THE QUEEN'S FURS. f It has been noticed that the Queen has several times worn some beautiful sables while driving in London. She possesses a very large and most valuable collection of furs of all sorts, says the Onlooker." The Dowager Empress of Russia has given her sister several magnificent sets of sables, and a long satin coat entirely lined with the very best skins is only one of her many gifts. The Queen also possesses some very beautiful ermine robes which were the property of Queen Victoria, who positively disliked the smell of fur and never wore any even in the bitter cold November snow- storms at Balmoral when she drove in an open carriage. Sealskin was her pet aversion, and none of her household was allowed to wear it.
Motor-car building in America is giving em- ployment to 300 automobile manufacturing firms, whilst 2,000 firms make accessories. The returns Bhow that 86 factories produced in a year 18,000 machines, valued at 94,000,000. Ohio alone made cars to the value of 91,000,000. France may be making great headway in the new in- dustry, but so alIo it America.
I THE WOMAN'S WORLD. The most genteel women (says the "Evening" News'') do not fuss. They take their gowns and their fursiture and their jewels as a matter of course. They are unconscious of their veils and their gfcves, and they expect everyone else to be equally so. If they see an intimate wear- ing a handsome gown, they refer to it admiringly, but they also preface their comment with an apology. Their differences with their husbands are not aired, neither are the domestic upheavals. The repose of the well-bred woman is not the quiet of weakness. It is the calm of trained faculties, balanced so nicely that an earthquake may cause a change of colour, but will not bring forth a loud cry. Well-bred women are a boon to the human race. They help the world to maintain a high standard both of morals and behaviour. Brown is the fashionable colour just now. It must be chosen with careful regard to the colour- ing of the wearer. Seal brov.n trimmed with velvet of the same colour is always becoming; fair-haired and blue-eyed woman may wear golden brown the brown which has a suspicion of green in it is less generalIy,-jfc|eoming. Yellow is always good with brown -gilt buttons and trimmings with gilt threads in them are specially good with that colour. A great mistake which young brides often make is that of becoming very careless in their dress and general appearance in the house when company is not expected. The wives of men with a limited income are they who are most prone to err in this respect from a foolish idea that dowdiness means economy, but nothing is more fatal to the happiness of a family than the unfortunate notion that "anything does when we are alone—we must keep our finery for those occasions when we have visitors." Many a man is tempted to leave his home, tired of constantly meeting a shabby, untidy wife, and to seek amusement and gaiety elsewhere. On their return from business husbands or brothers like to see their wives or sisters looking fresh and sweet and attractive. No extravagance need be indulged in—a blouse of some bright colour, a clean collar, a bow of pretty ribbon, and the hair c neatly and becomingly arranged, will make all the difference in the cheerfulness and attractive- ness of the home. Baby should be taught from an early age to be tidy and clean to meet its father and those who are old enough to take their meals with their parents should never be allowed to come to the table until face and hands have been washed and hair brushed. They should also be taught that tidiness and politeness c in their own home circle are even more important than when in the company of visitors or in. another person's house. The husbands also should be careful to remove all traces of the dust and grime of the office or workshop, and pay a little attention to their toilet, before taking their place at the table or fireside. These little things may seem commonplace, but they are in reality very important means of keeping love in the home. I imagine that no sensible woman would be likely to wish to add a cubit to her stature. But that there are plenty of women who are desirous of adding two or three inches to their stature is abundantly proved by the ready sale in some places which was commanded by the so-called "elevators" when they were first intro- duced. Short, however, of having recourse to these barbarous and inadequate methods of bring- ing a woman nearer heaven, is there no means by which a girl who was intended by nature to be short can make herself tall—or at least taller? The answer may be given in the affirmative, and the means to be adopted are principally four. First, there is the obvious expedient of wearing very high-heeled shoes, but that is only the start- ing-point. and is of very little use unless it is sup- plemented by the other three devices. Secondly, skirts should, of course, be worn long, as nothing takes off so much from the apparent height as the short skirt. The third thing, which can, unfor- tunately, only be recommended to girls with par- ticularly good figures, is to have their skirts zaade very tight acrfuw fciic oiiij xxvr ono vrito has not seen this tried would believe how much apparent height it adds to a short figure. The fourth point is, of course, to wear hats as high as the rigorous code of fashion will permit, and the same thing equally applies to the dressing of the hair. It is, of course, unnecessary to add that all horizontal lines tend towards dumpiness, while perpendicular lines make for willowly slenderness. If these rules are carefully observed a girl with a microscopic supply of inches may deceive not merely the unobservant bystander, but the trained eye of a stage manager, into thinking that she is of fair, medium height. Petticoats always get shabby round the bottom long before the upper part shows signs of wear, so it is quite worth while to cut off the lower part, make a deep-shaped frill of alpaca, or any other material, and join on. Then you have practically a new petticoat, with very little out- lay either of time or mosey. Fans are smaller and many of them fashioned with an eye to attachment to the long chain. The large fans suitable for the opera and big social functions of the winter give way to mare natty and easily managed little arrangements. Empire fans, richly decorated with bone, pearl, ivory, or shell sticks are in vogue. What is required for a face "drying powder" simply is only a little plain chalk or plain ground rice, or plain ground starch. Neither of these, however, would suffice for a decorative powder, to leave on the face after washing, for it would appear in flakes, and the skin would look coarse and red. The powder used should be of the purest quality. In any case, it should be but lightly dusted over the face, and then all super- fluous powder be rubbed off with a soft hand- kerchief. The powders that leave a purplish hue on the skin should be avoided. Violet powder, which is perfumed mostly with crushed orris root, is good for toilet purposes, and a little hint worth following is to keep two or three tonquin beans in the powder-box. Their perfume is very sweet and delicate, without being too pro- nounced. Alum and tannin powders are recom- mended as a comfort to moist skins. Engagements rings among the Egyptians were always of iron, to indicate the mutual sacrifice of liberty of the contracting parties. One of the very earliest adornments of betrothal rings was a loadstone, which symbolised the attractive force which drew a maid from her own familv cirolo into that of her husband The ring waslsed as an accessory of the nuptial rite long before the Christian era. In early times gold monev used to circulate in Egypt in the form of rinfj and thus when a man placed a gold rinsr nn he? with h?swillth Wwa +t0ken that he endowed the marrincm nf Ih' rnf6 race the same idea in direJ, t !SLi Church of England, which bridp'! gr00m to Place the ring on the trond T +1? "With all my worldly fi endow." It is believed that the finger always been the bride's ring Take care of your expression, and the rest of your beauty will take care of itself! Nothing is more disastrous to beauty than bad babits such as scowling, setting the lips, "bridling" the chin, and wrinkling the forehead. A kind, cheerful person may thoughtlessly acquire the habit of frowning, perhaps in the effort to~see clearly, or by allowing the features to express too freely the workings of the mind. You may cultivate wrinkles by adding up columns, or planning the day's work, if you get into the habit of moving and contracting the muscles of the face in unison with the activities of the brain.
[IXL RIGHTS RESERVED.} 1 1 WOMAN AT BAT. BY MARIE ZIMMERMANN, I Author of The Bane of Both," tic. etc. I CHAPTER XXXI. I GONE! I j DAVIS was just at the point of putting the burning question to Roxana when Daphne momentarily frustrated his purpose by ning- ing herself into Roxana's arms, and implor- ing her to tell them the source of all this trouble. "Have pity on us," she cried wildly, "and put an end to this mystery." "Let me add my entreaties to your sister's," said Davis eagerly. He hoped that from such a communication some answer to from such a communication some answer to his suspicion might be evolved. Roxana lifted her dejected head. "Some time," murmured she mournfully, I must tell my tale. It may as well be now." Will you first explain the origin of your connection with the woman Waters ? asked j Davis gently. | "Yes," said Roxana, with her brave upward look. "I will take my tale from that point. Our family," she continued after a moment's pause, included a certain niece of my j mother's one Kate Houghton, a young woman of great culture, who was as poor as she was proud and beautiful." Daphne started. "I know, I know," she cried. She had great coils of black hair, and she wore a golden arrow in it sometimes. Papa brought fier flowers often, and she used to dance to us." Ah, you remember that! said her sister, With a fleeting smile. "Kate was a born dancer, and, except on a stage, I have never seen anything so wonderful." But what became of her ? asked Daphne, "Is she dead ? Yes," said Roxana sombrely. She died here amongst us as-Sillie Waters." "Our mother," continued Roxana, "was -an invalid, and my clearest recollections of this time are of her as she lay like a suffering taint on her couch; and of my father and Kate as they made merry together. I believe, Aunt Houghton, my mother's widowed sister, I was loth to let Kate come to us; but her means were limited, and she finally con- sented. "Daphne and I were quite young things When our cousin came to us. Fourteen months had not passed ere she and my father were missing one evening. A fare- well better was left for the heart-broken wife and the youngest child, Daphne. I, who had ever been my father's favourite, would live with him, he said in his letter, and the Woman whom he loved, he acknowledged With shame, better than wife and honour. "Six months later our mother died, and Daphne, went home to Aunt Kate. When the herself succumbed, my sister was ad- milted into an orphanage, where she passed Some peaceful years. Through this means it Was that I eventually discovered her where- abouts. A, My new mother, as I was bidden to call her, I utterly rejected, and-my father had hard work to keep the peace between us. Overcome by grief and remorse at what he had done, he turned from this woman, who had ever been his evil genius, to me, and Kate grew to hate me. Shortly after my mother's death she was lawfully married to my father, I should tell you. "Gradually a change occurred in the house. Strange men, who drank, swore, and gambled, came and went. My father would old by the furniture as he walked, and he and my stepmother often quarrelled now. Then one night, when he had been coughing for hours, one of the servants came to fetch me to him, and he died soon after. On the morning of the funeral my step- mother paid off and dismissed all the servants, and had into the house an old charwoman called Snuffy, whom I greatly disliked. My father's means, though ample, had died with him but the furniture and "plate would realise a handsome sum. "On the very day of my father's funeral my stepmother began to work her revenge. The first thing she did was to shear off my long curls, of which my father had been so proud. After that she drowned before my eyes my kitten, my rabbit, every pet creature I owned, in fact. Finally, I was dragged by her and the old woman Snuffy to the top attic, and there I was whipped by Day stepmother till her arms dropped. "Some terrible days came now for me. My food was thrown to me as to a dog for hours together I had none. Before long we moved to some dark, ugly place in Shore- ditch, which was neither more nor less than a den of thieves, among whom Kate ruled like a queen. As for myself, I was the butt of the company; was cuffed, kicked, and I half-starved into the bargain. Unfor- tunately, I was an able-bodied, healthy young individual, afflicted with a big appetite, so that to pinch my stomach, was really to put the keenest torture upon me; and this was the means my stepmother used to mould me to her wicked will. One day came a crisis. A woman nick- named Blinky, from a habit she had of Winking, and who was the mother of a man called Squinter, dressed herself and me in some good clothes, and took me, after a whispered talk with my stepmother, to a certain park in London. In a quiet part of the pretty place sat an old lady, who had fine clothes and white curls round her face, on a bench by herself. 'See that old party?' said Blinky. Well, I'm going to sit down alongside of her, and while I talk pretty to her, you're to nab her handkerchief and anything else you can lay your fist on.' "With that she made straight for the rbeDch. darting the fiercest looks at me. I could not, however, do what was required of me, and finally she did it herself. 'I wouldn't be in your shoes for a pen- sion" she said as we hurried home. That morning I would have run away, but the woman gave me no chance. My stepmother looked expectantly at us when we got back. Silently the woman Blinky laid before her a snow-white handkerchief and a purse, whence Sallie took a lot of silver, and address card, and two small keys. « < who got 'em ?' asked she sharply. I did,' answered Blinky she wouldn't.' She wouldn't, eh? said Sallie; and her "looks brought my heart into my mouth. '"M. F.R. muttered she, reading from one corner of the handkerchief. 'A dainty bit o' goods, I fancy.' Here the speaker looked with sad meaning at Baron Fulke. she**° y°U lcnow anything of this?" asked "O. yes." answered he. The old lady in question was my mother, and the initials represent Mary Fulke Rivington. I remem- ber the circumstances of the loss well, for the •I T?-S1 ca was some importance." Roxana y°Ur mother susPect us ?" asked -Afterwards we understood M°uctance? anSWered with — Roxana then went on- Horrible was the chastisement put upon for falling short of my stepmother's wicked will. I was now a revolting object. My clothes hung in filthy rags about my emaciated body, my mind overflowed with with evil. My better angel succumbed at last. It was bitter winter weather. An old sack, which two days' snow had soaked, was the only covering I had beside my rags. I had not tasted food these hours and hours w.-A)ast. An old man came along as I cawered. chilled to the bone, against a dark gateway. In an instant I had the rich silk handkerchief that protruded from one of his pockets in my grasp. Like a mad creature I fled to our lodgings. My stepmother and her cronies were at supper. I tore open my old sack and laid my booty beside her. They gave me hot food and drink. This fired my blood. I sang vile songs, I swore, I danced. Sud- denly my stepmother bent to kiss me. That sobered me. A knife lay near. I should have driven it into her if they had not wrenched it from me. My stepmother recognised the demon she had fostered. Never did she seek to kiss me again. "From that night my fate was fixed. Body and soul I belonged to them. A more expert and callous young thief than Pollie Waters, as they called me, was not to be found in the whole crew; and when I was sixteen—looking some years older, though- I was by tacit consent a kind of queen among these people. My stepmother—to her credit, be it said—guarded me as though I had been a cherished child, and I lived in this den as safely as under a father's roof. I was getting on towards seventeen, when it was decided that I should have an estab- lishment of my own, in which I should be visited by some of the company in special disguises, with a view to effecting an entrance into certain grand houses. Two such burg- laries were successfully accomplished; the third, planned nine months latter, was a failure. The object of this raid, in which my stepmother, the woman Blinky, and her son Squinter, with myself, were more especially engaged, was the carrying off of certian plate and diamonds known to be on the premises of a wealthy old widower, with whose sister, who kept house for him, I was great friends, and to whom I was paying a fortnight's visit when the burglary occurred. This widower, I should mention, was a con- nection of the Rivington family and hence it came to pass that Baron Fulka's father, then practising as a barrister, had charge of the subsequent prosecution. "This burglary, as I have said, was a failure. The old widower, moreover, came I upon us in the middle of it, and was wounded. That was laid at my door. Both my step- mother and Blinky swore that I had stabbed him whereas it was I who had sprung for- ward to save him, when Squinter, fearing an outcry, plunged at him with a knife. For months Detective Bond, whom law- breakers dreaded like the plague, had been, on our track, and things had worked up to a crisis generally. We were all found guilty, of course. Mine was the heaviest sentence- five years-for, though not fatally wounded, the old man, who was ill at the time, died from shock to the system. I had pleaded guilty straightway; but I was young and handsome, and bore up bravely, and the sympathy of the court went with me I think. "Conscience had now arisen. Day and night I writhed under her scorpion lash. The prison brought my lawless heart into subjection. It was there I resolved that henceforward—let my condition be what it might—I would always be an influence for the right and the good. In the face of great difficulties I had succeeded in getting a sound education, I should tell you. I learned to play on the harp and piano with abilitv, spoke several languages, and had a well-trained voice. Eventually I was released on a ticket-of- leave two years before the expiration of my sentence. As a matter of fact, I was still under the degrading necessity of reporting myself to the authorities when my sister Daphne came home to me. To cut myself loose from the shameful past was my first desire-a hard task, let me tell you. Many a time I sang at the kerbstone to get the wherewithal for a night's lodging. "Then one day, fifteen months after my release, I saw in an evening paper at a coffee shop an advertisement bidding Roxana Oax appear at a certain lawyer s chambers, where she would hear of something to her advantage.' This, I at once concluded, had reference to some expectations I formerly had from a wealthy godmother. By dint of great efforts I succeeded in establishing my claim to the bequest, which resulted in an income of two hundred a year while I lived afterwards it was to revert to a certain charity. Of the lawyer who had charge of my godmother's affairs I tremblingly in- quired after my sister Daphne, and heard with delight that she had also been remem- bered in the old lady's will. She was at this time, he informed me, comfortably settled as companion to a rich invalid lady, and her address was at my service. In less than a month I had her with me, and it was in the first week of her arrival -at my London lodgings that Daphne, in looking over a daily paper, saw the Shumleigh Hills Cottage advertised, where we eventually settled as tenants of the Squire. When you saw my sister in the Italian church, Baron," continued Roxana after a pause, she was travelling with some rela- tives of her employer, 'and had temporary charge of two children." I never saw Baron Fulke," said Daphne; and she looked surprised, as everyone did. "I suppose not, my love," answered the Squire's wife. "It is an incident known to the Baron and myself only, and can be explained later on. "Need I say that at times I suffered severely as to my situation. My sin, indeed, was ever with me. Of marriage I had no thought whatever, except as a blessing I had altogether forfeited. Then, in one ineffaceable moment, I saw the man I loved, and I sinned against him and his people. Now, when I stand self-accused and degraded before you, I know that my sin has found me out." Deep was the silence then. Davis was the first to get the better of his emotion. Mrs. Kynnesley," he began impressively, when the Doctor put up his hand with authority. "Let her alone," said he, "she has come to the end of her tether;" and he directed Wyon and Daphne to get her away for aa hour's rest at once. As soon as the exhausted Roxana was con- veyed from the room, Davis intimated his urgent desire to see her without delay, Quite so," answered the Doctor drily; "but the woman isn't cast-iron you see, and she must have time to recover herself." The two men then conferred as to the best course to be taken with regard to Fulke. Finally it was agreed that he should be con- veyed there and then to the Court, accom- panied by the detective, who was to give the temporary master there what explanation he deemed necessary, and then return to the Hall. A closed carriage was ordered to take Mr. Davis and another gentleman to the Court on business, and into this-the moon not being up as yet—they managed to introduce the Baron without any suspicion on the part of the stolid old coachman, who sat on the box looking straight ahead, and thought he was conveying an ordinary caller going home that way, perhaps—along with the detective. Dr. Kynnesley saw them safely off, and then departed himself, being in arrears, he said, with his business, and anxious to pull up. The mother had not returned, so that the Squire and his sister-in-law were now ^The husband could not rest anywhere. Midnight was near. He could wait no lQ?foeanswer came to his urgent call at his wife's chamber door. He opened it, and ^TheTovely place was still and empty. His beloved was gone! I CHAPTER XXXII. I I THAT QUESTION. I I As the poor husband looked this way and that, he saw protruding from the edge of • one of the knick-knacks ou Iter dressing* table the corner of a piece of white paper. It was an envelope, and his own name was written across it in his wife's handwriting. He tore it open. Breathlessly he read as follows There is no other way but this. Oh my hus. band, forgive me. If I have sinned, I now suffer. Heaven help us both.-RoxANA." While he stood there with the blurred missive in his shaking hands he noticed a dilapidated railway time-table lying opened on a chair. Some pencil marks occurred here and there. These, he noticed, stopped abruptly under a certain train timed to call at Shumleigh on its way to the metropolis at midnight. "Twelve-thirty," he cried, with heaving breast. He looked at the clock, and saw that it was on the stroke of twelve. Shum- leigh Station meant at the best of times a thirty minutes' walk. Then came a flashing remembrance of Sam being down with lumbago, of two horses that were disabled, of how soundly his folk slept as a rule. I can do it," he cried. "She's there, and I shall be in time." Hatless, with the tails of his dressing robe flying afar, he precipitated himself down the staircase. A twenty minutes' run brought him within sight of the station. There was not a dry thread on the man by this time. His lips were like to crack. The train came thundering in as he staggered across the hieh road towards the station doors. There was but one guard on tins parti cuiai occasion, and he was swinging himself into his place when the frenzied husband hurled himself bodily upon the departing train; and by one of those miraculous chances which sometimes wait upon such a crisis, and quicken our faculties accordingly, safely caught the footboard and the handle of a carriage door. It was but once in a way that this par- ticular train either picked up or deposited passengers. On this occasion one person only—a lady closely veiled and cloaked- had got into a third-class carraige, and one porter was deemed sufficient for the occasion. At the moment of the Squire's desperate leap upon the train this official stood, lantern in hand, near the guard's van. Turning suddenly, he saw and recognised, as the moonlight streamed down on the figure hanging there between life and death, the Squire of Shumleigh. He rushed with a shout of horror after the speeding train. Alas! the shadows of the curved pathway had already engulphed the thing. Now, the solitary Shumleigh passenger had caught a glimpse of the porter's horrible face, and had wondered as to the cause. She Jet down the window and looked in the direction of the station they had just quitted then to her right, and thus saw the figure of a man who had his back turned towards her, and was bathed in moonlight, hanging to the handle of a carriage door four or five yards off. She turned quite faint from. the shock. Oh, what should she do to help him How like he was to her Wyon I Just such another pair of wide shoulders 1 Just such light and shining hair! Then the tunnel which intervened between Shumleigh and the next station loomed ahead, and his rescue was now a matter of minutes only. Suddenly, as she leaned there with her veil flying in the wind, and the hood of her cloak on her shoulder, the man turned his head and saw her, and above the thunder of the rushing train, clear as trum- pet-call, she heard his mad shout- "Roxie Ob, my wife, my wife 1" Involuntarily, she veiled her eyes during the passage through the tunnel. When she looked forth again, the place where her beloved had stood was empty. She did not fall or cry. She would die with him, she said within herself, or save him. She leaped from the carriage as the train pulled up, and rushed upon a porter standing by. "My husband has fallen from the train," said she, breathless but rational. Come after me with lights and men. Quick, for the love of Heaven A couple of lighted lanterns stood near. One of these she snatched up. She then melted like an apparition from the man's sight. Love carried her, oh, so bravely on her awful way. Men, she knew, were hurry- ing after her. She heard them shout to her to stop, caught the flash of lanterns on the sullen walls, but beyond them, where death lurked, lay her beloved, and thither was her way. The tunnel was really little more than a quarter of a mile in length, but the horror of her situation made her journey across it as one of many miles. One of the pursuing men shouted out a warning of a coming train, and bade her stand back; but he said this at the moment when, in a patch of moonlight, prone across the metalled way, she saw the outstretched body of her husband. With one mighty effort, as an ominous sound struck her ear, she dragged thence and towards the wall. There was no time to think. With her burden held to her pant- ing breast she stood like part of the wall itself. Then the earth rocked under her, and a thousand thunders smote her ears as the monster rushed past. She vaguely realised that she stood safe with her dear burden that helping hands came about her; that she was lifted into strong men's arms, and borne she knew not whither. Then all things came to a merci- ful ending for poor Roxana. A whole month passed ere Roxana and her husband were again seen in their usual place in the household. Mrs. Kynnesley had no bodily hurt, but it was difficult to recognise in this hollow-eyed and emaciated woman, whose hair was white as snow, and who had the stoop of age, the Squire's one- time handsome wife. The identity of the two sufferers bad, of course, become known through the Shum- leigh porter, who had notified the station- master, and had been forthwith dispatched by him—no means of telegraphing being then at hand- to inquire into the fugitives' con- dition, it not being known at that time that the Squire's wife was in the train. The Squire himself was horribly cut and bruised. His left arm was broken, both ankles and his left shoulder were severely contused, and for the first fortnight after the accident which he said was brought about by the shock of seeing his wife look out the carriage window, he was a mass of sticking- plaster and bandages but a month's assid- uous care, as given by the mother and Daphne and Doctor Kynnesley, had worked wonders with both himself and his wife, whose appearance so pathetically proved thefixtent to which she had suffered. The wildest rumours were abroad mean- while. The Squire's previous illness, which was known to be a brain disturbance, was madetoaccountfor his share in the sensation but, whereas, it was the husband who was actually in chase of wife, it was Madam her- self, according to the excited villagers, who had gone after the sick Squire; and a hun- dred tales told the doings of that momentous night-of the Squire's mad ride upon the train, and his wife's heroic conduct. The rumours concerning the Fulke Court affair were mixed up with the Hall sensation in the most bewildering manner. Of the manifold opinions the most popular one was that the Baron had had an upset with one of his family, and been shut up for a time in consequence of the poor gent having gone off his head a bit," and those who supported this view of the strange business little dreamed of how near to the truth they were. The parties immediately concerned in the affair suffered the waves of excitement to beat themselves out, a policy of silence hav- ing been generally agreed upon. as the best course. Herbert Fulke, to whom Doctor Kynesley, acting on the detective's advice, had made a clean breast of the business, had departed meanwhile, and the Baron, of whom folk fought rather shy as yet, had his own again. He had been one of tile most assiduous in- I quirers after the condition of the husband and wife, neither of whom he had seen, how- ever, as yet. Davis was not at the present moment at Shumleigh, but in accordance with arrange- ment previously made, the detective was kept constantly advised of the progress of affairs by the Squire's brother, and the moment of his return thither for the purpose of winding up his remarkable case was im- minent, he knew. It was a month to the day after these calamitous events when Roxana, in reply to a request for an interview from the detective, brought matters to a crisis by asking Mr. Davis and Baron Fulke to attend at the Hall on a certain afternoon. It was her intention, she gravely informed her people, to give to the parties concerned the requisite explan- I ation of circumstances reflecting severely up- on herself. In this meeting she begged that her husband's mother, to whom Daphne had made many necessary admissions, and who was goodness itself to the suffering Roxana, should be included. Thus one late autumn afternoon they all met once more in the sunny garden-room in answer to Roxana's summons. Fulke and the detective having given their brief but earnest greetings and congratulations, all awaited with visible anxiety the expected communication. This Davis forestalled by suddenly coming to the point at issue. "Pardon me," said ne, addressing the mistress with a certain deference, "if I an- ticipate your purpose somewhat. As far as I am professionally concerned in this busi- ness, there remains but one question—a question of which I deplore the necessity, and which but for unforseen circumstances, would have been asked long ago. Mrs. Kynnesley, did you cause the woman Waters to take poison ? Oh, that deadly moment while they hung as for life upon her lips 1 "May Heaven forgive me," she moaned, "I did." (To be concluded.)
AN EMPRESS AND HER BATIL I The Czarina of Russia is likely to forfeit her popularity on account of her bath. Not that baths are disliked in the land of the Czar-on the con- trary, all classes and conditions of men delight in them. But people hold with the wise man that there is a place as well as a time for everything, 'd that an historic and, in some sort, sacred Aamber in the ^Winter Palace is not a fitting site for a swimming bath. When the grandfather of the present Czar decided to free twenty-five million serfs from bondage, after having signed the mani- festo he exclaimed, However long I may live after this, I shall not live to do a nobler deed He then expressed a desire that the room in the Winter Palace, in which he had put his signature to this historic document, should remain as it was, intact for all time. And during the 40 years that have elapsed since then this desire has been respected; but now the apartment has been transformed into a swimming-bath, and the precious documents which were in it have been relegated to various out-of-the-way rooms and garrets above. The Imperial Library of St. Petersburg is endeavouring to obtain possession of those papers, which might otherwise be lost to history.
SOMALI CAMPAIGN. I TRANSPORT DIFFICULTIES MAKE FOR DELAY. I General Manning, with Major Rattigan, chief of the staff, and Colonel Cobbe, commanding the Garrero flying column, have left Berbera on a tour of inspection of advanced lines of com- munication, defences, and outposts. The engineers are converting goat tracks into roads fit for wheeled transport. Tlfe existing means for the transit of wheeled transport are imprac- ticable, as the tracks are frequently precipitous and narrow, and in many places blocked by boulders. The mountain ranges vary from an altitude of 4000ft. to 5000ft. at the highest points of the passes. Moreover, the existence beyond the passes of long, waterless marches makes. it necessary to organise laborious preparations for securing water supplies. The marches from Berbeea to Bohotle are as follows: -Berbera to Sheikh Pass, fiity miles; Sheikh to Dubah, seventy miles, with water eight miles beyond Sheikh Dubah to Burao, thirty-two miles, with no water Burao to Garrero, seventy miles, with water eighteen miles beyond Burao; Garrero to Bohotle, fifty miles, with water fifty (?fifteen) miles beyond Garrero; Bohotle to Mudug, 120 miles, with no water. Colonel Cobbe will remain at Garrero with the flying column. Meanwhile the obstacles are making for delay. The health e of the force is good, and the wounded are pro- gressing favourably.
I HOW I WRI1 Mi PLATS. I A CHAT WITIf MR. LACRENCE EODGERS. Mr. Laurence Rodgers, author of that well-known Success, Susan," is an American who has lately made London his home, living in a luxurious but business-like flat at 10, Hanover-square, London, W. A Weekly Dispatch reporter found him arranging for production of one of his plays at a London theatre. "Unlike most playwrights."he said, "I do not consider myself a genius with a mission to teach actors and educate the public taste. Neither do I seek introduction to any lessee, manager, or a' r. Mr. L. Rodgers, the well-known Playwright. When I first began I had one success and several failures, but I looked upon the latter as pointing the road to future successes. I never tvork on a play more than four hours a day, and I don't believe in night work. I can account for the partial failure of my play 'Oh! Angeline' by the fact that at the time I was writing, it I was in very bad health. I was ill from the end of 1899 until the end of the summer, 1901, and during this period I consulted quite half a dozen doctors in America, England, and the Continent, but nothing did me any good until I heard of Dr. Williams' pink pills for pale people. What were my symptoms ? Well, I had severe pains at the back of my neck, my breath was very short, whilst for days together I had most severe headaches. When going upstairs I could scarcely breathe. Different doctors attributed my sufferings to lumbago, to chest complaint, to rheumatism, and heart disease. During my last voyage from America I spoke to a friend, who told me that if I bought just six boxes of Dr. Williams' pink pills as soon as I landed I should be a new man before I had finished them. He was right; my digestion and appetite improved. I grew strong and stout. Before my illness I weighed list. 131b., whilst my best weight during my ill-health was 9st. 41b. Three days ago I turned the balance at list 71b. When cases so severe and complicated arecured, it is no wonder that minor ailments—indigestion, bile, rheumatism, and bronchitis—yield to a few doses of the same pills while severe ailments, as paralysis, consumption, and kidney disease are cured by a little perseverance, as many published cases prove. On another page of this paper will be found an article on Heart Disease, and parti- culars of a case cured.
Miss Garlingharn: "I know I shall look like a fright with my hair done up this way. Photographer: "But think how much worn Miss Mardygrass would look with her hair in that style. Tha* will do, thanke. I think we have managed to catch your very best expression, madam. Yeast: "Do you know any difficult tricks with matches?" Crimsonbeak: "Yes; I've often tried to light a cigar with my last one,"
SUPERANNUATED WORK EES. A great deal has been said by public men respecting old-age and superannuation schemes; but little of a practical nature has been done. Mr. J. G. Graves, the head of a great concern employ- ing some 2000 workers in Sheffield, has proposed to the Corporation of that city aplan for dealing with the difficulty as regards the municipal employes; and is simultaneously backing his opinion" by starting a similar system in connection with his own firm. The scheme which he submitted to the Corporation in respect to their employes pro- vided that each member should contribute 1\ per cent. of his salary. A 30s. a week man would therefore pay 9d. a week, and the employers would contribute the same amount. As Mr. Graves works the matter out, he explained at a meeting inaugurating his scheme, after 10 years' service, if a member of the fund were permanently disabled that man would be entitled for the rest of his life to draw from the fund one-sixth of his average wages after 20 years, two-sixths after 30 years, one-half; and after 40 years, two-thirds. The idea was that up to 40 years a man should receive for every year that he had served the firm one-sixtieth of his pay; forty-sixtieths, or two-thirds, would be arrived at after 40 years' service. Similarly for old-age pensions. If at 65 a man had served the firm 10 years he would get one sixth of his pay; 15 years, one quarter; 30 years, one half. This was exactly Part I. of the Corporation scheme, which it was that had brought this matter to a point in connec- tion with Mr. Graves's firm, though it did not originate in that by any means for, as Mr. Graves said, he had had it in mind for years. A com- mittee representing the firm and the employes will administer the fund, and trustees hold it. Those who left, Mr. Graves explained, would draw all they ever paid into the fund, together with compound interest. In case of death a man's widow or his next of kin would draw all he ever paid in and all the firm ever paid for him as well. There would be absolute freedom par- ticipation in the scheme would be optional. If anybody wanted- to leave to better him- self he could do so and take his money with him. No one would be a penny the worse off. The worse that could happen was that he would have some money he would not have had but for this scheme. The girls who left to get married would take the whole of that money with them for the whole time they had been with the firm. The men who left to take new situations elsewhere could take what the firm had paid in for them for however long it might be, and the girls the same. Mr. Graves's practical solution of a problem which has long puzzled our statesmen will deservedly attract widespread attention. His workpeople are very enthusiastic concerning its advantageousness to them.
Writing on the connection between trees and rainfall, a writer in the Fruitgrower states that among the Cotswoldswholebill-topsarebeingeleared entirely, just because", some speculator has cast his eye upon the timber, and has "bought the lot." Every tree that is cut should, the journal contends, by Act of Parliament, have another planted in its place, and unless this is done the land in many places will become arid and waterless. Government might well plant some of the Chiltems with beech and fir for the use of the future generation of chair- makers, or the time will soon come when there will be no more beech, and then, where will be the industry of such towns as High Wyoombe ?
CHANNEL STORM. WAVES WASH OVER A TRAIN AND SMASH WINDOWS. There was a violent south-westerly gale in thfr Channel on Saturday, accompanied by a con- tinuous downpour of rain. Some exciting scenes were witnessed at different points along the coast. In the afternoon as the incoming cross-Channel steamer was drawing up alongside the Admiralty Pier, Dover, a terrific squall sprang up, throw- ing wave after wave over the pier and drenching: the passengers. One heavy sea struck the boat train with such violence that many of the carriage windows were smashed and the compartments flooded. Two dismasted vessels were reported to have been seen in the Channel, while news was also received that two sailing ressels had been in col- lision. The Dover hoy, the Bluebell, struck on the Goodwin Sands. The crew were saved. During the height of the gale a large two- masted steamer appeared in danger of running ashore east of Hastings. The Hastings lifeboat could not be launched owing to the direction of the wind, but the Eastbourne boat put off, but her help was not required. The Eastbourne lifeboat was brought ashore at Hastings. The crew were accorded a great re- ception by the crowd, and a collection was made. Thomas Boniface, the second coxswain, was washed overboard, but clung to a rope and was rescued. He was landed in an unconscious con- dition. Early in the afternoon a schooner hoisted sig- nals of distress off Lydd. She appeared un- manageable, and rapidly drifted eastwards. The lifeboat put off, but could not catch her. Off Hythe a tug took the schooner in tow. On Sunday night the steamer Southport, of and for Cardiff, arrived at Gravesend and reported having been in collision with the barquentine- Cavan, of Swansea, below Dungenes-s on Satur- day. Both vessels were considerably damaged. On some wreckage washed ashore at St. He- liers on Sunday was a Prayer-book with a page- turned down at the prayer, "For those in danger of death." Another piece of timber supported a Newfound- land dog, which was rescued by a boat sent out from shore. The brig Gabrielle, of the Newfoundland fish- ing feet, struck the Minquiere Reef, sixteen miles from Jersey, on Saturday. The crew took to the boats, one of which ar- rived at St. Heliers on Sunday with the men in an exhausted condition. No news of the other boats had been received. On Saturday morning while a whaler belong- ing to H.M.S. Royal Sovereign was conveying a party of nine men from Portland to the vessel she capsized. Steam pinnaces from neighbour- ing ships rendered assistance, and succeeded in rescuing eight men, but the ninth man was drowned. The first cold wave swept over New York on Saturday, and sent up the price of anthracite coal froih El 5s. to E2 per ton.
NEW CRUISER FOR THE NAVY. I The Admiralty has called for tenders for a first- class armoured cruiser of 13,000 tons. The cruiser, which will be a sister ship to one to be built at Pembroke Doek, will represent an entirely new type, being a central battleship with all her guns placed within a citadel instead of each within a casemate as in recent cruisers. A great increase is to be made in the gun power, several nine-point 2in. weapons being fitted. Something will be lost in speed, the rate anticipated being 22 knots, which will necessitate machinery of between 23,000 and 24,000 indicated horse-power. Although previous cruisers placed steamed 23 knots, these latest vessels will be able to take their places against the new type of high-speed battleships with only lOin. guns. •