[ALL lUOHTS RESERVED.] h OS AURA: A TALE OF LOVE AND TRAVEL BT LADY STELLA KIRKLAND, AUTHolt OF The Lilies of Helen," Ulric," <fc.,$e. CHAPTER IV. STRING deepened into summer; the flowers put on a richer hue, and the forest trees a nrve leafy foliage. The woods around Puerto were filled with the glad voices of birds, and the ripple of the woodland streams was delightful and refreshing during the warmth of the summer daya. Rosaura's wedding day was approaching already her modest trousseau was prepared, and many rare and valuable gifts had she received from the man who loved her so dearly. Once only had he made remark upon her coldness towards him. They had been watching the sun'. disc slope towards the western sky in clouds of brilliant hue, and Rosaura's face had looked full ot melancholy as her eyes had followed its downward course. Lord Somerville had been regarding hel with anxious tenderness, and at last he spoke. Why do you look so sad, my love ?" he asked, taking her hand in both his, and turning her towards him you are strangely cold to me at times. Tell me, darling, if there is anything on your mind. At periods I have thought there must he something which troubles you. Surely my great love for you could remove any secret grief you may have." And his Toi-e was so full of tenderness that she did not dare to raise her eyes to his, lest he might read hei secret thoughts in their depths. Forgive me if I seem cold," she murmured, in a low voice, "it is my manner only, and the time of sunset always fills me with a sweet melancholy. It was always so, even since the days of my childhood I could not see the afterglow fade and die away, with- out a feeling of sadness stealing over me. And when I see yonder bright orb sink down behind those grand old hills, my very heart seems to go out in wild vain longing—for something, I know not what. You will deem me foolish, I fear, but oh," clasping her hands passionately together, it seems to me as if there was no redt upon earth, or in the grave." He looked at her, startled by this sudden outburst; and then he took her hands again, and looking into her eyes, asked sorrowfully almost sternly, Eosaura, tell me honestly, do you love me, or have you been only acting a part with me ?" A slight tremour passed over her slender form, then raising her :face to his, she smiled the smile he so loved to see upon her lips, and asked, "Had I ra garded you with any other feeling, would I have con. 1 sented to become your wife?" Whilst she spoke a look of tenderness filled her beautiful eyes, and she clasped her hands upon his arm. He was deceived by her seeming affection, for she was a clever actress. After that he did not again express any doubt of her, and the days passed slowly by until the wedding morning arrived. The warm sun shone in through her narrow case- ment as she arose and donned her bridal attire. She cast aside with loathing the simple white robe her mother's careful hands had prepared for her, and taking from her wardrobe a plain black gown, she arrayed herself in its sombre folds. Her midnight hair was combed back from her pure white brow, and fastened by a high comb, from which her lace mantilla fell gracefully around her queenly form. As she was about to leave her room Donna Cousina entered, with a large passion-flower of scarlet hue, in her hand, which she gave to her reluctantly, saying, Lorenzo came here last night, and charged me to give you this. He said it would ipeak to you more plainly than any written words from him." Eosaura took the blossom, and pressing it to her heart cried, "Oh, Lorenzo, never shall a day pass but thy image shall be before mine eyes never shall I gaze upon a scarlet flower but I shall think of thee, and love thee, though the thought of thy dear name mayfill my soul with despair. Mother, I am ready now for the sacrifice; and when it is consummated, never again shall these lips smile until I have a full and complete vengeance upon the man who ruined my sister." Child," said the old woman, "words of mine are powerless to cool that fire of vengeance that burns in your breast; but oh, remember there is One above to right our wrongs. Even at this, the eleventh hour, take back your troth from the noble Englishman, and let him return to his own country, where a happy future may be his. You love Lorenzo, and he loves you, and will continue to love you, even until the hour of his death. Be warned in time, and wed the lover of your childhood. Wherefore wreck the happiness of two men's lives, and ruin your own soul as well ?" Ah, my mother," replied her daughter, with a bitter smile, your teaching comes too late. Here in my heart have I registered a vow night and morning for twelve long and weary years, to devote my life to Vengeance on Sir Dallas Moreton. Now, when the opportunity to fulfil my vow has come, do you think .1 will shirk the sacrifice? No, my mother, you forgot I am a Spaniard, and to us Spaniards revenge is dearer than love or even life. Come, my mother, let us to the church, for the bridegroom will be wait- ing, and the sun shines fair upon my weeding mom." And with a bitter, mocking laugh, that terrified her aged mother, she swept from the apartment. If In a small Spanish church the little group standi at the altar. The light falls in rosy rays from a window of stained glass at the far end, and lingers in shafts of light at the feet of the bride. She is pale, and the glad blushes that should adorn her face are absent. The solemn words are spoken that join these two in wedlock for good or ill, and at last the white- haired clergyman bestows his parting blessing on them, and they turn away andlgo slowly down the aisle of the church. There is a look of joy upon the face of the man, but as he gazes on the marble-like features of his Spanish bride a sudden dread enters his soul, for her eyes have an expression of loathing-nay, almost of hatred in them, and for the first time he sees that it is not for love this woman has become his wife, and he trembles for their future together. As he turns restlessly from her his eyes meet those of a man who glares upon him with envy and hatred from a dark corner of the church. The face seems atrangely familiar to him, but as he looks again he finds the man has vanished, and he is tempted to believe that his presence there was only caused by a freak of his own imagination. And now the wedding party has disappeared, and the little church is once more in gloom, save for the Nosy rays of light that fall at the altar steps. The clergyman has folded his vestments and gone away. But the church is not yet deserted, for a man comes forth from behind a marble pillar. Standing in the apot where Rosaura had knelt, he raised his hand to- wards heaven, and vowed to know no peace nor rest until he had divided those hands the white-haired clergyman had joined together, That man was Lorenzo Valongo- CHAPTER V. I FIVE years have passed since Lord Somerville took to his home and heart the wild Spanish girI, Rosaura. They were years of bitter awakening to the Englishman, as he discovered day after day how small was the place he occupied in his wife's heart. But heaven sent him one consolation at least. He had a little golden-haired daughter, now four years old, to gladden his lonely hours. Strange to say, the little Claire bore no resemblance whatsoever to her toother, but had all the fair Saxon beauty of her father's race. The haughty Lady Somerville took little or no notice of her lovely child, and the little one seemed aware that she possessed but a scanty ahare of her mother's affections, Her attachment for her father became all the deeper, as she clung to him with the loving trust of childhood. It was late in the autumn. The labourers had finished their work in the vineyards; the golden harvest had been reaped; and the earth, in its autumn mantle of golden brown, stood awaiting in sad stillness the first rude breath of the frost king. 9. Lord Somerville had taken his wife and baby-girl to spend a few months in that queen of gay cities, Paris. It was the day after their arrival, and they were spend- ing the evening in the spacious picture gallery of the chateau, for since they bad been last there, several rare and priceless gems of art had been added to the collection, which Lord Somerville was anxious to exhibit to his wife. They had examined the outer gallery, and at last turned into the portrait hall, where the stately lfldies of the house of Somerville seemed to look down in silent wonder at the haughty Spaniard who now reigned in their place. Eosaura had been wandering listlessly from picture to picture, when at last she paused before the portrait ot a man who bore a remarkable likeness to her husband, ex- cept that the mouth seemed harder and the chin weaker. Who is this portrait of ?" she asked carelessly. It resembles you, and yet you told me you had no relations." us 0 He came towards her with a serious expression upon his face, and taking her hand, said, I am sorry this picture has been returned to the gallery, for I had long ago given orders that it should be hidden out of sight. Rosaura, when I told you I bad no relations living I did not speak the truth, for yonder man is my half-brother, my mother having already had a son before her second marriage with my father. But her firstborn turned out to be a villain from his earliest years, was shunned by societv, and at last was banished from mv father's house, It grieves me to speak of him to you, and would not have told you of his existence but that you beheld his portrait." She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully, and was turning to leave the gallery, when a sudden impulse made her pause and regard once more the hard but handsome face of the portrait. What was his name?'' she asked, carelessly. Sir Dallas Moreton," replied her husband. Sir Dallas Moreton she exclaimed, in a tone of anguish, starting back and covering her face with her hands, as if to shut out the vision of the man who had brought so much trouble upon her family. Presently dropping her hands, she continued in a low, hoarse voice, At last, all my secret labours at AN end. I have discovered the betrayer and the murderer of my sister, and-oh, mockery!—finB Mm in the brother of my husband 1 Lord Somerville stood aghast, looking at her as she recoiled from him. He had never heard from her before the name of the man whom she so bitterly hated, and now the revelation came upon him like a thunderbolt. Rosaural" he said gently, trying to master his emotion, "it breaks my heart to hear this from your lips; and were this man other than my brother, his life should pay the forfeit for the dishonour he brought upon your dead sister. As it is," he continued sadly, if you desire it, I shall find a means of punishing him although he has now sunk so low, from gambling and debauchery, that he is more an object for pity than for hatred. Speak to me, Rosaura, for it wrings my heart to see that look of coldness and despair on your face. I know that you have no love for your husband, nor for your child but surely all these years of faithful love on my side should win some toleration from you at last." She turned from him with a low, bitter laugh; and then, as if moved by a sudden impulse, advanced to his side. Had you not always been so noble, patient, and generous towards me, I might have proved a better wife to you. We women are strange beings; but I have never cared for you and never will. Let that suffice. And now, please, tell me how Sir Dallas Moreton spends his life;" and her eyes Sashed with hatred.as she turned them once more upon the portrait. There is not much to tell," he replied, "for his is only the old, old story of depravity. He was but a youth when he took his first step upon that downward course that leads ever to ruin and disgrace, and he is now a hopeless wreck of what he once was, and spend his nights in a gambling- hell off the Eue St. Honors." '• I know the place." she answered, with assumed carelessness, I have heard of it before. Thank you, my Lord Somerville, for having gratified my curiosity about your brother. But I am weary now, and shall retire, for it is almost the dinner hour." He looked at her long and wistfully, for he loved her dearly still, and would have given half the years of his life to bring one look of affection for him into her eyes; but she turned from him with a gleam of triumph and mockery in her pale face, and without a word quitted fhe gallery. That night Rosaura retired early on the plea ot fatigue; and when once in the privacy of her boudoir, gave vent to emotions of passion and triumph which almost overpowered her. She clasped and unclasped her hands with a quick, nervous movement, and her lips parted in mocking smiles. At last standing before her mirror, in her robes of black lace and wreath of silver ivy, she cried bitterly—" His brother -iiis brother 1 Oh God, the mockery of it. Poor fool that I was, in those dead days, when I sacrificed my heart, and my soul, and my lover, to wed the broher of Sir Dallas Moreton 1 Oh just heaven! will this burning pain and misery never leave my breast," and flinging back her head with a weary gesture, she clasped her hands behind it in an attitude of despair. Then the look of triumph came into her eyes once more, and glancing round the apartment furtively, she continued, "But I shall go and see this man who betrayed my sister. I and I alone shall have revenge upon him—vengeance deep and bitter as my southern blood can desire." Even whilst she whispered the words to herself, she wrapped her regal form in a long dark mantle, the hood of which she drew over her head; and thus attired, opening a large window that overlooked a rose-garden, she descended the steps, and hurried across a wide lawn, until she reached a gate leading into a side street off the Rue de Rivoli. It was already near midnight, and the streets were partially deserted, as she hurried along. There were still lights in the Tulleries gardens, and now and again she could hear the merry ripple of a woman's laughter, blending with distant music in the gardens. At last she turned into the shadows of the Rue St. Honore, and glided past its quaint old cathedral, until a little way down the adjacent street she paused before a quiet-looking house, outside which a curi- ously shaped lamp was burning. "Yes she murmured, faintly, "this must be the house. At last I shall look upon his vile face, and plan my vengeance upon him. For some moments she stood under^the shadow of a neighbouring porch, watching the people go in and out. Those who entered were cool and collected- looking, but those who came out had either a look of frozen despair upon their faces, or the deep flush of excitement and triumph. At last she saw a man and woman enter, and followed them. They went along an ill-lighted corridor, and paused at length before a door upon which the man knocked with a peculiar signal. It was opened, and she glided in after them, placing herself unseen behind an im- mense curtain of crimson cloth that hung near the door. High stakes were evidently being played for, as no one raised their eyes from the tables to notice new-comers. Eosaura's eyes flashed over the numerous faces before her, and she could almost hear her heart throb, so still were the players-men and women-as they watched the cards with white faces, and longing, eager eyes. At last there was a loud exclamation in a man's voice, at the same time two figures arose, one at each side of a table, close to the curtain behind which Rosaura was concealed, and faced each other with fierce curses and threats. You mean hound—you are cheating me I" cried a voice in broken English, that caused the blood in Rosaura's veins to become frozen with terror, as she covered her face with her hands, and gasped beneath her breath, Lerenzo!—oh God, it is Lorenzo 1" But her horror was intensified, as, on looking again, she found his antagonist was none other than him she had come to seek-Sir Dallas Moreton! Hot and angry words were being exchanged between the men, whilst several of their companions endea- voured to make peace between them. Let go my hands," cried the Spaniard fiercely, as he endeavoured to reach his opponent, who < sat looking at him with a cold, mocking smile, and now and again hurling a sneering remark at him, as he struggled with his captors. With a sudden twist the Spaniard released him- self, and with a hoarse cry fell upon his opponent. "Sir Dallas Moreton," he cried, "have you for- gotten Theresa Cousina." Before anyone was aware of his intention, he had buried his stiletto in the gambler's heart, and fled from the place. Men and women crowded around aghast; even the cards were for the moment for- gotten. Many of their circle had committed suicide —that was nothing new to gamblers. This was a new species of crime, and would bring the blood- hounds of the law upon their track. Leaving them to lift up the dead body of the wretched man, and pfoce it upon the table where he had squandered'wealth and honour, we must return to Rosaura, as she cowers horrified and aghast behind the curtain, looking with fixed and awful gaze towards tho murdered man. At last she can bear it no longer, and with a deep groan she opens the door and hurries forth once more into the silent and deserted streets. As she hastens along, a thousand thoughts fill her brain, and she sees in imagination her lover, Lorenzo, condemned to die for the murder of Sir Dallas Moreton. Sud- denly a man hastily crosses the street and touching her arm, the stern voice of her husband asks. "Madam, nil ere have vou been?" lie had missed her, and had set forta ja do egog of fear and suspicion to look for her, half fearing that she had fled from him to find the betrayer of her sister. She turned from him passionately, and refused to answer. He could see that something had happened, and taking her hand forcibly, drew it on his arm, for she seemed scarcely able to walk; thea he asked once more, Have you been to the gambling house to see Sir Dallas Moreton?" She laughed a little wildly; then replied, IM you have guessed aright. I went to see your brother, my lord, and saw him stabbed to the heart before my eyes." He staggered back, and asked in a hoarse voice, Who is the murderer?" That my lips shall never reveal I" she answered, with a shudder. Very well," he replied sternly; I shall not press you for an answer, but to-morrow we shall return to England, and I hope we may never set foot in Paris again." "Take me where you willI" she said recklessly. All places are alike to me;" and then deep in her fceart she murmured, Oh, Lorenzo-Lorenzo, it was for love of me thou hast done this I Would that I might live over again the years that are gone I Would that I had wed thee, my Lorenzo, the lover of my youth!" Coldly and sternly her husband walked home beside her. When the door closed behind them, and they were in the dim and silent drawing-room, he S endeavoured to obtain from her a full confession of all that had happened; but she refused to speak, turning from him with bitter, taunting words, that almost maddened him. At last he left her and sought the solitude of his own apartments, where he gave way to the weariness and grief of his disappointed life. The next day the Paris papers gave a graphie account of the murder, but none of them were able to tell who the Spaniard was, as he had only been a few days at the gambling house, and had gone by the title of Count Enrico. On board the Calais vessel, Lord Somerville read the account, and sighed deeply as he thought of the sad ending to the life of his wretched half-brother. Eosaura's heart throbbed with passionate delight that. Lorenzo had escaped, and the last words he had said to her in the quaint old town of Puerte came back to her memory. She trembled as, in imagination, she heard once more that voice, so well remembered, almost h'ss with fierce earnestness, "Bosltura, you shall jet be mine!" He had not forgotten her," she thought. Now that he had avenged her sister, what would be his next undertaking 1" She ,-uul dared not ansive* even to her own hear! (To be continued.)
I FOREIGN NAVAL MANOEUVRES. I It is probable that the French Naval Manoeuvre* will be on a much less extensive scale than usual, if indeed, they can properly be called manoeuvres at all. On the other hand, the German Manoeuvres which are to take place between the middle of August and the middle of September, will be:somewhat ambitious. The active squadron will be supplemented by a second Squadron of coast defence armourclads, as well as by a division of armoured gunboats, two torpedo flotillas, and half a dozen dispatch vessels. The armoured gunboats, of which Germany possesses 11, date from the years 1876 to 1880. They are of 1109 tons, with 8in. of iron armour, and a nominal speed of 10 knots, and they carry one 12in. gun and two 3'3in. guns. It will be interesting to see what use is made of them. The Italian manoeuvres are to take place off the coast of Sicily, and will terminate with a grand review at Palermo.
UNIVERSALITY OF ENGLISH. I At a recent meeting of American club women, where the subject of a universal language had come up for discussion, it was declared that English was destined to be the one language spoken. The fact was cited that at the last postal congress two-thirds of all the letters which pass through the post offices of the world are written by and sent to people who use the English language. There are 500,000,000 persons'speaking colloquially one or the other of the chief modern languages, and of these about one- fourth speak English, 90,000,000 Russian, 75.000,000 German, 55,000,000 French, 45,000,000 Spanish, 35,000,000 Italian, and 12,000,000 Portuguese.
BULL DOG AND BEAR FIGHT. I Col. John F. Gaynor, American millionaire and well-known politician, has, says the Telegraph's New York correspondent, married Miss Annie F. Pitney, stenographer at the Shoreham Hotel, Wash- ington. A remarkable man is Mr. Gaynor, adds the correspondent. During a recent trip to Florida he was induced to purchase a bear, and had it placed in the baggage car of the train upon which he started for the North. In the Pullman car he met a Southern gentleman, with whom he became friendly and the Southerner told the Colonel about a wonderful bull- dog which he had on the train. There is nothing that can whip him," said the owner. I've got an animal on this train myself," said the Colonel and I'll bet you lOOdol. even that he'll eat your bull- dog up." At the next station the two men had their animals brought into the Pullman car, locked them up together in the smoking compartment, and through the glass windows they witnessed one of the fiercest battles on record. The glass was smashed, the up- holstered seat was torn to ribbons, the furniture was broken to bits, and the animals were so badly injured that they had to be put out of their misery. It cost the Colonel it is said, 260dol. to settle the damage with the Railroad Company.
ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE CENTURY. Amongst the triumphs of what Mr. Wallace has christened The Wonderful Century," none stands out with greater distinctness than the invention, de- velopment, and rapid perfection of electric tele- graphy, says a writer in the Pall Mall Magazine. A tablet upon the wall of Kelmscott House, Hammer- smith, so long known as the residence of William Morris, commemorates the faet that there, in 1816, Sir Francis Ronalds, F.R.S., erected the first electric I telegraph, eight miles long. Having succeeded by the aid of pith balls in sending intelligible signals through this great length of wire, and invented a species of code, Ronalds sat down and wrote to the Admiralty, inviting Lord Melville to come and witness his performance. The telegraphic system of the country in those days was entirely dependent on the old semaphore, a costly arrangement which for 100 days out of the year, as statistics show, was in- capacitated on account of the weather. Ronalds, however, was at that time not well known, and the Admiralty officials received his communication with a laconic indifference which is characteristic of Government officials when confronted with a novelty. In other words, the Secretary, Mr. Barrow, presented his compliments to Mr. Ronalds, and informed him that telegraphs of any kind are now wholly un- necessary, and no other than the one now in use will be adopted." Mr. Barrow lived to become Sir John Barrow, and by an irony of circumstance wrote the article on Telegraphy in a subsequent edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica." Ronalds'telegraph consisting of eight miles of wire partly laid under- ground in glass tubes and partly suspended between two large frames, is illustrated in an old engraving in his book, published in 1823. =• I
THE CZAR has ordered the appointment of a special delegate attached to the Ministry of Agriculture for the protection of the local interests of agriculture. MR. THOMAS DARLINGTON, one of her Majesty's inspectors of schools, is to inspect the scholastic I establishments of St. Petersburg on behalf of our Government. I THE Canadian Canal, which connects Lake Ontario I with the River St. Lawrence below the rapids near Montreal, will be opened early in August. THE Rev. Charles Henry Osier, who was formerly a Unitarian minister, has been appointed to the vicarage of St. Thomas, Charlestown, Halifax. THE London and North-Western Railway Com- I pany pays over E8000 a day in wages. THERE are 21,000 people in the United Kingdom | having incomes of over £ 1000 a 3ear. I ABOUT £ 150,000 a year is paid in pensions to British soldiers' widows and in allowances to their II children. IT is said that in London there are no fewer than j l6,000 professional musicians of various grades, and that more than half of them are women. IT is calculated that, in moving about from one i place to another, the people of this country spend I about £ 150,000 a day.
HOME HINTS. (Irront Spare-Mom&tts.) I To wash tea-things or china have two basins of moderately warm water; take off the grease or dirt in the first basin, rinse it in the second, and wipe dry with a proper tea-cloth; this will save time. Put one article at a time into the basin, you run less hazard of breakages, and clean the articles much quicker. IN cleaning, dusting, or sweeping any room do not make off with or destroy any piece of paper without asking whether it is of any value; it may seem to you a piece of mere wastepaper, but may be of the utmost importance to the owner. FEATHER beds should be shaken every day, and turned let the bedroom window be wide open while you perform this operation; turn mattresses once every three weeks-not later than once a month. Wash brooms and brushes once a week hang them up to dry. It will prevent the wood from rotting by properly draining the water from the hair. To KEEP BRIGHT FIREIRONS FROM RUSTING.— Smear them over with hot melted fresh mutton suet; before it cools and hardens have some powdered un- slaked lime in a muslin bag and dust it on to the hot suet which covers the irons. Oil is of little use, but salad oil, being the only oil free from water, should alone be used at any time for them. When not used, fireirons should be kept covered in baize and tightly tied round. COOKING OF Ricic.-Rice is the most easily digested of all vegetable foods, requiring only one hour far perfect digestion. Throw it into a large quantity of rapidly boiling water and continue the boiling for z, twenty minutes. Drain the rice and put it to steam for ten minutes longer. It should be dry and white. COCOANUT BISCUITS,—Six ounces of cocoanut, three eggs, nine ounces of caster sugar; grate the cocoanut, whisk the eggs well, adding the sugar and cocoanut by degrees to make a paste; then shape it into small cones with your hands, and place on tins covered with paper, and bake them a light colour in a moderate oven. STEWED CUCUMBERS.—Slice some cucumbers thick, or cut them into halves and divide them into two lengths strew over them some salt and pepper, and sliced onions; add a little broth, or a bit of butter. Simmer very slowly, and before you serve them, if no butter was in before, put some, and a little flour, un- less it wants richness. TAPIOCA COCOANUT PUDDING.—Soak one cupful of tapioca over night; in the morning pour off any water that may not have been absorbed; add one quart of milk, and let them heat together. Add the yolks of one to four eggs, beaten with one cupful of sugar, two tablespoonfuls of grated cocoanut, and a little salt. Bake half-an-hour, or until done. Beat the whites with two tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar, and add two tablespoonfuls of the cocoanut; spread over the pudding, and brown in the oven. APPLE PATTIES.—Line Rix patty-pans with thin pastry, and half-fill with already cooked apples. Melt one ounce of butter with one ounce of sugar. Stir in two ounces of flour. Beat one egg, to which add one tablespoonful of milk, and pour over the flour, &c. Add a teaspoonful of baking-powder. Stir well, filling up the patty-pans with the mixture, and bake in a brisk oven. WALNUT KETCHUP.—Boil or simmer a gallon of the expressed juice of,walnuts when they are tender, and skim it well; then put in two pounds of anchovies, bones, and liquor, ditto of shalots, one ounce of cloves, ditto of mace, ditto of pepper, and one clove of garlic. Let all simmer till the shalots sink then put the liquor into a pan till cold; bottle, and divide the spice to each. Cork closely, and tie the bladder over. It will keep twenty years in the greatest per- fection but it is not fit for use the first year. Be very careful to express the juice at home, for it is generally adulterated if bought. Some people make liquor of the outside shell when the nut is ripe; but neither the flavour nor colour is then so fine; and the shells being generally taken off by dirty hands, there is much objection to this mode. ORANGE CAKE FOR AFTERNOON TEA. Into one pound of flour rub lightly eight ounces of butter, then stir in two teaspoonfuls of baking-powder and four ounces of caster sugar. Grate the rind of one orange into a bowl, and squeeze in the juice of two. Break and beat two eggs, add these with the orange-juice and grated rind to the flour until the result is a very stiff paste. Put it in small, rough heaps on a greased baking-sheet, and bake in a quick oven for about fifteen minutes. APPLE JELLY.—Cut into quarters as many applet as required, but do not peel them. Place them in the preserving pan with enough cold water to cover and boil until soft. Strain through flannel, but on no account squeeze them. Add three-quarters of a pound of loaf sugar to every pint of juice, and boil for three-quarters of an hour. Add the rind of a lemon and also a little lemon-juice if the flavour be liked. A few drops of cochineal may be added if a red colour be desired. The jelly should not be covered down until set. Be sure to use a copper or enamelled preserving pan, for an iron vessel would spoil the colour of the jelly. COTTAGE CHEESE.—Pour four quarts of boiling water into about four quarts of very thick sour milk; turn this into a bag and drain over night. When ready to serve, beat to a smooth mass, gradually adding cream to make it the proper consistency. APPLE GATEAU.—Dissolve a quarter of an ounce of gelatine in a little hot water. Peel and core two pounds of apples, and boil in an enamelled pan to a pulp, with one pound of sugar. Stir in the dissolved gelatine, and pour into a wet mould to cool. When turned out, pour round a custard made with four eggs and one pint of milk. CRUMBLY BREAD.—Bread is usually coarse-grained and crumbly when it contains too much flour. A good spring wheat flour of the sort from which you should make white bread requires a great deal of moisture and careful handling and kneading to re- move the stickiness, rather than too much flour. The large holes near the top come from the crust being baked too quickly, forming a non-conductor, thus retaining the gas underneath, which causes th e large holes. PASTRY FOR TAKTS EATEN COLD.-Rub together six ounces of butter, eight eggs, and six ounces of flour. Mix it up with as little water as possible, so as to make a stiff paste, beat it well, and roll thin. STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE. To make strawberry shortcake beat one cupful of sugar and one table- spoonful of butter together, and add three eggs well beaten. Mix two cupfuls of flour with one scant tea- spoonful of cream of tartar and a small half-tea- spoonful of soda, and rub through a sieve. Stir into the beaten eggs and sugar. Bake in deep tin plates. Four can be filled with the quantities given. Have three quarts of strawberries mixed with a cupful of sugar. Spread a layer of strawberries over one of the cakes, lay a second cake over this and cover with berries. Or a meringue, made with the white of an egg and a tablespoonful of powdered sugar, may be spread over the top layer of strawberries. ORANGE FLAVOURING.—To flavour either a cake or pudding with orange, one must use the yellow rind, which contains the essential oil. It should be grated and may be used either moist or dry. FISH PUDDING.—The remains of a cooked fish, plain white sauce, egg, parsley sauce, some mashed potatoes. Shred the fish and mix it with the ingre- dients as above. Put into a greased mould, and steam for half an hour. Turn out and garnish with chopped parsley in alternate strips with yolk of egg.
A RING WITH A HisToRy.-A ring with a history has just been handed over to the Numismatic Museum of Paris, by a Polish gentleman, who purchased it for a small sum recently in Warsaw. Shortly [after he formed the acquaintauce of the lady who was after- wards Marquise de Pompadour, Louis XV. presented her with a 71 intaglio ring, representing his own apo- theosis. It was pronounced at that time to be a marvellous work of art, equalling anything of the sort produced in ancient Greece or Rome. Round the edge was an elaborated inscription. One day Mme. de Pompadour, to her distress, lost this pre- cious ring, which has now reappeared after nearly a hundred and fifty years' peregrination. If rings could speak, this one doubtless could tell a curious al e.—Chronicle, IN connection with the death of Vice-Admiral Richard Bradshaw, an interesting circumstance it recalled from the days of the Zulu War. Admiral Bradshaw was in 1879 captain of the Shah, home- ward bound from the Pacific, when, on reaching St. Helena, he heard of the disaster at Isandula, and immediately sailed for the Cape with all the available troops at his disposal. For this prompt action he received the approval of Parliament and the Admiralty, as well as the thanks of the Town Council of Natal. His record of service included the Abys- sinian Campaign, the Ashanti Campaign of 1874, and the command of an Expedition uc the Congo.
THE total amount received to date towards the Birmingham University scheme is £ 262,500. The appeal which was made to the public to enable the Committee to claim the third donation of £ 12,500, conditionally offered by Mr. Chamberlain's anony- mous friend, has not met with a very hearty response, only £ 1500 having been received. The anonymous offer was made subject to the endowment fuhd*each- ing £ 287,500. so|tbat there is still £ 25,000 required to secure the gift. *ST
I THE WOMAN'S WORLD. WEDDING RINGS (says a writer in the Evening Xeu.s} are supposed to be always the same, but still the fashion of them has altered lately among smart people. The newest brides are wearing plain gold circlets, which are about two-thirds narrower than those formerly worn. Jewellers are also showing a new ring. When worn it is exactly like any conven- tional wedding ring. In reality it consists of twc separate gold bands, each made in a spiral. These fit so closely together as to form a perfect ring with- out visible join. This marriage ring is symbolical of the joining of two into one. IT is a trite saying (remarks the Morning Herald) that the girl with well dressed hair can pass muster, though her gown be shabby and by no means in the latest style. If it repays a girl with a dingy vird- robe to look to the arrangement of her tresses, it is absolutely imperative for the well-dressed to do so. An untidy or unbecomingly dressed head of hair is fatal to the most beautiful of gowns. Over in Paris the high coiffure has been in vogue for a very long time, and bids fair to continue. It is a style eminently suited to a French face. Another reason why it holds a French woman's favour is its neatness. Our Gallic neighbours revel in frills and fussiness, but they are always neat, while we only manage that when clad in tailor-mades. HERE in England the high coiffure is predominant, but not universal. Many of us unwisely attempted the waving of our own hair last season, with the result that a wofully untidy fringe at the back of the head is now our portion. To hide this, many girls are now coiling their hair round and round at the back, only brushing it to the top of the head on special occasions of theatre going and the like, and then using a couple of small jewelled slides for gathering up that tiresome fringe in the nape of the neck. Those girls who did not play havoc with the heated irons are, of course, dressing their hair on the top of the headj which is the fashionable ityle. For day wear plain tortoiseshell combs are the only possible adornment, but for evening individual fancy (and means!) can have more play. Happily the pert aigrette has had its day. Hair ornaments now are chiefly remarkable for fol- lowing the contour of the head. She wore a wreath of roses The first time that we met" might verily be said of the end-of-the-century girl. Wreaths of Banksia roses are very smart wear just now for young married women as well as girls in their first season. Although the hair is dressed high it is not dragged tightly away from the ears in that hideous manner noticeable among residents in country districts. It is arranged loosely and lightly I about the ears, and if a girl is very thin, an improving and piquant effect can be obtained by placing a flower just behind each ear after the fashion ren- dered familiar by the Japanese operas. A WHITE satin gown, described in the Globe, was most beautifully embroidered in crystal, the design being not too heavy a one, but all long, curving lines, and graceful twists. Many of the embroideries now so fashionable-seem out of place at a dance. For in- stance, a design of flowers embroidered in sequins in relief, the petals all filled in, is apt to look (and to feel!) a little heavy for dancing. Lighter designs should be chosen for the exercise of the terpsichorean art. It is also, at present, very fashionable to have gjowns long in front, with a demi-train at the back. It is difficult to say whether this costume causes more inconvenience to the wearer, her partner, or other people. It is certain that one evening's dancing ruins the dress. DON'T be dashing-be dainty. Don't sacrifice fitness to fashion. Don't let" smart" verge on "loud." Don't hold up silks and display rags. Don't use pins where stitches would do. Don't wear a smart hat and burst shoes. Don't sacrifice neat- ness to artistic effect. Don't spoil the gown for the yard of stuff. Don't, if you are September, dress as May. Don't wear tan shoes if you have large feet. Don't dress more fashionable than is becoming. Don't neglect quality for the sake of quantity. Don't wear a white petticoat unless it is white. Don't look a frump because you cannot look a swell. A LATE feminine affectation is the wearing of a dash of powder on the hair just above the temple. This (observes a writer in the London Journal) is used by young women as well as by elderly ones, but those already a trifle grey are the ones who most affect it, the powder, so patently artificial, distract- ing attention from the naturally silver threads. This dash of white certainly adds piquancy to a young face, particularly if it is a brunette one, and is important, as it is said to presage the return of the fashion of all-over powdered hair for full-dress occasions next season. The tiny black court plaster patches of bygone days are already with us, and if powdered hair becomes generally accepted as a fad we may expect a harking back to rouge and quaint styles in gowns. Meantime, the Pompadour coiffeur offers a particu- larly good field for that little dash of white, and its use grows apace. ELBOW sleeves are a fad of the hour, and sleeves which are utterly nnlike each other are seen on many of the newest French evening gowns. THE hot weather is responsible for a very busy time with the establishments which deal in white cotton goods. For the rush on white blouses, piqu6 coats and skirts, white stockings and gloves has been quite inordinate. Blouses were not alone, drill and piqu<§ coats and skirts were caught up in the rush. Oi lier goods were also raided when the heat of the sun was felt most strongly, and among these are sunshades, not only in white but of every variety that could be obtained. MUSLIN (says the Morning Herald) is the craze of the season, though the hope has been long deferred for wearing it. The flowered muslins recall the days of our grandmothers, when simplicity was affected in muslin and a sash, fainting and hysterics were in fashion, and genera' helplessness was con- sidered interesting. The flowered muslins have returned, but, happily, so far, meagrims" and "vapours" have not accompanied them, good health and common sense being con- sidered more desirable, nowadays, which have many wholesome features, despite the wail of the chronic croaker. The modish muslin gown of the moment is a dangerous pitfall to the unitiated. It looks so guileless and simple that he or she (mainly he," as unversed in the fearsome wiles of dressmakers), thinks how pretty and inex- pensive yet, four or five guinues is an average price for these simple and perishable gowns. FoR juvenile millinery, daisies are being much used this summer, and nothing could be prettier or more suitable than the delightful little mushroom shapes (now being shown at the principal modistes for juveniles) of white crinoline straw, with just a band and bow of white ribbon and pink and white limp stemmed daisies scattered loosely over the brim, THOSE white wool shawls worn by elderly ladies soil very easily. If not very dirty they can be cleansed at home with flour. Put the shawl into a clean pan and sprinkle it well with dry flour. Rub it well but lightly all over, then Bhake all the flour out of it. Repeat the process twice, using fresh flour each time. The cleansing operation must be done in the open air, or. the furniture and floor will be white over. The cleanser, too, must tie up her head in something, for flour flies about and settles on to everything and anything within the vicinity. A NOVEL method of effecting the removal of a ring which has become constricted around a swollen finger consists in simply enveloping the afflicted member after the manner of a circular bandage, in a length of india rubber braid, such as ladies make use of to keep their hats on the tops of their heads. This should be accurately applied-beginning, not too close to the ring, but at the tip of the finger, leaving no intervals between the successive turns, so as to exert its whole force gradually and gently upon the tissues underneath. When the bind- ing is complete the hand should be held aloft in a vertical position, and in a few minutes the swelling will be sensibly diminished. The braid is then taken off and imme- diately applied in the same manner, when, after mother five minutes, the finger, again rapidly un- covered, will be small enough for the ring to be removed with ease.
ART AND LITERATURE. THE Bishop of Hereford desires to see a monu- ment erected to the memory of Arthur Hugh Clough at Rugby. Clough, who died in 1861, was a very distinguished man, and a friend of a brilliant circle of men, including William Ward, Jowett, Stanley, and Matthew Arnold. R2 wag immensely interested in the Tract-aria r credent at Oxford 60 years ago, and as Fellow of Oriel exercised a powerful influence for many years in the world of intellect. Carlyle, as Mr. Leslie Stephen reminds us in the monumental ''Dictionary of National Biography," regarded ''Dictionary of National Biography," regarded Clough (even though he was a poet!) as a diamond sifted out of the general rubbish heap." Clough was a relative of Miss Nightingale, whose noble work he strove greatly to assist. PROBABLY one of the earliest biographies to appear in the autumn will be the Life of Sir J. E. Millaia, P.R.A. which his son has written. It is quite the custom now (says the Morning Post) for sons to pre- pare the memoirs of their fathers, and while there are obvious disadvantages attending the practice, yet the advantages in many cases must be held to turn the balance. The ideal biographer is so rare that it is practically a hopeless task to look for him. He is a person who has in a very marked degree the defects of his qualities. The proverbially best life in our language was produced by a very foolish and con- ceited person, while one of the best autobiographies is undoubtedly that of Benvenuto Cellini, whose cha- racter, on his own showing, was far IeM "attractive than his artistic creations. THEY are still able in France to take interest in academic subjects. There is at present a great rage for technical instruction of all sorts, but the branch which arouses most interest is the projected school for publishers. Minor authors feel aggrieved that their wares are rejected owing to the crass ignorance and unliterary tastes of the ordinary publisher. So they are going to give him a three years' course of technical study. The curious feature of the move- ment is that the publishers also, as represented by the body known as the Cercle de la Librarie, seem themselves rather anxious, than otherwise, to have the intellectual level of the corporation raised. AMONG the hitherto published correspondence of Richard Wagner, two little volumes have not yet ippeared in an English translation-the letters to Otto Wesendonck and those to Emil Heckel. Herr Wesendonck was a most devoted friend and bene- factor of Wagner, at whose disposal he placed a chalet on his estate at Zurich, where for the first time for many years Wagner could work in comfort and peace. These letters belong mainly to the Master's second Paris period (1859-61); they begin in 18.52, and continue to the end of 1870. The letters to Heckel begin in 1871 and terminate in January, 1883, being devoted, together with Heckel's remi- niscences of Wagner, to the history of the Bayreuth undertaking. Mr. W. Ashton Ellis has just com- pleted a careful translation of the two volumes, which will be ready for issue in the course of a few weeks. They will be published on behalf of the Wagner Society by Mr. Charles Dowdeswell, the hon. secre- tary. MR. ZANGWILL had a hard struggle with adversity before he achieved fame. Born in the Ghetto of very poor parents-they were alien immigrants—he received his education at the Jews' Free School in Spitalfields, where he rose to be a teacher at the same time that he graduated, and took high honours in philosophy at the University of London. The amount of hard work that he got through at the Free School was extraordinary. His days .were spent in the exhaustive labour of teaching large, unruly classes; his nights were divided between studying for his degree and writing for the Press. Until he was 21 he never knew what it was to spend an idle hour. He was a poor youth, unknown, and absolutely friendless, when in colla- boration with another Free School teacher, he pro- duced The Premier and the Painter." IN connection with "the Tom Brown COIrP memoration at Rugby, it may be noted that Mr. Hughes's sequel to his first tale, "Tom Brown't Schooldays," which was published in 1856, appeared as a serial in the first numbers of Macmillan's Maga- zine. Its production was, we believe, due to the sug- gestion of the publisher, which may perhaps account for the lack of spontaneity whicji most readers found in it at the time. Mr. Hughes's Scouringol the White Horse" and "Alfred the Great "weft published respectively in 1858 and 1869. His acquaintance with Berkshire and Wiltshire history and folklore was unrivalled. His knowledge of the latter subject was turned to excellent account in a Christmas story, called The Ashen Faggot," which appeared in Macmillan for December, 1861. WOMEN artiste have been coming to the front a good deal as animal painters of late, and in this year's Academy there are several studies of horses bearing the signatures of women. Miss Kemp-Welch and Mrs. Mary Hunt have made cart-horses their special study; but Miss Mabel Hollame-a very young artist—has entered into the lists with Mr. Thomas Blinks and Mr. Heywood Hardy as a painter of hunting scenes. Her work, which is hung upon the line, has been bought for reproduction in black- and-white. Something of Miss Hollam's success must be put down to instinct, for she has artistio forbears, one of her ancestors having been John Hamilton Mortimer, Associate of the Royal Academy, and a contemporary of Thomas Stothard. MR. ADACHI KINNOSUKE, a Japanese resident in California, sends to the Arena "A Japanese View of Kipling." Mr. Kinnosuke's article is to a large extent an account of the contents of Mr. Kipling's books, but some of his observations have the merit of original expression. For instance, after referring to His Wedded Wife and A Germ Destroyer,* tte says that the author's wit does not depend so ttiuch on the magic of words, or the quaintness of expressions, as it does on the situation or plot, and herein his name may look up to as great a name as that of Dickens from not too great a distance on the scale of great names, and Moliére may very likely treat Kipling with respect. Mr. Kipling's wit is as dry, and as calm, and as solemn as a mule putting a boy through the most extraordinary acrobatic feat of jumping between its long ears and over its head. And when his victims (I mean his readers) strike the ground headforemost, which is too often the case, he seems as unhumorous as a mule itself." EVERYONE expected that France would take the lion's share of the wall space in the Fine Art section of next year's Exhibition, and the expectations have been fully realised. France is to have no less than 70 per cent. of the whole available space, and Ger- many, Austria, England, and Spain are to divide the remaining 30 per cent. amongst them, It has since been found that Italy had been left out, and she has been crowded in between Germany and Austria. This looks like one of those old Chinese maps, with the Celestial Empire occupying the whole of the central space, and the other countries of the world grouped around it in the shape of small islands. England's share is equal to one of the smaller rooms in the National Gallery, an utterly inadequate repre- sentation. THE modern Dutch water-colours now at the Goupil Gallery in London, certainly do not lack variety either in matter or manner. There is natu- rally a strong technical sympathy by which the whole of the work is stamped as the outcome of a particu- lar conviction, but Within the limits of this sympathy there is plainly room for a great deal of individuality of expression. The dainty landscapes of G. Poggen- beck, for instance, contrast in an interesting fashion with the expansive and atmospheric work of such men as Th. de Bock, or Van de Meer, and with the large simplicity of such a superb nature study as Mauve's Flock in the Snow"; while there is a very distinct difference between the solemnity of The TireS^Watcher by B. J. Blommers^nl fre6d°n BlS8?hoP s Consolation in Grl u/u the work an intense earnestness makes itself felt, and its persuasiveness is beyond question. At the same gallery is a small group of pictures, mostly land or seacapes, by Mr. Theodore Roussel. They are very well handled, strongly an d suggestively, and with a degree of sincerity that makes them worthy of close attention. A tendency to undue sombreness is their only fault; but, though pitched in a low key, they are distinctly harmonious and have many fine qualities of reticent colour. They certainly show the best side of the artist's capacity, and well support his reputation.