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THE SHEPHERDESS OF SNOWDON: A STORY OF WELSH GHlBAGTEti AND SCENERY. BY PADARN (MB. JOEN GRIFFITHSJ LLANDUDNO) Aivarded the Second Prize at the South Wales Eisteddfod, held in Cardiff, September, 1879. INTRODUCTORY. At the fcot of c ne cf (b1) hilla which appear proud fo be tha snp^orttra of the "Fatnerof Hills "—'he lut-jeatio iiuowdon—nestles a vil. It go of a Roinewhat primitive appearanca. Situ- ated ibfipiii is the parish churchyard, with ita old, outstretched yew trees. The church itself, though renovated, bears ample evidence of great antiquity, and the Cyff ineide, or the locked oaken box, worm-eaten and broken, corroborates the history that a "cardinal from Rome" waa orce settled in these parts. The village is at the base of one of the most gore geous passes even in Wild, wild Wsles." Through it runs the river, which ia one of the chief feeders of the two large lakes below. On the ore side rise the Glydars aud the Elidira to a very great height; and on the other, supporting Sncwdon, tower Gorphwysfa and Grib Goch. In such a rugged part the tourist, who merely passes by on hie coach, supposes that vegetation and farming operations are strangers to the pbce, except vegetation meane rare ferns, and farming is confined to the cultivating of a few green crops. However, above the village ia Glaecwm Farm, cn which a great Dumber of the sturdy black cattle of Wales pre reared, and here and there, in Cwm Glas, on a knoll of ground above the farm itself, are several patches of land which with good cultivation and great care, yield to the farmer some line crops of hay and corni Of ccurte, these are necessarily late crops. Belong- ing eleo to Glascwm were some hundreds of acras of mountain land, on which hundreds of sheep grazed. Glascwm was occupied by/a man named David Llewelyn and his wife, and they bad two jaons and two daughters. The father was a fine specimen of that race of Welshmen who' are fast becoming extinct. Standing six feet in height, and as erect as a Life Guardsman, he was thought to be a desoendant of one of those princes whose patronymic he bore. However, there was nothing very princely in his aspirations. To see his children well reared waa bis chief delight, and wiu; tli t? object in view he, with alucrity, per- formed hienraUGUB duties on the hilly fatin which it had bEfu his lot to reside upcn. Mra, Llewelyn, or Betti Evan (as people were went to call her by her maiden name) had lived all her lifetime amongst thote hills. Divid Llewelyn wooed her, inada her his wife, and took her to reside with him at Glascwm. She was to him a fitting companion in his mountain home. Sbe was one of those ladies who abhorred bonnets, End could not, when that head-gear became some- what fashionable, even in country placea on gala occasions, be persuaded to do away with the conical shape, tall hats, the frilled cap, and the pirk ribbon tied in a knot under the chin, Nevertheless, these, as well -as the pais and bectvn, well became Jier. Between David, the eldest son, and Evan, the next, there was a considerable difference in age, the family of Glasowm having in the earlier part cf their wedded life to pay melancholy visits to the churchyard below to bury their young ones. The two girls were the youngest of the family. MiV^nwy, the elder, was a lively girl, fond of roaming about the hilla. he was strong and bale, with a oomplexion of that dark hue that reminded the observer that the princely blood which was Bupposed to be in the family had not yet deserted it. Her hair was aa black aa the raven, her skin white, and her oheeka. roseate. Notwithstanding her mountain life, there was nothing masculine about her appearance, and she could at any time appear without betray, ing any outward show of that rusticity which would not have been unnatural in a person brought up as she waa. The younger daughter, Gwenonwy, was of a different nature. Her featurea were of a much less decided character than those of Myvanwy. She lacked her Bister's vivacity, and was cjntent to assist only in the domestic work of the farm- house. When the three children were comparatively young, David, the older brother, found himself at the head of the family, the father and mother, at a ripe old age, having been gathered to their forefathers to the churchyard below. David had intended settling down in life on his own acoount, but findiBg suddenly the responsibilities which had devolved upon him, he renounced all personal considerations for the sake of those who had fallen to his charge. His self-denying oonduet ia not singular in our mountain homes. Unknown sacrifices of thia nature are as frequent among eur hills as the flowers which blush unseen in the deserts of the werld. CHAPTER I. THE FOUR CHILDREN. The character of these four children was as vaiied aa their number. David devoted himself exclusively to farming and pastoral pursuits, his great consideration being how ahould the old farm be kept in the family," as it had been for cen. tnries. What a noble feeling! It ia the feeling of repugnance at the idea of genealogical effaoe- ment, and a fear lest one. should be unworthy of one's ancestor, and bring discredit on the family name. The British soldiergoee to battle fully alive of the prestige he has to uphold. He ia aware that a British soldier is not to be con- quered, and that ia how he alwaya in the end comes forth victorious. It ia the same privilege which actuates those living on the soil. My father, his father, and our relations from time immemorial have held the farm, and deemed worthy to do so; and although farming ia now not what it need to be, I must keep it, that it might be retained in the family." It ia this continuity of tenure in families which is the boast of cur country, and what makea our aristocracy so greatly respected. Long may such aristocracy exist, and long may they have on their soil men who strive to make themselves worthy to keep the farms in the family. van. the second son, had no taste for farming pursuits. He was of a restless character. He went at an early age to work in the quarry, and being taken with an emigration fever that raged in the neighbourhood at the time. he left for America before he had reached manhood. Gwenonwy, the younger daughter, was as unde. cided in character as in appearance. She had no greater aspirations than to remain all her life time anywhere, anyhow, in a home on the side of her native hills.. Ihe elder daughter, Myvanwy, was of an entirely different disposition. She could see, ■ paesing their farm, in the season," heavily laden vehicles containing persona who had evi- dently come to that part of the country which waa so familiar to her. She thought, aa these people came to see the neighbourhood of her home, that she also would like to see the neigh. borhoods fiom where those persona came. Her aspirations and longings to see and understand the world grew with her years. Gwenonwy oon- fined hereelt to the house work. Myvanwy could be seen from early morn following her brother David up the hills, with Gelert and Tango, the faithful dogs, frolicking about her every moment they were not required to do duty with the sheep. She doated upon her brother David, and could not bear to be long away from hia company and she delighted in the task of watching the sheep. Often, when visitors wore returning after looking at the sun rising from Snowdon, Myvanwy could be seen aa early aa the sun itself tending on the Bheep She at last came, very appropriately, to be called the Shepherdess of Snowdon. At the came time she waa not so exclusively devoted to her pastoral pursuits as to eschew aU aaa^tation with the world below. She visited the village, and there was as sprightly as any gIrl WhlOh came to the place. On Sundays she attended the old- fashioned chapel, and there was aa devout as any in the congregation, and entered heartily into the praiees which are so effectively an 8 7 Bung in our village churchea. She also attended the periodical literary meeting and any ooaoiBrt w ich might be held in the village achoolroom. it^ waa on one of theEe occaaiona that an incident occurred vihich entirely changed the courae of her Me. CHAPTES II. EXCELSIOR EXCELSIOR Just at that period an eminent Welsh musician cpmpoeed a aong called "Bugeiles y Shepherdess of Snowdon). It is Re ballads, simple in music and words, is ai»^eve.r touch the feeling, and which It deen^v! however frequently it is sung, ea^fche Shepherdess, who haB descending M dark M night*" .#1.0 f,„„ .iWhere the eagles abide." waa called the Shepherdess and ehe did not forget •• Eer hair was as dark as the night." b. !la.d have been Ingested b Could tho a r H could hardly be f, yanythlng Bhe had done? know L^Vw- how could the writer of the song p Ho about her and her mountain h,. excel? rle refrain, I fyny, ifyny, e after the wordi HJ no trouble in doing BO I caEK, p-f0elsior' mean than I have been. What does x to me? Are there other hills ascend? Is it possible for a g"l IJJ a'nd Shepherdess, to ascend the sooial hdls aet upon the voice which oallfl I ee9 I will listen to the voice. „ m0re the world. I muBt be something than a mere Shepherdess of jrtT,5a She WSB determined that the hilla of Snowdon should not alwaja be her abode. Although Bn delighted to be with her fatherly brother, Davia, and frequently followed him in pursuit of the sheep, she WCUI observed, ever since the cooer night, when that song waa sung, to be masiog a good deal, and to be humming some words, which really were Ifyny, fyny (Excelsior, excslsior). With her brother's consent, she attended the village daily school, aDd having her motto, her Excelsior, always before ber, she acquired an astounding amount of knowledge within a very short period. Welsh though she was, and moun- tain Welsh also, she learned English with great rapidity, and she very Boon became one of the best Bcholara in the place. At the time, a pupil teacher was required in the sohool, and the master very naturally looked to Myvanwy Llewelyn as the mast fitting person to undertake tbe duties. He mentioned the matter to her, and nothing delighted her more. Here was a step I i'i that ascent which she was anxious to effect. She went and mentioned the matter to her brother I David. Thia to him was a sore trial. He hafl renounced all domestic felicity for tho Bake of his brother and siatsrs, and lived in that elysinoa that they would alwaya be together. He loved He sister Myvanwy with the strongest brotherly love, ard was unhappy when she was JcDg away from him. But he was a kind brother. He was prepared to indulge his aisters in anything at Ici-jg as there was nothing wrong in it. By eorsfcntirjg to hi* eister being a. teacher at the school, beforeEQW that she would in time become legt to His. However, being a kind brother, and ioving his eister affectionately, he consented, lelievisg it wuld please her, and not bo anything injurious to her future happiness. Myvanwy wa.s aa suectFsrnl as a backer 88 she was when a scholar, and at the end of her term of apprenticeship the matter had no doubt ehe would at the.college acquit herself to bis and her own credit. Ha v as net disappointed. &1IB& Myvanwy Lljwelya stood one of the first on the liet at the final • examination. She visited honso for a abort period, ana then took charge of an important school in Central Wales. CHAPTER III. Young QUARRYMEN. As we stated before, Gwenonwy Llewelyn had no &t-piratior,B higher than to settle down in the fcighi oi her old home. She waa surprised thao her sister Edyvunwy, "a girl from the mountain," could think of gf mg from the neighbourhood, and especially go cut of Wales to a college. Gwenonwy ntver bed any taste for learning. She also periodically visited the village, and regularly attended chapel on Sunday, not for any religious or intellectual benefit, but because others did it, and because there tbe could see and meet her neighbours. She also followed the custom of "going to town" on Saturdays. It waa the eustcm for the other girls to do, and she had no wish to break through the custom. The family of Glascwm had alwaya been on terms of great friendship with the family named Williams, resid- ing at a cottage close by. Here was a son named Arthur, and a long acquaintance with Gwenonwy and the young man had ripened into something akin to love. During her vieita to town, Gwenonwy was generally joined by Arthur Wil- liams, ana the young people appeared very fond of one another. He went to work at a quarry when very young, and started at the of rybela (making slates out of blocks of Btonea thrown into tbe rubbish, heap). Arthur was a handsome young man, brought up with that parental care which in our mountain homes is so much in advance of what is found in our towns. tie was taken by his parents to chapel from child- hood, and was a regular attendant at the dunday School. He started life under the meat favourable circumstances, was full of vigour and strength. Beitg skilful, he soon because an adept in the art cf elate making. At this time skilful quarrymen were making very high wages, bargains to superior men yielding from .£12 to .£18 a month. High wage is a thing that no right-minded person will begrudge the working man, and especially tothoee who foiiow their vocation under such peiiloua cireumitiinces aa colliara and quarrymen. At the same time, high wages is (qually to curse to the improvident, it ia a boon to the thrifty and careful. It ia to be feared that improvidence and recklessness are very prevalent among a large proportion of working men in prosperity, and that it is to this a great deal of subsequent bard times are attributable. Arthur Williams had plenty of money; and, aa ia too often the case, he did not know what to do with it. He had a hankering after disposing of it somehow. Of all working men, probably the quarryman ia the most extravagant in the way of aresa. Some years ago a quarryman could always be recognised by his dresa. He waa partial to varied and diatinctive colours, acarlet, green, and blue predominating in either the acarf or the waistcoat. Tnere waa none of that uniformity and balance, nor that atudy of colour which makes a dress the simpler it ia the moat pleaaing and comfortable. Black velvet showed itself in either the waistcoat or the ooat. and very broadly braided articles of dreBS were fashionable among quarrymen. There waa euch an incongruity that the quarryman of former days 'Could always be distinguished by the mode he dressed. A great deal of this has now disappeared, as the quarry- man, the more be comes in contact with civilisa- tion, if there ia such a thing aa civiliaation in modern dressea, conforms with that medium of fashion which in the end ia the best and most suitable. Well, this dressing waa one effectual mode of disposing with a portion of the high wagea. Then, no young quarryman considered hia week's duties complete unless he paid a visit to the neighbouring market town on the Saturday. Consequently, the young quarrymen, by the hun- dreds, could be seen on Saturdays going to town, some on their own mountain ponies, which the high wages had enabled them to purchase. Others came down in market carte. which were more remarkable for their holding capacity than for their comfort; and a great many walked. This going to town" was as baneful to the young quarrymen as it was profitless. What had they to do in town ? They had no marketing business to transact, nor any object to attain. It had been the custom for young quarrymen to go to town. and the custom must be maintained. The town authorities bad prepared no place where these vigorous young men odhld enjoy their Saturday without any hurtful influences. The public houaea offered them a comfortable resting place and cheering quarters. To theBe places the young men congregated. It was at these places that many a young quarryman, reared by pioua parents, be- came a slave to his passions, and in the end be- came a total wreck. (To he continued.)

SpeciaZ Supplements, containing tke preceding Chapters of Two Curious Courtships," may be had, price One Penny each.- TWO CURIOUS COURTSHIPS A £ TOKX OF LOVE AND FINANCE. Being an adaptation from the French, and in many parts entirely rewritten. BY HOWARD PAUL ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PART II. CHAPTER VII. Marguerite the Baroness called, in a voice which sounded at once like a prayer and a threat. I am going to drees, mamma," she answered. Come back So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go ? No, thank you." I insist on your coming back. Marguerite." No answer. She was already out of hearing. The baroness closed the door of the little draw- ing-room, and took a seat near M. de Brévan. She is a singular girl!" she said. Meantime, he was watching in the glass what was going on in the other room. Tbe suspicious-looking man was there still and alone. A servant had brought him pen, ink, and paper; and be was writing rapidly. How is it that they leave him there alone ? wondered Maxime. He endeavoured to find upon the features of the baroness an answer to the conjectures which agitated his brain. But she now displayed no trace of the emotion which had manifested itself wben taken by surprise. Having had time for reflection, she had composed an impenetrable countenance. I was Baying," she repeated, somewhat sur. prised at M. de Brian's silence, that Marguerite is a strange girl." Strange, indeed!" he answered, still absorbed by the scene in the large drawing room. H And such is," said the baroness, with a sigh, "the result of the baron's indulgence, to say nothing of my own." Quite so." We have no child but Marguerite ;and it waa natural that we should spoil her. Her fancy has been our only law; she ia obeyed, almost before she speaks." She sighed again, even deeper than the first time. Ten have just seen," she continued, the results of that mistaken education. And yet, believe me, she is not so foolish as she seems. She possesses many estimable qualities—qualities fitted to make her a good wife." I can readily believe it," replied M. de Erevan, still watching the mirror. With me she is caprioiona and violent; but in the hands of the husband of her choice, she would be like wax in the hands of tho The man in the drawing-room had finished his letter, and was reading it over. Believe me, baroneas," replied M. de Breyan, I have perfectly understood how much girlish bombast there was in all your daughter told me." "Then, really, you do not judge her too Be««eyt)ur heart has not more indulgence for her than my own.1' And yet it ia from you that her first real sorrow comes." "From me?" The baroness shook her head in a melancholy wav to convey an idea of her maternal anxiety. from you, my dear marquis, she ret)lied •' from you alone. On the very day you entered this houee, Marguerite's whole nature ChHav1n'g read his letter over, the man in the drawing room had folded it, and eliPPed it ^to lua pocket, and, leaving his seat, seemedtoSbewaiting for aomething. M. de Brevan was following p the glaBB hie every movement, with eager curioaity. Nevertheless, he felt the necessity of saying something, if only to avoid attracting the baroness's attention. What I" he said, "Miss Marguerite s nature changed then P" In one night. She had met her hero—tbe hero of whom every girl dreams —a man, bearing one of tbe oldest namcB in France." # • She stopped, expecting an exclamation but B'evan said nothing. asked1 yoa never n°sice anything, then ? she "Never." "And suppcse I were to tell you myself that ^Rl'de rV'' ala8 !~L&VEE your" • w'evuii started. Had he been less occu- pied witn tneipereouago in tho large drawing-room ]ie woula certainly not have allowed the conver- sation t K"t mto thia channel. He understood tie mistake. Permit me, he said, ia an icy tone, "to Relieve that you are jesting," And suppose it were the truth ?" • •It would make me extremely unhappy." »i S.r I" For the reason that I have already told you. I love FeHy Branscombe with the oeeppat and purest and she haa ^been my affianced TirifA for tho p0st tnreo yo»rs« wlSmething like a thB of anger appeared for a moment in the bareness dark eyes I tell you," fche exclaimed, this marriage is i.» tod death,» Still, now, come; between ourselves, who are no longer children, suppose the baron were to double Marguerite's dowry r" An f xpretsionof disgust contracted the features of her listener. Not another word he interrupted. There was no hope left. The baroness fully realised it by the tone in which he spoke. She rl mained tbcughtfcl for a minute, and suddenly, I ke a person who has finally made up her m-n4, si e r&ug the bell. A footman appeared. Do as I ordered," she merely said. Alas," she continued, to M. do Brevan, when the footman had gone, who would have thought t) at I should live to bitterly regret the day you firpt entered cur house." Whilst she spoke Maxime was noticing in the glatB the result of the order she had just given. The fcoi man waiked into tae laTge drawing, room, fpohb a few words to the suspieious-looking man, wno immediately put on hia hat and went out. Meantime the baroness was talking, If your intentions on that point are irrevo. cable, bew is it that you are here? You have too much experier.ee of the world not to have under- stood this morning the object of my visit and my allusions." Fortunately M. de Brian's attention was no longer distlact,ed by the proceedings in the next rcom. The decisive moment had come; the euccesa of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend upon hia coolness and self- ccmmand. It is because I understand even better than you suppose that I am here." 11 113deea I came, expecting to de&l with Baron von PfubhteTn only. But what has happened com- pels me to alter my intention. It is to you I must speak first." The baroneeB continued to manifest the same trarqoil aeeuraace, but she rose from her seat. bbe wished to be ready to meet the storm. You honour me," ebe said, with an ironical smile. There was, from this moment, no human power capable cf turning Maxime de Brevan from the object he had in view. It is to you I shall speak," he repeated, be. cause, after you have heard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to join me in endeavouring to obtain from your husband what I demand, and what I must hav-3." The baroness was looking at him with an air of surprise marvellously well simulatad, if it was not real. My father," he proceeded to say, the Marquis de Br«5van, was, when he settled in Ergiand, rich. Yet, when I had the misfortune to IOFe him, three yeart; ago, he was so thoroughly ruined that, to relieve the scruples of his honour, I gave up to his creditors all I bad in the world. W hat had become of my father's fortune ? What potion hed been administered to him to induce him to launch into hszardous apo;mlationi—he, an old Ereton grcntlemon, full of the moat obati- rate prejudices? That is what I. defined to asaer- tain." Ycc i" And rov-, baroness, I have ascertained." The Bfsronesa von Pfuhlstein was a womsn of Btrong mind. She hsd nad so many adventures, had walked on the brink of so many precipices, con. cealed so many anxietiea, in the course of her life, that carger was, as it were, her element, and ahe could rmile at the decisive moment of a desperate game like those cld gamblers, whose faces never betray their emotion when they risk their last stake. Not a muscle of her face moved now, she spoke with the most imperturbable calm. "Go on, I am listening; it is really quite interesting." That was not the way to propitiate M. de Erevan. Hia voioe was harahei when he resumed his narrative. When my father died I was young. I did not know then what 1 have learned since, that to contribute silently to the safety of knaves, is to be their accomplice. The honeetman should apeak and point out to others the trap into which he has fallen, that they may avoid it." The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelled by politeness to hear a tiresome story. That is rather a gloomy preface," she said. At all times," he wenton, my father seemed careless of his affairs, but his negligence was only apparer-t. I might mention some of his habits W j vonld do honour to the most methodical tradesman. For instance, he preserved every letter of any importance which he received. He left twelve,or fifteen boxes full of such papers. They were carefully classified, and many bore upon the margin a few noteB indicating what answer had been made to them." That was something like order," said the Baroness, half suppressing a yawn. "At the first moment, determined not to rake up the past, 1 attached no importance to these letters, and they would certainly have been burnt, but for an old friend of the family, Colonel Barawicke, who had them taken to his own house. But later, acting under the influence of circum- stances which it would be too long to explain, I regretted my apathy, and I thought that I might, perhaps, find in that correspondence something either to dissipate or justify certain suspicions which had oecurred to me." So that like a dutiful son you read it?" I beiieve," said M. de Brevan, with a oeremo- nicua bow, "that to avenge a father of the imposture of which he was the victim, is to render homage to his memory. Yes, I read the whole of that correspondence, and with an interest which you will readily understand. I exaraiuedi the contents of several boxes without result, when, in the packet marked 1852, a year which my father spent in London, certain letters attracted my attention. They were signed 'Popsey,' and some gave the address, Church street, Kensington. These letters clearly showed what had taken place. My father had met with a young girl of rare beauty, who worked in a large laundry; hu had taken a fancy to her, and as he was tor- mented by the fear of being loved for his money alone, he passed himself off as a poor clerk in the City." 1, Quite a sweet little romance," remarked the Baroness. Bat there was no impertinence which could affect Mr.xime de Brevan's coolness. A romance, perhaps," he said, "but in this caee a money romance, not one of love. This Popeey announces in one of her letters, that in February, i853, she has given birth to a daughter whom she has confided to some relatives of her's at Dover. It was doubtless that event which induced my father to acknowledge who he was. He confesses that he is not a poor clerk, but tne Marquis de Brevan, with a good income. At once the tone of the correspondence changes, Popsey is dull where she lives; work spoils her pretty hands. Result: A few weeka after the birth of her child, my father hires for the lady handsome lodgicga, which she oconpiea under the name cf Mrs. Clifford, and she is allowed forty pounds a month, with two servants and a Vio. toria." The baroness was showing signs of the utmost impatience. But M. de Bre van proceeded without paying any attention to them. "Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and Mrs. Clifford, once Popsey,' cease to write, But the lady does not waste her time. During a space of less than eight months, from February to September, she induces my father to dispose -^not in her favour, she is too disinterested for that, but in favour of her daughter—of a sum exceeding ten thousand pounds. In September the correspondence is resumed. Mrs. Clifford dis. covers that she is not happy, and acknowledges it in a letter, which shows by its improved writing, and more correct spelling, that she has obtained a little education in the interval. She complains of her precarious situation; the future alarms her; she pines for respectability. Such is for three months the constant burden of her epistles. She regrets the time when she earned her own living. Why has she been so weak ? Then, at last, in a note which betrays stormy ciscuesicns; she announces that she has had an unexpected offer of marriage; a worthy good man, who, if she only had five thousand pounds, would give his name to herself and her darling little daughter. For a long time my father hesitates, but she presseB her point with Buoh rare skill, she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriage will ensure the happiness of their child, that my father yields at last, and resigns himself to the sacrifice. In a memorandum on tHe margin of a last letter he states that he has just given five thousand pounds to Mrs. Clifford; that he will never see her again and that he is returning to live in Brittany, where he wishss, by the most rigid economy, to repair the breach he has made in his fortune." Thus end all these romances," said the Baronesa, in a jesting tone. I beg your pardon, this one did not end there. For many yearB my father kept his word, and never left our homestead of Erevan. But at last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Londor, where he had so many friends. Being aware Or his return, Mrs. Clifford managed to put herself in his way. Be found her more fascinating than ever, and, according to her letters, rich and respeoted, for her husband had become 'some. body.' She would have been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for her to forget the man whom she had once loved so much, and ta whom she owed her position. I have that letter. The elegant writing, the style, and the correct orthography, eloquently express the transformation of the little humble 'Popsey,'of Church street, Kensington. Only it is not signed. Amongst other things, Popsey' has learnt prudence. She has much to lose, and fears to compromise herself. "Aweek later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by an irresistible passion, she bega my father to visit her at her own house. He does ao, and finds there a little girl, whom he believeo1 to be his own child, and whom he doats upon at once. Agam he falls under the charm. He ceases to belong to himself; his former mistress can dispose at her pleasure of his fortune and of his fate. But see now what is in store The husband grows jealous of my father's visits. In a letter, which is a masterpiece of diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety. 'He has suspicions,' she writes, and to what extremities might he not resort, were he to discover the trattl With infinite art fibe insinuates that the best way to justify his constant presence is to associate him. self in buEinesa with that jealoua hue baud. "My father adopts the suggestion with childish haste. But money is needed. He sells hia pro- mr1y, and announces everywhere that ho has crcat finsncifcl ideas, ana that he is going to increfBti hia fortune ten fold. now fird bra in partnership with the ladv'e husband, er.gaged in speculations director of a company, li e thinks that he 18 doing an excellent business; he is convinced that He ia makire money. Deluded man rhey prove to him, one morniiig," that he is rumed, and, what ia more, compromified. And this is made to look so Such like truth, that I myself interfere and, pay the creditor!. We were rumed, but honour was satisfied. A few weeks later my father died, a H^be^a^ECSS^on ^^nhl8^ie^D chair with a gesture which indicated the joy of ercapirga pitiless bore. A glanoe from Al.de Brevan rivetted her to her Beat, freezing upon her lite the jest she was about to uiter. •' I have not done yet," he said, almost rudely. Liett-n from this correspondence resulted the fl/srant proof of a shameful plot, long before suspected by my friend, Colonel Hardwicke. It became evident that my poor father had baen im. posed upoa by that woman, so handa ma and so dearly lov?d and afterwards despoiled by her husband. But all this availed me nothing. Being igncrant of my father's life and as sooiaV-the letters givirgr neither names cor precise details, I knew net whom to accuse. Besides, in order to 0' accuse, it is neceBEary to have some material proof." The barcreas bad returned he? seat; but her t ttitnde, her gestures, the expression of her faoe, til seem* d tL) shy You are my guest. Civility has its damands, but really sou abuse i's privileges." At this t me," pursued De Brdvan. I waa still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed in my ex. perimelts, and scarcely ever leaving my labora- tory I was inoignant; I ardently wished to fi id r.r.d to punish tho villains who had robbed ua bat I ksew rcither t,) proceed, nor where to seek idGItDatkn. The wretches would, perhaps, ha.ve gore unpunished, buj for a good and worthy man.nowachitfinspectorofpolief.to whom I once rendered a sHght fctrviee. 1 explained the situa- tion to bim he took much interest in it, promised his assistance, and marked out my line of con- duct." I must confess," exclaimed tho Baroness, that I am not wholly mistress of my time. I am dressed, as you see, to go out." If the hac cherished any hope of adjourning the explanation which she felt coming, she must have lost it when Bhe heard the stern tone in which M. te Erevan interrupted her. You tai, go out to-morrow. Advised as I bavf just told yon," he continued, deliberately, and assisted by the experience of a detective, I went first to Church street, Kensington. I found there some old people, the foreman of a neigh- bouring factory and his wife, who had been living in the house for nearly twenty years. At my first question they exchanged a glanoe and laughed. '.I hey remembered Popsey 1 perfectly, which was but a nickname for a young and pretty laundress, whose real name was Fanny Capp. She had lived for (ightcen months in the same house as them- selves she had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was, in faot, she had told them, a wealthy foreign nobleman. They added that she had given birth to a little girl, and a few weeks later she had disappeared, and they had never heard a word of her. When I left them, they said to me, If you see Popsey, ask her if she ever knew Mr. and Mrs. Thicke. I'm sure she'll remember us.' For the first time the Baroness von Pfuhlstein shuddered Blightly but it was almost impercep. tible. From KensirRton," continued M. de Brevan, I went to the house where the lady had iivedaa Mrs, Clifford. I was fortunate, for I found there the same landlady as in 1853. As soon as I men- tioned Mrs. Clifford, she answered me that she had not in the least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her among a thousand. She was, she t aid, one of the prettiest women she had ever seen, and the most generous lodger. I utderstood the hint, handed her a sovereign, and heard from her everythicg she knew on the sub- ject. It seemed that this pretty Mrs. Clifford had not one lover, but two-the acknowledged one who was the master and paid the bills and the other an anonymous one, who went out by the back stairs. TL«> first was called the Marqaia de Brevan of the second she had never known but the Christian name, Oscar. I tried to ascertain what had become of Mrs. Clifford, but the land- lady declared Bhe did not know. One morning, lite a person who ia going abroad, or wishes to leave no traces behind, Mrs. Clifford sent for a furniture dealer, and sold everything she possessed, going away with nothing but a little leather bag in whioh were her jewels and her money." The Baroness von Pfuhlstein still preserved a serene countenance. Maxime paused a moment to examine her features with a sort of eager curi- osity. When I communicated this information to the inspector, he immediately placed me in communi. cation with a private detective named Sharpe, a man of extraoidinary patience and tact, with the tenacity of a bull-dcg. In less than a week, working from the data given him, he found a woman reBiding in Hammersmith who perfectly remembered attending the confinement of a pretty young woman in Church street, Ken. sington, whom they called Popsey.' Thia nurse also produced her books with the entry, I For at- tending Fanny Capp( a girl) t2 10a.' This woman informed me, moreover, that the ohild was duly registered under the names of Fanny Marguerite Capp, born of Fanny Capp, laundress, and an un- known father. Finally, she placed at my disposal her account book and her testimony." Taxed beyond measure, the energy of the baroness began to fail her. She was turning livid beneath her paint. You can understand," said Maxime, in the same frigid tone, that this woman's evidence, together with the letters in my possession, enable me to establish the exact date of the birth of my father's daughter. But that is no- thing as yet. With renewed zeal, Sharpe, the detective, spent days in examining the marriage registers of the various London parishes, and he was not long in discovering at St. Paul's, Covent Garden, the entry of the marriage of Fanny Capp with Oscar Ton Pfuhlstein." Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started up violently. It's false!" she cried, in a choking voics, and with a haggard brow. "A moment's reflection will prove tovouthat it is useless to deny it," interrupted Maxime. "But wait. In the books of that same church, Sharpe has found registered the baptism of a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. von Pfuhlatein, bearing the same name as the first one-Fanny Mar- guerite." What does that Prove ro askei the Baronesa, convulsively. It proves the settled intention of substituting the one child for the other; it proves that my father was deceived when he was made to believe that the second Marguerite was his daughter the daughter for whose benefit he had disposed of a large sum of money it proves that somewhere in the world there ie a poor girl, basely forsaken by her mother, now become the Baroness von Pfublstein." That is an infamous lie!" shrieked the Baroness, with rage and terror written on her face. M. de Brevan bowed. It The evidence of the truth of my statement, he ae-,d, "I can find at Barnes, and in a street in Soho."& Night had come. A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placed upon the mantelpieoe. He was not altogether a minute in the room, but that .minute was enough to enable the baroness to recover her coolness and collect her ideas. When the footman had retired she had made up her mind, with the resolute promptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations. She relin- quished all attempts at denial, and drew her chair nearer to M. de Brevan. We have beaten about the bush enough," Bhe said; "let us speak frankly. What do you want ?" The change was too sudden not to arouse Maxime's suspicions. 1 want a great many things," he replied. Still you must speoify." Well, I claim first the ten thousand pounds which my father had settled upon hia daughter— the daughter you cast off." "And what then?" "I want, besides, my own and my father'a fortune, of which we have been robbed by the Baron von Pfuhlstem, with your aBBiacanoe." 1, Is that all M. de Brevan ahbok his head. 0[ M»k nnnr^rn °Jf husband's caahier irony. 8aid' with a Yea, greatly." I am glad to hear it." I know it from exoellent aourcea, because, on my return from Barnes, I called in the Abbey road, where 1 saw a Miss Kitty Kino." He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing that name. Not at all. She n erely appeared profoundly astonished. Ahbey road, she repeated vaguely, "Abbey rc do not understand.'5 understood from the glance which M. de Brevan cast upon her, that B ie would hadr"oiled"hi"> 11 1 believe, on the contrary," he said II that you perfectly." Be it so, if you are so positive. Well, what do you ask for Branscombe ?" I demand, not for Bransoombe, but for the Btareholcers who have been impudently der frauded, the quarter of a million which is missing frcm the funds of the Unlimited ConfidenceCoin pany." The baronesa burst out laughing. Only that"' she said. "Yes, only that!" Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your complaints to Mr. Branscombe him- eelf. You must look him up." "It iB-useless, because it is not he, poor fool, who haa got the money." Who is it, then?" The Baron von Pfuhlstein, doubtless." you are mad, my poor marquis," said she, with air accent of pity, as if replying to aomething too absurd. You do not really think so," he answered. But suppose I should refuse to do anything more?'' I do not court acandal," he said deliberately, fixing his piercing eyes upon her. "Aa you per- ceive, I am tiding to arrange everything quietly between us. But, if I do not succeed thus, 1 must appeal to the law." Your proofs F" "Don't be afraid, I have proofs to auatain all my allegations." The baroness settled herself comfortably in an easy chair. '• May I know them ?" she asked. Maxime was becoming somewhat uneasy in the presence of the baroness's imperturbable assur- ance. What could be her hope? Did she know of some means of escape from a situation appar. Ently so desperate? He determined to prove to her that everything was known, and that she must surrender. "I know," he replied, that you have taken your precautions. But when Providence inter. teres, human foresight does not avail. See what has happened in regard to your first daughter." Be briefly recalled the principal incidents of Madge's life, from the time she had been left by her mother with the poor gardener near Barnes, the injury she had received by being run over by the baroness's carriage; the long letter she had written from the hospital, begging for assistance; her vieit to the house, and her meeting with Baron von Pfuhlstein; the effort to induce her to emigrate to America; her arrest by means of false information, and finally the attempt upon her life as she was going home late one night. And charging her with the responsibility of all theBe infamous acts. he paused for an anairer or a protest. The baroness was silent. You wonder, perhaps, how I have discovered 811 these facts. A single word will explain all. The inspector of police who befriended your daughter is the same to whom it was once my gond fortune to render a service. By oomparieg notes, we have gradually arrived at the truth. Will you acknowledge now that I have sulaciant proof to Eet the law in motion F" Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss. What then r" she said coldly. M. de Brevan was too much on his guard to reveal the secret of his futare designs. Besides, whilst be was quite clear as to the manoeuvres by which bis father had been despoiled, he had AS yet tut presumptive evidence as to what con. certed Mark Branscombe. "Pcriritrre to conclude my statements here," h tfrhd. ''I have told you enough to enable you to judge cf the value of my weapons." The baroness must have felt that she could not induce him to change his mind, for she rose to depart. That ig fufficient," she said. I shall reflsct, I anc o nr.orrow I will give jon an answer." J1. de Lievan placed himself between her and the coor. EycuFc me," he Eaid, "but L require an answer at cnre; now I" Why, this is violence she said, in a voice whicli betrayed the iffort her self-control cost her. It is imposed upon me by circumstances, baronet s." You would be lees exacting if my husband were here Be rluet have been within hearing, for the deer opened, and he appealed upon the threshold. 1 here are people for whom the unforeseen does rot exist, and whom no event can disconoert, Having risked everything, nothing can surprise them. Such was the Baron von Pfuhlstein. What squabbling here r" he said in a cordial tone, casting a penetrating glance at his wife and M. de Brevan. "1 am glad yon have come!" exclaimed the Bareness. What is the matter?" The matter is, that the Marquis de Brevan is erdeavouring to take a mean advantage of some incidents of our past life." "Theies woman's exaggeration for you:" laughed the Biron, holding out his hand to Maxime. Let me make your peace for you, my dear marquis But De Brevan stepped back, and did not take the proffered hand. II Peace is to longer possible, baron; I am an enemy." An enemy be repeated, in a tone of well simulated Burprise. Yes," interrupted the Baroness, and 1 muBt speak to you at onoe, Oacar. Come, the marquis will wait for you." She led her husband into the adjoining room, castirg upon MaxizLe, as she pasted, a look of burning hatred. Left alone, M. ee Brevan sat down: Far from annoying him, the baron's sudden intervention seemed to him a stroke of good fortune. It spared him a second painful explanation, and the un. pleasant necessity of having to confound a villain by proving his infamy to him. Ike deliberation was brief. In less than ten minutes the baron returned alone. He was pale, and he bad assumed the grieved expression of a man who fears he has misplaced his confidence. My wife has told me all, sir," he began. W(:Ii F" said Max;me, rieing. I am indeed distressed. Ah, marquis How could I ever expeot such a thicg from you r You, whom I thought I had a right to look u'on as a friend. And it is you, who, when a crushing misfortune befalls me, attempa to give me the coitp de grace. It is you who would crush me beneath tbe weight of disgraceful slanders." The baroness oannot have repeated my word? to you correctly, nor the importance of the proofs I hold, else yon would not utter the word slander.' There is scarcely a family," the Baron resumed, in a plaintive tone, in which there is not some painful secret. There is one in mine. Yes, it is true that, before our marriage, my wife had a child, whom poverty compelled her to abandon. We have since done everything that was bumanly possible to find that ohild, but without success. It is a great misfortune, which has shadowed our life. If, however, you deem it to your interest to divulge our secret and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so, I cannot prevent you. But I protest that fact is the only thing real in your accusations. You say that your father was duped and defrauded. From whom did you get that idea ? "I suppose from Peterson, a worthless man, who has been my enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me and came out Beoond best. Or from O'Flash, perhaps, who cannot forgive my having refused him my daughter's hand, and who hates me because I know that he committed forgery once, and would be in prison, but for your father's indulgence. Well, theae men have deceived you. If the Marquis de Brevan was ruined, it was because he undertook a business that he knew nothing about, and speculated right and left. It does not take long to sink a fortune, even without the assistance of thieves. "As to pretend that I have benefited bv the embezzlements of my cashier, it is simply ridicu- lous. No one could suggest such a thing, unless it were Barwise and St. Bullion, two scoundrels whom I could have Bent to prison a dozen times, and who were Branaoombe's accomplices. How. ever, that matter is in the hands of juetice, and I shall prove in court that to save the company, I have sacrificed more than half my private for. tune." M. de Brevan was tired of this tissue of false. hood, evidently intended to lead him into argument when he might betray his future plans. Conclude, sir," he interrupted harshly. To conclude is easy enough," replied the Baron. My wife tells me that you are about to marry the daughter of my former clitsbier-a very charming girl, but without a penny. She ought to have a dowry." Sir Let us show our hands. I am in a critical positicn you know it, and you are trying to take advantage of it. Very well, we can still come to an understanding. What would you say if I were to give to Miss Bramscombe the dowry intended for my daughter?" All M. de Brdvan's blood ruahoa- to his faoe. Not another word!" he exclaimed, with an emphatic gesture. I demand my father's for- tune. I demand that you should restore to the Unlimited Confidence Company the quarter of a million which has been abstracted." And if not ?" "Then I shall put the law instantly in motion." They remained for a moment face to faoe, look. ing into each other's eyes. What have you decided?" asked M. de Brévsn. I will go as far as fifty thousand pounds, cash down," replied the Baron, without suspecting that his offer waa a fresh insult. Is that your last word ?" It is." If I make a charge against you, with the proofs in my hands, you are lost." We shall see." To insist further would have been puerile. Very well, you defy me but we shall see," said M. de Brevan. | As he went out and got into his oab, which had been waiting for him at the door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron von Pfntù. stein Buch assurance, and whether he could possibly have been mistaken in his conjectures. It was nearly eight o'clock, and Alfred, Mrs. Bransoombe, and Nelly must have been waiting for him with impatience, but he had eaten nothing since morning, so he drove direot to the Cafe Vaudeville in the Strand, hard by the theatre whose name it bears. He had just ordered a steak and a bottle of St. Estephe, when a thiok- set, middle-aged man, with a heavy moustache, and a soar on his cheek, took a seat at the same table. In a quarter of an hour Maxime had despatched his repaat and was hurrying out, when he Eeemed to stumble over his neighbour's foot without knowing how it happened. He at once begged the man's pardon, but instead of receiving the apology, he began to brawl in the most riotous fashion, upsetting plateB and knives and forks, affecting the greatest indigna. tion, and ending by oalling De Brevan a clumsy idiot Maxime was about to administer a well-deserved correction for this insult, when suddenly the scene in the drawing room of the Somth Kensing. ton mansion came back to his mind. He saw again, as in the glass, the ill.looking man listen- ing to the baroness, and afterwards sitting down to write. That's it!" he exclaimed, a multitude of cir. cumstances occurring to his mind which had escaped him at the time. W ithout further reflection, he seized the ruffian by the throat, and threw him on his back, holding him firmly down. It is a planned thing! I am sure he has a letter about him," exclaimed De Brevan to the persons gathered about the combatants. After an instant's eearoh he took from the man's side-pocket a letter, which he unfolded, and read aloud these extracts: A troublesome foreign gent to keep quiet. It will be a matter of a well-directed blow in the right way-Son understand. We shall divide a large amount. Don't let the grass grow." ''Now you see, gentlemen, why this ruffian picked a quarrel with me. Most likely he has weapons concealed upon him." I know him well," said one of the waiters, "he's a bad-tempered brute. He called me an idiot last week for nothin' wbatsomever. Here's a 'arf crown to pay for breakage." Banding the tellow over to the waiters to settle with him as they liked, M. de Brevan quietly paid his score, placed the letter carefully in his poolcat, and, hailing a passing cab, instructed the driver to take him to Tolmer square- as quickly as possible. (o be continued )

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FEMININE FOIBLES FANCIES, AND FASHIONS. BY A LADY. (AU rights Reserved.) fOME IMPEOVID CULINARY ARTICLES—PKOB ABLE FUTUKE SOAKCT) T OF DOMESTICS — SEliVANTS'WAG'ES-, OUR INGENIOUS (JOUSLNS — TiE A MEBICAN E ELF"-A ALT JEXTSACTOB -IHE SIGNAL EGG ECILE R-BADLY- '-OILED EGGS AND IHE REASON THEREUF Ax JKGQ PNEEETVEB—A NEW PEOCESS IN BREWING TEA—SAUCEPAN SCOURERS— I IRE LIGHTERS — IHE FASHIONS-PONLEKOUS AND MASSIVE JEWELLERY MANUFACTURED DIAMONDS— liHJNE PEBBLES NOW MUCH WORN—FLOWER BANDS V. FOREIGN BEETLES—AMERICAN BECIPE. The other day I was walking through the Soho Bt. zaar in Oxford street, and whilst waiting for a companion, who was making some purchases at a stall devoted to the sale of culinary articles, I asked the obliging stsll keeper to show me any Lew inventions the might happen to have. I always feel interested in novelties, the purpose of which is to facilitate culinary operations, and to save le.bour; for I begin to tear that, what with school boards and compulsory education, very Boon there wiil be no domes: ic servants to be had. The classes which supply these useful members of sooiety are now taught many things that will, I am afraid, tend to give them a distaste for those bumble employments which their Btation in lifo may be said to have marked out for them. Young women who have been taught embroidery, and have something more than a smattering of music and French, will very likely consider it degrading to scour floors and scrub saucepans. Conse- quently, they will desire to become lady helps, or governesses, still further incieasing the number of those who are starving daily upon their dignity end accomplishments whilst their lees aspiring Eisters, who are content to accept the work which lies nearest to hand, may, as good cooks, command wages which range from X40 to .£60 per annum, and house and parlour maids, who are thoroughly efficient, ask, and get, from A20 to X30 a year for their homely services, even though they may be incapable of signing their names. Whether the higher education of the working classes will or will not affect our Bocial comfort, by depriving us of domestic servants, remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I am glad to test, and also to welcome, any modern invention which may help us, or those who come after us, to get through the work of the house with ease and com- fort, in cace, and not unlikely, we should be thrown back upon our own unassisted resources, and so compelled to do the cleaning and cooking with our own bands. I believe it is due to the scarcity and independence of American leervants that there are so many excellent contrivances for lightening domestic labour. Countless are the useful inventions we owe to the ingenuity of Americans, whose ideas are doubtless spurred by the fact that the help," as she is styled, is not bound by law to remain a minute longer in the service of her employer than is convenient and agreeable to herself. An influx of visitors, a fancied enght. or any other trivial ciuse, is sufficient excuse for the "help" to take herself off. And when illneBsccmes into the house she will almost certainly leave. Indeed, she generally times her departure so that when you stand most in need of her services you will find yourself left to meet your difficulties unassisted and alone. 'My friencs who reside in America tell me that servants are most exacting; One lady said that if visitors called she was compelled to be especially deferential in her manner to the help, who, if not treated with marked politeness and consideration, threatened to leave at once. An Amerioan lady, however well off as regards money, not untre- quently finds herself compelled to perform the entire work of the household, and without the mechanical means of lightening her labour would not be able to get through the duties unexpectedly thrust upon her. I once knew a very delicately nurtured English girl whose husband's calling tock him to the United States. Some years after, when she revisited her former home, she laughingly showed me her hards, no longer white and delicate, and asked if I could imagine her rising at five o'clock in the morning to prepare her husband's breakfast, blaoking grates, and scrubbing floors- in short, performing the entire duties of a maid of all work; and this, not for the want of means to provide the help, but simply because she found that person so objectionably full of airs and iode. pendence, exacting and exigent, and so certain to betake herself elsewhere when most needed, that my friend preferred to rely upon herself, and not trust to such doubtful and uncertain assistance. She told me that the American stoves, which are kept burning through the night, were very con- venient, and far more cleanly than our open grates. But we love to see the glowing embers, and should. I believe, be sorry to have our fire-places superseded by American stoves. The stories which we hear about the servant diffi. culty in America incline me better to appreciate the system which governs domestic service in this country, whilst they further teach me to treat with increased consideration and kindness those upon whom so very much of my own personal oomfort depends. I oonfesB that I do not hear the complaints of my American friends without feelinR a little alarm, lest by over-educating the working classes we may not unconsciously be bringing upon ourselves a similar state of things, which' we should have every cause to regret. I find I have made a long and unintentional digression from the subject I commenced with, viz., the novelties in culinary articles which were Ehown to me in the Soho Bazaar. One of the most useful was a cheap contrivance called a salt extractor. We know very well that meat which has been pickled long imbibes a great deal of salt. and the stock in which the meat has been boiled is often like brine itself, and, therefore, instead of turning it into soup we are compelled to throw it away. To save this waste, some ingenious person invented an article which looks very like a brawn tin. The liquor in which the saline pro. perties predominate is poured into this vessel, which is then placed in a tub of water; when cold the salt will be extracted, and the liquor ready for those additions which turn it into soup, and fit for the table. The price of the extractor is only Is 6d. Then I law what was called the signal egg boiler. There is a disc, on which a certain number of figures indicate a similar nnm. ber of minutes; the hand on the face is set, say to the orthodox three minutes and a half; when the time is up, the glass which contains the sand revereeB its position, and the sudden movement causes a bell to ring which arrests the attention of the cook. Servants are nearly always careless and indifferent to time when boiling eggs, they are rarely or never exact, thinking a minute more or lees of no consequence whatever. Some persist that they may be put into the water cold, and believe that when it reaches boiling point the egg will be done to a turn. I have known others put eggs into boiling water, and then take them out occasionally to see if they dried quickly; this, also, is a most unsafe test to apply. It seems strange that ser- vants should be so averse to what is really the easiest method. The excuse they oon. eider all sufficient ia. that they forgot to look at the clock." Therefore, when we find the eggs as hard as brick bate, and nearly as indigestible, we have to be satisfied with the unwelcome proof ot the domestic's assertion, that she forgot. Many cooks who would be ashamed to put a h..lf raw or otherwise over-dressed joint on the table, will send up spoiled eggs without the slightest qualm of conscience, and think that their condition is no reflection upon their culinary skill. Some persons get irritable when their eggs are not properly cooked to such I commend the new boilar, which never fails, if properly set, to recall a wandering attention. Talking of eggB reminds me of another useful article; this was a stand made of white deal, and shaped like a miniature dinner wacrgon. There were three tierf; each tier was punched with holes large enough to admit the pointed end of the egg poised in this position eggs keep fresh much longer than they do if placed on the side, in which case the yolk will probably become attached to it. I will briefly enumerate two or three other novelties which seem worthy of notice :-A pair of China feet, on which children's socks were to be drawn before washing; these feet Were supposed to keep the socks in shape, and alto to prevent them shrinking during that neoeEsary process. Then there were some curious little wire baskets the tea for infusion was to be put into one of these baskets, it was then to be suspended over the teapot, and the boiling water was then poured in the tea leaves were after. wards removed, and I am told that the flavour of our favourite beverage, when made in this manner, is far superior to the stewing process now so uni. versally adopted. 1 saw, too, some small whisks made of birch, which are, I believe, used to scour saucepans in some of our best sohools for cook- ery, and last of all, I must call my readers' attention to the cigar shaped fire lighters; I think they cost less than a farthing each. We have all, I expect, proved the truth of the sententious old saying that nothing is easier than to sit the fire out and to be deceived." I am sorry to say I am not so well provided with a cure for deceit as I am with a remedy for the extinguished embers. To ignite them you would place one, or at most two, of the cigar shaped lighters underneath, and with a match set fire to them. Very soon the ooals will be glowing red hot as before. I think some of these necessary articles should be kept ready for use in the room, for the oft quoted aphorism is so frequently confirmed by experience that we may be sure we shall find a use for them before long. Fashion is, if possible, more variable than ever, and in the matter of jewellery she has completely veered round, like the veritable weathercock she ii. Unobtrusive ornaments, so long worn are lees popular; and all the new jewellery is ponderous, massive, and altogether very obtrusive looking. The modern locket is as large as it is possible to make it, short of resembling a warming pan. The new gold and silver chains are the size of cables, and diamonds are used with such pro- fusion to stud every ornament worn that we might certainly suppose some successful experi- mentalist had discovered the important secret of maiufaoturmg them, an art which excites a great deal of talk at the present time, almost a8 much as did that chimera of the ancient aichemiste who were in search of the philosopher's stone. If it is true that diamonds can be 'Dro. duced by artificial means, the gems of nature will part with some of their former prestige! and magnificent heirlooms lose much of thei?repr £ tentative value. There must be something unpleasmg m the sound of "manufactured diamonds to those who possess rare and costly stones of this kind. But I am told that the processes involved in the production of brilliants wuuld be Eo very costly that real diamonds would cost less than the manufactured duplicates, consequently, at present the owners of magnificent paiureB of diamonds need not fear that the worth of their treasured jewels will be depreciated. I read the ether day a curious story to the effect that an American had found in 1 a dead frog certain black seedlike atoms, which, wben tested by the mioroscope, proved to be incipient diamonds. If, as we read, pearls are prod aced by oysters who wish to get rid of some irritating substance which is a source of discom- fort to the troubled mollusc, I do not see why a malady, or, as L bear, & lung disease in the ccmmon frog should not be productive of dioz,or do. At all events, there is a possible analogy between the cases, that is, if the American story does not turn out a purely invent ve ne. "To be taken with a grain of salt, is a flafe prefix in this instarce. When we knolf that diamonds, chemically speaking, are prre ciystallised carbon, and that I eah are partly coir pesed of carbonate of lime, the pro notion of there jewels by artificial means does not seem altcgether in possible. thine pebbles are being very much worn they aie mounted in silver, and uee3 for the fashion. able cadgers thrust in tt-e Luir, akofor our waist fctcfclts and shoe buckles. I be old fath:or.ee leg of mutton, or gigot sleeve, is being worn in Parie at this time. It is gathered in txtremely full at the shoulder psint, and slopes fharply after reaching the elbow, so that at the wrist u is quite close fitting. Amongst some of the lelirs cf my ancestors I once possessed a pair of down cushions, made to fi: the upper part of the srm, and thus the sleeve was k, pt in that dis- tended positicn frcm which iE r ame is derived. And new 1 have cnly space left to mention the little floral bandB which I am pleased to see dis- placing those made of foreign beetles mentioned a my iast letters. These flower binds are worn rcund the necks cf dresses, which are cat high. lor evening wear with low bodiaes, tiny roses, or button chrysanthemums, are fastened on a long piece of satin ribbon. The flowers are graduated -large in front, and growing smaller wnere tied. On each of the iong ends a corresponding flower i sewn. The tops of the gloves are trimmed in the same pretty way. I observe a revival of last winter's iaebion, for wearing artificial flowers in the street. Natural ones seem in better taste when prccnrabl", and I imagine the small chrysanthemums I pee so many ladies carrying would keep fresh for many days. When flowers are faded they may sometimes be restored by cuttirg eff part of their stpms a-id plunging them for a few miLutes into boiling water. AMERICAN RECIPE. JOSIE SCOTT'S CREAM PIE.-T wo eggs, nearly a cup of sugar, a cup of milk, a pinch of ealt, and flcur enough to make a stiff batter. Turn into four buttered tins, and bake in a gcod hot oven. Then take a coffee cup of milk, two eggs, and a cup of sugar, with a pinch of Fult beat all thoroughly together, the milk must be added boiling return to the saucepan and stir briskly for a few seconds add lemon, or vanilla flavouring when cold spread between the cakes previously made. The author of this recipe writes "deticicus," and four notes of admiration after the word. So I hope my readers who copy it nay be able to endorse the favourable verdict.

GOSSIP IN THE WOBLD." A well-known beauty in society oocupied a stege.box at a theatre in the Strand some nights ago. Her white furs and diamonds were the admiration of the house. Shortly after the beauty's departure an attendant found a star Of brilliants in the box, and, like an honest woman, gave the treasure-trove into the hands of the management. No inquiries were made next day at the theatre about tne lost star, but ultimately it fcund its way into the rightful owner's hands. The oddest part of the story remains to be told. Tbe diamcnds were false. The Duke of Sutherland has been inquiring into the subject of electric lighting, and it is not improbable that on his return an experiment may be made of illuminating Stafford House by the new process. Bishop Fraser and his bride are still at Toz quey, staying quietly at the Belgrave, tiotel. Here they will remain for some ten days longer, and they will then proceed direct to Bishop's Court, Manchester. The Manchester people wculd be glad to give them an enthusiastic welcome; but the bishop is inexorable in his reEclve that as little fuss as possible shall be mace over his marriage. Nevertheless, it is understood that a large number of valuable presents are awaiting Mrs. Fraser at the palace. The Hon. Mrs. Ronald C&mpbell, whose gallant husband was killed in the engagement on the hill of Kambula, will be among those who accompany the Empress Engenie in her pilgrimage to Zululand next March. Mr. E. Asbmead Bartlett, who has gone to Ireland on behalf of the Baroness Burdett Coutta, has been intrusted by that charitable lady with the sum of j £ 5,000, part of which is to ba expended on direct charity, and the remainder in the form of small loans without interest to farmers and householders. The prevalence of ice and frost is a serious drawback to the training of the Oxford crew. About eighty yards of the river, close to the barges, is all that is free from the ice, 80 that the men have been obliged to transfer their rowing exercise to Sandford, where they get about a mile and a half of river, more or less encumbered with icebergs. The Dark Blue crew promises to be only a moderate one, as there appears to be no stroke worthy to fill the plaoe of the departed Marriott, and the men throughout seem deficient in power and stamina. Cambridge, on the other hand, possesses a number of strong big men, who may be clumsy, but still ought to be well able to row four miles, Madame Patti begins her performances at the Goi-i in Paris, not in the middle of February, as previously announced, but on February 4, She and Nicolini receive a nightly salary of JE400. Her notary, lam told, paid her husband YtO,000 to insure his non-interference. This is simply the stcry of Giulia Grisi and her husband over again. I see that the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company notify that there will be a reduction in the rates of passage-money by their steamers to Adelaide, Melbourne, and Sydney, commencing with the mail-steamer leaving Southampton on the 19th of February .next and Brindifii on the 1st of March. The smartest piece of electioneering work recently on was done by the Liverpool Liberals on Ihursday night. Lord Ramsay was not accepted formally as the candidate of the party until ten o'clock that night. Next day, before noon, the postmen had delivered sixty-two tbouBcnd copies of bis address, dated on the day of their delivery, and accompanied by a circular from the chairman of the Liverpool Liberals, to six'y-two thousand addresses within the borough. A special staff was in attendance at the poist-cffioe and altogether no leet3 than 150,000 additional letters were distributed in two days. At the great sale of greyhounds last week, where the celebrated Coomsetaie was put up and bought in, considerable merriment was aroused by the fact of the highest-priced lot being knocked down to Mr. Crosse (of Crosse and Blackwell's); immediately after, a gentleman in the same line of business, Mr. Lea (of Lea and Perrins') had secured another sapling (a much better bargain, by the way) from the same kennel. Harriers, we all know, are called "currant jelly dogsand the future pet name of greyhounds will very probably depend on the fate of the purchases just mentioned. I hope the ladies and the milliners will not often venture upon classical allusions in naming their new fashions, or, if they do, that they will turn up their Smith, or some other proper anthority, for the prevention of suggestive blunders. A hint which I throw out for the benefit of a Ladies' Association (largely, influentially, and moat virtuously patronised) which advertises the new Jersey bodice Phryne P*

PICKINGS FROM" PUNCH." Youth has to learn the three R's. Old Age has letrned the threeV's-Vanity Vanity! Vanity! A WORD ON THE WEATHER.—" Zgro" pre- sents his compliments to the Geological Society, and begs to be informed whether they do not think it probable that this country has arrived at the commencement of another "Glacial Period." MOTTO FOB EVERY WELL-ORDERED DINNER TABLE.—" No Larks!" ABOARD THE BACCHANTE.—A False Alarm- the Royal Tattoo. THE GRANUM SALIS." One true thing Parnell said in his Newark speech the other day— •• We in Ireland are not. listened to in England." Would we could add, Nor in Ireland either." MESSMATIES.-WA dero in the mud of the London streets after a thaw.

CUTTINGS FROM "FUN." UNSATISFACTORY ARITHMETIC." — Parson I wish to complain, Mrs. Diggins, of the conduct of your daughter at the Sunday School to-day, it was rude in the extreme. Mrs. D. Ah, it's what they tacbee her at that theer board school as dun it; yesterday she come home, and she says "Mother, they are a-taching of me vulgar frax! shuns." What can you expex after that, sirf A MIXED BREED.—The artisan who, at the same time, is a man of metal" and a beast-ia a tin cur. MISSING. Master (reading boy's dictation exercise) "This arch and abandoned Miss Creant-" That is a mistake, boy you have missed my meaning. Boy: Please, I thought you meant what you said, sir. [So he did, and the boy had to take" what he did not miss." A BROKEN "READ." Your perusal of a favourite author interrupted by waits, piano organs, and other nuisances. BEYOND EXPECTATION.—Pat: Well, Dan, and have ye heard the news-have ye heard that Bory the Miller's dead ? Dan: Rory the Miller is it that's dead, now r Jabers, but ye don't say so, and he was a young man, too. Pat: Faith, an' that's threw for you, Dan, he was such a young man, now, that I expected to see him at my own funeral instead of me going to his.

Do you suppose there is any doubt about my baggage going to Canaan?" inquired an old lady of the famous wag R., while he was seeing some friends off" at the Albany depjt, a few days Bince. My dear woman," answered R soberly, it will depend entirely upon the moral instruct tion it has received. Was it brought up ortho- dox F" No," answered the uncomprehending woman, "itwaa brought up on a hand.oart." Doubtful case, ma'am, very." DR. DE JONGH'S LIGHT-BROWN COD LIVER OIL.-ITS UNEQUALLED EFFICACY IN INFANTILE WAST- ING AND DEBILITY OF CHILDBEX —Thomas iiunt, ESQ., itite Mc diesi Oftieer of H e, itil, St. Giles's and Bljoms- bory, writes: In badly nourished infants. Dr. de Joogh e Light-Brown Cod Liver Oil is inralu*6- "The rapidity with which two or three tea-spoonful a day will fatten a young chda is BBtouisbinfr. Tlie weight gained is three times the-weight of the Oil swallow-id. cr more; and. as children generally like the tMte of Dr. de Jongh's Oil and when it is given them oftea cry for more, it appears as though there were eoaie prospect of deliverance for the appalling mui. tituae of children who figure in the weok'.y bills of mortality issued from tin offica of the Registrar General." !>/• K-,T Ci aft, Author of "Handbook f°r NUI-S^RY," writes-— "Dr. de Jongh's JJi^ht-Brown Cod L;ver Oil is a specific in many of the Diseases p?caliarta Iaianco and Childhood, and I have teen marked benefit, pro- duced by its use. Patients prefer it to the Pale O and are able to retain it mow cimfortablv n, i' Joneh's light-Brown Cod Liver Oil m i i £ pfuledI i^erjal half-pints. 2S ™pi°gd quarts, 9s.; with his stamp and „ :V signatnre of his Bcle consignees onfh«" the label under wrapper, by all ehamigta^svf n Bigiicee, Ansar, Baiiord.W Co 77, strand, £ nd°^

ODDS AND ENDS. Leaded articles—Pencils and revolvers. Rather contradictory—Gay's grave. A Trance. Actio,,i- Walking in your slesp. A Small and Early Party —The newspaper boy. Breaches of coatract-lweed trousers which shrink. Why is a nun's life icappointing- Because it's to enc of a ceil. Never kick a man when he is down, unless you are Eure he can't get up. An cbfervat-t old lady says that "no other living thii g can go eo slow as a boy on an errard." While witiif Js;rg a gr.ine of cricket a boy was struck cn tne baok ot his head, the bawl coming out of bis mouth. A cabinet lr aker explained that he had to ask a high price for coffins, oecauee they never came up for repairs. A little gir! suffering frcm the mumps declares that she feE)" as though a headache slipped down into her LfCk." WHAT ONE CNDER THE SLIPPEK REKA.RES.— The young iran who woulan t fail in love was doubtless afraid of being mias-goided. In conducing an article on the corn crop, an Alabama toiler remarks, We have on exhibition in our sanctum a magnificent pair of ears." The creditors cf n absconding bankrupt found. on openirg the safe, that the only thing he had laid up for a rainy day was an umbrella. EliSTORY. Governess And now tell me, Frecdy, why was Guy Fawkes exooatedr FredCy TOB he would go and blow up de parlourmaid. An absent-minded passenger in an omnibus gave his pocket book to the iona actor and put the fare in his pccket. Ihe pocket book contained nothing. "You need a little sun and air," said a physician to a maiden patient seeking hie advioe, If I do," was the curt reply, 1 11 have to*wait till I get a husband." A firm of brewers at Enrton-on^rent recently received an crder by telegraph to Bend six casks of tuttt-r." equity elicited the discovery that bitter ale wes neant. A teacher atked his class to explain the differ- ence between dear" and "deer." One bright little fellow explained, One is a biped, aad the other is a quadruped. There's always one consolation, whatever our mitfortune— it lLight be worse. Were life hang- ing on a thread, it would be a comfort to think that it wti; ic; banging on a rope. FOR MOTHERS WITH ELIGIBLE DAUGHTERS.— The man who ita\f s two thirdB of a cuar in a daik comer o. >he Coor step when he goes to tte a young 10 cy, wili tr.fcke a good husband. A seL, ible v> nrtr -cviste those who would enjoy Lzco(I ealzjg to keep good-natured; "for," says he, an arpr; man can't t* -i whether he is eating boiled Ci»ttaf t or a shewed umbrella. "I aifl glad thin ccfiee don't owe me anything," said an a(coui_i«viit at bis breakfast. Why BO?" inquuea bis wi!e. 'Cause 1 don't believe it will ever settle," he replied. "Macan," Baid Roger tc, hie landlady, "beef, in primitive countries, is often a legal tender; bat all creation coulcn't make this beef tender J" ae he thiust his fork into the steak. The other ds y the professor of German asked an unregenerate junior what the gender of a certain noun was. 1 he junior quickly replied-" I think it is neuter, sir. At least it is neu-ter me An Oxford professor condoling with a student on his lew position in his class, must have been comforted when the student replied, Wall, never n ind, I presume I am as much to blame as you are." PUBELY UNSELFISH.- Lady of the houae "I don't wish you to stay Witi me, Mary, if yon can better yourbelf." Mary, the maid: "It ain't to better myself' I care so much, mum; it's to improve my condition." Were you never in a court of justice before ?" asked a magistrate of a witness who was conduct- ing himself in a very unseemly manner. No, never," replied tbe man, "but I've often been up before the magistrates." VEEY NATURAL P.HILOBOPKY. Why doe* lightning so rarely strike twice in the sam place ?" asked a board school teacher of the new boy in the class of natural philosophy. Oh," said the boy, because it never needs to." Hush Beware of the torpedo!" said a youl1% lady to an ineligible admirer, who was bacoming too attentive. On his asking for an explanation, she answered, Oh, it's only our new name for mamma, because she blows us up so Can a man Eee without eyeÛ" asked a pro- feaeor. Yes, sir," was the prompt answer. Pray, how do you make that out p" cried the astonished professor. lie can seen with one, sir," replied Jnvenis. A lecturer, addressing an audienoe, contended with tireeome prolixity tnat art could not improve nature, until one of nis hearerti, losing allpatienoe, set the room in a roar by exclaiming, How would you look without your wig ?'' A nobleman disputing with a celebrated financier, said to him, Sir, I would have you to know that I am a man of qu&lity. "And I," replied the man of figures, would have you to know, my lord, that I am a man of quantity." Boy, what is cense f" Coffee, why, that's what daddy calls his gin and knew atter he comes home from the temperance meeting." "He uses up a good deal of it, don't he?'' Well, no bnt a good deal of it uses him up, as far as I kin kalkilate." "Donald," said a Scotch dame, looking up to her pen, what's a slander ? A slander, gade mither r" quoth young Donald, twisting the corner of his plaid. Aweel, I hardly ken, unlets it be an ower true tale which one good woman tells of anithcr." There is a chap in Milford (Connecticut) so lazy, that when he is seized wish the fever and ague he is too l&zy to Bha-ke and, in the same town, there is a young doctor so green, that when he goes into the country it takes three men and a boy to keep the cows from him. A New Orleans jury declared a man to have come to his death by an unknown cart." About on a par with this is the Philadelphia verdict, respecting a man who had been crushed to death in a mill, when the jury remarked, No blame can be attached to the machinery." ABCADIAN SIMPLICITY -Lady Z. intends shortly to give a series of Btrawberry and cream garden parties in the country. Here is a copy of her letter to her faetctum: Tell the gardener to begin growing etraw berries immediately, and maind don't have the cows milked till we come down. At an evening party a very elderly lady wai dancing with a young partner. A straaffer approached Jerrold, who was looking on, end said, Pray, sir, can you tell me who ia the young gentleman dancing with that elderly ladv ?" OLe of the humane sooiety; I should think," replied Jerrold. Scene An Irish police oourt. The case: A charge of exposing unsound meat for sale. The local inspector of provisions is giving his evideaee. Croes-examiner Do you swear that the cow was killed, or that it died a natural deathf Witaeees I swear she was killed to save her life. A gentleman, tecently about to pay his doctor". bill, eaid Well, doctor, as my little boy gave the measles to all my neighbours' children, and as they were attended to by you, I think you oan afford at the very leaet to deduct 10 per cant. from the amcunt of my bill for the increase of bosinon we gave you., "Some things," said an excited Americas oratcr recently, "can be foreseen and foretold; and I now foresee, and I will now foretell, that the day will soon come when oar liberties will be no mote. This is as certain, my fellow citizens, and it is as sure, as that Romeo founded JSotne." Sambo, is your master a good farmer?" "Oh, yes, massa fusrate farmer he make two crope 111 one year." "How is tbat, Sunbo ?" "Why, you see, he sell all his hay in de fall, and make money once; den in de spring he sell de hides of all de cattle dat die for want of de hay, and make money twice. Dat's two crops, maaaa." There was considerable disbelief in General Grant even on the Northern eide at the Oegioning of the civil war in America, and some wiae friends came to President Lincoln and assured him that Grant was mad, quite insane. "Ia he?" reniied Lincoln, in hie humorous way. "Then I viah he would bite some of my other generals. A genuine Highlander was one day lo akicg at 0 print from a picture by one of the old mwtars, in which angels were represented blowing trumpets, rte lrquired if the angels played on trumpets, and being anBwered in the affirmative, made the fol- lowing pithy remark Hech, sire, bat the* maun be pldaeed wi' music! I wonder they dinna borrow a pair o' bagpipes." HIBERNIAN WIT.—-The following is the NIN^IN* scene of a late meeting of the Limerick Bo ardof Guardians :Mr. Gubbins Theoobbkr may aof come again.—Mr. Studdart: If he does, leatfaei him well.-Dr. O'Sullivan We won't put the tin on his sole.—Chairman Mr. Powell can givt him a good welt.-Mr. Gabbine I have no doubi we have seen the last of him. A herd laddie on a farm in one of the weston counties of Scotland was sent one day by hit mistress to dispose of an animal at the marke place; and he had not been long there until he was accosted by a gentleman who offered bin "twa pounds for the beast." "Na, na, sir; canna gie it fcr that," said the unschooled call", for the mistress said I wis na ta tak' lees tha: thirty shillings." An anecdote is told of a well-known lecturer o Artificial Memory," who was expounding hi theory in a provincial asBesffbly room, a.n that, under his system the memory was go dion plined tbat it never failed One of the attendant wbo had listened to the end with rant attmtim was aboat tarmng down the gas, wh £ he iSS an umbrella m the corner ot the nlatfr^m attendant's conficence received pected shock that he excised in tnL^Mf greatest, wonderment, I'm .? ? ot ti. artificial memory man hasn't t^e' bis umbrella 1" t gone and forgotte practisfr gltw in^Lar?6? Thaddeue Stevens wi to defend two bank nffa8ter' he-wa3 *<nploy< for conepiracv t> t-o h^°6rs 0 indict* bark mS? ^Tingused tne funds of t! PhiUd?i)bia tlOQ' A11 the *egal talent counties had be< trial Wfo j.,11 I^e prosecution. When t the court saf/ IM?TnS r°8e' addrswlb stjrrir cr it, itx.leaees voir honours, pi attar-bin + fv &re different degrees of ga u 't -'a 0 the prisoners, clients, I move th «!• The Judge consulted tot minuteB with his associates, who consents the motion was granted, and so recorded Waiti Bome time for Mr. Stevens to go on, the Judge, last becoming impatient, said, impetuoas Prooeed, Mr. Stevens, proceed. We are waiti *or you, sir." Stevens rose deliberately, ei !°cT .lr, £ round the oourt room for a moart«Bt, aa Did ycur honour* ever bear of one aasm b« tried for conspiracy P" Then, waving his bar to his clients, he said, You cui go home—y can go bome." And they did go bona*. J1 were discharged, and tbe oourt adjourned.