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[ALL RIGHTS RESEIRViRD-1 !…
[ALL RIGHTS RESEIRViRD-1 HER VANISHED LOVER. i BY EDITH C. KENYON. Author of Which was the Heiress The Hand oj hi,9 Brother, The Squire of Lonsdale" &c. CHAPTER XXVI. STARTLING NEWS OF GERALD HARCOURT. IT is six hours later. The moon has hidden itself behind a bank of clouds. The cool wind stirs the trees, making their leafless branches creak and groan. It moans across the fields beyond the wood and comes back laden with voices of the night. No time this for a tender woman, a delicate lady, a solitary maiden to be abroad, alone and unattended in the darkness. Yet one comes along, with an active, unhesitating tread, upright in her bearing, fearless in her mien, with steadfast eyes fixed on the goal before her-a spot of intense blackness higher up amongst some rocks and brush- wood. It is Jessie. She is going to the cave in the beech-wood. In her hand is a covered basket containing food and drink, in her pocket is a purse in which three bank-notes —one her own-are lying. She is not happy about this errand she has undertaken, which yet she feels constrained to go upon. I cannot bear to deceive poor old dad- especially just now in the hour of his weakness," she says to herself, "and I felt horribly guilty when he said, 'Good-night, darling,' thinking I was going to bed. But mother would have broken her heart, she would have been in a high fever by now if I had not consented to take her brother the food and money she could not take herself. For her sake it was absolutely necessary for me to come. And perhaps for his because, wicked though the man is, if he has not committed murder it would be awful for him to suffer a murderer's doom. With all his faults, he did all a man could do for his poor sister last night, and risked being caught that he might bring her safely home. Yes, he deserves some pity and the chance of beginning again in a new country." At this point she has to bend her pretty, stately head J)eneath some over-hanging branches, and immediately after is startled by a fox rushing past her at full speed. The melancholy cry of an owl then is to be heard filling the silence and presently one flies by on noiseless wing. Then Jessie finds herself ascending a slight acclivity, and thinking as she does so of Gerald Harcourt. "What a hypocrite I am," she thinks, to try and make myself believe that it is for any other reason except to hear about him that I am really and truly venturing here." The thought that she may soon be hearing news of her lost lover acts like a tonic to her tired frame and flagging spirits, and she proceeds more vigorously. Meantime George, Mrs. Eden's brother, sits in the empty cave on a huge log, by a small wood fire on the bare rock, in the centre of the place. The fumes of the burn- ing wood impregnate the damp air of the cave, making it most unpleasant to breathe. Few of the clouds of wreathing smoke ascend through the opening in the roof above the fire, which is intended to do duty as a chimney, instead they hang in a dense dark volume over the lonely man sitting motionless by the fire. His pipe has dropped from his mouth, his head, heavy with slumber, droops forward over his hands. He is oblivious of all caires and all dangers, for he is asleep. Jessie arriving at the entrance to the cave, a mere jagged opening in the rocks, looks in and sees him thus, shuddering a, little as she does so. The firelight plays upon his stal- wart, unwieldy foi-iii-tlie great hands, the heavy head, the sullen countenance. Here is a criminal hiding from justice. Here is a brother who has broken his only sister's heart. Here is a robber, starving in all probability for the food which she is bring- ing. A wretch whose code of honour is absolutely nil. And she has come alone, defenceless and undefended to his lair. Bringing him succour, yes, but placing herself at the same time in his power. What if, after he has eaten and drunk, he arises, like a lion, and turning upon her, his succourer, rends her limb from limb? The thought makes Jessie tremble for a moment, then she remembers an ancient story of a lad who had power given him from on High, to kill a lion that had stolen a lamb, and looking up with quivering lips, asks for his strength. The next instant she enters the cave. And now her eyes are rivetted, not on the sleep- ing man, but on a little worn black bag upon the earth-floor by him. Not an ordinary black bag this by any means it is made of the best leather, and has a tiny silver clasp, discoloured now and scratched. Half open, it discloses nothing except a coloured handkerchief and a tool, in appear- ance like a screw driver. But, lying on the ground beside it, is a gentleman's well-worn pocket-book. Jessie knows the bag and pocket-book, having seen both many a time. Astonished, she looks at the sleeper again, stooping a little to examine his dress. Vest and coat are soiled almost past recognition, but she knows that they have once, been Gerald Harcourt's. "Oh!" she cries suddenly, standing erect in the dim firelight, and quite unable to keep silent any longer, "Oh, tell me! did you kill Mr. Harcourt? Did you kill him ? Dr did you merely steal his things ? With an oath, the man gets up and stands glowering at his visitor, with an expression on his face not unlike that one might have seen on a trapped beast's. Like an accusing angel, Jessie stands before him, with dilated nostrils, flashing eyes, and a hand raised up as if in denunci- ation of his cruel wickedness. Did you kill him ? she asks again, and the words come back with a mysterious echo from a subterranean passage beyond the cave. "Did you kill Mr. Harcourt? Or did you merely steal his things ?" She is so beautiful and her voice is so clear and musical in its tragic tones, that the man is unable to divest himself of the idea that this is a supernatural vigitant. Accordingly, being altogether overwhelmed he falls upon his knees, sobbing out, "Ha' mercy on me! mercy 1 I'm sure—as sure as I m auve—I only stole his things, and kept my mouth shut. That's t,he truth, I swear, the whole (ruth, and nothing but the truth "What has happened to him?" breath- lessly, imperiously Jessie asks the question, holding the man, meaJuwmle with the power of her gaze. I was his vnlefc. We were at St.'WiIfrid's -on-Sea." He hesitates. Yes. Go on,' co nniands Jessie, making an imperative gettura with her right hand, "go on." "Mr. Harcourt went out early one Monday morning in the beginning of April, for an hour s boating before breakfast. He never returned—the owners of that boat never saw jt again I Is that true?" » It's gospeltruth. May I never stand up again it it isn t every word the truth." Jessie believes him. It wag frOKn gf- Wilfnds on a Monday morning in Anrii that her Gerald disappeared. Bub w it she haa been told that he was called away by telegram? "Why," she demands, "why did you tell people a telegram had called your master away?" „ „ „ "I was sick of service, answers George, "sick to death of doing another man's bidding. I gave it out that my master had been telegraphed for, then I packed up his I things, and went away with them, pretend- ing I was following him." But about the boat ? Was it not missed ?" It was. That was a bit hard on the owner. He hadn't caught Mr. Harcourt's name rightly and so couldn't say what, gent had hired his boat. He had his Joss advertised though. There was big notices put up and advertisements in the local papers, so I wr-s told. And Mr. Harcourt was described, though badly." "I didn't see any advertisements. I wonder how that was." Forgetting the delicate situation in Which she is placed, Jessie speaks naturally, as if to herself. Instantly George recovers his wits, and rising, says in surly tones, "Who are you that comes here asking me all sorts of questions ? "I have come from Mrs. Eden," answers Jessie quietly. "She has sent you L-20. I have promised her I will give you another £ 10 of my own, if you will give me all Mr. Harcourt's things that are in your possession, and will tell me the truth about them." George gives an awkward laugh. "I'm blest if I didn't think you was an accusing angel!" he says. Well, I've telled you the truth about Mr. Harcourt. He went out in a boat that Monday morning, and. never returned, leastways I never heard of his returning." Did you ever make inquiries, or look for him?" "Not I. He was the last man I wanted ever to see again. I'd got his things, a tidy bit o' money and his clothes, and, lest be should turn up again, I took 'em all where they wouldn't be so easy to find." You speak very calmly of this theft," Jessie is trembling with indignation. Leav- ing his master to perish out at sea in an open boat, he had only thought of enriching himself by the mischance—if indeed all this was true. Oh, it's only an old story now," he answers. "I've robbed lots of folk since." Jessie shudders. Are you not afraid, she asks, "are you not afraid that your punishment will come." "Well, I think I've had enough of it lately," he says, "starving 'ere, afraid to put my nose out of this hole! I've had a beastly time as ever was!" You will have a worse," says Jessie, solemnly. The &oul that sinneth it shall die. "Oh, come now," he speaks very roughly. Doii't you preach!" Hand over the money, will you?" Jessie regards him sternly for a moment or two, then, seeing he will brook no more lecturing, she silently hands over twenty pounds, in gold and notes. These are from your sister, she says. "And here, offering the covered basket, is food and a flask of spirits she has sent also. You are only to take a little of the latter if you are ill, or hurt." The man mutters a little, as he takes the things, but whether this is intended for thanks, or is merely grumbling, Jessie does not know." "And your £ 10 ? he asks greedily. "Will you give me the things of Mr. Har- court's you have here ? she asks. What if I refuse ? "Then," responds Jessie, promptly, "you shall not have my ZIO." "How will you prevent it?" I shall know how," she says, quietly. There is power in her tone, and power, too, in her wise reticence. The man is over- awed. He picks up the pocket-book, turns out the contents of the bag, feels in his pocket, takes out a gentleman's purse, empties it in his hand, drops the purse, with the pocket-book, into the bag, and gravely hands it back to Jessie. Is that all ? she asks. "All," he answers. "And you are quite sure you do not know where Mr. Harcourt is now ? ttij I'm certain I don't know," is the instan- taneous reply. "Very well." Jessie hands hihi a ten- pound note. "Take this," she says, "and in another hemisphere remember that honesty is the best policy, and try to be an honest man." I will," he says, but whether mockingly, or in earnest, she cannot tell. "You may say that I said so to Hannah. 'Twill please her, poor soul!" 11 "I will. Good-bye." With the bag in her hand, Jessie turns to leave the cave. As she does so the man springs forward, with outstretched hand and an evil glitter in his eyes. Jessie, turning, looks straight into his lowering gaze. For several seconds there is a duel of the eyes. Then, with a forced laugh, George suffers Jessie to depart. I CHAPTER XXVII. I YOU, TOO, JESSIE "JESS, you're the best girl in the world exclaims Mrs. Eden, when Jessie comes into the parlour to acquaint her with the success of her errand. "When I think—when I think," she continues, weeping, "how bad I was to you, and then, for you to ha.ve been so downright good to me, I feel that I can never repay you—never, however long I live! "I am glad to have helped you," says Jessie, softly, "though very, very sorry it had to be done in that way." She speaks sadly; indeed her heart is exceedingly heavy at the thought of having done that of which her dear old father would disapprove. Mis- givings, too, come to her as to the wisdom of having assisted a man so devoid of honour and right feeling to escape to another country. She has, however, obtained news of Gerald Harcourt, which otherwise she might never have received, and it; is satis- factory inasmuch as it accounts for his in- explicable disappearance from St. Wilfrid's. But what comfort is there in it? Gerald Harcourt went out in a boat, and never returned. One of two things must have happened, either he was drowned, or he was picked up by some passing vessel. If the first, Gerald is dead, and there is no happi- ness in that. If, on the other hand, he was picked up by some passing vessel he would eventually have been set down somewhere 1 either at a French, or British port, and then, might have at once telegraphed, or written to her. Considering at what a critical point in his wooing he left her that is certainly the least that he could have done. And Gerald Harcourt wasn't the sort of man to shirk doing it. She greatly feared therefore that lie must have been drowned. Perhaps he lost an oar, or broke one, or illness came upon him when he was out of sight of the other boats? Or be might have fainted and fallen overboard. Oh, there were a great many things that might have happened, and Gerald must certainly be dead. Gerald dead! Every joy seems to have gone out of her life. It all looks colourless and limp. Why was she born? Why does she live? What is there in the future for her? Gerald is dead. "How white you look, Jess!" cries her step-mother. "What's the matter ? "Never mind me," answers Jessie me- chanically. I! doesn't matter about me." To herself she adds, "Gerald is dead. That is aU I care for." Sinking into an armchair, she sits drooping forward, in an attitude of the utmost despondency. "Make yourself a cup of tea., Jess," Mrs. Eden's tones are beseeching. She is terrified at the sight of the girl's face and attitude. Jessie shakes her head, as she looks up. "Too much trouble," she says, and indeed she feels as if she could not do it. "No, no. Don't give way. Rouse your- self, Jess. Call, Susan—she's a bad girl, she ought to have left you some tea ready as I rtold. her before she went to bed. She thinks of nobody but herself. Do you know she has scarcely been near me since you wen t out ? She is young." Mechanically the excuse falls from Jessie's pale lips. She's full of that Slater. I know she is," cries her mother, excitedly. "She won't tell me what has been going on between them lately. But I know something has. And after the way he behaved to you, she ought not to look at him." "No. That should be stopped." Jessie rises. "I think I will go and see if father is sleeping," she says. Ay, do. I doubt whether Susan and Jane have left him right comfortable. But take your hat off, Jess," the invalid adds, "take your hat off, or he will be suspecting you have been out, somewhere." Jessie removes her hat, but feels too tired to take off her warm jacket. She does not think her father will not notice it. He was never one to observe little differences in dress, and now there are not many things he does notice. Going into his sick room, she finds her father awake and to her surprise sitting up in bed. "Why, dad!" she cries, "dad! Can you be really sitting up ? "Yes, thank God, I can," he answers. "I believe I am going to get better, Jess." Oh, that is good hearing! I'm so glad, I am so very glad!" Jessie goes up to him, and, putting her arms round his neck kisses his dear old face. "Why, you're crying, Jessi" "I'm so glad." Crying for joy, Jessie mine ?" "Partly," answers Jessie; too honeat to allow him to think her tears are all flowing for joy. Through her mind rings the troub- lous refrain, Gerald is dead! Gerald is dead!" "What troubles you, Jessie?" her father asks tenderly, "for I'm sure something is troubling you, or yours would be unmixed joy at my partial recovery." Jessie longs to tell him all, but dares not, for her step-mother's sake, so, girl-like, she cries the more. "Where have you been, darling?" asks her father, perceiving that she has her jacket on. "Oh, outside," she answers, as uncon- cernedly as she can, "a little way." "For a breath of fresh air?" he asks, perplexed. "It was sweetly fresh," responds Jessie, I evasively. Her father shakes his head. Don't cloud my joy to-night," he says, "by not being quite open with me." Jessie flushes up. Anything so like a reproach she has never heard from his lips to her since she returned home. "Dad," she says, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. Dad, I hate to have a secret from you—but this one is not my own." "Then I trust, my dear, it is not your mother's—I mean your step-mother's." Jessie tis silent. She sits by her dear old father, with a slightly averted face, for the first time in her life. My child," he says, it is not right and fitting that I should b!ame my wife in your hearing. But, lest she should do you harm, I must be open with you and tell you that her integrity is not to be relied on. She has deceived me again and again. Jessie, if ever you get married, take care that you never deceive your husband. If you once do it, if he once finds that you have told him, or that you have acted a lie, his opinion of you will be lowered for all time. Jessie, your step-mother married me with a lie upon her lips. It was in this way She had a scamp of a brother, so wicked that I could not marry his sister. She told me the tales about him were not true. But they were, and after we were married he came here. I found them plotting together. I sent him to America and forbad them ever to hold communica- tion with each other. He promised that he would stay in America. She promised to have nothing to do with him. But several times during this past year I have been under the impression that the man has re- turned, and that he is in this neighbour- hood. Your mother denies it; slue denies it absolutely. Yet I read it in her face. Her accident has had something to do with him. I know it, as well as if it had been told me. Yes, and you know it, too," he stops short, looking at Jessie's changing colour, with searching eyes. Where," he asks, where had your step mother been that night she broke her leg? Where have you been to- night?" There is silence in the room except for the low sound of weeping—Jessie weeping. It smites on the father's heart, like blows, bitter and heavy. His face grows ashen in its hue as he listens. "Is it for this?" he asks; "Is it for this that I am returning from the brink of the grave? Can it be possible that you, too, Jessie, you too, are deceiving me, and keeping something from me?" Ob, dad Jessie puts out a trembling hand. "Oh, dear dad!" she tries to take hold of his. He withdraws his hand. It is a slight action, but significant. He has never with- drawn his hand from her before in all his life. She feels stricken, and turns deadly pale. If only this was her own secret, ah! how gladly she would tell him it! But feeling she cannot betray the wretched woman who lies helpless on her bed in the room close by, she makes one more appeal. "Dad," she says, "did I ever withhold from you one of my own secrets. I told you about Gerald Harcourt and everything. About myself, too, I have been quite frank and open with you." "Where have you been to-night?" His voice is stern. There is no answer. Jessie cannot even weep, though her eyes burn painfully, as if with unshed tears. "With whom have you been talking out- f,-ide ? Dad implores Jessie, dad, I would tell you willingly, most willingly, if it were not another's secret." Was it your step-mother's brother George ? Jessie does not answer. Her silence tells him all. "You too!" he says in a choked voice. Then, pointing to the door, he adds, in what is to Jessie a truly terrible voice, "Go. Leave me. Jessie is mine no longer." (He means she is no longer his entirely, as she was before). Weeping bitterly, Jessie leaves the sick room. The next few days are truly miserable ones for her. In the background of all her thoughts is the belief that Gerald Harcourt is dead. In the forefront is the knowledge that her father is deeply grieving over her lack of confidence in him. Mentally he sees her step-mother and the latter's wicked brother ranged with her against him, her father, who so dearly loves her. His mental worry and uneasiness reacts, too, upon his weak body, so that there are times when he seems to lose the advantage he has gained, and then, he can no longer sit up. Susan openly triumphs over Jessie, he- cause it is she who is most frequently asked for by the sick man. He has questioned the younger girl and is certain that she does not know of any clandestine meetings, with her wretched uncle. Susan has her own secrets from him; but of them he knows nothing at all. Jane is mystified and indignant at all this. She takes upon herself the task of remon- strating with, her master. "Whatever has that blessed.lamb Miss Jessie done?" she demands, "that you should choose Miss Susan before 'er? Oh, master, dear, you must let me speak. I can't a-bear to see I Miss Jessie looking so cast down. There's never one of 'em loves you like she does. And now you're getting better, and she ought to be so happy "Jane, you are forgetting yourself," says the old man, with much dignity. But when the maid has gone away, tears, the helpless tears of the aged, faU slowly down his cheeks. Mrs. Eden is too ill to discuss the matter of her brother, now, with Jessie. Rheu- matic fever has set in, and it is exceedingly, difficult to keep her from disturbing the setting of the broken leg, when, racked with pain, she tosses to and fro. Jessie is obliged to procure the services of a trained nurse, with whom she watches, turn and turn about. Dick does all in his power. He cannot understand his father's atti tude towards Jessie it is so entirely opposed to their pre- vious relations. I do believe, Jessie," he says once, when he comes upon her grieving, that poor father's mind is a little affected by his stroke.' They al ways say that when it is so the patient turns against his best friends." "But it isn't that, Dick dearest," says Jessie truthfully. "No. I have been so un- fortunate as to displease him, and I must bear the consequences." Dick questions and cross questions her, but can obtain no further information, and so he goes away, at last, feeling a little annoyed with the poor girl. And, all the time, the melancholy refrain rings in her mind, Gerald is dead-is dead —is dead 1 11 (To be continued.)
LABOUR DAY IN LONDON.
LABOUR DAY IN LONDON. Hyde Park was the scene on Sunday of a May Day demonstration by labour men. Glorious weather had attracted a large number of people to the Park, and the entry of the procession excited their interest, but few took any notice of the subsequent proceedings. Six platforms were ranged in horseshoe fashion near the Marble Arch, and from these speeches were made by a number of members of the London Trades' Council, the Social Democratic Federa- tion, and various trades unions.
A MAJOR'S SAD DEATH.
A MAJOR'S SAD DEATH. Major S. C. Townsend, of the Royal Artillery, attached to the Ordnance Department, and in charge of the Bullpoint Factory, was found dead in a field near Devonport on Sunday after- noon, shot through the heart. He went out shooting in the morning, but did not return for lunch, and his wife found him lying under a hedge with a rifle by his side. The waistcoat was singed, and bore the impression of the rifle barrel.
£ 4000 JEWEL ROBBERY.
£ 4000 JEWEL ROBBERY. Dublin's principal hotel, the Shelburne, has been the scene of a sensational and mysterious robbery. Mrs. Conduit, of London, who had come over to Dublin with her husband for the royal visit, was preparing to attend the "command" per- formance at the Theatre Royal, and opened the locked case in which she kept her jewellery, valued at over £ 4,000. She had occasion to leave the room for a moment, and when she returned she was horror-stricken to find the jewels had gone. An examination of the room resulted in the finding of a piece of paper attached to the win- dow with the word Apples" written upon it. It is generally believed that the coup was the work of a gang.
- ROYAL ACADEMY BANQUET.
ROYAL ACADEMY BANQUET. The Royal Academy held its annual banquet on Saturday evening at Burlington-house, in Pic- cadilly. The chair was occupied by the Presi- dent, Sir E. J. Poynter, and there was a large and distinguished company of guests. Lord Sel- borne, in responding for the Navy to the, toast of "The Navy, Army, and Reserve Forces," gave a humorous account of the manner in which the captains of a British and an American cruiser had rccently superintended the "annual revolu- tion" in a port which he would not name. Mr. Arnold-Forster, in responding for the Army, re- gretted the absence of accepted professional opinion in regard to the great military problems of the Empire, and welcomed what was being done towards the creation of such an opinion. It was time that we set our house in order and he believed they would find in the Army Council a body as devoted to the country's interests, and as single-minded in its endeavours to serve those interests, as even the Board of Admiralty. £ £ The Lord Chancellor acknowledged the toast of "His Majesty's Ministers," and dwelt on the conclu- sion of the Anglo-French Agreement as a hope- ful indication of the growth of a feeling through- out the world that there were better ways than war of settling international differences. Mr. John Hare responded to the tcast of "The Drama," the Lord Mayor to that of "The Lord Mayor and Corporation, and the Master of the Rolls to that of "The Guests," proposing "The Royal Academy," to which the President replied.
[No title]
Mr. Kor-Ko-Ya, a Greenlander, who has nxoijo- polised the commerce of East Baffinsland, is a miniature Pierpont Morgan. I-le t ol L fourteen vessels and is worth £2,500, which is equal to a million in a less simple community. He lives in a wooden hut, and possesses the luxuries of a table and a paraffin lamp. He recently celebrated the fortieth anniversary of the foundation of his business, his employees drinking his health in cod-liver oil. The early parish register of West Kirby, on the Wirral Peninsula, which has been missing from the church safe for over 100 years, has been restored through a reader at the Wigan Free Library, who brought the important docu- ment to the librarian. The register covers the [period between 1561 and 1619, contains from 5 000 to 6,000 entries, and is written throughout on vellum. Curious entries include a complete list of all the victims of the plague which deci- mated the Wirral Penimula ixL iU4
I NELLIE FARREN'S FUNERAL.…
I NELLIE FARREN'S FUNERAL. I The depressing weather of Monday in London did not prevent very liAge crowds of people, both at the house in Sinclair-road, West Kensington, where she lived and died, and at Brompton Cemetery, where her remains were buried, from assembling to pay a last tribute of respect and remembrance to the late Nellie Farren (Mrs. Soutar), for so many years the popular idol of London playgoers. From many eld friends and admirers came masses of beautiful flowers which filled two carriages and completely covered the coffin on its four-horsed hearse. Among those who sent wreaths were Mr. Toole and Mr. Edward Terry, who knew her from the beginning of her career on the stage; from the "gallery boys and gallery girls who had often applauded her in the old days of the Gaiety; from the director and staff of Drury Lane Theatre; from Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft, Mr. John Hare, Miss Florence St. John, and a host of others. The remains were first taken to the Church of St. Matthew, where the first portion of the service was conducted by the vicar, the Rev. J. S. Shtilds, and the funeral procession then proceeded to the cemetery. In the carriages following the hearse were Mrs. Soutar's two sons, Mr. H. and Mr. J. F. Soutar, Mr. Edward Terry, and others. At Brompton Cemetery an immense crowd was present. Undeterred by the rain and damp ground, the people lined the path leading to the grave in the centre of the cemetery, near the south-eastern colonnade. Mrs. Hollingshead represented Nellie Farren's famous manager, her husband, Mr. John Hollingshead, who was not well enough to attend at the grave-side with many other old friends. The coffin bore the inscription Ellen Soutar (Nellie Farren), born 1848, died 1904," and after it was lowered into the grave, lined with laurel, ivy, and forget-me-nots, and covered with flowers, many crowded round to get a last look at it.
--BOATING ACCIDENT.
BOATING ACCIDENT. FIVE LIVES LOST. A boating accident occurred on the Humber, near Hull, on Sunday, and resulted in the loss of five lives. Early in the afternoon eight men, all of Hull, set out in a sailing boat from Marfleet Creek for Paul!, up the river. There was a south-westerly breeze blowing. When about half-way the boat suddenly capsized, all the occu- pants being thrown into the water. A tug put out to their assistance, but only three men were rescued.
•« JB.-P." AND THE BOYS' BRIGADE
•« JB.-P." AND THE BOYS' BRIGADE On Saturday Major-General Baden-Powell visited Glasgow, and in the afternoon inspected the Boys Brigade on the drill-ground of the 1st Lanark Rifle Volunteers at Yorkhill. The members of the different companies assembled at their respective headquarters and marched to Yorkhill, where they were drawn up in battalions, which numbered ten in all, with an approximate strength of 7,000 officers and men. 'General Badefi-Powell rode on to the field, and was received with the general salute. After he had ridden round the ranks and made a minute inspection of the boys, the brigade under the command of Captain W. A. Smith, 1st Glas- gow Company, was moved into position for the march past.
WELL-KNOWN COMPOSER DEAD.
WELL-KNOWN COMPOSER DEAD. M. Dvorak, the well-known composer, died at Prague on Sunday. Pan Antonin Dvorak was born at Muhlhausen, Bohemia, in September, 1841. He was a gifted musician, and for some time held the post of director of the New York Conservatoire. His compositions included the oratoria "St. Ludmila," a Symphony in D, "Jacobin," an opera?, and a cantata, "The Spectre's Bride."
I SOMALI CAMPAIGN.
I SOMALI CAMPAIGN. I ANOTHER FIGHT. According to despatches just received from Somaliland, dated April 4, the first brigade has been blocking all the passes from Sorl into the Nogal since March 16. The 2nd Brigade and Kenna's mounted infantry had been chasing the Mullah in the north, and found that the dervishes had fled from Jidali to Gebbi. The mounted infantry had had an encounter with a party of forty Dervishes, all of whom were killed. The Britisn captured 25 rifles and 500 rounds of ammunition. It is stated that, however much the Mullah's people may be temporarily scattered, he still has the bulk of his rifles, as only a small proportion were captured from him. Referring to the depar- ture of the troops, a private letter says The tribes will be glad to see the backs of the troops, but at the same time dread the consequences. Several big men have sold out their live stock and invested their money in Aden, and it seems clear that we shall have to organise the people in their own defence."
I IN STRANGE TIBET.
I IN STRANGE TIBET. I INHABITANTS WISH THE MISSION MAY STAT FOR EVER. In addition to the Gyangtse market being bodily removed from the town and located in front of the mission camps, hundreds of men and women driving laden asses reach the camp daily with fodder and country produce for sale. No resent- ment is shown at the presence of the mission, which the townspeople hope will stay there for ever. The purpose of the mission is well under- stood by the common people, of whom a larger percentage are able to read and write than in India, and who follow quite intelligently the pro- gress of the foreign policy of the Dalai Lama. They say they know we have no desire to annex their country.
I" A CLOSE CALL."
I A CLOSE CALL." v Vivid colouring is given to the operations in Tibet in a series of mail despatches from Brigadier-General Macdonald and Colonel Young- husband to the Government of India. which were Sublished in a White-paper by the India office on [onday night: The Tibetan fort at Phari was yielded up with laughter. When Macdonald and his force arrived the local headman asked him where he would be pleased to put up." Keen to see the advantage of the position. Mac- donald said, In the jong" (fort), and the head- man, looking troubled, said he would see about it. Then the officials came. These officials (writes Macdonald) "said there were no soldiers in the jong, but asked me not to enter it, as they would lose their heads if I did. I asked them whether their heads were not already forfeited owing to our having entered the Chumbi Valley, and they laughingly replied that it was so." And thereupon Macdonald took amicable possession of the strong- hold. The shelter was welcome, for the thermo- meter marked 40 degrees of frost. I A TIBETAN TEA PARTY. Colonel Younghusband notes as a curious and disquieting feature that all the people, including the Chinese, were firmly persuaded that the expedition was doomed to annihilation. The result was the desertion of camp followers, and the deliberate conclusion that we have not one ounce of prestige on this frontier." At Guru the Tibetan soldiers, instead of offering resistance, "all crowded out to look at us, laughing and smiling," while the four or five Tibetan Generals were" very polite and cordial." A pow-wow was held at Guru, in the course of which the monks brusquely disavowed any dealings with Russians :they dislike them as much as they did us." Nothing decisive was accomplished, and Colonel Younghusband prepared to take leave. He was not accompanied by a guard, and only two officers were with him. I AN EXCITING MOMENT. Thereupon the monks became suddenly angry, and the generals called the expedition "thieves and brigands" for occupying Phari fort. C, The monks, using forms of speech generally addressed to inferiors, loudly clamoured for me to name a date for our retirement from Tuna before I left the room; the atmosphere became elec- tric. a general left the room; trumpets out- side were sounded, and attendants closed round us." "It was necessary to keep extremely cool under these circumstances," is Colonel Younghusband's comment on the situation. He calmly told them he would report their demand to his Government, and was eventually allowed to depart. A week later the Lhasa General called on Younghusband at Tuna and told him all would be well if he would go back to the frontier. He said that there was an agreement of the whole people that no strangers should be admitted into Tibet. "I told him I could understand a disagreeable people wishing to keep to themselves. What was so aggravating was a pleasant and genial people like the Tibetans wishing to debar the rest of the world from the pleasure of their society." The Lhasa general had laughed a little while before whetlu r or not he winked at this point Colonel Younghusband dots not say. All he records is that the general looked very well bred but he is not clever." SONS OF THE CLERGY. I The 250th Festival of the Corporation of the Sons of the Clergy, held in London on Monday at St. Paul's Cathedral. was attended by the Prince and Princess of Wales. There was a large con- gregation, including the Archbishops of Canter- bury and York, several bishops, and the Lord Mayor. At the dinner which took place in the evening, as usual, at Merchant Taylors' IIan. it was announced that the Festival had already re- sulted in a collection of more than ;EIO,(iOO, the list of stewards numbering more than 250, being the largest on record.
I MEN LESS VALUE THAN GOATS.I
I MEN LESS VALUE THAN GOATS. I In the Congo State, men and women are being gold into slavery to pay the heavy taxes imposed on the natives. This is the statement of the Rev. I J. H. Weeks, a Baptist missionary, who instances twenty-one cases of persons being sold for a goat —this animal being the form in which taxes are paid.
IWOMAN'S WORLD.
WOMAN'S WORLD. THE RULING PASSION. 'VI Expensive dress is not, as is too hastily assumed, the exclusive privilege of civilized womanhood. Not infrequently a semi-savage girl has a wardrobe consisting of furs which would be worth from one to two thousand pounds. Grundeman, the explorer, relates how one fair Greenlander wore a dress of sealskin with a hood of costly fur, and silver fox. The garment was lined with fur of a young seal-otter, and there was a fringe of wolverene tails. About one hundred and forty pounds is probably the average worth of the dress of Indian women on the Columbia and Fraser rivers. COSTLY FUR. The sea-otter's is the costliest of all fur. A skin that you might put in your hat or carry away in vour muff, has sold for £ 80; and, although this was a fancy"prices from £ 30 to £ 40 is nothing out of the way. The value is reckoned by thy depth of the black colour, studded with silver hairs, and the richness of the fur. Very seldom do any of the higher qualities come into the retail trade in England, so hungry for them are the Russians. The catching of the sea-otter is almost entirely confined to the coast of Alaska. WOMEN WARNED OFF. Maiwat'-hin, on the borders of Russia, is the only town in the world exclusively inhabited by men. The Chinese women are not allowed to live m this territory, and are even forbidden to pass the great wall of Kalkan and to enter Mongolia. All the Chinese of this border town are traders. < < WEDDING PCINGS. Wedding rings are supposed to be always the same, but still the fashion of them has altered lately among smart people. The newest brides are wearing plain gold circlets which are about two thirds narrower than those formerly worn. Jewellers are also showing a new ring. When worn it is exactly like any conven- tional wedding ring. In reality it consists of two separate gold bands, each made in a spiral. These fit so closely together as to form a perfect ring without visible join. This marriage ring is symbolical of the joining of two into one. JAPS AT TEA. The famous tea ceremonies, on which Japanese women spend so much of their time, were col- lected and arranged about a thousand years ago by a Japanese nobleman, who wished to revive the good old customs of an.earlier age. Many years are required to gain a real grasp of the ceremonies. Every gesture and action is symbolical, and whilst the host strives to honour his guest by every means in his power, the latter shows his humility by pointing to the cup as too magnificent for his unworthiness, and praising it in terms of extravagant eulogy. Allthi8 takes a long time, and meanwhile the guests are kept waiting for their tea. It is usual in Japan to have a quiet cup at home before setting out for one of these elaborate festivities, as people in England do before going to a big afternoon crush. Japanese women are not greatly interested in literature, but are fond of music, and occupy themselves with the arrangement of flowers. There is a section of advanced women who attend the female University at Tokio, and some of these are keen cyclists. WHO WAS CINDERELLA ? In theatrical performances of all sorts Cinderella generally appears dressed in the costume of the period or Charles 1. or of George II. Neither is suitable. Cinderella was an Egyp- tian beauty named Rhodope, who lived during the reign of one of the 12 kings of Egypt. One day as she was bathing an eagle swooped down and carried off one of her shoes, which she had left on the river's bank. In flying over Mephis, where the king was staying, the eagle dropped the shoe- which, by the way, was of fur, not of glass—and it fell right at his Majesty's feet. Now, Rhodope had remarkably small feet, and the diminutivesize of her shoe so struck the king that he immediately sent envoys to discover its owner. Their efforts were successful, and Rhodope was brought in triumph to Mephis, where she became the Queen of King Asammeticus. A QUAINT WRAP. Out of a Chinese coat and two celestial skirts a clever actress has designed an evening wrap that has no equal for beauty and comfort. The coat part is yellow satin embroidered in blue, and the wide sleeves show a lining of brighter blue which is repeated again in the skirt part. In addition to the Oriental fasten- ings, this young woman has given the cost a fuH hood which she wears over her head at night it the weather is cold. The coat is loose and long, and slips on; so easily that it possesses some advantages, especially in gorgeousness of decora- tion, over those of modern cut an.l fabric. < « CARE OF THE TEETH. If the teeth have got into a bad condition, and allowed to gather tartar, it is necessary (sayg Perla writing on the secrets of beauty in the Sunday Times") to go to a dentist, and have them scaled, and made tho- roughly smooth and clean, both inside and out. Everyone ought to have this done at least once a year. It is the spring cleaning of the mouth, and absolutely essential to those who want to look their best. After this has been done, it will be found comparatively easy to keep them in good order, and many people, who must have felt dissatisfied with the appearance of their mouth and teeth, without quite knowing how to set to work to remedy the defects of either, will be pleased with the results of this treatment. The teeth should always be cleaned after drinking coffee or claret. Indeed, this latter < wine should be avoided altogether in certain circumstances at a picnic, for instance, or a cricket match, where the friendly brush is out of reach, as it is apt not only to darken the teeth, but to blacken the lips unless they are very^carefully wiped, which,of course,ought always be done. Extremes of heat and cold are as bad for the teeth as they are for the skin. If moderation in everything is the secret of health it is also that of beauty. Strong acids attack the enamel of the teeth, softening it, and in time destroying it. This is the reason why some medicines turn the teeth black, and those that con- tain acids or iron should always be taken through a glass tube, and not allowed to touch the teeth. One often sees people whose front teeth are too wide apart, which is a very unbecoming thing almost as bad as the loss of a tooth. It is generally caused by a gap on ona side of the mouth, and the front teeth having too much room to disport them- selves have'strayed apart. There is a very simple way of rectifying this defect. The front teeth should be tied together every night with flax tht ead the kind used for mending linen, but it must not be too fine. Cut off a small piece and pass it behind the two teeth, having the end in front. Pass the lefb end over the right twice, which will keep it firm, and then complete the knot, drawing it up quickly so that it cannot slip. This is better than an elastic band, which is too severe, as the pressure on the teeth never relaxes, and it is apt to loosen them in time. This miniature bandage should be worn as much as possible during the day as well as night, and in a month or two the teeth will be much closer together and a little false tooth can be inserted in the gap at the side, which will gradually close the teeth up and render the thread unneces- sary. As the gap becomes larger through the front teeth being pressed together tho size of the c artificial tooth must be increased—in other words, the tooth mush be changed. This plan is not as extravagant as it Bounds, the great expense of arti- ficial teeth being'in the plate and the fitting. The actual tooth itself only costs about 6d., so vou will see that it is not a very serious matter to' have it changed. People should be • their teeth as a substitute for knives and scissors. I know (says "Perla") a woman, now no longer young, to whom Nature has given the most perfect set of teeth imaginable, snd they would be still as -good as when she was eighteen if she had not con- tracted the pernicious habit of biting off the ends of her cotton when at work, with the result that the two front teeth have got notches in them as j E they had been cut with a file, and, indeed, the con- stant biting of thread is just as bad in its effect* as a steel implement.