=- -11 TT," Will Whiter never be over? Will the dark days never go, Must the buttercup and tlie clover Re always hid under the now? All. Ivan me your little ear, luve- Ilark to :i benutifill thing:— The month of the y< ar, love, Is shortest, and nearest the Spring!
A WOMAN'S WILL; CR, E N E II G Y' HE W A R D E D. CITAlTEIi VII. T ii 11 it a; r it i ]■; a* e IIAUY WHITTI.ES?.A looked at Winifred again. A vision of poor cowed Yonng trembling and .,ahrililcit,g rose before her rniJJd, Winifred, buld and iiandsome, gained by the contrast. Why do you coiuo hero teasing- me ?" said she, in a peevish tone. "If youliko to by, shy. I don't care. Tiie weather may change to-morrow." "Thank YOII," replied Wi».ii'n.«l, curti. and with- -out further p.ulev t-iic went back to the broukiait- xoom and raIlg- the bolt. "1 am going to stay," said she, to the housemaid Who answered it. Nothing could exceed the ,foy she felt at the re- prieve. ■Snug, warm, and com tort able, she could look out at her two gaunt enemies and laugh. For the next hour she sat by the la-o ruminating-. Her ruminations were of a pleas,-ait nature, to juugo from the They toolc in all ample space of that dubious land, the- future. They ■were daring and speculative. Hut thai we repeat ii, Winifred was an adventuress. When Lady V» h nth-sea. was helped into the draw- ing-room I,N- .sitting there at her work, looking as composed as if no desperate anxieties were gnawing at iter heart. She rose and assisted her ladyship to the great easy chair by the tire. Then she sat down and began to work again. Lady Whittlesea scowled at hrr, but Winifred took no notice. At length she said querulously "I am very poorly this morning. 1 took cold yesterday. I was sure to do so when Pcrkius left the carriage window open. Perkins never had any sense." Shall I read to you?" said Winifred, taking up the daily paper which lay upon the table. Yes, you may. But stop! I have some letters to answer. Perkins always wriles for me, and a pretty hash she makes of it,. I suppose you can use •a pen r hope so," replied AViirfm!, shortly. "Very well; there is paper in that uesk. Now, are you ready r The correspondence was one of business, and with- out special .uteres!. When Winifred had finished, she showed her wiring to Lady Whittlesea. "Humph: no', a bad. hand!" was all tho com- mendation vouchsafed. "Now I will read to you," said Winifred. And she read tho paper from beginning to end. She had one of there untiring nalurta, the possession Of which is an invaluable boon. Lady Whittleaea sat, her elbows resting on the arms of her chair, and the tips of ba r lingers joining -each other. She seemed balancing possibilities and probabilities. A day shut up with Lady Whittlesea would have been intolerable to many people. Not so to Wini- fred. Compared with the miseries she had suffered, it Was a day of She did not mind her ladyship's t- mpers iu the least. A home, a p'ace in 1 lie .soi'.al scale was what she was bent on wresting from destiny. In her heart Lady Whittlesea co-aid not help ad- miring Winifred. She had no compassion for the friendless orphan, much as Winifred di sr-ribed herself to be; but she felt her comfort increased in a sensible degree by Winifred's atl.e ntion. Miss Young- she could not tolerate a moment; but Miss Young was ill-looking, and a dowdy. The next morning W nifred was roused from her sleep by a scraping nuise. It was made by some half-dozen men scraping the snow from the front of he house. Such a fall of snow had not been known for years. Winifred's heart aaneed for ioy. To travel in weather like this was out of the ques- tion. My lucky star is in the ascendant," thought she, as she sipped her coffee by the blazing lire. HI shall stay in her ladyship's very teeth." Two, three, four days slipped by—days when every one was weather bound when ice, and snow, and frost, and biting winds had it their own way but days which saved Winifred from destruction When they were over, the old lady had found out that no one could settle her cushions, or make her chocolate, or help her wile away the dreary hours, like Winifred. IVi-kins had hitherto been her sole companion; but Perkins was by no means amusing, and was, besides, ge'ting as deaf as a post. Then, precisely at this epoch, Perkins succumbed to the prevailing compiaint—influenza—and was lost Bight of. Her place had, in the natural course of things, to be filled by Winifred. In fact, the old lady would have been sorely put about if Winifred had taken it into her head to decamp. Winifred knew this, and she chose that golden opportunity of forcing her ladyship to terms. The immediate fear of dismissal over, she had grown confident and at her ease. With a firm voice and unflinching manner she opened her case just I when the old lady had begun to feel her entire de- pendence on Winifred's skill and tact as a companion when, this dreary weather and Perkins gone, she Vo been utterly lost without her. lhon Winifred began to ask what were her lady- lhon Winifred began to ask what were her lady- ■top a intentions. She thought the weather did not mean to change. would evidently be an old-fashioned winter. „^ne Was valuable, and she wished to make some ■w a?panents here or elsewhere. Lady Whittlesea 0^.ieet to give her a recommendation. in if Whittlesea had just been comfortably settled and eaS^ c^a'r' an<* was preparing to be amused cared for as usual. She had not made up her ^ant in ^eas'; what to do; and, besides, she ^hich1t0 k' ar *Lhe news contained in the daily paper, ay upon the table. So she said, jerking out « T ° s crossly to hear the paper read now, not to be « -p ahout business." Xc'Use me," said Winifred firmly, "but I feel taJUCunibeiit on myself to form some more advan- Un°e0US P';m than the present. I entered your house and, as it seemed, un-wishod for. You J- gavo me shelter until the extreme inclemency weather should abate. I, on my part, have paid the hospitality by every attention in my »» y°v/ Ko far wc are quits. But I am a poor girl, and have my livelihood to procure. I wish for a bono, fide situation—one where I could earn money, and make myself independent." ^here is no such great hurry," replied n Y*> hittlcEca, uneasily. Why can't you wait till Perkins is better ? J "Perkins will not be better for a long time vet." How do you know that, pray ? » asked the old lady, angrily, "Because the doctor told me so yesterday. He said he doubted if she would eer recover sufficiently to keep her place. 1) "He did not tell me so." No; he thought it would vex you. But he asked me to break the news to you." Humph very provoking. That's just how people do in this world," cried Lady Whittlesea. If they can do nothing else, they fall ill, on purpose to torment you." "I am sorry for it," observed Winifred, quietly but it is not my fault." It is your fault to want to go," retorted the old lady, peevishly. You know I can't spare you." I have no wish to leave you, Lady Whittlesea, if you will act fairly by me." The old lady fidgeted in her chair. What' tdo you want P" said she, crossly. I want a definite position and a fixed salary,' replied Winifred, boldly. "Humph! And how am I to be sure you are what you represent yourself to be? Where did you say you came from ? From Dorsetshire. The Godfreys of Dorsetshire are as old a family as any in England," replied Winifred, with the utmost readiness. And so they were. But beyond the most remote ) relationship on the- part of her husband, Winifred I had no link whatever to connect her with them. "And who dill you say your father was i" "J believe he was He died be tore I was born," added Winifred, quickly. "I told you I was an 011 hall, and had been cast on the world from my cr.eiie. If you think that a drawback I cannot bell.) I "Humph! I should like you to read the pater to me now," said Lady W hitilosea, wishing to chango tho sub ect. "lJari()n mo, I wish to have this matter settled. I have beard of an* aher situation, and if you decline to engage 1110-- How teasing you nre cried Tady Whittlesea, peevishly. c. J will think the matter over, I toil you. W e need not der-us-* :t any more at present." "I am sorry to appear pertinacious, but this delav will not. Eluit me," replied Winifred, with decision. "I have b-fn here buig enough to con- vin o you of my fitness or otherwise for the oflice of companion. I will trouble you to decide the ques- tio:t at once." 1 'ear me how can I decide ? Mrs. Horace will be h no next ii)onth.I "Has nothing whatever to do with your choice. You are the party inteiested in the matter," said Winifred "Yet is. Horace sent you," jerked out the old lady. Winifred was silent. S ) there need be no hurry at all," added Lady Whitth sea, reassuring herself, and handing the paper to Winifred. I want paiticularly to know how the ioint-stock I I But Winilred laid aside the paper with an air of determination. She was retolved to push the matter to extremi- ties. I must beg you will excuse me. Am I to con- sider myself at liberty f At liberty I s, ould think not, and Perkins ill in bed, and not a creature to attend to me. At lil)el.l V, iD(lee(I Ttn-ro has been no engagement between us what- ever," said Winifred, fixing her keon black eyes all the old lady's face. "No, because there has not been time. I have not made up my niit.d. Mrs. ITor:tco- I repeat it, Mrs. Horace has nothing whatever to do with it. The matter lies between ourselves. If you do not engage me I must seek some other situa- tion. I received a letter," said Winifred, feoling in her pocket, by this morning's post She slopped. The old lady eyed her with alarm. Not for any given sum would she have parted with Winifred at that juncture. But according to an old-established (ustom of hers, she wanted to plav fast and loose. A ou are very ungrateful," she whimpered, and I am sure I don't know what you want. Consider- ing how you behaved, coming into the liou.-e by storm and so on, I wonder at you—I do indeed W inif/ed made no answer. She was gradually drawing the letter from her pocket. "I don't see why I should be driven into any- thing against my wiil," continued Lady Whittlesea, still grumbling. "Oh, dear no," replied Winifred "and now I come to reflect, this other situation may, after all, suit mo tho best. Tho salary I- What salary do you want? asked the old lady Budd. nly. Fori f pounds." Lady Whitllesea pave a gasp. I will talk it over with Mrs. Horace," said she. faintly. There will no be time. I am going to reply tc this letter immediately." And Winifred ros" as if to leave the room. The old lady's face exhibited all the agonies of indeci. sion. Her selfishness and her cupidity were at strife Her selfishness laid claim to Winifred and all hot agreeable attentions. Her eupiditv wished to evade the question of remuneration altogether. Still, wlier it came to that, she could not let Winifred go. "Stop a minute, Mi-s Godfrey, there is no hurry The rot does not go out till night." "1 am not sure that I hall write at all," replied Winifred, carelessly. The ladv wishes a personal interview; I have 'a great mind to start off at once." What and iiever came back P" almost shriekee Ladv Whittlesea Winifred smiled to herself as she said Oh, no The probability is that I should never come back." The 01fllady groaned in the anguish of her spirit "What am I to do r she cried, helplessly. "Do this replied Winifred, firmly, and return- ing to the seat from which she had risen engage me at once as companion, and give me a fixed salary then I will stl)r." Well! well! Thirty pounds No,,fo; Forty is too mur-h; I cannot afford it." Winifred rose again from her chair. Well!_ N,cll Ithen," cried the old lady, who, in spite (-f her harshness and tvrnnnv, was fasl becoming a tool in the hands of Winifred "forty but I will not undertake laundry expentes, or any- thing extra. You must pay for your own wash- ing." A rustling sound proceeded from Winifr ed'a pocket. Laundry expenses are included as a matter of course," she said also, tho cost of travelling." "I can't do it, then. No, indeed I can't.. You are very hard upon me," gro ined Ladv Whittlesea. I am sorrv for it. I would rather have remained here," said Winifred, moving towards the door with an ominous expression of face. "Stop! stop You are so hasty. Comeback, and let me consider what to do." Winifred came back. I must be at the station in an hour," she said, quietly. Dear mo! was ever anything so vexatious ? You m-gbt he contented to stay till Perkins is well. Won't you stay?" asked the old lady, im- ploringly. On my terms, I will." I told you I would give you forty pounds." But the laundry expenses and the travelling," asked Winifred, how about these ? b' Well, I suppose I must let you have vour own way," said the old lady, peevishly. You will engage me for the year P said Wini. fred, quickly. The old lady hesitated. 1 don't quite know," she said, dubiously. I sliall not be willing to engage for a less period," resumed Winifred, "I suppose I must, then I don't care I hate to be teased out of my life," exclaimed Lady Whit- tlesea. Winifred ros" and fetched pen and ink. "Perhaps you would put it down in black and white," she I should prefer it." Am I obliged r" said the old lady, drawing back. "It is a custcm I do not like to omit,' replied Winifred. The old lady. wearied with contention, faint for her port wine jelly, and dreading the idea of being 1 abandoned, took the pen and wrote as follows: "1, Martha Whittlesea, engage Winifred Godfrey to be my useful companion for the space of t elve months, and engage to pay her the sum of forty pounds sterling, and also to defray hor laundry and travelling expenses.Witness my hand, Feb. 10ilt. MAKTII V WHITTLESEA. And now I hope I may have a little peace," said the old lady, sinking back in her chair. I am quite worn out." Winifred caught up tlx) paper, and hurried to h«r room. When there, she threw herself on the bed and burst into a ht of hysterical laughter. I am saved," she cried, from perishing!" (To be continued.)
A roMFors young fellow was dining with a Yorkshire family, and when the hostess, after the York- shire fashion, ordered the servant to take away the dish containing the fool "—meaning the fowl—the young man corrected her, saying, I presume you mean the foicl, madam ?" Very well,17 responded the finriOvtu j h<>3tess, take away the fowl, and let the fool remain." W men was the first trick horse" on record? —The woo,leu one in which the Greeks entered Troy. [BRAIt that your husband has lost his hear- ing,' whispered one lady to another. Yes," was the IT,U rJle.[ reply; but don't whisper so loud: he doesn't I' like the subject referred to." TKACHER (toclass of small boys): "How did people get along before arithmetic-was invented?" Little lioy They multiplied- ou the face of the earth."
AUNT MARGARET'S JEWELS. "AUNT MARGARKT is dangerously ill and wants me to go to her at once," said Hilda llcman-, as she seated herself at the breakfast-table one bright winter'*morning. U Then, my little girl, I suppose we must try to spare you, but I do not know what will become of us all with- out your active hands and bright smiles, replied her father. Well might Mr. Hcmans look grave at the prospect of losing the services of his eldest daughter. His wife had been dead three years, and Hilda had supplied as far as it was possible her mother's place in the household. She had bra.ely renounced the oidinary pleasures of a. young girl's life to educate and c-are for her five little brothers and si.-ters. She was housekeeper, to;); and though her father's means were limited, had contrived to make their home truly happy and comfortable. A brave heroine of the right sort was Hilda, fulfilling woman's highest mission—the daily round of uncongenial duties per- formed in a loving, cheery spirit; quiet, unceasing, entire sacrifice of self; such a woman as is only really appreciated when her absence has left a void which no Other can fill in either heart or home. Mr. Ilemans regretfully bade his daughter good-by, as he saw her that same morning leave for her aunt's house at Be; ton. Aunt Margaret lived in an old-fashioned, rambling building, partly surrounded by trees. A well-kept garden separated the house from the road, and at the rear there extended large orchards, ending ina vast tract of pasture- land. Everything in the house was old and quaint as the architecture. The chairs were solid mahogany, so heavy as not to be easily lifted the mantle-shelves were of rudely-carved oak the doors and wainscot massive enough to survive till the c ack o' doom. The air of the place showed that Aunt Margaret was a woman of wealth and of peculiar tastes. Hi da's al riyal at Leon Ilou-e seemed to remove the gloom which hung over it. She was a little sunbeam, and deservedly her aunt's favourite niece. Aunt Margaret was weak and feeble to the last degree, and when Hilda entered her room,. he found her propped up assiduously with a formidable array of eider-down pil- lows before a small table. L'espite the deep interest which Hilda took in the the transformation which hatl taken place in her bedroom since her last visit attracted her attention, and excited in her considerable curiosity. The bedroom had in fact been turned into a museum of valuable ornam nts, and resembled one of those stores devoted solely to antique curiosities found in the great cities of the world. Close by her aunt's side stood a small old-fashioned cabinet, the contents of which delighted and surprised the unsophisticated young girl. In the open drawers lay treasures she hall hitherto dreamed of, but had never seen. Flashing back the pale winter sunlight and mellowing its radiance were strings of pearls such as Eastern beauties love to entwine amongst their dark tresses—soft, milky pearls oil which the eye rested some- times with wonder, sometimes with delight. In other drawers were curiously bright-looking ornaments in rococo, which would have rejoiced the heart of an anti- quary. Heavy goJd chains, similar to those worn by Mexican princesses delicately-carved silver filigreefroin Venice; rara diamonds also Hashed from massive gold settings. A fortune had been sunk in these jewels which it was thought was safely invested in securities and British consols. All this show was a perfect mystery to Hilda. She thought she knew every nook and cranny in Leon House. Yet the sweet, mild, silver-haired o:d lady had so well kept her treasures seer t that none of her own family had even suspected their existence. With a pleased smile Aunt Margaret watched Hilda examine each article in a way which showed how fully she admired them. Then she snid When I am gone, dear little niece, these will all be yours. This is the fortune I jeave you, and you well deserve it." Hilda remained speechless with stoni hment for a few moments. Then she threw her arm round the old lady's neck and murmurel her thanks. A ittle later oil, wh:lla the jewels still sparkled on the table, and Aunt Margaret related how she had become possessed of them, her niece, with natural curiosity, wished to kr.-ow why she had kept them so secretly. "I loved my jewels, Hilda, and gazed on them each day with renewed pleasure; but I knew that I should stand in the greatest possible danger of being robbed were it known that I owned them. I acted, therefore, on the principle that if the secret was not worth my keep- ing it was not worth anybody else's while to keep it. Still, before I died, I wished to give myself the pleasure of showing you the treasures which will soon be your own." Hilda clasped her aunt's hand, and the two remained silently absorbed in thought. Twilight was fast enveloping the house in an un- usually soft winter gloom. A bla/.ing jire threw its radiance over the sick chamber, lighting up now its occupants, and now its treasures. Had not death been hovering near, the light and wealth inside would have contrasted pleasantly with the dreary snow-white land- scape stretching away for miles around. Aunt Margaret's room, owing to her illness, was fur- nished sumptuously as bed-room and sitting-room. There were two windows, both reaching to the ground. Hilda sat opposite to one of these opening out into tho garden. Suddenly a slight, hardly perceptible sound startled her, and she raised her eyes. Her surprise and terror were so great that she could not repress the cry which escaped her lips. Ah, aunt, there is a dreadful face at the window! We have teen watched Hilda's terror was perfectly natural. The apparition which frightened her might even have made a more courageous girl tremble. An ill-looking, jagged face, with large prominent eyes and ilaming cyclizills, and surrounded by that amount of shaggy, unkempt hair, which often denotes the reckless villain, had peered through the window with a lightning glance, which, in one moment, plainly told his purpose. He was evidently bent on mischief. The man had appeared suddenly, and as suddenly with- drew. The first tremor of fear passed, Hilda rang loudly for the servant. A few hurried words explained the situation, and John, the butler, darted out into the garden in pursuit. Suspense and anxiety for her aunt agitated Hilda. She trembled violently. Then a new fear rushed in upon her. The man must have seen the jewels. If so, an attack might be expected at any moment. Loud voices in the hall and the tramp of heavy footsteps increased indefinitely the agitation of the girl. It's only Luke Jones, Miss," said the servant, after he had reached the door of the bedroom. Here he is." I only come to ask about the old lady," said the unkempt Luke, boldly. "I hked to hear how she was gettin' on." A short lecture from Hilda about giving people frights by coming at nnsecmingly hours to the windows of private rooms, dismissed Luke from her presence, and imme- diately after the fellow was shown out through the back door. The cause of this sudden alarm had been, at one time, one of Aunt Margaret's servants, and had been sent oil for evasion, lying, and suspicion of dishonestv. A few hours later on Aunt Margaret became restless, and feeling tired of her own chamber, would not be satis- fied unless she were removed to an old-fashioned room at the other enel of her house. This chamber was not unlike those seen in the houses in Normandy and Brit- tany, in France. It had many' doors, many windows, niany cupboards, many crannies. No one had occupied it since the death of George Mayfair, Aunt Margaret's husband. The upholstery, though of rich damask, was musty and dust-laden, and this, with the heavy, chilling smell all round, gave the room a weird, "sennlnhral appearance. -1 n, Thither Aunt Margaret had to be removed, and she wo Id have no one to sit up with her but Hilda. Meanwhile all the jewels had been put away carefully. Midnight had passed, and the inmates were in profound slumber. After the doctor's usual call every effort was made to give Aunt Margaret the quiet which should induce sleep. Hest," said the doctor, is the one essential thing for her now. Three hours' sleep may save her life. Upon no account let her be disturbed." Hilda watched over her aunt lovingly, wrapped in one of the old lady's rich cashmere shawls. Perfect, death- like silence reigned in the room. All at once a heavy breathing caused her to lift her head from the Look she was reading. All was again silence. Then another sudden snort. Hilda was startled, and would have raised an alarm but for the doctor's in- junction. What was she to do ? It was evident that there was some one hidden in the cupboard, and no person could be there but with an evil purpose. Each moment suggested new dangers to her, and added to her alarm and Wretchedness. The man's face at the window returned vividly to her fancy, and something told her he was the sleeper. To wake the person would be madness. To allow him to come forth after waking would be equally foolish. Tilen there WAS no iock to this particular cupboard. Every circumstance combined to make the situation painful, agitating and dangerous. Hilda's eyes, as they wandered round the room in des- pair, rested upon a small bottle of chloroform. A moment's thought determined her to use it. Saturating a handker- chief with a portion of it, she opened the cupboard door quietly, and applied the narcotic to the fellow who slept there doubled up as if he was in a basket. Then she closed the door again, and crept silently back to her chair near the fireplace. As tilt minutes passed, she watched the face of her aunt with breathless anxiety and a beating heart. The snoring had ceased but how long would it be so ? So two hours of mortal terror and heroic resolve were passed by Hilda. At length a heavy sigh from Aunt Margaret, followed by a sudden movement of her hands, showed that the old lady had just awoke. To remove her from the room was her niece's first thought. I am better, Hilda," she said. 11 But I feel so cold." The room is damp, aunt, and very dangerous for you. Everything is so long out of use in it." "Then better get on to my own room at once. You are so good and thoughtful." With gentle hands, Hilda saw two servants remove the invalid back to her own apartment. And then following the domestics, she beckoned them to come after. To their surprise they found in the cupboard the long- Suspected Luke, lying in an unconscious condition. Hilda charged them to watch him carefully,and when he awoke to secure and pinion him. Her instructions were carried ou-t faithfully, and the burglar was handed over to the authorities, and in due time sent to the county prison. The villain had been prowling about the house the afternoon on which he had frightened Hilda, with a view to robbery. The sight of the jewels had stimulated his cupidity. After pretending to leave the house, he had returned through a side entrance, crept up stairs, and hidden himself away in the disused chamber, meaning to carry off the jewels during the night. The intense cold had caused him, while waiting, to take frequent draughts from a brandy-flask he kept in his pocket, and the powerful spirit had rendered him drunk, and thrown him into a profound slumber. Aunt lúargaret rallied temporarily, and when strong enough to hear of the attempted robbery of her jewels was told of Hilda's thoiightfulness, foresight, and courage in the whole affair. The dangers to which she saw she had exposed herself and her niece by keeping so many valuables in her house appeared to her in their true colours. Murder has often been the final rellut of an attempt at robbery. Aunt Margaret strongly reproached herself with having exposed Hilda's life to danger for the indulgence of a capricious fancy. A sale of the jewels was determined upon, a few only being reserved because of the special favour with which they were regarded. A few months afterward Aunt Margaret,who had never ceased to regret the loss of her treasures, passed gently away in Hilda's arms, and left her favourite niece her sole heiress.
A KEEN TASTE. Cr.osE upon the shore of Lake Winnepiseogee, in North America, is a town and in that town dwells a man whom we will call Amber. I have no right to be more particu- lar, seeing that the story was told to me in confidence. Mr. Amber keeps a store; anA-he is a genial, accom- modating man; lie keeps for sale everything which the good people of the country can reasonably expect him to keep. Particularly has it been the practice of Mr. Amber to keep a barrel of whisky on tip in his cellar. One in the fall and one in the spring will generally carry him through. He is very careful tu whom he sells, and, so far as I know, the authorities have never yet given him any trouble. One day Mr. Elipbalet Spooner entered the store with a slight protuberance visible upon his left breast. Mr. Spooner was a deacon, and a most proper man. He called the storekeeper aside, and asked him if he had any good whiskey. Amber nodded in the affirmative. "Will you let me have a pint?" And the deacon pulled from his breast-pocket a pint bottle. Certainly," said the trader and forthwith he departed for the cellar. When he returned he brought the full bottle, carefully wiped and corked. What was to piy ? Fifty cents. Mr. Spooner handed over a fifty-cent scrip, and then, in a hesitating way, drew the cllrk. lle placed the bottle to his lips, and tasted—just a drop, to test the quality of the liquor. He did this twice, and the expression upon his face was one of hesitation and doubt. Mr, Amber," he said, "I am getting this for my wife. 1-i this the very best you litve Oh, you want it for a medicine ? Yes, certainly." Jf that is the case-" The sentence was finished with a smile, and a reaching forth for the bottle. Down into the cellar went the storekeeper again. There was no need that he should empty the bottle and retill it, for he had but one solitary barrel from which to draw so he took a turn around, and soon came back, wiping the bottle afresh. I shall have to charge you eighty-seven cents for this, Mr. Spooner." Having Daid the extra charge with the utmost cheer- fulness, Mr. Spooner placed the bottle again to his lip3, and tasted critically. Aha he uttered, with a bright smile and a grateful BOd. "This is something like!" And he went away entirely satisfied. And Mr. Amber, also, notwithstanding the fraud he had per- petrated, appeared to be satisfied, if one might judga from the quiet smile that illumined his rubicund visage.
"MISCELLANEOUS EXTRACTS. --+- -vrN- a snowfiake lets a shadow fall, As to the earth it softly sinks to rest; So may the whitest, purest, souls of all, Seem sometimes wrong to those that know them best. THE SOUTH SKA ISLANrs.Most of the islands inhabited by the Polynesians are small, and, with the exceptioi of Xew Zealand, scattered in mid ocean, dotting singly or in groups the bosom of the Tacific. They are the familiar South ^Sei hlands" of our boyish dreams. Most of them are reared up from the bottom of the ocean by the minute coral animals, and though on some of them there are volcanoes, which pour out h';ge masses of lava (such as that of Mauna Loa oil Hawaii, the chief of the Sandwich group), on the vast number of them there is no stone of any description, except that made from the lime gathered from the sea by the labour of the coral polypes. Indeed, on some of them so scarce were stones, that before the introduction of ireii, the pebbles found fixed in the rots of iloating trees, which had been wafted to the islands from distant shores, were part of the revenue of the king, and sold at high prices, as materials for knives, spear-points, &c. The climate is warmer than that of Europe, but the cool sea breezes ever wafting around them prevent the air being dis- agreeably hot, and in some—the Sandwich islands, f r instance the atmospheric conditions are about as near perfection as possible. As we sail along the shore we behold either low islands—just raised above the surface of the water green patches of verdure, surrounded by a fringe of cocoa-nut trees, or, in the larger ones, everv diversity^ of broken mountains and rocky precipices, clothfcd in a delightful verdure, from the moss ef the jutting promontories on the shore, to the deep and rich foli ige of the bread-fruit tree the Oriental luxuriance r of the tropical vegetation, or the wavy plume of the lofty and graceful cocoa-nut grove. The scene is enlivened by ¡ the waterfall on the mountain's side; the cataract that chafes along its rocky bed iu the recesses of the ravine, or tiie stream that slowly winds its way through the fertile and cultivated valleys, and the whole is surrounded by the white-created waters of the Pacitic, rolling their waves of foam in splendid majesty on the coral reefs, or dashing in spray against its broken strands." Everything is beautiful here-" aU save the spirit of man is divine —and it is with this, which, in the majority of cases, is rather the antipodes of divine, that we have to deal.— Tiie Peoples of the JVuild. A DEARTH of words a woman need not fear, But 'tis a task, indeed, to learn to hear In that the skill of conversation lies, That shows or makes you both polite and wise. REPOSE is as necessary in conversation as in a picture. il A JOUitNAi.IST," said Napoleon, "is a grumbler, a censurer, a giver f advice, a regent of t-overeigns, a tutor of nations. Four hostile newspapers are mora to be feared than a thousand of bavonets." THE progress of' private conversation betwixt two persons of different sexes is often decisive ef their fate, an S'jes it a turn very distinct, perhaps, from what they themselves anticipated. Gallantry becomes mingled with conversation, and affection and passion come gradually to mix with gallantry. Nobles as well as shepherd swains will, in such a trying moment, say more than they intended; and queens, likw village maidens, will listen longer than they shoitld.- ONE of the first observations to make in conversation is the state, or the character, and the educa- tion of th ■ person to whom we speak. ScctE.'SITL LOWING.—The three main prin- ciples of successful rowing are, first, perfe, t, time, secondly, getting the oar into the water s juare, i.e., at right angles to it, and thirdly, rowing the stroke right out and using the legs well. With reference to time, all that can b, said in the way of a Ivice to a beginner, is, be determined never to remove your eyes from the shoulders of the man in front of you. Follow his every motion, and if the time is wrong you will not, at ail events, be to blame, lie careful not to hurry tbe body forward, under the imprrssion that you may otherwise be late, for this only makes the boat roll, and nothing demoralises a crew more than that. Be sure to bring your hands well up to your body at the end of the stroke, and on no account ke, p them there longer than you are able. A quick recovery after a stroke and the free use of the legs the moment the oar gets into the water are impor- taut agents in the Acquisition of that lift" which is so desirable to obtain in boat-racing. A well-coached crow, will, when rowing, fairly make their boat seem to jump out of the water at the beginning of each stroke; and the value of all work done in front of t;ie rowlocks, 4s i.e., in the first part of the stroke before the blade of the oar com's level with the oarman's body, is almost beyond estimation. As regards the oar itself, it should be brought straight home to the chest, the knuckles touch- ing the body about an inch or less below the bottom of the breast-bone, where the ribs branch off, thus everv inch of water is made use of. When there, the hands should be dropped straight down, and then be turned over and shot out again along the legs, and the bedv should follow without the least p use. If this is not done th, oar will be feathered under water, and thus the boat will be buried, water will le thrown on the next car, and the recovery will be impeded. To effect a quick rcco.cry the back must be perfectly straight, the knees must not have been dropped down too low, and the straps must not be used too much a light touch is all that is ne;ded. The muscles of the body—in this case those that cress the stomach—m-.i.-t lie used, and not the boat itself, of which the strap is a part. The body should be swung evenly forward from the hips, not with a jerk or a plunge, or quicker at one time th.n another, but freely and easily, as if the hip- oint worked well and not stillly. —Cassthook tf S oi ts and J'astimes. A SESSION OF THE 1XITEj) STATES SUPREME Cornr.—'When tMelvc o'clock comes, there are perhaps a do/en lawyers sitting at the tables within the bar, and a score ef spe tltors waiting on the crimson plush sofas for the c-.mrt to open. A rustle of silk is heard from the open door leading to the retiring rooms. At the other side of the chamber sits a young man at a desk, who has been listening for a few minutes for that sound, lie rises, and announces in a clear voice: "The Honourable the Chief Justice and Asso- ciate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States," whereupon lawyers ami spectators all get up on their feet. The rustling sound approaches, and there enters a proce.scion of nine dignified olit men, clad in black silk gofcns tlia» reach almost to t1w'r feet, with wide sleeves and ample skirts. At the head walks the Chief Justice, and the others follow in the order of their length of service in the co-ii-t. They stand a moment in fr^nt of their chairs, and all bow at once to the bar. The lawyers return the salute then the judges sit down, the .Associ>tes being careful, however, not to occupy their chairs before the Chief Justice is settled in his. Now the you"g man, who is the crier, exclaims, in a monotonous fashion, 11 ovez ovez. ovez .All persons having business before the Honourable Supreme Court of the United States are admonished to draw near and he their attention, for the conrt is now sitting. God save the United States and this honourable court! Business begins promptly and is despatched rapidly. First, motions are heard, then the docket is taken up. The Chief Justice calls the case in order in a quiet tone, and a lawyer is on the floor making an argument, while you are still expecting that there will be some further formality attending the opening of sro august a tribunal. The proceedings arc impressive only from their simplicity. Usually the arguments of counsel are delivered in low, conversational tones. Often the judges interrupt to ask questions. In patent cases models of machinery ore frequently used to illustrate an argument, and are handed up to the judges for examination, or a blackboard is used for diagrams. Were it not for the grev hair and black gowns of the judges, you might almost imagine at times that the gentleman at the blackboard, with crayon in hand, was a college prof. s. or lecturing to a class. Or you may happ n to be in wh n a lawyer in charge of a case is leaning over the long desk in front of the judges, holding a conversation with one of them on SomE intricate point in a mechanical device, and you would hardly think that the court was in session and that the conversation was the pIca in a patent case involving perhaps a million of dollars. The bench has long been only a tradition in all our courts. Each justice of the Supreme Court has a clulir to suit his own notions of what constitutes a comfortable seat. Some of the chair- have high backs to rest the head, some have low backs, some have horse-hair cushions, some velvet, some no cushions at all. Chief Justice Waite site in the middle of the row.—The Century. LONDON CLA Y.-The beds of gravel, besides affording a dry and healthy soil for the sight of a house, also contain water at a slight depth. In sinking to from twelve to thirty feet water can generally be found such accumulations are now for the most part superseded bv the water-works, but before the region was so crowded such wells gave a convenient and good supply to the inhabitants. These facts demonstrate that at no great depth a change takes place in a material of the soil. It is the occurrence of an impirvious stratum that allows the rain water that has been able to filter down between the stones of the gravel-bed to accumulate. The well is sunk just into this lower stratum, and from the hollow we can draw water that continually tiows or dribbles in from all sides. This impervious stratum is a thick bed of clay, which (with the exception of certain portions to the south- east) underlies the whole of London. Eith-r it is to be found beneath the "Recent Alluvium," and the valley-gravel and brick-earth," or it constitutes the surface soil. In either case it will be found to continue downwards for a hundred or more feet. This is that which one sees turned up in certain districts of London and the suburbs as a brown, sticky, smooth clay If, however, it were got from far down, as in a deep well, it would oftener be found blue than brown, the brown colour near the surface being due to a kind of rustinq. Such is the London Clay, a name well known in the neighbourhood, and well known in the wider area in which geological nomenclature is familiar. Looked at it as part of the sub-soil of London, it is undoubUdlv the least favoprable for dwelling on, and it occupies some of the less favourite quaiters of the town. London was built first on the gravel, but in spreading it occupied some of the adjoining cJay land. It is likely that when a space of clay laud thus built over is completely Occupied, paved, and drained, there comes to be far less difference in point of salubrity, than there was at first between it and the gravel tracts.— Science for All. NEW YORK TO PARIS BY HATL. Some American engineers have been amusing the public by the project of au overland route ta Paris. The journey is to be couiplettd in less than six days, the sea transit occupying less than two hours. The line, starting from New York, would cross the Canadian Dominion and the territory of Alaska, to Prince of Wales Cape, where the travellers will be conveyed by steamer to Cape East, on the Asiatic side of Beliring's Strait, at a distance of about forty miles from t1 e western extremity of the North Americ in Continent. After landing in Asia, the line tiaverses the Siberian territory of Hussia, the railways of which are in correspondence with Moscow and St. Petersburg, and thence to all the capitals of the Euro- pean continent. It is estimated that the whole distance between New York and Park could be covered, at ex- press speed, in ISO hours, a little less than the actual time now taken to reach San Francisco; and if the line is encouraged, the fare would not exceed ToO francs each passenger.- -Leisure Hour. THE SHOULD RS OP MELCnISEDEK.- "-hile Dr. Chaime s was very busily engaged one forenoon in his study, a man entered, who at once propitiated him, under the provocation of an unexcepted interruption, by telling him he called under great distress of mind. Sit down, sir; be goodtnough to be seated," said Dr. Chal- mers, turning eagerly, and full of interest from his writing table. The visitor explained to him that he was troubled with doubts about the divine origin of the Christian religion, and being kindly questioneifas to what these were, he gave, amongst others, what is said in the Bible about Melchisedek being without father and mother, Joc. Patiently and anxiously Dr. Chalmers sought to clear away each successive difficulty as it was stated. Expressing himself as if greatly relieved in mind, and imagining that he had gained his end, "Doctor," said the visitor, "lam in great want of a I little money at present,and perhaps you could help me in that way," At once the object of his visit was seen. A perlect tornado of indignation burst upon the deceiver, driving him in very quick retreat from the study to the stieet door, these words escaping among úthers-" Not a < penny, sir not a penny It's too bad it is too bad And to haul in your hypocrisy upon the shoulders of Melchisedek "-London Society.
LADIES' COLUMN. DRESS AND FASHION. Says the Queen: There are manv dances taking place just now in London, several being what are called 11 Cinderellas," commencing at nine o'clock and ending at twelve. At these entertainments many young girls not yet out are allowed to appear, and even children attend during the early piart of the evening, and take part in a few of the dances. The Christmas holidays are not yet over, and many parties are arranged to include elder children. At some of these the minuet has been danced by children, and watch,-d with interest by the surrounding assembly of elders, who intend later on in the year, if possible, to introduce this elegant dance of a bygone decade. Dress varies greatlyr at these enter- tainments, some of the guests appearing in full ball toilette, others in simple evening gowns with almost high bodices—certainly the high bodices are made 1 to louk as dres.-y as possible and many voung girls wear skirts of either fine nun's cloth or figured Madras muslin, with coat bodices of velvet, and cream lace waistcoats, either high to the throat, or cut square and filled up with transparent lace. The sleeves reach to the elbows, and are finished off with ruffles of cream lace. Pointed bodices are also worn. The Indian cream muslin studded with small spots makes up prettily with cream lace and broad sashes of cither velvet or tartan Surah. Skirts of lace flounces or box- plaited grenadine have short tunics of foulard drawn tightly across the front in fiat fo'ds, finished off far back on the hips with long perpendicular folds from the waist, and falling down the back almost to the edge of the skirts. These folds must be pressed fiat, and secured on the wron side by a tape. The bodice is usually pointed back anil front, or made with short habit tails. Silk Chamb'ry gau'c,iii all colours, with small silk dowers scattered over, is well worn over silk, trimmed with lace, and loops of ribbon in corresponding colours; also a thin fabric,, resembling nun s cloth, called English tissue," worked over in detached flowers of or silver; and (it-licite gauze, with narrow stamped silk stripes edged with silver, in several colours. Silver or gold tinsel lace looks well on these materials. Tulle, with clusters of three small chenille pompons, the .ize of threepenny pieces, in pale- pink, blue, and yellow, has a pretty effect when arranged as drapery, veiling \1 hite tulle. Feather aigrettes, of one or more of the colours, are worn on one bid* of the bodice- and in the hair. Pale pink, coral pink, red, or gold are worn with black dresses. Black tulle ball dresses are often studded either with pearls, beetles' wings, coloured butterilies, or gold tinsel wafers. A pretty dress con- sists of a black net skirt, the front arranged in two box- plaits, with a ring of pearls on each plait, a tunic pow- dered with single pearls, and satin bodice edged with pearl passementerie; single pearls round the basque, neck, and sleeves. Lovely garnitures of shaded poppies for bodice, front, and side of dresses have long ends of narrow shaded red satin ribbon tied to the stalks, which ends hang downwards. Otlier flowers arc arranged in the same way. A novel style of trimming is composed of bows and loops of satin ribbon, with silk pompons of the exact shade attached to the loops and enda. They are not too closely massed, but arranged with taste, and pro- duce a remarkably good effect. Bed, the new pink, orange, and brown look well. This trimming can extend- the whole f-tont of a dress skirt. An American paper gives the following dfscription ot the dresses worn ,y Madame Patti as Viola in La Traviata." In the first scene, which is a ball-room, her dress is of lemon-tinted satin brocade, the entire front of the skirt covered with two deep flounces of silver tissue embroidered with white pearl and crystal, and edged with a fringe of coral branching strands. Large red camellias are placc I at intervals with buds and leaves, embroidered with silk on the tissue. Short hip draperies of brocade are placed high on each side. The back of the skii t is plaited brocade falling in a long train, the edge continued in puffings over a plaiting of satin the same shade as the brocade this extends also round the front edge of the skirt and is filled with roses of all sorts. A drapery of satin extends from the belt to the edge on one side, and a large spray of mixed red rose.9 tapers downwards on the opposite side. The bodiee is a low pointed one of brocade, with a shoulder puff for sleeves, and a small red (lower embroidered on the ]--ice which matches that with which the skirt is trimmed. The dress for the second scene is a house robe of pale grey blue satin, the centre of the front breadth laid in fine plaits lined with terra-cotton satin, and confined with bows of satin ribbon. On each side of this is a fiat trimming of coloured beaded lace which extends round the edge of the front; a fine plaiting is placed round the edge of the skirt in front. The sides are quite plain and are trimmed to represent a panel turned back, they are just relieved with bow rosettes of terra-cotta ribbon. The train is edged with a full plaiting. The bodice is heart- shaped with two lointg, and the elbow sleeves are edged with deep blue lace. In the third scene, the grand ball dress is of white brocaded velvet on a satin ground which is draped high on one side falling in a deep point across the front, and is edged with Mechlin lace. In the open space between the point and train on the left side is a beautiful piece of velvet brocaded satin, the pattern being filled in with white pearl beads and droos with a fringe of pearls over the full ruche -it the edge, On the right side lace flounces fill the open space. The train is iii a long point edged with a lace llonnce and a plaiting of .-atin. The bodice is cut low with short sleeves of lace and a bunch of white satin bows at the back. The costume for the dying scene is a lovely dress, it is entirely of a white semi-transparent Chinese fabric resembling errpe and point dudheSS.e lace. The train is long, without draping, and is cut straight across the end, and finished with a six-inch hem on the cr, pe which forms each side, the centre being a scarf of point duchesse Jace about twenty inches wide. The sides are gracefully draped, and from the belt, the front and sides of the cr-pc and lace are fastened in a point at the edge of the front under a large rosette bow. This part of the skirt is made over white satin. The overdress is a long polonaise of point duchesse lace, very simply draped and fastened to the back and neck with white satin ribbon tied in front with long ends. All these dresses are creations of Worth's, and are some of the most beautiful ever composed by that great designer of feminine apparel.
USEFUL HINTS. OYSTER CUTLFTS.-For these the large stewing oysters are the best. Take about half a pound of veal, and an equal quantity of oysters. First chop them finely, and then pound together in a mortar, adding a little finely- chopped veal suet, and three tablespoonfu'.s of bread- crumbs, which have been soaked in the liquor from the oysters when opened. Season with a little salt, white pepper, and a very little piece of mace well pounded to this add the beaten yolks of two eggs. Mix this tho- roughly then pound it a little more, and make it up in the form of small cutlets. Fry them in butter, after having dipped them in the usual way in egg and bread- crumbs. Drain them well, and send them to table very hot. They should be served on a napkin, and garnished with little sprigs of parsley. PRESERVED OIIANGES.—Take fine Seville oranges, and lay them unpceled in salt and water, letting them stand a couple of days to take off the bitterness, then boil them one hour in fresh water, keeping the lid of the saucepan off, or the colour will not be good. Make a syrup with half a pound of sugar to every pint of water; drain the oranges, and boil them half an hour in this, then make a thick syrup by dissolving sugar in just as much water as it will take. Give the oranges another boil in this pour into jars or glasses, adding a tablespoonful of brandy to every half pint. Tie down firmly with bladders, and keep in a dry place. USEFUL DrsTER.s.—Useful dusters and rubbers can be knitted of old linen or calico, cut into strips about a quarter of an inch wide, and joined together neatly, so that the ends will not stick out when they are knitted up. Windows, if not very much soiled with flies, can be cleaned with newspaper crumpled up, and the glass rubbed with it. The windows at the seaside and in the country are very quickly cleaned in this way on a dry day. The paper can be used a terwards to light the fires. COOKING BEET Ileor.Boil the beet roots well, peel them and cut them in slices about half an inch thick. Dust them with tlour, or roll them in thin batter, which- ever is preferred, and fry them nice and dry in butter or in fresh lard. Serve very hot with a little pepper and salt.-Correspondtnt of Gardening Illustrated. SCOTCH SCONES.— 3ib. tiour (lib, of which must be kept apart for rolling out the scones), oz. of cream of 2 tartar, and oz. of carbonate of socia, 'oz. of salt, and 2 ill o' of sugar mix thoroughly, and then add a pint and a half of butter-milk roll out a small piece at a time, rather thin, and bake on a girdle or take 31b. flour, I oz. bi-carbouate of so(li, oz. salt, and one pint butter-milk, mix to the consistency of dough, roll out about half an inch thick, and cut into any shape, then bake on a girdle over a clear fire for ten or fifteen minutes, turning so as to brown on both sides. They may be baked on a hot iron or ironing stove. POTATO Sco.N i,.s.- ]Slash any cold potatoes which may have been left from a previous meal until quite smooth, adding a little salt. Knead out to the thickness required, and toast on a girdle, pricking them with a fork to prevent blistering. Eaten with butter they are equal to crumpets, are nutritious, and more wholesome.