's wife was coming, and she looked just like a bone-dealer's rag-doll." Meantime Herr Bartlett's wife bad found out his poor lodging, and established herself therein. Very humble and mean it was, but it was home, and redolent of his presence, the only being on earth who loved or cared for her and she wept for very joy that she had found a home at last. She. undressed the child, and laid hirgk on the humble bed, and then sat down to await her husband's return. Despite his poverty-stricken appearance, he was a very clever man, this Herr Bartlett, recently installed as ballet- master at the Clarence Theatre and once in London, there was little fear of his getting on. His wife started up with a little scream of joyful surprise when she saw him come in. He looked pale and care- worn, but he was neatly attired in a whole suit of elothes. My darling, my darling he exclaimed, catching her in his arms. What a joyful surprise! I hardly looked for you for days yet." I got help beyond my expectations," she answered; but 111 tell you all about it by-and-bye. Why, how smart you are, Harry It Yes, dear. I wasn't decent enough for the situa- 11 tion till I got rigged out. We'll have these shabby things off you to-morrow, if I live." Yes; the Horr's wife must not disgrace him," she said, with a sad smile. But you don't say a word about the bov, dear." Ah, the boy—he's all right, I suppose I" How coldly you speak. All right Look at him, the darling isn't he lovely Yes; he is beautiful; and heHl be clever, too, which is more to the purpose. I'm very glad that we've got him here safe." I've had a terrible fright about him." "How?" Just after I left Plymouth. I found myself in a little country village, with all the little money that I had gone: and I begged—think of that, Harry begged of a gentleman I met on the road for help to get on." My poor Christine." I looked in his face, and I thought my heart Would stop beating, and I should die, for he was as like the bov as one face could be like another, all but the eyes-they were hers, you know. He gave me money, and bade me go to his house but I didn't, I went on my way for fear." What was his name ?" I heard it in the village. Lionel Temple." "Heavens!" Was I not right to get away from that place ?" But there must have been a mistake was not that man drowned ?" "I No, no he is alive, and he was as much struck by the likeness as myself, and questioned me-asked me if the boy was mine only think, my own darling baby but he learned nothing from me. Ob, Harry, I'm terribly afraid P" Of what, my darling ?" That our sin will find us out, as the Bible tells us—that's all." „ „ « Aj1; you think too much about it, Harry Bartlett replied. I don't think there was any sin in the matter. He's a bonny boy, and he's better off with us than in a New York workhouse, isn't he?" I've thought not a dozen times within the last few days," she replied, sadly. We're starved, Harry- the boy and I." And that's made you weak and down-hearted, my lass; you'll feel different to-morrow, please Heaven. Our hard life is over now." Ah, I don't feel as though I could please Heaven to anything. I feel-" Too tired for anything but your supper and bed, I can see. Come along, darling, and try to eat, and I shall see a new look on your face before long." He was right—rest and food were the main things she needed, and in half-an-hour she was smiling and taking brightly of the future to her husband, with the bov by her side. Childlike, he had waked up to share the meal, and was prattling alternately to mammy and daddy," and driving away the care, whatever it was, that was oppressing her, and forcing her to smile back at his baby fun. "I'll make a star of him yet,"said the man, pulling his sturdy limbs, now this way and now that, in a fashion to make a tender mother wince and shrink. It He has plenty of pluck, and he's strong and healthy too." I think that he'd make something better than a dancer, or an acrobat either," said Christine. Look at his intelligent face." t Well, he's no worse for being handsome, n omen like to look at a good-looking fellow in tights. I'll teach him my profession first, and let him learn what he likes after. I do believe you half despise me, Christine, because I can't patter like your fine actors; but I tell you what it is my girl-for one actor that gets a good living now-a-days, there's a dozen acrobats and gymnasts who make their fortunes. I'll stick to the tumbling, wife." For answer, Christine put her arms round her husband's neck, and gave him kiss after kiss, till the little one set up a jealous clamour of "Me too, mammy," and had to be caressed in his turn. "Despise you, Harry!" she said-and her voice was full of wifely love and pride. Despise my own husband, whose every care and thought is to make me happy! Ah! don't talk like that dear; you know it isn't true." 4< I know I am only a rough chap, darling-only fit to tumble in public-houses, and pick up a living by the roadside-while you-" I'm only a poor showman's daughter, dear. That I ever had any education was chance work. I've never been better off, nor happier, than since you made me your wife, and I never wish a better fate." Perhaps in all London there was not a happier couple than Harry Bartlett and his wife that night- happy in their altered fortunes, and ill their mutual love. No matter that their ,home was humble, and their supper frugal—they were together, with em- ployment for the present, and youth, health, and hODe for the future. The veiy next day the teaching of the little boy commenced. The Infant Claude," his father dubbed him and in a very few hours it was plain to be seen that, baby though ho was, he had all the natural qualifications for the profession to which he was destined. He was strong, lithe, and fearless, and, R tE&SF* Tnd months passed on, presently the tiny ^tat mfe aLture in StTlS at the theatre, ana crowds « ha,lby Cupia, cam6 fearless little lellow, who, as y made havoo out of flowers and down moonbeam with the hearts of gauzy fames. addition to His earnings made no inconsider the weekly income of the ballet-ma rejoiced at the success of his te*chmf' one neither pains nor expense to keep t m0st healthy and happy; and the boy, "nl1 ohiicren who figure in theatrical spectacles, become old and worn before their time witn hours and gaslight work, seemed not to feel any ill effects, but looked as hearty and as rosy as a country- bred child. Offers for him began to pour in from provincial threatres, but Harry Bartlett very wisely refused them a^ for all that," he said. Little Claude shall make a London reputation before he goes into the country. But alas for human speculation! The theatre sha-ed the fate of many another during the winter season and was burnt to the ground one night after the performance: and as the London houses were most of them closing at the time, to take a. country engagement was the only thing left for them to do. They were obliged to accept a very inferior one to what they had hoped for, but were still much better off than when they first came to London, and they did not grumble. Many of the company had nowhere to go, and nothing to fall back upon, with the slack season before them. On the same night tha theatre was burnt, Lord j Addeleigh and his son-in-law sat in the boxes. Though an east-end theatre, the perfection with which the pantomime had been produced attracted all playgoers ¡ to see it, and these two had sauntered in to wile away I an hour. „ When the pretty little :hild shot out from the centre of a large lily, and stood poising his gilded bow upon the brilliantly-lighted stage, his lordship started, and M<S Heavens Do you see that child, Lionel ?" 4 Yes," he answered. Its the child I saw the day before I was married. I'm sure it is." Why, he is your living image I know it. I see it, my lord. I must know more about that boy. I am sure the story the woman told me was not true." Why, you don't imagine that I hardly know what I imagine, but I must have that child's true history." Oh! I expect it is simple enough, my boy. What do they call him ? Ob, the 4 Infant Claude.' Depend upon it that he'll turn out to be the son of that extremely common-place looking person who ap- r pears to be the prime director of his actions. The likeness is extraordinary. The boy has not only your look but your gestures. Look at the very turn of your head—everything but the eyes." Yes, they are Rachel's eyes," Lionel murmured, but in too low a tone to reach the ear of his com- panion; "her loving, wistful eyes." And a cold thrill came over him as he thought what would be the terrible consequences if there had been any mistake in the terrible tragedy which had blighted his life. After the performance the two gentlemen went round to the stage door, only to find that Herr Bartlett and his little boy had gone home. Lionel would have followed them, late as it was, but his lordship laughed at tte idea. Let the poor child get his supper and go to bed," he said. The theatre won't run away, nor will the boy and his father. To-morrow will be time enough." But, ere they had gone half a mile, they retraced their steps at loud cries of "Fire!" and were eye- witnesses to the destruction of one of the handsomest and best appointed houses in London, albeit its patrons were of the lowest orders, and the whole night's en- tertainment could be seen from the commodious gallery for threepence. They lingered long enough to learn that nobody was hurt, and to say a few hurried words to the half- distracted manager about the possibility of getting up a benefit for the employes, and-then hurried home, fearful lest Clare, who was in London with them, should be alarmed at their being so late. She was remarkably interested in all they had to tell her, and insisted that Lionel should make enquiries about the boy the very next day. It might be possible," she said, that the child was saved, though his mother was killed. Such things does happen sometimes." So Lionel promised to go. But Man proposes and God disposes," says the proverb. The very next day Clare met with an ac- cident, not necessarily very serious in itself, but serious to her as the mother-expectant of an heir to the estates of Lord Addeleigh. A simple fall down a couple of steps caused her to sprain her ankle some- what severely, and for a fortnight her husband could think of nothing but her. His father-in-law more than once remembered the dark little face, with its flashing eyes, and wondered whether there was more than a coincidence in the startling likeness; but he was worldly wise, and reasoned within himself whether it was not better to let the matter drop. This poor little waif-so be argued-had no place in the world even if Lionel's strange notion was a true one. Herbert Temple had an heir-delicate in health, certainly, but likely to live and it was probable that Lionel and Clare would have a family of their own to bring up. Better he should be forgotten. But Lionel had not forgotten; and when his wi fe was once more able to come into the drawing-room, and all risk of any serious consequence was averted, he once more spoke of the little acrobat. I sin II go and seek those people to-morrow, Clare, darling," he said, one evening. I must know the truth about that boy." I wish I could come with you," she replied put- ting up her pretty mouth to be kissed. Oh, Lionel, dearest." What is it, love ?" If it is as you fancy; as you hope-for I see it in your face—you'll give him to me to love and care for, won't you ? I'd be all a mother to him if I could." My dear Clare, you are taking a flying leap into the future," her father said, with a laugh. "The gentleman he belongs to at present may be able to prove his paternity besides you'll soon have nursery affairs of your own on hand." Clare blushed, but Lionel whispered to her— If it is not fancy, love, if my Rachel's child by any miracle, still lives, you shall have him, be sure." Down to the ruins of the once pretty theatre Lionel and his father in-law drove early next day, much to the disgust of his lordship's coachman, who, far more aristocratic than his master, turned up his nose at visiting such a locality. Arrived there, the address of the woman with whom the Bartletts lived was easily found, but the birds had flown. "Gone!" exclaimed Lionel in disappointment, when the woman had made the announcement. a- Where ?" To France, sir." France ? Yes." Do you know nothing more of them ? No." This was unpromising, but a silver key unlocked her tongue. «' They are gone to France," she said, to the surky something or other, I don't know what nor which. They were to have gone to Man- chester, but they got a fright, and broke the en- gagement." "A fright « Yes—leastways, Mrs. Bartlett did." How ? Well, sir, I can't tell exactly; there was allers something mysterious about her and that child." "Do you believe that it was her own?" Lionel asked, earnestly. I don't know, sir," answered the woman. J<o one could be more fonder of it, but she aIlers appeared frightened to let it out of her sight, and the very day afore they were going to Manchester she took him out with her to buy him some things. They'd saved a bit of money, and had everything niceish about 'em.' « Yes, yes," said Lionel, impatiently go on." Well, sir, in about an hour she came tearing back in a cab, white as a ghost, and rushed upstairs like a madwoman, with the child clutched to her. I was in the room permiskus like, and heard all she said. Harry," she said, we must go out of the country; I've met him." "Who?" says he. "Him," says she—" the man I met in Cornwall-we can't go too far away." Then he asked her where, and she said, in Covent Garden Market, where she'd taken the boy to show him the flowers." Stay," said Lionel, What day was this, and at what time ?" Last Wednesday week, sir," she replied. And about the middle of the day. It was between one and two when she got home." The landlady must have wondered very much what the gentleman was to her late lodger, for his face blanched to the very lips as he turned to his companion. n "Theremust be something in this, my lord, ne said, "for I was in Covent Garden that day, getting some flowers for Clare, and that woman must have seen me." CHAPTER XII. MISS AMARANTH. AND the days and weeks passed by in their usual course, until the bright, glad sun of summer filled the earth with warmth and gladness, and Lionel Temple, back in his own home at Cornwall, ceasod to think about the boy whose strange likenees to him- self had so puzzled him. Besides, he had another object now in life, an infant daughter having come to j bless his union with Clare, and draw together still closer the ties which bound them to each other in loving thraldom. It had been a disappointment to Lord Adde- leigh and to his son-in-law as well, that the child had not been a boy but Lionel allowed no trace of this feeling to be exhibited to his wife-and his own regret had been so fully merged in a sense of thank- fulness that Clare was safe and the child healthy that he had no great trouble in deceiving her. There were great rejoicings in both the households over the "happy event," and they all united in making an idol of the little one, who, even in its babyhood, seemed to bear in its face the reflection of the mother's ethereal loveliness. The women-kind, as 'tis their nature to, elevated it for a time on the shrine of their own unreasoning worship, and forced all comers to bow down and pay homage before the helpless divinity, whose very weakness isthestrongest title to man's fealty. The little one was christened after her mother, and inherited her fair complexion and soft blue eyes. Lionel was rather glad of this for he had somehow dreaded to see a dark-skinned baby, who should have reminded him of the da.ys spent with Rachel and the brown-haired child so like himself, who, as he had fancied, might by some chance be his own, escaped from death. He had made every enquiry after the Bartletts, ha.d even sent a trusty messenger to Paris to discover them, if possible, but all without avail. No trace of them or of their boy, if theirs he was, could be found—they all appeared to have vanished from off the face of the earth, and, as time went past en his noiseless flight,, Lionel thought less and less about the object of his search, until at length his recollection of the boy grew dimmer and fainter, till began to think that the fancied likeness had • tpd u0whrre but in his own imagination, and his father-in-law took every means in his power to foster 8UMeanwhile Clara's baby grew and thrived, and the W at Tregarthen was a beautiful boy, though Si aTdtSa?,. and Lord AdMMeh ™ld oft.n laughingly prognosticate that the whole of the estates would be united some day in the persons of the two lovely children. Herbert Temple would smile fondly at his boy as he watched him, and thought over his prospects, which he endeavoured to make even brighter by speculation. Not that the master of Tregarthen was a commercial gambler; but, having a very clear head for business, he went into things that to outside observers presented no very enticing appearance; and, thanks to his judgment, seldom without increas- ij ing the store which he was yearly laying by for his Š young heir. I But the most careful men are bitten sometimes, and Herbert Temple was no exception to the rule. He meddled with some tempting stock on an American line—a sound affair at bottom, but the whole manage- ment of which had fallen into the hands of a small band of unscrupulous and unprincipled riggers," who were fast making their own fortunes at the expense of their more honest partners in the scheme. Herbert could have afforded to lose the money, but, with the usual obstinacy of the true-born Briton, dis- liked the idea of being done brown by such a set," as he expressed himself, and so, with a kiss to his wife and child, and, good-bye "to his friends for a few months, he started for the States to see wh at he could contrive to pick out of the fire. It is needleas for the purpose of th's story to recount the stops he took, or how, after a bard fight, and in more than one instance, narrow escape from the hands r of some of the desperadoes with whom he had to deal, Herbert Temple succeeded in recovering a greater part of the money which, but for his energetic efforts, would have been totally lost to him, and returned to New York, from whence he intended to take his passage home. But the means of communication between the Old World and the New were not so numerous or so varied as they have since grown, and Herbert found himself in the great capital with nearly a fortnight's time on his hands to fill up before the next steamer started for Europe, and found it hang very heavy, now that his business was over, and he had nothing to occupy him. But he went about, visiting all places of interest and amusement, and one evening found himself at one of those miscellaneous places of entertainment, half tavern, half concert hall, which are common in all large cities. Seating himself at one of the tables, and lighting a cigar, he looked round him with a great deal of curiosity at the motley assemblage that was con- gregated together sailors, for the most part, of all nationalities, with a considerable sprinkling of the class so aptly described under the generic term loafer." AmoTigst a group of tho latter^ who were herded together at a table near the stage, Herbert's eye, fell upon a man whose face seemed strangely familiar to him. When or where he had seen it before he racked his brain in vain to remember. It was a striking countenance. The eyes were dark and piercing, and the nose slightly hooked, but the lower part of his face was covered by a large beard, which effectually concealed the mouth and chin. The man's hair was rough and untrimmed, and a broken-looking hat was set with a jaunty air on one side of his head. He wore an old dress suit of superfine cloth, which had once been black, but had long since resigned all claim to its pristine hue, and was now worn into an undis- tinguishable medley of green and brown. His shirt front, though ragged and dirty, was held together by cheap gilt studs, and his boots, once fashionable in shape and quality, were patched to the last degree. His hands were long and thin, unmistakably unaccus- tomed to manual labour, and his coat-sleeves were pulled carefully down over them to conceal che dilapidated state of his wristbands. Haggard and dissipated-looking as he appeared, there was an air of superiority to those around in his manner'; but it was evident what cause had brought him to this state, for his eyes had a soddened, watery appearance, and the hand which raised the glass to his lips now and again, shook as if with palsy.. Aga n and again Herbert Temple looked at him, in a vain attempt to recollect where he had seen him, for he had no doubt upon the point, and he was about to leave the place, for he had seen quite enough of the sort of entertainment that was provided, when a sudden light broke upon him, and, turning back again, he looked once more at the strange man, and said in an audible voice- Yes, I am sure of it—Bossanquet!" The man turned his head, but more, as it seemed at the sound of the exclamation, which caused many others to stare at the speaker, than from any recog- nition of the name. Herbert again pronounced it, looking straight at him, and at the same time approaching him. "Are you addressing me, sir?" the man asked, while several of the spectators looked curiously up, and stopped their conversation, for there was that in the Englishman's face which showed that it was not a friendly greeting that he meant. Are you speaking te me ?" repeated the man. "I did, Lieutenant Bossanquet," said Herbert, sternly. "If you have not forfeited your rank. I had no idea of meeting you here, but I should be glad, as I have found you, to have some talk with you on my brother's aecount." You can talk away as much as you like," returned the other with a disagreeable laugh. But as I have not the honour of either your acquaintance or your brother's, whoever he may be, and I never happened to hear the name of the gentleman you are pleased to take me for in all my life, I can't imagine what you will find to say to me. However, if you are on for a chat I'm your man. I've plenty of time between this and to-morrow morning; only I should like to suggest, that as talking is thirsty work, you should stand a drink to enliven the conversation." A laugh from those around showed that the man's coarse raillery was appreciated, and several proposal were made that the stranger should stand a liquor al* round but Herbert took no heed of what was said, and addressed the man once more. "You may not remember me," he said, coolly, as we never met but once, I believe, though I have seen you several times, and have good cause to re- member you." "Indeed 1" sneered the man. "Do I owe you any- thing ?" My brother owes you something." Happy to hear it—perhaps youll stump up for him -not that I have ever found a brother ready to do such a thing." We are only beating about the bush to no pur- pose," Herbert said sharply. II My brother is Lionel Temple of Tregarthen; he knows you only too well, and you know the account he has to settle with you. It is of no use your denying your identity even beneath this disguise. I can swear your being the man." Waal, stranger," broke in a tall, sallow-faced man seated at the table, and if he is the man, as you call him, I guess this air a free country, and any citizen may do as he darned please about what he calls him- self. You might get yourself into a pretty con- siderable muddle if you want to come any of your cursed British jaw over here-you might, I reckon. There was a murmur of approval as he finished speaking, and Herbert, looking round saw that he was the centre of attraction for severallrandred pairs of eyes, all the owners of which looked perfectly capable of following up whatever those close around him chose to do. He was in danger, there was no doubt of that, and for a moment his heart stood still, and he thought of his home and the dear ones waiting for him; but he found help from the threatening crowd which hemmed him in, and from a quarter he had hardly expected it. Stop a moment," interposed the man whom he had addressed as Bossanquet. Perhaps the gentle- man will explain what he means-ho.s making a mis- take, that's all." Ay, ay," shouted several voices. Let him ex- ^Nay," said Herbert, rather staggered by the man's confidant manner, and persistent denial. That is more than I can do. What I had to say referred to private matters, not, as you evidently imagine, to a police case. I am no detective, only a private gentleman, who has met a great scoundrel under a false disguise." There was a-other murmur at these words, and Herbert could bear various pleasant suggestions on all sides as to what should be done with him. The excitement became so great, indeed, that even the performers came down from the stage, and joined in the hubbub. Turn him out!" Who is he ?" Some darned Britisher." "Gouge him!" "Chuck him in the river!" "Give him a ride on a rail!" "And a suit of feathers!" These and similar exclamations fell on his ears from all sides, and Herbert thought that every moment would bring them upon him—indeed, it wanted but one overt movement on his side to invite the attack- but, though he stood there alone, defenceless, it was not made. Another moment, and he might have found himself the centre of a struggling mob, all eager to get at him—for men are very brutal in such circumstances, and seem to find a fiendish pleasure in beating, kicking, and pulling, without knowing what offence has been committed; but Herbert Temple escaped from the ordeal, for once more the man, in whose behalf this threatening demonstrations wero made, calmed the rising storm, and extended his protection over the object of it. « That'll do he shouted. I'm much obliged to you all; but Bertie Grant can take his own part. Look here, mister," he continued, turning to Herbert, while the crowd gave way and left the two men con- fronting each other. I don't know your name. nor who you are; but you can plainly see for yourself that I've only to speak the word and you'd go out of this place in a very different plight to when you entered it. You talk about a disguise and of know- ing me beneath it. I only wish that my seedy gar- ments were nothing more than a disguise. I'd willingly swop them. I can assure you I'm down on my luck, certainly but that doesn't give you nor anyone else the right to insult me. I tell you that you have blundered; I'm not the person you have done me the honour to take me for. My name is Grant-Bertie Grant, as plenty of my friends round me can testify" He cast an appealing glance at his companions as he spoke, and a chorus of voices clamoured forth, with strange oaths, the confirmation of his 1^*1 hope you're satisfied," he continued. Here is my card, and if y°u want nothing more of me, you my card, and if you want nothing more of me, you had best make tracks for the door; for I shan't inter- ( fere any further ia behalf of a man who won't take a gentleman's word." tie spose tne lass woras witn a loity air, anu nuug down a limp, dirty-looking card on the liquor- stained table. Herbert picked it up, and read thereon the name which the man had given; but no Address was on it. I am sorry," he began, if I have mistaken you, and can only apologise for my apparent rudeness by pleading your great likeness to the person I took you for, and asking your pardon for the blunder." Waal, now, I reckon that's a handsome apology," broke in the angular Yankee who had first inter- fered. "And I tell you what it is kyaptrin, there's only one thing needed to make it complete in every way." Indeed said Herbert, good-humouredly "and, pray, how can I further atone ?" Waal, I guess, you've on'y to give the word to the boss to bring in a liquor all round, and that'll settle all." A chorus of voices echoed his demand, and Herbert, feeling that, no matter whether he was right or wrong, the majority was against him, gave the desired order the landlord, and presently waiters appeared all over the large room, and Herbert was being shaken hands with by all round. The man whom he had addref"d insisted on performing the same ceremony, and ITfrbert Temple went through it with inward repugnance, and shortly afterwards contrived to make his way to the door, which he was about to pass through with a sigh of relief, when a female voice upon lie stage struck on his ear singing the first lines r a song. He started as though he was shot. (ire,, t Heavens he murmured, what is that ?" (To be continued.)\
A YEAR'S VITAL STATISTICS.jI
A YEAR'S VITAL STATISTICS. During the four quarters of 1888, 879,263 births and 510,690 deaths were registered in England and Wales. Thus the natural increase of population during the year by excess of births over deaths was 363,573, against numbers steadily declinmg in the four preceding years from 375,922 in 1884 to 355,573 in 1887. The increase of population, estimated on the hypothesis of the maintenance 6inc<51881 of the rate of increase that prevailed during the last intercensat period (1871-81) was 384,231, and 15,658 more than the excess of births over deaths. According to re- turns issued by the Board of Trade, 284,276 British emigrants (of whom 174,138 were English, 36,345 Scotch, and 73,793 Irish), left the various ports (A the United Kingdom at which emigration officers are stationed during the year. The amount of emigra- tion from England and from Scotland showed a further increase upon that recorded in the three pre- ceding years, while the amount of emigration from Ireland showed a decided decline. The birth-rate in England and Wales was 30 6. and the death-rate 178 per 1000 of the estimated popula- tion in the middle of the year. The birth-rate showed a further decline of 0-8 from the unprecedentedly low rate in 1887, and was 2-9 below the mean annual rate in the 10 years 1878-87. The death-rates, which had ranged in the seven preceding years from 19-6 in 1882 to the then unexampled low rate of 18-8 in 1887, further declined last year to 17-8, a considerably lower rate than that recorded in any previous year of civil rfgistration, which commenced in 1837. The recorded death-rate in each of the eight years 1881-88 has been lower than the rate recorded in any year prior to 1881. The mean annual death-rate in the first eight years of the current decennium (1881-90) did not exceed 19-1, and was 23 below the mean rate in in the preceding 10 years 1870-80. This remarkable decline in the death-rate implies that more than 500,000 persons in England and Wales were alive at the end of 1888 whose deaths would have been recorded during the eight years 1881-88, had the rate of mor- tality equalled that which prevailed during the ten years 1871-80. The 510,690 deaths in 1888 included 120,127 of infants under one year of age, and 146,019 of persons aged upwards (f 60 years. The rate of infant mortality, measured by the proportion of deaths under one year to registered births, was equal to 137 per 1000, against 149 and 145 in the two pre- ceding years. This marked decline of infant mor- tality was in a great measure due to the low rate of diarrieral mortality during the summer quarter of the ypar. The proportion of infant mortality, which averaged 149 per 1000 births in the ten years 1871-80, fell to 141 in the eight years 1881-88. The rate ot mortality during 1888 among persons aged upwards of 60 years was 68-9 per 1000 persons estimated to be living at these ages in the four preceding years the death rates at these ages were 67-3, 70-9, 72-3, and 70-5 per 1000 respectively. 'I he deaths from all causes during the year in- cluded 12,194 from diarrhcea, 11,602 from whooping- cough, 9513 from measles, 6240 from scarlet fever, 5206 from fever (typhus, enteric, or ill-defined), 4007 from diphtheria, and 1022 from small-pox. Thus, 50,684 deatbs-were referred to the principal zymotic diseases, showing a decline of 16,255 from the number recorded in the preceding year, and cor- responding to a rate of 1-77 per 1000 against 2-37 in each of the two preceding years. The mean annual death-rate from these zymotic diseases, which had been 3 95, 4-15, and 3-38 per 1000 respectively in the three decennial periods 1851-60,1861-70, and 1871- 80, did not exceed 2-25 in the first eight years of the current decennium 1881.90. Compared with 1887, the mortality from small-pox, diphtheria, and whoop- ing-cough showed an increase, while there was a decline in the mortality from measles, scarlet fever, fever," and from diarrhoea. The death-rate from "fever" (principally enteric) was lower than in any previous year on record, and that from diarlioea and dysentery was lower than in any year since 1840. The mean annual death-rate from "fever," which was 0 91, 0 89, and 0 49 in the three decennial periods 1851-60, 1861-70, and 1871-80, did not exceed 0-25 in the first eight years of the current decennium. Inquests were held in 28,578 cases, or in 56 per cent. of the total deaths, which was also the proportion of inquests in the preceding year. The causes of 15,747, or 31 per cent, of the total deaths were not certified either by a registered medical practitioner or by a coroner. The proportion of un- certified deaths has steadily declined from 47 in 1879 to 3'1 in 1888. The reported deaths from different forms of violence were 16,783, or 33 per cent. of the deaths from all causes, and were in the proportion of 0 5S to 1C00 of the estimated popula- tion, the rates in the two preceding years having been 0 63 and 0 64. The foregoing statistics for 1888 are dprivt d from a summary of the returns fur- nished to tho Registrar General by the local regis- trars at the close of each quarter of the year.
TWO PEACE- ASSOCIATIONS
TWO PEACE- ASSOCIATIONS UNITE. It has been definitely decided to combine the Inter- national Arbitration Association and the Workmen's Peace Society into a single body as soon as the necessary arrangements can be completed. A pro- posal was made some time ago to amalgamate the first-mentioned association with the peace society, but there was a strong opinion amongst the sup- porters of the older body that it ought to continue its work on the relipious basis whereon it was originally constructed. The identification of two of the three organisations pursuing practically the same ends will doubtless be a gain to the cause of arbitration and an important concentration of energy. The president of the united fociety will be Mr. Thomas Burt, M.P.; Mr. Hodgson Pratt, who has been the active spirit of the arbitration society, will act as chairman of the executive, with Mr. Howard Evans as vice-chairman, who was for some years chairman of the council of the Workmen's Peace Society and the secretary will be Mr. Cremer, M.P., who has worked indefatigably as the secretary of the Workmen's Peace Society for nearly 20 years. The new society will be known as the International League, and its monthly organ will be The Arbitrator, with which is incorporated Con- cord.
RESPONSIBILITY OF FATHERS.
RESPONSIBILITY OF FATHERS. A singular point in relation to the responsibility of parents under the Elementary Education Acts h"s been before the Queen's Bench. It was an appt al from a decision of the Stipendiary magistrate of Wolverhampton, and it arose out of the following circumstances. The respondent's son, who was under five years of age, was in the habit of playing truant from the Board School, and consequently an attendance order was made upon the father. He thereupon made every endeavour to secure the at- tendance of the child short of actually taking him to school himself, hut without effect. The School Board contended that the father had no reasonable excuse for failing to secure the child's presence at school, and they apphed to the magistrate to send the latter to an Industrial School. The Stipendiary, however, thought that the father had reasonable excuse, and refused to ma|c0 order asked for. The question now raised for the Court^ was, whether this decision was right. The Court said they were of a different opinion to the magistrate, and the case must go back to the magistrate to make out an order to send the child to an Industrial School
THE CORINTII CANAL.
THE CORINTII CANAL. It is stated that the cutting of the Corinth Canal -although the work is proceeding-is not in such a favourable position as was supposed. It has been found necessary to increase the slope on either side to prevent landslips, and in places to protect the sides by building up. Originally it was estimated that there would be 80,000,000 cubic metres to be ex- cavated, at a cost of £ 1,200^001, including 5 per cent, interest per annum to shareholders, and that the cut- ting would be completed last November. Now, owing to necessary increase of slope, it is reckoned that 100,000,000 cubic metres require to be extracted, that the cost will be increased to £ 2,400,000, and that the work cannot be finished before November, 1891. The section of the Corinth Canal is the same as that of the Supz Canal- viz 26 feet deep, and 72 feet wide at the Dottrin.
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THE proverbial wit of the Irish Jarvy is oftentimes mixed with an undercurrent of stern reality that is as touching as it is eloquent. Driving through Sack- ville-street, Dublin, the other day on an outside car, the wretched appearance of the horse suddenly struck a visitor. He said, Pat, you ought to be taken up for cruelty to animals, driving such an old screw as that." Begor, sur," was the quick reply, if I didn't drive that, I'd be taken up for crueltv to a wife and six children!
AGRICULTURAL ITEMS.
AGRICULTURAL ITEMS. LET us (says the Field) consider the treatment of calves on a. dairy farm, and the management we indicate is such as we have seen carried out with most successful results. The calves are dropped in the spring-probably in March, on the average-and are removed at birth and not allowed to suck the cow. For a few days their food comprises new milk after about ten days or a fortnight warm skim milk is introduced, with calf meal, boiled linseed, &c., and by degrees the new milk is entirely replaced by old milk, and such easily digested nutritious materials as experience shows to answer. When the calf is one month old a little sweet green hay is supplied, with rock salt and chalk. As the spring comes on there are two plans open to us-we may either keep them in well-ventilated covered yards, supply- ing a mixture of green and dry food, which has some advantages, especially as we can select and pre- pare suitable food, and provide protection from irritation by insects, irom which serious loss of condition occurs or they may be turned out during the day into a home paddock, being brought in at night. In either case they should still have any skim milk we can spare, ia which ground linseed cake or linseed meal may be scaked, and a small quantity of pulped mangles with carefully prepared chaff, principally made from hay and a little oat straw, and a little oatmeal may also be used; indeed, the greater I mixture of nourishing material the better. It is not the quantity of food that will be consumed, but the quality, as developing frame and flesh, that is irn po, t ant. After May, calves that are to live out may e ran in small paddocks, divided into lots of six or eight; but it is most important that each field should have a shed providing ample shelter for the lot, where they can, to some extent, be protected from insects and of course a supply of fresh and pure water is essential, care as to change of food, and the supply of band meat to supplement the grass -when the latter fails-such as tares, clover, &c., with a small allowance of linseed cake of the best quality. -—— WHEK from six to eight months old the calves should be setoned in the dewlap, as a preventive of black leg or quarter evil, where experience has proved its liability. The action of the seton is probably as a. counter-irritant; but anyhow the evidence of its utility is overwhelming. As soon as the nights become chilly, say early in October-but exact time differs according to locality—the calves should be housed at night, and be accustomed to eat pulped roots and chaff, through which may be distributed whatever meal is supplied. In the daytime they may run out as long as the weather is open but, as a rule, towards the middle or end of November they are as well in yards altogether, with room for exercise. Winter feeding must be generous; we want to grow the animal as fast as we can, and an allowance of linseed cake is desirable, with a moderate quantity of roots and chaff. The second summer a good pasture sup- plies all that is necessary. ABOUT MIDSUMMER—that is, when from 15 to 16 months old-these heifers are served, in many cases yearling bulls being allowed to run out with them. Great care should be exercised as to generous feeding during the next winter, as the system has a consider- able strain upon it. The failing grass should be sup- plemented in good time by a mixture of cotton and linseed cake, say three pounds daily; and this should be continued throughout the winter and up to calv- ing, with a liberal supply of roots and chaff. In this way there need be no check whatever in growth. We have seen two-year-old heifers, in calf and with calves, that are quite as big and thriving as animals of the same age that have been idle; nay, it is thought that early breeding rather tends to milk development, and it is really surprising what excellent milkers many of the heifers are, when milking qualities are properly looked after. On Dearnford Hall Farm, Mr. Nunnerley weighed the produce on a particular day—June 12, 1884-given by 49 cows, of which 11 were two-year olds and 7 three-year-olds, viz. 1785 lbs., equal to fourteen and two-ninths quarts per cow. Ws saw these animals, and it would be difficult to find a more productive lot of grade short-horns. We then saw the older cows, which had in their turn dropped calves at two years old, and there was no sign of stunted growth or deteriora- tion; indeed, so successful was the dairy that the returns in 1883, principally as cheese, averaged JE25 7s. 2d., a cow. Therefore we are satisfied that, if we have suitable conditions and judicious manage- ment, it is both possible and profitable to develop early maturity as regards breeding cattle; and that, if this were more generally followed, more profitablr stock could be kept and expenses be reduced. CERTAINLY (observes the Home Farm editor of the Journal of Horticulture) men of science give farmers very little credit for the possession of a know- ledge of the most simple natural laws or pbenomena. that affect their calling. Professor Jamieson once made a special journey from Aberdeen to address a meeting of Sussex farmers, and he confined his lec- ture to the mere alphabet of agriculture. Air, water, drainage, mechanic.nl division of the soil, tillage, and manure, were the subjects which it was considered necessary for him to travel upwards of 500 miles to explain to a body of men whose very subsistence would seem to depend upon something more than a mere superficial acquaintance with them. Well, the farmers listened attentively enough, but they made no sign; there was no subsequent discussion in re- sponse to the lecturer's appeal, and he was provoked to exclaim that farmers were not a demonstrative class. On January 21st, Mr. J. E. Taylor, curator of the Ipswich Museum, gave a lecture before the Framlingham Farmers' Club on soils, and he, too, dwelt very much upon funda- mental laws affecting crops and the farmer's work generally. He wisely condemned long fallows, and pointed out the absurdity of supposing the land re- quired rest. Nature never rests," said he, all the soil wants is a restitution of that which is taken out of it." This comparison of the soil to a cupboard in which the plant food is contained was also good, as is anything which tends to upset the erroneous idea that soil requires rest. Repeatedly have we explained that soil is only a medium for conveying food to plants-a storehouse of fertility, which must be kept filled if we would have full crops, and we hail every effort in the same direction. WHILE DOING ALL WE CAN for the improvement and advancement of agriculture, we desire to offer a word of caution to all earnest workers in the same good cause about a very common striving for precision. Exact knowledge is, no doubt, a very good thing in- deed, but there are certain things in which we cannot be quite exact. For example, as regards the use of chemical manures, we do not pretend to give the pre- cise quantity required for every crop. Something must always be left to the individual intelligence and judgment. Each farmer should make a study of his own farm, and so apportion his manures as to insure a full cupboard in the way indicated by Mr. Taylor. A liberal use of mineral manures is always safe, but it is well to be upon one's guard against waste in the application of nitrogenous manures. It is not mere rampant growth that we require; we certainly do want as full and bountiful a crop from the soil as is possible, but beyond that we must take care there is no wasteful residue of nitrates which may be lost be- fore another crop can turn it to account. IN THE APPLICATION of chemical manure we have especially to guard against waste, and so to apply it as to ensure so far as we can do that it is available for the crop for which it is intended. Broadcast sur- face dressings are always more or less uncertain in action, but for pasture we have no choice, and we must therefore take especial care to use the manure early enough for it to be dissolved and washed in by rain. It is for this reason that it is applied by the end of February, and we have invariably found this early dressing answer well. To wait till April in- volves great risk of failure moreover, if pasture is reserved for hay we object to grazing late in March, especially with sheep. Old Reglected pasture requires more nitrogenous manuro the first year than it does subsequently, and this holds good, too, on arable land. Once get land into a sound fertile condition, and the annual outlay upon manures to keep it so becomes trifling in com- parison to that of the first year or two. Apply the manure for all spring corn by drilling it in with the seed. There need be no alarm about injury to the young growth, for the manure always becomes suffi- ciently mixed with the soil to prevent that. Use no dealer's special mixtures they are not to be trusted, but use rather manures procured separately from a reliable source and mixed at the farm. Bear in mind that all farm crops require phosphorus, potash, and nitrogen in well balanced proportions, and that the best form in which these chemical constituents can be had are nitrate of soda, muriate of potash, steamed bone flour, and mineral superphosphate. REGARDING YOUKO LAMBS Professor Wrightson writes as follows in the Live Stock Joiir?icil: The first duty of the shepherd after a lamb is born is to clear its mouth of mucous and see it draw its first breath Previous to birth the lamb receives oxygen through the mother. It is her lungs which vivify its blood. and her digestive system which prepares its nourishment. But with the breaking of theumbilical cord comes the necessity for air, and after a convul- sive movement of the diaphragm and intercostal muscles the young creature gasps, and generally utters its first cry. Whether the almost universal practice of shepherds of blowing into the lamb's mouth facilitates this action is not certain, but it is nrobable that this simple expedient excites the linrrthprin 2 vitality, and causes the necessary muscular S3 A y»W the Hat of the h-d across the buttocks will also often cause a Iamb to draw its first breath, when animation appears to be suspended for a few seconds after birth. The lamb is most conveniently carricd by its two fore-legs, and n this position it is taken to one of the pens, or cribs, already described, followed by its anxious mother. A R soon as the lamb has got on to its feet, and has found the teat, and the shepherd is satisfied that the ewe has a sufficient supply of milk, he will proceed to rive her two or three swedes, a mangel, or, better still a white or yellow turnip or two. A little hay mav also be supplied, and after these simple atten- tions the ewe may be left in charge of her lamb, and if all goes on well there is no need for more elaborate treatment. From what has been said it is then evi- dent that where a ewe is naturally delivered of her lamb she requires no medicinal treatment, butonly tcbe niacedin asheltered position and fed with ordinary food
GOSSIP ON DRESS.
GOSSIP ON DRESS. WHAT (asks a writer on Paris fashions in the London Daily Telegraph) is to be done with last season's gown ? This is the question that many an unfortunate woman is asking in some anxiety. They are far too good to throw away, and, besides, it may not be convenient to purchase others to take their places. In the general order of things it would cer- tainly have been possible to wear them a little time longer; as it is, they are quite dimadie, with their big cushions and steels, heavy draperies, and furbe- lows. Fashion has spoilt our womankind of late, unaccustommg them to radical changes, and it is terribly puzzling to be thus brought face to face with a problem of this sort. Under the circumstances, a few hints will surely be acceptable. In the first place, the steels must be plucked out of their runnings, although second-rate dressmakers will still insist on it that no skirt can set well without. Those who are wise will turn a deaf ear to such pleadings. As to the cushion, in some cases it may be dispensed with altogether; this depends entirely on the person to whom the dress belongs if she has accentuated hips it may be as well to maintain a cushion of small dimensions, but it should not do more than correct nature-that is to say, the skirt when completed should describe from hip to hip a semi-circle, the substrata supplying what is needful to obtain this curve. The skirt must also be un- ripped at the waist, as if made for steels it has a woeful appearance without, and is apt to appear lop- eared or to hang in an unseemly festoon behind. In the case of a walking costume strict measurements should be made, and all the breadths cut down to an equal length. Home and evening dresses, however, are now sometimes arranged so as to sweep the ground a few inches at the back, but, of course, the curve must be gradual; it should commence at the second side seam, supposing that to come just behind the hip, where the pleatings should also begin. ^SKIRTS fluted at the back and tucked up between the flutes at intervals, as worn last season, may be transformed easily enough, though I would not have the reader suppose that unpicking the tucks will suffice. No always begin as at first suggested by unripping the back breadths entirely. If it is a smart silk dress I should suggest that the back breadths be carefully lined throughout with semi-stiff muslin basted to each seam and remounted in organ-pipe pleats. Woollen materials cannot be so lined, but a breadth of muslin folded double may be pleated or gathered up with it at the top. Sufficient material may be found in a long tunic or one of those semi- tunics—one side of which used to be pleated up to the waist so as to form a voluminous and pointed drapery—to compose the back breadths of a fluted skirt. When the length is too short to allow of the parts marked by previous pleatings to be cut off, an skirt. When the length is too short to allow of the parts marked by previous pleatings to be cut off, an iron used with care-not too hot, with perhaps. a i damp piece of cambric between it and the material that has to be smoothed out will accomplish wonders but I strongly advise previous trial both as to effect of heat and damp on a small piece before submitting the entire surface to the process, as colour and fabric may be impaired thereby. If a single breadth of material remain over it may be arranged in front on the foundation skirt, draped slightly to one side beneath wide panels of some complementary material—two yards and a half of which will be ample. PLAIN woollen costumes, composed of pleated skirt and full tunic, may also be transformed out of all knowledge by dividing the skirt into segments of the two. the tunic portion forming wide double box- pleats alternating with the breadths of the skirt itself mounted in gathers, the whole being arranced so that the box-pleats appear to hang separate from, though really making part with the rest. In the case of a single material greater diversity is obtainable by trimming the bottom of the skirt breadths with a row of galloon, and hemming up those that compose the box-pleaiv, and drawing out the horizontal threads above this hem and then, with the help of a little sewing silk of the same colour and some patience, working the vertical threads up into a band of fancy insertion. Where this is not practicable a piece of open-work gimp will serve the purpose almost as well. HAVING had occasion lately to visit several of the manufacturing towns in the north (says the con- tributor of Tea Table Talk to the London Globe), I went over the chief factories for dress materials, and found that in all fabrics except those articles in- tended to be without ornament, embroidery in every form will be the favoured decoration all through the year, as even for next autumn and winter many of the stuffs are already off the looms. Even the flimsiest fabrics are cunningly embroidered, and ia aerophane the effect is rich in the extreme and yet airily ligl t, the medium used being floss silk. These founcings are all black, and are worn over silk skirts of green or old pink. Mousseline de soie and gauze so treated are exquisitely delicate. At intervals bands and medallions of black tulle are let in to add to the lace-like lightness of the effect. Black sashes or scarf sashes are worn with dresses of this descrip- tion, although sometimes a sash to harmonise with the underskirt is preferred. The black is, however, more elegant. Coloured flouncing of the same nature can be had, but the black kinds are the newest and most distinctive A handsome set of black mousseline de soie flouncings, richly em- broidered. can be worn alternately on various coloured skirts, so giving distinct toilettes. At one factory I saw some beautiful sashes for the coming season, in soft satiny silk. soft enough to fall deli- cately, yet sufficiently stiff to keep the bow full and in p'ace, which the Pongee silks soon fail in being. The cheap satins which one is often tempted to invest in are dear in the end, as, being m"de of what in the trade is known as waste silk, they are inferior in quality, and very soon become flabby and shabby. VELVET, as a material, is once more asserting itself. Hitherto it has been put rather in the shade by plush and seal cloths, but I am assured by manufacturers that plush has had its day, and that next year velvet will reign supreme. To make this forecast sure, great attention has been given to finish, and to the actual weight of the material. The production of velveteen, which we all know is pure cotton, has been brought to great perfection, and only the practised eye could tell the difference between it and silk velvet when done up in the dress piece, and ready for the warehouse. For loose pleated panels, worn in combination with silk, velveteen can be substituted for the more expensive silk velvet, and it will answer the purpose excellently. These loose panels in silk are iife.(i to ornament rvery sort of gossamer material. A hrpadth of silk is required to make them, pleated in a double box pleat, and united with the skirt at the waist. Secured by a few stitches to the founda- tion, it hangs lightly yet firmly. The manner oi wearing- these panels is various. Somptimes only one forms the decoration to the skirt, or two can be worn, one at the left rather forward, the other far back on the right. Either in the mode of wearing, the orna- mentation, or the material, fancy and taste can be followed at will. FOR cloth dresses the braids produced are highly ornamental. One in particular I saw was in wide fancy gold, made of flat pleatings, with lines of spiral curls in high relief. This, on a sort of moss green cloth, with a shade of gold faintly indicated, is most effective. The Directoire shape for cloth dresses seems to be very popular still, but unless the lapels of the coat am cleverly managed, they are unbecom- ing to slight figures, as if too acute and broad they narrow the chest. Very charming round skirts for dinner toilettes are made of very pale silks, heavilv embroidered in fine jet beads, cut in facets. With these are worn the hanging breadths of loose pleated velvet, in a deeper shade of the skirt, or in black. For the bodice there are embroidered bands, and the sleeve may be of silk from the outer part, or the whole sleeve may be of a different material altogether -a fashion considerably in favour just now. THE coming jacket, says a Parisian authority in a trade journal, will have velvet basques at the back, slanting gradually forward. The long wrap cloak for the opera and morning concerts is certainly on the decline, the smarter mantelet taking its place. Graceful and effective as the former are. with thpir rich coloured linings, it is felt that they are cumber- some to throw off or to readjust in a crowd, while the shorter garment is easilv slipped off and quickly re- sumed. The theatre jacket, as mentioned en a previous occasion, is now a very ornamental article. It is on the lines of the tea-jacket—a most fanciful piece of decorative attire, but closer to the figure, and most frequently of velvet. Those with puffed and slashed sleeves are very dressy and quaint. THF new bonnets are small, but fit the head and cover the ears. Rather narrow ribbon is used for strings, in ribbon velvet or plain faille—broader brocade for the trimming bows, which are still high. The new hats are worn moderate in the width of the brim, and the crowns are hardly so low. Foliage and blossoms are the favourite trimmings for smart capotes, and roses will have a popular run. Next month all the usual spring flowers will be in great force, and in these pinks and yellows will be much used. When the straw hat comes in feathers will go out, and the reign of flowers will begin. The new lace-bordered veils covering the face have not been a success-they are so unbecoming; but the Dauphin veil of sprigged net, which is tied round the throat, is greatly worn. It is dressy as well as comfortable. The belt in gold metal, hinged at one side, or in gold-woven galloon, will be an object of much development this year. It is specially suitable to the Empire style of toilette, which in Paris carries all before it.
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SMITH (to milkman): I'll have to ask you to chalk it up." Milkman (abstractedly): Oh, that's all been attended to-oh-er-beg your pardon cer- tainly, take your own time." Two Irish porters met in a street, one addressed the 'other with Arrah, Darby, my jewel, you are welcome from London. Tell. me, now, did you see anything of our o'd friend Murphy ? "Faith I did. It's an accident he's met with." Arrah, what was it ? » » Deed, an' it was a bad un. As he was stand- ing on a plank talkin' to a priest, F Mnrnhv Ould Bailey, the plank gave way, and poor Murrhv get his neck broken ?
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HE GOODALL'S PLAYING CARDS ABESTE SOLD BY ALL WTATIONEBS. "HOPS! HOPS I I RLOPS I I ENGLISH & FOREIGN. Prices on Application. SYDNEY HOWARD, 75. Mark Lane. im W E-B B I VEGETABLE & FLOWER BOXES OF VEGETABLE SEEDS, Containing Liberal assortments of the best kinds to produce a mocettion for Garden* of all Sku, 5s., 7s. 6d., 12s. 6d., 21s., 31s. 6d., 42s., 63s., and 105s. each. BOXES OF FLORAL CEMS For the Gardens of Ladles and Amttenrt. a/6, 6; 7/6, 10/6, 15/ and 21/- each. • All Vegt.tabl* and Flower Seedt Dtlivtrtd Frti. 1 IUwtrated Catalogue, Is. Abridged Edition GratU. # WEBB & SONS, Isytl Warrants Seedsmen to H.M. THE QUEBN and H.B.H. THE PRINCB OF WALK WORDSLEY, STOURBRIDGE. HAIR-COLOUR RENOVATOR. RESTORES COLOUR TO GREY HAIR IN A wEEK. targe Bottles, Ss. 6d.> Port Froe. (ITTAS BOND & SON, 646, Oxford St., LONDON, W. CARDEN & HORTICULTURAL CAZETTE. Published Weekly—Price ONE PENNY. FOR ALL WHO HAVE GARDENS. OVER £ 100 A YEAR Given in Prizes for Articles Contributed by its Readers. OF ALL NEWS-AGENTS. Publishing Oftice-50, FOUNTAIN ST., MANCHESTER. rnrtTTITT* TITI I Tt 145ttats destroyed byusinic One Box of ll'MMIull II H A II Sanfords Pellets, is. 2d., of <anford i JJ UUJ.«JJ llll ll«Son.Sandy.Beds. Sendstamnsanritrvir tPTYWiWnNiiF.T? s and HARDWARE DEALER^ IKURILTLULNVTXJXVO should send for Illustrated Hard- ware List. G. CHESTER. St. Passage, Birmingham. USE WOODS' ARECA NUT TOOTH PASTE; AND NO SUBSTITUTE. SOLD EVERYWHERE. WOODS' Quinine, Cantharidine, and Rosemary, with or without Grease, for Strengthening the Hair, and preventing it falling off, ]». gd. and 3B. 6d., post free.-WOODS k Soys, Chemists, Plymouth. ftlNGALESE CEYLON TEA. Vathels- Absolutely without a Rival. The most Tea in the World. One Pound believed equal to two pounds of other descrip- tions. Of Grocers (in Lead Packets only), V-and 2/6 per lb. Whole- sale CEYLON CO., 10, St. Benet PiRee, London. AGENTS wanted. WHITTINGTON LIFE ASSURANCE COMPANY. (Established 1865) LID ASSURANCE. LOANS. REVERSIONS. ALFRED T. BOWSER, Manager. 68, Moorgate Street, London. Agents wanted. -jl,,PW TO ENSURE HEALTH."—A medloal work giving Prawnpdo" old Instracttona 1M the Cure of ail kinds of Debility; pwMfcw, two ftamp*. Address Dr. BAItWll% 4S, Lonsdale Square, Banubnry, London, It, I BOH BUILD IN08 and ROOFING, Row and Mw>dku4 (ARBROW8 WORKS. Sonth Bormon^fler BtattnmnSSK^^SJL TWF!T.OT>T!f>TTS~^Rgw Illn«tra.t»a mot CONCERTINAS C£IIP8IILL ao- appliostion. DRIVING BANDS ro&^2SK™a Best Quality, India Rubber and.Canras, 00 feet x inches, endless. 65s.; ditto, 60 feet x 5 inches, 75s. Cash with order. Carriage p«M. Every Belt guaranteed to wear well and be of the best qnailtr. R. A. LISTEK & CO., Machine Band Manufacturers, DURSLKr. London omce: 73A. QPKIS VICTORIA STIRZIIT, B.C. ORAUT7) the INFIRMITIES ofKANXIM), au>4 SOCIAL PURITY, Depicting the TUiooi toflteiiifs wteiltd by all who trauacress Nature's laws, ttow to avoid misery and live to a happy old Mte. Rule# and remedies siren for the cure of tbe variooe cotnpUiBte ot manhood. Free for two stainp*. Addrees, Dr. GROOM, 44, Great Charles St.. RirmirtchAm. A i*rusal of this work will demonstrate to tbe nervooe and fw <1 )r>w tiipy may become strong and healthy without quackery. KNTlUEl, OT6 £ tfiB&E~md WOT rAMSACEOWL MELLIN'S FOOD FOR INFANTS AND INVALIDS. Price I/O 2/6 JCf RIch mood and Per Bottle. ULifTMai formiaf Element*. FOR THE HEALTHFUL REARING OF HANDLED CHILDREN AND THE PRESERVATION OF INFANT UFE. A uinplA sent post ftes applloaUcm « G. MELLIN. Marlboro' Works. Peckhara, SIE. iilLLIAKDS or BAGATELLES. y' All those requiring New or Second-hand r\ Tables, Requisites, or Billiard work done, should, before going slsewhere, send for New Price List, Cloth and Cushion Kubbet BP Samples, to HENNIG BROS Bloomabury. LoBdnB, W.Q. Fitahli.hd 1tf62. P A M PHLU'i I Every man || mm VII B and Advice I woman |lpil|#| H I in search or r ■■ E I should write without delay to M EM PC Nr. C« flt. HARNEHS, Hi ■ M ■■ Consulting Medical EUtfri* ■ ■ wL^t:ian (President of the British I ^J^ssociation of Medical Hlectricians), for his New Medical WwA, entitled Powers or Elcctrlctty," which will be sent post free to any address on application. Ti;e treatise containsi full particulars of the treatment of the various ills that flesh is heir to It also contains a selection from the thousands of testimonials received :n favor of Harness' Elcciropatllic Kelt and other curative appliances. Vlcase mention this paper. MR. G. B. HARNESS 'Free o charge (personally or by letter) on all matters relating to health and the application of Cmative Electricity. Note only address, and write to-day, or call if possible. 52. OXFORD ST. LONDON,* W. Fl-, I
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THE BuTLKH Mrs. Walsingham's compliments, sir, an' she wants to know will she serve supper for you an' Miss Walsingham in the conservatory ? Kidding- ton (who has had a serious misunderstanding with his jiancet): "X ever mind the supper, Parks; bring an ice-pick, will you ? PON honour, Bache exclaimed young Mr. N. Gage; I must say that you are the worst crank I ever met. You positively don't seem to be able to appreciate the happy side of marriage." Don't I ? growled old Bache. Why, I've been on the outside of it, thank goodness, ever since I was born C., WHOSE terrible struggles with adversity are well known, was one day relating his experiences to an intimate friend. Well," he added, as he concluded his narrative, "what would you have done in my place had you been reduced to such penury ?" "It" replied his friend. ««I should have killed myself." No doubt; but I did more than that—I lived." AND if you can't make any money at your trade, my poor feilow," said the old lady, as she gave the tramp some luncheon, why don't you try your band at something else ?" Me health, mum," he replied, won't permit me to undertake other work. It's a shtriker oi am, indade, mum but the business seems to be pretty well played out! MR COLLINGWOOD (telling about it afterwards) I had just got to the interesting point when her dog came in and took a band, or rather a foot, and she began to laugh. I rushed from the house in an agony of rage, saw that dog in the path, prepared to kick him into the next county, and let her go for all I was worth, when -She stuck her bead out ot the window and asked me not to kick all the paint off the monument to her present dog's brother IT was the night before the wedding, and he was bidding her good-night, and softly whispered: To- morrow eve, my darling, we begin our journey as bride and bridegroom, pilgrims of life together; hand in hand will we journey a-duwn life's rugged road. We shall want to set out with a glorious equipment of faith and hope and courage, that neither of us may faint and fall by the wayside before the journey is ended will we not, darling ?" "I-I-ob, yes, to be sure; only I really am so worried about the train of my dress. It didn't hang one bit nice to-day wbell I tried the dress on, and I'd die with mortification if it hung so at the wedding to-morrow. Go on with what "ou were savins, dear!'