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t-"1 RIGHTS RESERVED.] I -1 i. OS AURA: A TALE OF LOVE AND TRAVEL BY LADY STELLA KIRKLAND, AUTHOR OF 44 The Lilies of Helen" Ulric,"$c.,$c. CHAPTER VI. I IT v.:) Christmas Eve in merry England. On the ftar.1 the Thames, a mile beyond the pretty town Of Kn hn or.d, stood the mansion where Lord and lady Si intrville were spending the Christmas-tide With tin re little daughter. The splendid drawing- Lr- igoom is ablaze with lights, and decorated with the time-htnorrpd holly and ivy; the ladies, in their •••Costumes of satins, lace, and jewels, flutter hither -and thither, like beautiful birds of paradise. But is one who stands aloof-on whose face the festive sirile lingers not. And yet how beauti- ful she is! A robe of white velvet, embroidered with pearls and trimmed with rare lace, adorns her exquisite form the bodice is cut square in front, and ;gnov. dn ps, that gleam like white stars amongst their :.green idinge, nestle almost lovingly upon her bosom whilst another bunch of the same pure blossoms Jeeps out from the heavy coils of her dark hair. Hamonds encircle her throat and gleam on her lofly brow. The men flock around her, as if drawn there by the magic of her beauty, and many a witty speech is uttered in the hope of bringing a smile to the crimson lips. The women shun her-she has never been friendly with her own sex they dislike, and almost fear, the cold and haughty Lady Somer- Tille. Suddenly the door opens, and litle Claire dances into the room and springs with a low laugh of delight into the arms of her father, whose careworn face ehnmres as if by magic when he feels his little daughter's arms around his neck. Christmas has ever been a privileged time with her, and when she has chatted for a few minutes, her father whispers something in her ear, and the child springs from his knee, and goes demurely across the room to where tier mother stands coldly apart, turning over the pages of an album. 41A h-ippy Christmas, mamma!" exclaimed the little prattler, with a joyous light in her sunny eyes :then, hardly waiting for her mother's cold embrace, ahe danced away to "play with the pretty ladies," who spoiled the loving little fairy to her heart's con- tent. To-night there is a burning pain in Rosaura's lieart, and a presentiment hanging over her for which she cannot account. She looks wearily ground the splendid rooms, with their festoons, and notices that most of the ladies and gentlemen have Crowded round little Claire, offering her presents and sweetmeats, and trying to entice the child from her father's knee. None notice the proud, haughty Spaniard, a a she Stands apart; and, with a gesture of disdain she turns away and enters a conservatory, from which the passes out on a terrace that overiooks the grounds, and runs half way round the spacious mansion. The gleam of the pure white snow relieves her eyes, after 4he glare of lights she has left behind her. There is a solemn stillness around, and she gazes up to the dark vault of heaven, where the pale stars are shining. After a little time the cold, haughty look fades from her face; the night-wind cools her hot brow, and she feels that here at leatt she can think of her own fair Spain, and her loved but lost Lorenzo. Once more, in imagination, she sees her self a beautiful Spanish girl, wandering in the summer meadows with him. He gathers rich flowers of crimson hue, and with happy, laughing eyes, entwines them on her brow; and then with passionate love Clasps her to his heart, and their souls seem to mingle and become as one. Then, with a thrill of pain and anguish, she re- members her last parting from him in the grey old town of Puerte, and thinks of that passionate. face as last she saw it, the demon of despair and jealousy blazing in the eyes, as he pressed burning kisses on her cold lips. Oli,Lorenzo-Lorenzo," she moans sorrowfully, "why did I betray your love and my own heart?— and will death never come to release my tortured soul ? Oh, where is he now? I know he will be ever true, for the Spaniard loves but once. Would that I might see him again before I die 1 Lorenzo! Lorenzo and she bent her head upon the cold marble of the balcony, and wept in all the bitterness Of her heart. Even as she wept, a dark figure, with a wide hat drawn over the eyes, was climbing the balcony, and a moment later it reached her side. 44 liomura!" The voice is hoarse and trembling -With emotion, but she recognises it, and raising her head with a low cry, gazes wildly at him. All the superstition of her native land awakes in her soul as she falls at his feet, crying 44 Lorenzo, art thou Come from the tomb?" Brushing back the dark masses of hair from his gile forehead, he said in a low hollow voice 44 No, osaura, I live; but had I died, my spirit would have Sought you still. Listen," he continued, as he raised her in his arms and clasped her passionately to his heart: li For five long years have I toiled and worked for wealth, and when I had won it, I set myself to discover the betrayer of your sister, so that I alone might be the one to avenge her for your dear sake. All my undertakings have succeeded. I am wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, and I have slain the man you hated. And now, Rosaura, that I am no longer the poor, despised youth of long ago, I come to lay myself, and all I possess, at your feet, and win you from the cold English lord. Oh, my Rosaura, when you left me I stood the blow firmly; but I swore you should be mine at last. I have come for you now and when I listened yonder in the cold and dark, gazing with burning eyes at the lighted windows where I pictured you reigning the queen of mirth and beauty, my soul fainted with a sick sorrow; until, like an angel's whisper, I heard my name called upon in accents of passionate love by these dear lips, and all the years of toil and sorrow passed away like a dream of the night, and I had my reward. Rosaura," he continued tenderly, as she remained still and silent in his arms, you will not refuse to come with Lorenzo? If you do," he said fiercely, drawing his .tilleto, this shall drink the life-blood from his heart —ay, here at your very feet, and he shall trouble you no more." She shuddered as he spoke, then in a trembling voice replied, Lorenzo, put away thy knife. In one "hour I shall meet you below this balcony and I shall be yours henceforth, for heaven knows my life here has been a curse to him and to me. With triumph and love in his eyes he drew her closer to him, and whispered-" If you have children, my Rosaura. bring them also. He shall possess no- thing belonging to my Spanish maid." 4 "Lorenzo, my heart's dear love," she answered, "he has but one golden-haired girl; nay, leave him -that for his consolation." "Never!" he replied, passionately. 44Bring the child with you, Rosaura. I cannot forget she is yours. I can e'en love her, too, for your sake. Hasten, my love," he continued, anxiously, for time is precious; I shall await you below j" and pressing her cold hands in his burning clasp, he sprang lightly on the wall, and she could see him slipping down by one of the pillars, and then cross the lawn towards a shrubbery near the front entrance. Rosaura was obliged to return through the drawing- ,room in order to reach her own apartments, to prepare for her hasty flight; but when she entered, her features were as composed as though nothing had -occurred to change the whole current of her life. As she re-entered the room, her husband, who had been wondering at her abscence, approached, saying, They are asking a song from you, Rosaura. Will you favour us with one ?" I am tired, my lord," she replied wearily, and would wish to retire. Have they taken the child to oed?" Claire's mother does not always feel interested about her movements. Yes, the child has been taken away by her nurse and there was a tone of reproach 1D«'iLfT°'ce ^at annoyed her. My lord is not pleased that I do not wish to sing to-night," she said coldly. "However, not to dis- appoint his friends I will sing a Spanish song I composed in one of my lonely hours." *> s?]lIed sadly, and led her to the piano, stand- ing beside her whilst she sang the following lines, in ft voice tremnlous with feeling and passion: SPANISH LovE SONG. I I. iffy heart is far away In the sunny land of Spain, Where flowers are blooming gay Upon the golden plain. ° ° I ir. Oh, happy, happy land 1 I ne'er shall see thee more, Nor roam thy shining strand, As in the days of yore. III. Lorenzo, oh, my love! This heart is only thine, And weeps, though skies above With summer glory shine. IV. In sorrow and despair With thee I fain would fly, 'Neath Spanish skies so fair In thy loved arms to die. As she finished, the guests crowded around her to express their thanks, but she turnod away with au air of hauteur that repelled them, and arising from the instrument, made a hasty excuse for retiring Her husband, who had never heard the song before but the melody of which was destined to ring in his heart for many a weary year, arose also, and held the door open for her. As she passed, he looked straight into her eyes—reproach and regret in his stern glance but his face grew darker still as he saw the mocking look she bestowed upon him. Rosaura was gone. Her husband closed the dooi after her, and there was a pain in his heart he could not account for. A longing to go to her, and ask for an explanation of her song, came over him but wounded pride held him back. He next saw Rosaura the Spaniard—where? CHAPTER VII. I THAT night, when the guests had all retired to rest. and the great rooms were wrapped in silence and gloom, Lord Somerville, whose heart was full of vague unrest, went out on the marble balcony where Lorenzo had surprised his wife. Hestood there full of silent sorrow, and listened to the joy-bells ring in the Christmas dawn, his thoughts travelling back to another day, over five long years ago, when he heard them in the little town of Puerte. Oh, how her magic voice rings in his memory, as, seated with her guitar on her knee, she sang for him the beautiful songs of Spain that Christmas night so long ago. A sigh escapes from him, as he remembers the silent group in the old Spanish church the mother of his bride who has long since passed away to that un- known land from whence none return), and the white-haired clergyman who had joined their hands in wedlock. But there is one face he recalls more vividly than any other-that of the man who glared upon him with so much envy and hatred from out the dark corner of the church. He remembers now that it was on this man's arm he had seen Rosaura lean on each occasion when he had watched her leave the little theatre, where first he had felt the power of her wonderful voice and her great beauty, and also that she had called him Lorenzo." Why had she sking that wild Spanish love song, and introduced his name into it with so much despairing love ? Alas! he sees it all now. She had married him for station and wealth, while she loved this man—this Lorenzo —with all the fire of her Southern blood. His face hardens, and a feeling of deep bitterness fills his heart against the woman on whom he had bestowed so much, and who had so ill requited him. But he will go to her this very hour he will caution her against showing her love so openly for this man; and should he ever cross his path—let him beware! Turning wearily away from the peaceful white snow that seemed only to mock his pain, he returned to the wide drawing-room, opened the door, and went up the wide corridor that led to the sleeping apartments. Pairing at the room door where his child slept, he knocked gently. The nurse opened the door. He went towards the cot where the little one was wont to sleep. Not seeing her, he looked wonderingly at the nurse, and asked for her charge. The woman informed him that the child was with her mother. She had come some hours before and taken her away, saying that she would keep her with her for the remaining portion of the night. He went from the nursery without a word. A moment later he stood in his wife's room, looking with stern set face at an open letter that told of her faithlessness. There was no sign of a hasty flight; only a dress of white velvet, all pearls and lace, thrown carelessly on the ground, and some snow- drops that had been crushed under foot. He stooped and raised the tiny blossoms in his hand, and looked bitterly on them. He knows all; but yet this man is as cold and fixed as fate itself. Yes, Rosaura," be murmured as he gazed on the dying flowers, you have gone to your lover—your Lorenzo. Long have your coldness and ingratitude tortured my heart, but now it is my turn. And yet my child-my innocent Claire! Oh, God I" he cried aloud, have I deserved this ?" He remained half stupefied with grief for some minutes, and then with a groan took up a travelling valise he had hastily packed, and drawing a revolver from his breast, gazed on it with grim satisfaction, as he vowed that he would know no rest until he had shot the Spaniard as he would a dog! Soon after, the great doors closed after Lord Somerville, and he went forth in the frost and snow of that Christmas dawn, to seek for his perjured and faithless wife and the man who had brought dis- honour to his hearth. CHAPTER VIII. I SPRING in the beautiful Cadore country, where the child Titian caught his first inspirations, as he watched the fierce Piave hurl itself in a foaming torrent from the Carnic Alps upon the smiling plain beneath. The beech trees of the deep forest of Con- siglio are already clothed with foliage, and the mighty branches interlace with each other, forming green shady aisles and woodland bowers where fairies might love to dwell. Within a mile of the fair city of Belluno is a villa, shut in by a grove of noble beech trees, beyond which stretches a beautiful landscape of hill and plain. It is here Lorenzo and Rosaura have flown to hide their guilty love from the world, and live and die together. It is within an hour of noon, and they wander listlessly by a silver stream that waters the smiling plains around them. He leans caressingly over her, and she looks up into his dark eyes with an expres- sion of love in her gaze that he alone could win from her. All around is so bright and so fair, and they two are happy—too happy for earth Not far off the little Claire is feeding some swans with bitouits but there is a sad look on the pretty baby-face that had never been there in her father's stately home in England. Lorenzo looked towards the child, and then taking Rosaura's hand drew her gently to the spot where the little one stood. As they approached, Claire glanced shyly up, and then turned once more to cast her biscuits to the swans. What would you with the child ?" asked the mother in a low tone, as she turned slightly away. I would speak with her, for she always avoids me, young as she is," he answered, smiling into her averted eyes; then, raising his voice, he called, < Claire, come hither, little one." The child approached with downcast face, and crumbling biscuit between her baby-palms nervously. Will you not learn to love me, my little Claire ?" he asked persuasively, seating himself upon a fallen trunk, ana drawing her between his knees. The child looked frightened, and the rosebud mouth trembled, as if she was about to cry. Rosaura stood coldly by. When she saw the little one's emotion, a gleam of impatience shone in her eyes, and she exclaimed hastily. Speak, Claire, tell your new father you will love him dearly, and do everything to please him." Little Claire drew back, and bursting into tears, ran to her mother's side, and taking hold of her dress, cried, Oh, no-no, mamma; I do not like him for a new father I Take me home-ch, take me home! I am so afraid, and I want my own papa Oh, I know that he is crying for his own little Claire I" Rosaura's face "grew pale with annoyance, and drawing her skirts from the clinging hands she walked away, whilst the Spaniard once more endeavoured to make friends with the little one, who recoiled from him as if by instinct. There, do not cry, my pretty baby," he said kindly: I will not vex you. See all the nice toys I have for you." The child only shook her little golden head, and breaking from him, ran once more to her mother, weeping as if her baby-heart would break. But the mother pushed her from her. She could not bear to look into the blue eyes, that were so like those of the husband she had dishonoured. Go into the house, Claire," she said impatiently, and do not come near us again to-night." The man looked with a pitying glance at the quivering baby-face, and turning to her mother, said, 44 Do not scold her, my Rosaura. Poor child! I wish she would learn to love me, and forget him I Go with her. my darling, and give her those toys I bought for her, for I cannot bear to see the little mouth quivering with sorrow;" and putting his arms affectionately around the mother's shoulders, he drew her towards her child, and, taking the little pink hand, placed it in hers. Lorenzo watched them go up the marble steps and enter the hall, then, with a happy song on his lips, he turned away into the green spring woods, where the birds were singing merrily, heedless of life's sorrow and life's tragedy. But his dream of joy and bliss was destined to end; that very hour the Fatea were marking off that portion of his life's thread which they would soon sever from their distaff. Lord Somerville had tracked him to the sunny land in which he had taken up his abode, and at that very moment was crossing the meadows towards him. The Englishman had seen the Spaniard come out from the shadows of the wood, and with a pale, set face, was drawing step by step nearer to him. The young Spaniard, wrapped in his dreams of rosy love, heeded not his coming, deeming him some stranger, or tourist artist perhaps, who was admiring the landscape that Titian had loved. At last he is rudely aroused from his dreaming, as a strong white hand grasps him by the throat, and a voice thunders in his ear, c, Hound I where is my wife ?" Lorenzo realised at once in whose grasp he was, and struggled fiercely to release himself. With a quick movement he drew his stiletto from his bosom; it gleamed in the noonday sun, and the next moment would have been buried in his opponent's heart; but the wary Englishman struck the knife from the descending hand, and a second later Lorenzo fell back, dead-shot through the heart! Lord Somerville stood for some minutes lookinp down upon the dead body, neither triumph nor regret on his face-simply the look of a man who has performed a duty, and is satisfied that the task, is fulfilled. It was only as it should be," he told himself; this man had dishonoured him, and he had sworn to slay him, and had kept his oath." For the space of nearly six months he had fought him, and at last had been guided to his retreat by a chain of events that had conspired to aid him. An hour before, he had set out from his hotel to find the villa in which Lorenzo and his own false wife were spending the early days of summer. He had come across him in the sunlit fields, and there had slain him. Fate had aided him, and he had retrieved his honour. Never again would Lorenzo gaze into the eyes of the woman he loved. And she? How would she bear the tidings of her lover's death? Stooping over the dead body of the Spaniard, Lord Somerville dips his handkerchief in the blood, and placing it carefully in his breast pocket, returns to his hotel. Retiring to his private apartment, he seats himself at a desk, and taking paper, pen, and ink, indites the following letter to his wife 41 Madam,—Accept the accompanying parcel, which contains a handkerchief that I have dipped in your lover's blood I would have presented it to you with my own hands, but that I might have been tempted to slay the mother of my child. The stain on my honour is now washed out, and I will await the arrival of my daughter at Venice. I send her old and faithful nurse to take charge of her, so refuse to give her up at your peril 1 EHIC SOMERVILLE." He gave the letter and parcel into the hands of the woman who had been little Claire's nurse and foster- mother, instructing her where to take them, and tell- ing her not to leave without the child. It will take you three days to reach Venice," he concluded; I must start at once, much as I long to see my child. However, the morning after I arrive, I shall expect you." Immediately after, Lord Somerville started on his journey to the Queen of Cities and the woman, with the parcel in her hand, set out across the summer fields to find her former mistress. On reaching the villa, she was shown into a pretty boudoir, hung with azure satin, where Rosaura was reclining dreamily in an arm-chair, and counting the moments until her lover should return-that lover who was already cold in death. On seeing the woman she arose to her feet, pale and trembling, for she knew her only too well. Whence and from whom come you ?" she asked faintly. I come from my lord, and he sends you this letter and parcel, my lady," replied the nurse re- spectfully, all unconscious of what the parcel con- tained. Rosaura took them, and then calling one of the servans, bade her take the woman to the house- keeper's room until she sent for her again. When the door was closed, Rosaura broke the seal of her husband's letter, and read the-to her-deadly con- tents. Pen could not describe the change that crept slowly over that marble face. Oh, for the brush of a Titian, to portray the despairing light in those eyes! —the pallid brow, clammy with the sweat of horror —and the lips livid those of a corpse! And then-- oh, sudden change !—the demon light of revenge and almost madness that gave back strength to the numbed limbs and heat to the frozen heart! Whither goes she, with that wild gleam in her eyes, and those clenched hands ? She pauses for a second outside a closed door; then opens it and enters. Seated amongst her toys is her child. She beckons her to- wards her, and the child comes, wondering in her baby-mind at the awful look upon her mother's face. Seizing the little hand, she dragged her with her from the house across the beech-woods, and out into the burning sun, guided as if by instinct to the spot where her dead lover lay. She reached it, and with a wild cry of madness cast herself by the side of the dead man; then, her lips unclosed for the first time, and heedless of the cries of the terrified child, she exclaimed aloud—41 Lorenzo-Lorenzo I dead- dead Pre- sently she raised herself with a moan, and looking around at the noonday brightness, continued, with a dazed look in her eyes, And yet Nature laughs at my misery, and is glad I" Then the look of madness came into her face again, as she saw the blue eyes of Claire-so like her father's fixed upon her, and seizing the child, she cried-" Vengeance !-I shall have vengeance t He slew my lover-I will slay Irs child I" For three days Lord Somerville awaits, in anxious suspense, the arrival of his child; and on the fourth morning the nurse arrives alone, with a letter, which she hands her master without a word. It is in the delicate handwriting of his wife, and runs as follows: 44 The revenge of the Englishman is bitter, but that of the Spaniard is terrible. I received your letter and parcel. Yes, you slew my lover, but I wept not. I was as calm when I knew all as when receiving guests in your stately English home. Listen now to the Spaniard's revenge: I took your daughter by the hand, and led her through the blazing sun to the spot where he lay, and taking the stiletto that lay by the dead form of Lorenzo, I plunged it into her body; then, with its keen edge I severed a golden lock from her head, which I stained with her blood, to send to her father in return for his gift. In the accompanying parcel he shall find it. My Lord Somerville, is it of equal value to the one you sent to ROSAURA, THE SPANIARD ?" Mechanically he took up the parcel, and as he did so, a little tress of golden hair, stained with blood, fell at his feet; then with a white look of agony upon his face, he threw his arms above his head, and, with a cry of horror that rang through every room of tbe house, he sank to the ground unconscious (To be continued.)
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THE first part of Berlioz's Les Troyens is in rehearsal at the Paris Opera. The second part, under the name of Les Troyens a Carthage," was' performed in Paris in 1863 in what the composer described as a very mutilated form, and new, 30 years after his death, the first part, which is called Le prise de Troie," is. to be given on the French stage. The work was first performed in its entirety at Carlsruhe in 1890, under the direction of Herr Felix Mottl. The distinguished composer is re- covering from his attack of whooping cough, which followed influenza. A RECOMMENDATION has been forwarded to the Prussian Upper House by the proper committee (says a Berlin correspondent), that Prince Gebhard Lebrecht Bliicher of Wahlstatt shall, on official proof being forthcoming that he no longer possesses Prus- sian citizenship, forfeit his rights as a member of that House, and be struck off the rolls also that the right to representation in the Upper House con- nected with the ownership of the entailed estates of Wahlstatt shall fall into abeyance. The Prince is the great-grandson of the famous marshal, and some years ago gave up his Prussian nationality, and was naturalised in England. j
HOME HINTS.
HOME HINTS. EGGS A LA DUCHElSE.-Boil half a dozen eggs foe ten minutes allow them to become quite cold, theii divide them into quarters. Put two ounces of buttef in a saucepan, and as it melts work in a tablespoon- ful of flour smoothly. Add seasoning of salt, and stir (off the fire) until the flour is sufficiently cooked. Then pour in a large breakfastcupful of stock, and add a tablespoonful of vinegar. Get ready a hot dish, place the eggs upon it, and pour the sauce thus made over it. EGGS AU GRATIN. Boil six eggs hard, and cut them in slices, a quarter of an inch thick. Next make a cupful of good white sauce to which add the beaten yolks of three fresh eggs; stir on the fire carefully, and do not on any account allow the eggs to set. Then take a pie dish, and having buttered the bottom, pour in some of the sauce. Next place on it a layer of the sliced eggs, then sprinkle some grated cheese (Parmesan preferably), and again pour on sauce. Repeat this process until the dish is full, taking care that the last layer is made of the grated cheese. Put on a few little dabs of butter, and bake in a hot oven. INDIAN EGGs.-Mince carefully some ham, to each tablespoonful of which allow the same quantity of fine breadcrumbs, as much suet as will lie on a shilling, and a little parsley. Mix all well together, add a dash of anchovy sauce (being careful not to put too much), a saltspoonful of mixed spices, and salt to taste. Boil six eggs for 10 minutes only, adding a little vinegar to the water to keep them from discolouring. Take the shells off with the small end of a teaspoon to prevent breaking, and roll them in the above pre- paration, afterwards frying them carefully. DieAl up with pieces of fried parsley between each egg. KENTUCKY BAKED EGGs.-Boil a dozen eggs until perfectly hard; take off the shells, cut the eggs in halves, take out the yolks and mash fine. Add a heaped teaspoonful of butter, a teacupful of bread- crumbs, and a cup and a half of milk. Mix them all thoroughly, season well with pepper and salt. Put the halves of whites in a baking dish and cover them with the mixture. Bake about 15 minutes. A GERMAN SALAD.—Take a pound of raw ripe tomatoes, a pound of carefully boiled sound potatoes, and a medium-sized fresh cucumber, and cut up the whole into half-inch dice, then put them into a bowl with a tablespoonful of very finely minced onion, a teaspoonful of chopped parsley, a large tablespoonful of French capers, 6oz. of chicken, veal, rabbit, or any other white, very tender meat, and 4oz. of either prime ham and tongue, out into fine julienne shreds, and sufficient of the dressing recommended for cheese salad" to just nicely moisten the whole, and when well mixed, pile up the salad in the bowl, garnish round the base with tiny heaps of boiled beetroot chopped small, and sprigs of pleasantly seasoned water-cress, arranged alter- nately, and serve. COMMON-SENSE IN THE MILK JUG.—Instead of raising such an outcry over poor and impure milk, it would surely (says a writer in the Agricultural Gazette) be more practical if the housewife would take average care of that she gives out for the use of her household daily. For instance, in how many houses is milk strained after it is delivered ? I ven- ture to say not in one per cent. It is handed in at the door by the -milkman, and only too often put straight into a jug used for all kinds of other liquids, which may or not be clean in fact, is the first that can be laid hands on when the milkman's ring or catcall is heard. Without any further care it is sent to table; if it remains sweet till the next supply is due, so much the better; if not, well, the unlucky purveyor hears of it. For a moment let us look at the better way of pro- ceeding. All vessels should first be washed in luke- warm water to remove previous traces of milk they may have contained, and then one, or if possible two washings with boiling water should be given. The milk on being taken from the milkman should at once be strained through a wire or muslin strainer into the china lining of a milk saucepan, hot water is placed in the outer tin jacket, and by this means the temperature of the milk raised as quickly as possible to 170deg. Fahr. If it is kept at this for thirty minutes there will be less danger of infection from II any of the common complaints spread by milk, and the boiled flavour which so many people object to will not be apparent. Milk which is not heated above this temperature is much more digestible than that which has been boiled, as in the latter case the albumen is coagulated, and is therefore less available for nourishment. SCOURING TABLES.—Scour wooden tables with the following mixture, which will whiten them wonder- fully: Mix ilb. of sand, fib. of soft soap, and Jib. of time. Apply with a scrubbing-brush and wash off with plenty of clean water. A VERY GOOD RECIPE FOR CHOCOLATE MOULD.— Boil one pint of milk in a china lined or enamel saucepan, add the grated rind of a lemon and two ounces of lump sugar. Do not let it burn. Take one and a-half ounces of good plain chocolate grate and slowly stir in the boiling milk; mix very smooth. Dissolve half an ounce of best gelatine in a little hot water. Add it to the mixture with vanilla or any special flavour you desire, and put into a wet mould. In hot weather keep in cellar till served. j COLD BEEF SALAD.—Chop very fine a spring onion, a little parsley, and a shallot, and mix well. Mix separately two tablespoonfuls of salad oil, the same of vinegar and of cream, a teaspoonful of Tarragon vinegar, two teaspoonfuls of made mustard, pepper, and salt. Cut your cold beef in nice, neat slices, tear up a dry, crisp lettuce, pour the dressing over it, j and add the onion, &c. Stir all well together and serve. Some people like the flavour of anchovy added. If so, put one spoonful of anchovy sauce for the two of cream. j KIDNEY SAUTE.—Cut three or four kidneys each in five pieces, put an ounce of butter in the pan when very hot, put in the kidneys, stir until set. Add one teaspoonful of flour, a little salt and pepper. Mix well, add half a gill of broth and a few mushrooms. Do not let them boil; a few minutes is enough to do them. SWEETBREAD PATTIES.—Blanch two or three small sweetbreads in salt and water, cut into dice, broil in butter, add chopped shallots, parsley, a tablespoon- ful of flour; season to taste, let simmer for a few | minutes. Moisten with a little white sauce; put the mixture into small puff-paste cases, put on their covers, and serve very hot. ALBION PUDDIIQG.- ave ready a greased mould. Put the weight of three eggs in castor sugar and in butter together, cream them. Beat three eggs well, and add them. Mix their weight in flour, to which you have added a teaspoonful of baking powder, with the other things. Stir all lightly together. Chop two ounces of candied peel, cut two ounces of pre- served cherries in two, and stir in with a wineglass- ful of miik. Put into mould or moulds, tie paper over, and steam for two hours. Turn out and serve with sweet sauce, or let it get cold and serve with custard.-ne Rural World. BABY'S SIGHT.-The modern perambulator or berceaunette on wheels has, to counterbalance its many advantages, a distinct danger to a baby's eyes, one which mothers want especially to guard against at this sunny time of year, Lying flat on its back the child looks straight up, and the brim of its hat or sun-bonnet is no protection to the sight. Therefore the carriage should be provided with a summer awn- ing in place of the winter hood, which will keep the sun's rays from shining directly into the poor little one's unprotected eyes with a blinding glare. I have seen (remarks a writer in the Sural World) many a nurse going carelessly along, with no awning up, apparently quite unconscious of the misery and danger to her little charge. Therefore, let every mother see that her child's carriage has an awning, and that it is used. LEARNING TO WALK.—I humbly believed that the last generation was so much less wise than this, that I was much amazed the other day to see a clever and superior child's nurse of to-day urging a heavy boy of 13 months to stand and walk. It was quite beyond him, and he flopped, every time, she tried in a cheer- ful heap; and when I ventured to suggest that until his legs were stronger he was much better off his feet," all she had to say was, she was going for her month's holiday, and she did not'want her substitute to have the honour and glory of her boy's beginning to walk." I never heard anything more foolish and downright stupid from the most antiquated and ignorant of old-fashioned nurses, and it reminded me that the old-faults and follies are with us still, since jealous vanity could counterbalance clear knowledge. When a baby's legs are strong enough he will teach himself to walk, and we only invite bandy legs, knock knees, and weak ankles by trying to force him. Let children crawl as early and as much as they will, this strengthens the muscles of their legs and things, but never try to anticipate the day when Nature teaches them to -alk und run without out into- ference. i
DREYFUS AT RENNES.
DREYFUS AT RENNES. Captain Dreyfus continues to be visited by his wife in the prison at Rennes, and his counsel saw him again on Monday. The town remains quiet, the attempt to promote demonstrations on the National Fete day having failed. Prince Henry of Orleans has written that -he will bow to the decision of the Rennes Court-martial. The Minister for War has superseded Generals da Pellieux and Julliart. THE PRISONER'S TORTURES. The Figaro publishes a letter from M. Louis Havet, member of the Institute, giving particulars regarding the ill-treatment to which Captain Dreyfus was subjected during his imprisonment on the Devil's Island. M. Havet says: On his arrival in Guiana Captain Dreyfus was not landed immediately, but was kept for four days at the bottom of the hold in a temperature of 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Latterly he was put on dry bread and water for a month. In 1896, when Colonel Piquart ex- pressed his belief in the prisoner's innocence to General Billot, the cage in which Captain Dreyfus was confined was surrounded by a palisade distant only 15in. After a year of this close confinement he suffered so much from a feeling of suffocation that the doctor insisted on his receiving more air. The height of the cage was thereupon merely increased. In a remarkable article in the Aurore, M. Clemen- ceau says that the torturer Lebon will drag down through history a dishonoured name for having, sweating from fear, added his last turn of the rack to the agonised prisoner. When the telegram was re- ceived ordering Dreyfus to be put in irons, the little forge of the lie du Diable was lighted, and they undertook to manufacture the instruments of torture. On the very first day the ankles, swollen by the pressure of the iron, became lacerated. A sore formed, sanious, putrid, and surrounded by a circle of inflammation. Was it necessary for so little to cease the torture? The idea did not occur to any- one. The sufferer, stoical, not complaining but extending to the executioners his tortured legs, asked to be told at least the reason for this new torture. No reply. For two whole months every morning the irons, stained with blood, were taken off to leave exposed the terrible wounds. Then the sores were dressed, to form the beginning of the scab which it was proposed to destroy in the evening. And so, indeed, it was. When the sun had set, the irons were once again screwed to the bleeding flesh, and the scab formed during the day served only by its cracks to render all the keener the pain which banished sleep. Mean- while, Lebon, delighted, watched every morning the Christian Anti-Semitic sheets, and noted with joy that he was not attacked. Such, at the end of the nineteenth century, is what has taken place in the French Republic, and there are some of Christ's tender lambs who are asking to begin again. Owing to these revelations of his inhuman treat- ment of Dreyfus, M. Deniel has been dismissed from his position of Goveraor of the Penitentiary on the lies du Salut.
DEATH OF THE CESAREYITCH.
DEATH OF THE CESAREYITCH. It was officially announced in St. Petersburg on. Monday night that the Grand Duke George, the heir apparent, died the same morning, at half-past nine o'clock, at Abbas Tuman, in the Caucasus, from sudden and excessive haemorrhage of the throat. This sad news cannot be said to be altogether unex- pected, for though little has been published lately about his state of health, it has been well known for some years that his Imperial Highness was in a very precarious condition, and that the best medical authorities could hold out little hope of his recovery. The Grand Duke was born at Tsarskoe Selo, near St. Petersburg, on May 9, 1871, and was consequently three years younger than his brother, Nicholas II., the present Emperor. As a child he was not very robust, but there seemed to be no organic defect in his constitution, and it was hoped tnat, with proper care and due attention to sanitary conditions, he might attain the physical strength for which the Romanoff family have been remarkable for several generations. These sanguine expectations were not to be realised. When he reached the critical age of 20 he began to show symptoms of a tendeney to pulmonary consumption, but the symptoms were not of so grave a character as to incapacitate him from pursuing his career as a naval officer, to which be was warmly attached. When his brother Nicholas, who was then Cesarevitch, undertook his voyage round the world, in 1890, the Grand Dukt accompanied him unofficially as a naval officer, but when the squadron was at Bombay it was found that he was suffering from a mild attack of Indian fever, and the most eminent medical authorities con- sulted gave it as their opinion that he ought to return at once to Europe, as there was no reasonable pro- bability of his recovering his strength in a tropical climate. The two brothers, who were warmly attached to each other, were thus compelled to separate. The elder curtailed his Indian tour in order to spend a few days quietly with his brother on board ship- in Bombay harbour, and Prince George returned at once to Europe. On his arrival it was found that the pulmonary symptoms had become accentuated, and the doctors decided that for some time to come he must spend a great part of the year in a mild climate. From that moment the life of the Grand Duke has been that of a confirmed invalid. After trying the climate of Northern Africa he settled at Abbas Tuman, in the Caucasus, from which place his death is now an- nounced. The laconic anrouncement that death re- sulted from sudden excessive hemorrhage of the throat indicates plainly enough that the cause of 0 death was the insidious disease which the doctors diagnosed nearly 10 years ago. The Grand Duke wns nominally Chief of the Horse Artillery of the Guards, Ataman of the Don Cossacks, Chief of the Cossacks of the Ural, and of the Irkutsk Regiment of infantry, but his real career was that of a naval officer, and in that career he might have gained real distinction. Of his per. sonal qualities aU who had the privilege of coming in contact, with him must speak with the greatest admi- ration and sympathy. By his death his brothel Michael Alexandroviich, bora at St. Petersburg December 4, 1678. becomes Heir Apparent to the Throne.
LORD SALISBURY'S HOBBY.
LORD SALISBURY'S HOBBY. It is stated by the Medical Press and Circular that Lord Salisbury has discovered gind completed an im" portant chemical process iH his private laboratory at Hatfield, and that the results will be made known to the world on his behalf at a forthcoming meeting of one of the learned societies. The scientific world has for long known that it had in the English Premier a devoted student to chemical science. Despite the arduous duties attached to his official post, he, nevertheless, snatches every available oppor- tunity of prosecuting his favourite study.
THE MECCA OF CRICKET.
THE MECCA OF CRICKET. Every schoolboy worth his salt, from the time he first handles a bat, looks forward to the dey when he can don the famous colours and enjoy all the delights and privileges of membership of the M.C.C. (says Mr. Randall Roberts, in the Windsor Magazine). Old members, when their days for active play are over, gravitate to Lord's on fine summer afternoons as surely as steel filings are attracted to the magnet. No self- respecting old Blue would absent himself from Lord's pavilion on the occasion of the Tarsity match any more than the Chancellor of the Exchequer would keep away from the House of Commons on Budget night Among the members there are certain old cricketing Nestors whose proud boast it is that for 40 years they have never missed a match of importance at Lord's, and who hope to continue the same pro- gramme, if they live, another 40. What a chance for the cricketer chronicler if he eould only secure a seat among those veterans. They are most of them full of reminiscences and could supply him with enough gossip about bygone heroes to fill half a dozen ponderous tomes. While discussing the ever fresh story of famous cricket matches, an enthu- siastic member told the writer last season that he could walk blindfold from the pavilion to the exact spot on the ground where the wicket was pitched in the historic match 21 years ago, when the Australians suddenly leaped into fame by beating a powerful M.C.C. team in a single day.
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AN Athens Correspondent telegraphs that the wheat harvest in Thessaly has proved unusually abundant. THE Prince of Wales's Hospital Fund for London has received a donation of £ 500 from Mr. H. L. Bischoffsheim. Two emminent physicians have found thai" out of 1000 piano-playing girls, 600 were physical wrecks. M. LAGARDE, the Governor of Jibutil, on the Red Sea, has arrived in Paris on leave, bringing with him it is said, a promise on the part of King Menelik ta visit the Exhibition next year.
THE WOMAN'S WORLD. I
THE WOMAN'S WORLD. I DISCIPLINE (says a writer in the Evening News) is very necessary for children, and they should be taught early in life that, however much they are loved and petted by their patents, still mother and father are reigning monarchs in the home, and that their word is a law to be obeyed without delay or question. Some mothers very foolishly over-indulge their children, and take no trouble to make themselves obeyed, but are content with threats of punishment to be administered by the child's father. I have a case like this in my mind's eye at the present time. There the child is a little boy, who completely rules his mother, and makes himself a perfect nuisance to her numerous friends and relatives. The child only behaves himself properly when in his father's pre- sence, and he, good kind man that he is, is regarded as a sort of ogre by his little son, 'for whenever the boy's naughtiness is too bad to be tolerated by his mother, he is carried off to the study for paternal chastisement. This is distinctly unjust to both father and son, and unless the mother sees the error of her ways and amends them, she will bitterly re- pent of her folly later on in having thus sown the seeds of dislike towards his father in the heart of the child, from whom he deserves so much love. IS IN some cases a poor complexion arises mainly from lack of exercise. Women who live an entirely sedentary life have a slow circulation and usually a bad digestion, and these are fertile causes of a muddy- appearing skin. Exercise gives rapidity to the move- ment of the blood, stimulates digestion, and calms the nerves, and is frequently more beneficial than any Bort of medicine, although it should not he in- dul ged in immediately after meals. Physicians are beginning to recognise the fact that drugs are not the most potent restoratives, end that exercise, peace of mind, congenial society, and recreation are not merely luxuries, but necessities if good health is to be pre- served. Chapped and rough lips are not only pain- ful, but disfiguring, and it is advisable never to go into the open air without previously using a little glycerine or vaseline upon the mouth. To moisten the lips with the tongue has a dry- ing effect upon the skin ultimately, and the habit is one to be rigorously avoided. Toilet soap of inferior quality is extremely injurious to the complexion. At first sight the following incident may appear extremely pretty, but when it is thought over it becomes almost ridiculous: A recent American bride carried into church with her a beautiful Persian cat. The bride in question was an exceed- ingly romantic young lady, and it appears that this cat was the first present which she had received from her husband to be, and she allowed her romantic dis- position to carry her so far as to turn to the one whose wife she now is and say she would take the first present which he gave her to church. The gentleman being in a merry mood purchased this beautiful Persian cat, presented it to his fiancee, and smilingly asked her if she intended to keep her word when the happy day arrived. She replied, Yes; and she did. Of course, one cannot help admiring the lady for keeping so honourably to her promise, but at the same time the whole thing strikes one as getting very near the ridiculous. WHEN sewing braid to the bottom of your skirt, be careful not to pull it tightly, or when it gets damp it will shrink and gather the hem of the skirt. Some people soak the braid in cold water before sewing it on, to shrink it thoroughly. SASHES are much in evidence both of silk and ribbon, and many scarves of tulle and gauze just passed round the waist, tied, without a bow, and left in long ends behind to the hem of the skirt, are to be seen. POLKA dots are the feature of the new hosiery, and blue and tan stockings are liberally sprinkled with blue, white, or red spots. For evening wear the silk hose have real lace fronts. SOME of the newest shirt blouses are made with a sailor collar pointing down to the belt in front. A dressy effect can be obtained by covering it with lace. MAKING hat crowns of flowers is one of the novel effects in millinery, but the latest form of vegetation used for the purpose is moss-not artificial moss, but the real thing. FLOWERS no longer suffice (a contributor to the Rural World remarks) for the ornamentation of hats; all sorts of small deer are added, for butterflies, maybugs, birds of paradise, and dragon-flies, appear to whirl and fly upon roses. But all is mixed up- foliage, flowers, fruit, and insects. That imparts a very amusing air to the headgear. The latest novelty in straw is to stitch the plaits with coarse silk of different tints, as, for example, white straw with black silk, or black straw with white silk. The plaits of two different shades of straw are stitched also together, one upon the other. There is still something more original in straw," making the latter from the bark of birch, poplar, oak, or cedar. This straw is cut into small strips, about an inch wide, roughly plaited so as to resemble the wrinkles and nerves of the bark; they are twisted round some wire, and that secures the shape of the hat. A duck of a bonnet," made in the new material, was garnished with black velvet and bunches of cherries; it recalled a basket of that fruit over- turned. A Itoque in the same straw had a bird stretching along the side, caressing, as it were, the hair. These original hats can be worn anywhere, ex- cept on ceremonial occasions. The Directoire hat is much in vogue; it is in black straw and trimmed with roses. A white or black bird of paradise is also suitable for ornamenting. Blue straw has many ad- mirers, and harmonises well with grey cloth costumes. White crin has also friends, with roses under the brim and pink or blue feathers outside. The strings to the Directoire bonnets are in tulle, pink or white. THE latest and prettiest effect in colour is the use of three shades of one colour in one gown. In mousseline de soie, with a skirt made of three deep, shaped flounces, and the darkest shade at the bottom, the idea is carried out in its prettiest form. PRETTY, cool gowns for morning wear are made of toile, a new kind of linen, dyed in all the charming delicate shades and the darker colours as well. A FRECKLE-WASH that is sometimes found efficacious is made of the following: One drachm of tincture of benzoin (the simple, not the compound), one ounce of rectified spirits of wine, eight ounces of rosewater and the juice of one lemon. AN excellent drying lotion for fair hair that is too greasy can be made by mixing a quarter of an ounce of powdered bicarbonate of soda, a quarter of an ounce of powdered biborate of soda. one ounce of eau-de-Cologne, two ounces of tincture of distilled water. This lotion also helps to keep the hair fair and bright, and should be used once or twice a week. A GOOD way to clean a white straw hat is first to brush it well with a small nailbrush and soft water, and allow it to dry; then place the hat in a quart of boiling water which contains a teaspoonful of oxalic acid. Dry and press, if necessary, with a hot iron, and then wipe with white of egg. KEEPING a good variety of shoes to select from is an excellent system, and is really economical in the long run but it requires forethought. It stands to reason that shoes, like other chattels, will last longer is properly used, thus fine visiting shoes are not suit- able for rough walking or wet weather; and heavy shoes, however good, are hardly the thing for a tea- party. Neat house shoes are in good taste for the morning, dainty slippers are evening wear. Of the latter, some of the newest and most fascinating are made of black satin, the toe and rosettes having small sprays of real lace sewn on as a trimming. t THE term 44 change of climate" is generally more correct than "change of air," since scientific men have asserted that the composition of the air is the same all over the globe. Still, this assertion is not absolutely true: the sea air and the mountain air differ somewhat in composition from the air of towns and the slightest difference has a great effect on some constitutions. The air at the seaside, where the barometer stands highest, is richer in oxygen than the air of inland and mountain districts, where the barometer is always lower, in this sense that at the seaside we draw into our lungs, at each inspiration, a larger amount of this tonic, ex- hilarating oxygen gas,