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; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] Which…
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] Which was THE HEIRESS? OR, THE CURSE OF ADRIAN BLAIR. BY EDITH C. KENYON, Author oj" Jack's Cousin Kate," The Squire oj Lonsdale," "A Poor Piclatioiz," tc. etc. CHAPTER XIX. CONSTANCE TAKES A BOLD S'LEP. LEFT alone, after Doris had gone off on her charit- able errand, the Squire of Waddington had a spell of more or less severe pain, which considerably irritated him. He had been comparatively free from it when he talked to Doris, but now it was very bad for a time, and he mentally cursed his cousin, who had caused him so much discomfort. I am glad I punished him as I did he said to himself. "What a fright the fellow was in! Elsie did for him and no mistake That dog is a treasure 1 It was plucky of the girls to set her loose and send her after me. Gad I'd have been done for if she hadn't come, and then—then—bah I I won't think of it." He closed his eyes, and began to remember the stirring excitement of the night before. For it was one thing to say h, would not think of it, and another thing to do it. Suddenly he caught up the newspaper, and began to turn it restlessly over, to divert his mind. At length he came across a paragraph which pleased him greatly. It was amongst items of general news, in a remote corner of the paper. "Gad!" he exclaimed, I might have looked ever so long and have not seen it. However, here it is. He read half aloud- It is reported on good authority that the Dorian Mine, worked by Messrs. Adrian Blair and Co., in Australia, has been completely flooded, and, unless enormous sums are expended in repairing the damage, it's owners will be the owners of quite useless property." "I'm glad of it! Glad of it said Ambrose Blair to himself, exultingly. That, then, was what made Adrian so desperate that he came here. He kept away when he was prospering, but as soon as ruin stared him in the face, he came again to Waddington. Wanted to look at his daughter's face ? Pooh !—nonsense he shrank from her with disgust when he saw her. Look how cruel he was to her, too, when she was a child! She was glad enough to run away to us. Maybe, he thinks now of appealing to me for help to save the mine. By Jingo he shan't have a penny of my money I could save the mine-I a millionaire—but I won't do it for him." He swore violently. "I won't- I won't lift up my little finger to save him." He took up the paper again and stared at it. By the bye," he thought, "it might not be a bad speculation to buy and work it myself. But no, my money is safe where it is. I will be prudent and not risk it. No, P-o no speculations for me." Just then, from Doris's boudoir, which was upstairs, and some distance from the library, the sound of the piano proceeded, and, immediately after, Dora's voice, singing the exquisite anthem, 0 Rest in the Lord." Ringing his bell, which was immediately answered by the attentive butler, the Squire of Waddington desired him to open all the doors between him and the young ladies' boudoir then he lay back, listening to the soothing strains. The words, sung in Dora's inimitable style, were now to be heard clear and distinct, "0 rest in the Lord wait patiently for Him-and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart." The rare sweetness of the young voice, with its strange resemblance to a voice he had onced loved, thrilled even the hard, selfish, worldly heart of Ambrose Blair. And yet he was a stranger to the meaning of the words—as regards resting in the Lord that is but the latter part of the text he understood better, for he did want the desires of his heart to be granted. He wanted his great riches to be increased, he wanted Doris, his darling only daughter, to play a distinguished part in life, and become the wife of a great man. These things were the desires of his heart. Would they be granted ? As David's playing of old soothed the heart of Saul the King, so now did Dora's playing, and'her sweet, soul-stirring singing, lull to rest the wicked turmoil in the heart of Ambrose Blair. Hatred of his enemy was turned gradually to a vague wonder at him greed for money was changed to compla- cency that he possessed so much ambition for Doris gave place, just then, to a father's loving pride in her many attractions. If the music could have continued all along >1 ,the charm of that wondrous singing-voice could have stayed with him, Ambrose Blair might have become another man. As it was, all too soon the music ceased, the singer went away to some othet occupation. Ambrose was too proud to ask her to continue singing-he rarely asked her to do it, although he had paid large sums for her musical education. Dora's masters had wanted her to become a public singer, and she was glad to feel that she could be one, if necessity demanded-i.e., if she were obliged to work for her own mainten- ance. For her stay at Waddington Hall was always rendered uncertain, owing to the capricious temper of its master. Love for Doris, and un- willingness to leave her, had alone caused her to remain a recipient of the charity, which was sometimes freely and willingly bestowed, at others grudgingly, and almost taken away. Now, it pleased Ambrose Blair to send for Dora, not for the purpose of telling her what enjoyment her singing had caused him, not that he might ask her for more, but because he wanted someone to talk to, and it might be, domineer over. "Dora," he began, in his most disagreeable, hectoring tone, "you might come near me some- times, to see if I want anything. Doris stayed here for a while this morning before she went out, but I suppose a sick room has no attraction for you." "Mr. Blair," said the girl, gently, you forget. I do not visit you without being sent for. You yourself requested me not to do so." Ah, well, I suppose that is your excuse. Now, Dora, I want to have some serious talk with you. I liked your conduct the other evening in refusing to-to accept that boy's ridiculous proposal. You his wife What a fool the fellow is Dora's colour rose. "I would rather you did not talk about it, please," she said, meekly, yec with a certain dignity. Highty tighty Tell me, girl, do you not think he is a fool yourself ?" No." "No? You surprise me. What match would you be, I wonder, for the heir of Broadlands Do you know his father is the Marquis of Blake- borough ? Yes." "And that he will be the Marquis himself some .ay1" Yes." Oh oh And you do not see the unfitness of yourself for a marchioness. You a marchioness! By jingo I look at yourself in the glass for a moment." "Mr. Blair, you have been very kind to me in educating me, and especially in paying for my musical education," said poor Dora, with the tears in her eyes, "but I cannot remain here to be insulted." "Insulted! Fiddlesticks! What a temper you've got! I don't mean to insult you. I admire you very much for what you have done. I only want to know why you did it, if you did not see the absurdity of the whole thing. By thunder I why did you refuse the man ? "Mr. Blair, I must beg you to excuse my answering these questions," faltered Dora, the tears falling down her cheeks. She was terribly afraid of him. There was no knowing to what lengths his violent temper might lead him when thwarted, and Doris, who alone had any influence over him, was out. Perhaps her tears, or the utter helplessness of her whole shrinking being, as she moved a little nearer the door, or it might be the effect of her music and singing, which still lingered, caused the bully to change his tactics. Come, don't cry, Dora," he said, gruffly enough, but not unkindly, "I am pleased with you, you know. You have behaved well in a matter which I had very much at heart. I want you to behave better still, girl," and he leaned forward on his I couch and looked keenly at her, I want you to behave better still. I want you to earn my undying gratitude. You have a marvellous voice-people rave about it-you should have heard the comments on your singing the other night. It gives you tre- I mendous power. It is worth more than beauty- far more, as a factor to move men's heart. See how you won Lord Herbert's heart, in spite of the superior looks of Doris Well, you can with your talent do almost what you will with men." He paused. Dora looked at him in amazement as he talked. Such praise, such flattering praise of her voice from him was as unexpected as it was extravagant. What did he want? She knew he wanted no small thing of her wren he spoke like that. Bub she dared not speak she only looked at him as if she were fascinated and unable to stir. I You won Lord Herbert's love," he went on, try now to win that of another. Exert all the I powers of your wonderful voice to make Archie Scott love you." Dora could not help laughing. The thing was so absurd, so utterly absurd Ever since they were children together Archie had adored Doris. He and she were good friends, but that was all. Mr. Blair," said Dora, I might sing until I had no voice left at all, but Arihie would not care for me one iota more than he does now. I am sure of it." Make him love you," persisted the man. See, girl. You may not know it, but you are penniless. I can make you rich, aye, and I will do it, if only you will prevent Archie from obtaining Doris's love. I do not think Doris loves him," replied Dora, so you may be quite easy about that. But if she did, I could not-would not—take your money to do anything to prevent it." "You would not But if I say you gnt> ? Ambrose was crying fiercely, when the door opened, and Legott, the butier, entered, with a card on a salver, which he handed to his master. "By heavens!" cried Ambrose, "whom have we here?" He read—"Mrs. Blair," and the address below, Morriton Hall, Cheshire," and the pencilled words, Pray let me see you at once on urgent business." Dora," he said, in a low, emphatic tone, your step-mother is here." Don't let me see her," entreated the girl, starting up. Suppose she has come for you ? Oh, no, it would be too dreadful." "Shall I send you away with her?" No, no. Please do not attempt it, for I cannot —will not go." I won't let her have you if you will promise to do what I have just been asking you to do." But I cannot." Legott," said his master, in loud tones, show the lady this way. Now, Dora, if you want to stay here, at least you must promise to keep me informed of anything that passes between Doris and Archie." "But I cannot spy upon Doris," replied the girl, in a low voice, and then, springing up, she literally ran away through one of the library doors, whilst Mrs. Adrian Blair entered at the other." Ambrose," said Constance, taking his hand, and signing to him not to rise, Ambrose, I have come to you in my extremity. You must save me." Save you ? He looked at her she was very pale and thin, and looking far older than he expected to see her. Yes," she repeated, no one but you can do it, and you, Ambrose, can and must save me." CHAPTER XX. CONSTANCE'S FEARFUL MENACE. MY dear Constance," said Ambrose Blair, "what do you mean? How on earth can I save you, and from what?" "From ruin," she replied, wringing her hands. For ten years, ten years, Ambrose, I have lived in affluence, and now, now," she repeated, wildly, "our money has abruptly come to an end; our mine is flooded." I know. I have just seen it in the paper. Look there." He handed her the newspaper to read, pointing with his finger to the paragraph. "Yes," she said, handing it back, "it's true. And now, Ambrose, I want you to lend us the money to repair the mine." "Me?" he cried, aghast at such a demand. "Yes, you," she repeated. "Come, Ambrose, you have the money:—I do not ask you to give it, but to lend it, at any rate of interest you choose to demand." "I won't do it," said the man, frowning. Good heavens, Constance, do you know what you ask ? It would require many, many thousands, to do the thing properly." And you have many, many thousands. Come, Ambrose, you owe me something for my care of your little girl." She spoke insinuatingly. Her still beautiful face was flushed now with eagerness, and she laid one white hand upon his arm. He remembered he had loved her once, when he was a mere boy; he remembered she had loved him more recently; and he remembered, too, that ten years ago he felt as if he would give her almost anything she asked for her care of Doris. But this that she asked was such a great thing it would take half his fortune to do what she demanded, yes, demanded of him. For she did not come to him so much to solicit his help as to bespeak that which she could in reality command. He did not like this tone of hers, it helped to steel his heart against those other softening reflections. True, you were good to my little Doris. I have been and still am grateful to you for it, Con- stance. Were it otherwise, I should not allow the wife of my bitter enemy, Adrian Blair, to be admitted into my house, much less should I sit here talking to her. Ji "to not as hia wife I come to you, Ambrose. JIe knows nothing about it. We care little for each other. I simply married him because-" she hesitated—"because he was rich," she went on, and I was weary of struggling to earn my own living. I never loved him, and I told him so. By the bye, where is he, Ambrose ? Do you know, Did he coma here?" "Did he come here ?" repeated Ambrose, with mock emphasis. Did he come here ? Why am I lying here ? Why, because he came here twc evenings since, and we had such a fight as we have not had since we were lads together. And, do you know, Constance, do you know, he would have killed me if it had not been for my dog. Elsie, who came to the rescue." "Bah! What a—" Constance was going to say what a pity, but recollected herself in time. "What a man he is!" she said, instead. "I told him on no account to come here, and he just came straight off. I've no patience with him." "You won't get Adrian to obey you, a woman," said Ambrose, with a short laugh. But oh, didn't he get punished for coming here just By-" he swore a great oath. Then he gave her his own highly-coloured account of what hap- pened. Constance laughed immoderately as he did so, but there was a gleam of hatred in her eyes, as she looked on the man who had thus dared to humiliate her husband. "Is it likely I shall trouble myself to save the mine of a man like that?" he said, in conclusion. "It is -aot for him," persisted Constance. "I do not ask you to do it for him, but for me. I cannot bear the thought of being again plunged into poverty, so I have humbled myself to come to you." Well, I'm sorry, but I can't do it, I can't," he said, gloomily. "Ä fortune like mine is not to be trifled with," he added. I mean it all for Doris when I've gone. She will be the richest woman in Yorkshire, my Doris will." Then Constance leaned forward in her chair, saying meaningly, Unless you help me now with sufficient money to make our mine all right, I will prevent your Doris from ever getting a half-penny oj your money. I can do it, and I will." Ambrose stared at her as if she had suddenly gone mad. "Don't talk such utter rubbish," he said. You must be crazy," and he raised his hand to touch the bell. Don't ring," she said, coolly, you will bitterly repent it if you don't hear me out." She thought for a few moments, and then said, very softly, Ambrose, have you ever considered that, in a way, you and Doris are in my power, and in that of my poor wretched husband." In your power?" he exclaimed, violently, "and in the power of that fool Adrian. No, indeed. You need not try that style over me, Constance. It won't do. It won't do, I tell you," and he abnost shouted in his rage. "Listen," said Constance. "Did it ever strike you that I had a purpose in taking care of Adrian's little Doris as well as yours, when they were children ? They were both so much alike, I sent away the nurse, if you recollect rightly, who knew 1 and loved your child the best. If, if I like, I can now swear in a court of justice, or before anyone on earth, that, whilst I had them in my care, I changed the children, and, when you came back, gave you Adrian's child for your daughter, and afterwards gave him-" "Goodness, gracious, Constance, you are clean gone mad cried Ambrose, his hair almost standing on end, and his eyes starting from his j head at the mere thought of what she was saying. | No more mad than you, Ambrose," returned i Constance, calmly. How do you know your | child?" j I know her because I know her," cried the J bewildered man. Why, she has the same coloured | eyes and hair as I have. Her features are very like mine. She has the same sort of chin, firm and i decided. One glance at Doris showed me that she j was my child." I What colour do you call your hair ? "Well, a sort of golden red brown, I suppose it is, or was, for it is growing grey. Doris's is just the colour it was at its best." And Dora's is the same, only coarser and more skimpy." Blast her Dora's is not to be compared to ours." ours. What colour are your eyes a,nd Doris's ?" per- sisted his tormentor. "Blue—pale blue." Dora's eyes are pale blue." "Dora be hanged!" cried Ambrose, now in a towering rage, I'll have you prosecuted for calumny—I'll—" "Don't; don't let the servants overhear," said Constance, calmly. And then you yourself told me Doris was my child," said Ambrose. "lam sare you could not tell me a lie. And I am quite, quite sure that ugly I little thing Dora does not belong to me." 0 Thanks for your good opinion of my veracity," said Constance, calmly. "I deserve it, for I did I not tell you a lie. I restored to you your child. I may have my faults, but I am faithful to my trust." Of course you are. What a. fright you gave me! And yet, of course, I did not believe it for one moment," said Ambrose, not for one moment, Constance. Still, the idea was horrible—hor- rible," he repeated. It will sound horrible when I swear it is a fact before a magistrate, or anyone else, won't it?" said Constance, with a cruel smile. What in the name of wonder do you mean ? he demanded. "What I say. It will sound horrible when I swear it, won't it ?" and she smiled again. "But how can you swear it? You have just said it isn't true!" Then Constance played her trump card. You cannot allow me to be ruined with impunity, Ambrose," she said. If you do not save me from ruin, I will ruin your dearest hopes. I will swear a lie. Adrian will swear it, too. One or two others shall be made to corroborate our story. It will be proved that Dora, Adrian's daughter, is your daughter, and Doris, your beloved child, is Adrian's." 11 Pooh you cannot do it. You cannot do it, I say," cried Ambrose. No court in the kingdom would believe such a trumped up story. I can swear that you have threatened me with this thing." But you have no witnesses," cried Constance, I triumphantly, "no witnesses at all. Now, have I you ? The servants were changed, they could not I swear to a child they had not seen for many years neither could the doctors. You see both girls have golden-red brown hair, both girls have pale blue eyes, both have square-cut determined-looking chins—one has a lovely complexion, but the other is horribly marked with small-pox marks. But that is an accident which mighthave happened to either. Who is to say whether it is your child or Adrian's which fell ill of small-pox when both fathers were far away ? "You fiend!" cried Ambrose, almost beside himself with rage, "you utter fiend Constance smiled, and her smile was so exasper- ating that he ground his teeth and clenched hia hands. Oh, if only you were not a woman he cried. "You would like to do to me as you did to my husband, no doubt," she said, tauntingly. You poor fool, you Why—why didn't you kill him whilst you were about it ? Then one of the false witnesses would be removed from the path." I believe—I believe you could swear any- thing," cried Ambrose, there are no limits, no limits," he repeated, to your power to deceive." Ambrose, I hate you," said Constance. When we were young you made me love you three times you swore that you were my lover, and I should be your wife. Then, when you were old enough to marry, you went and married someone else. Yes, twice you did it-and now-and now that I have you in my power, why should I spare you ? I swore a great oath that I would be revenged on you, and so, for other reasons, did Adrian. Now is my time. Now is his time. Ambrose, we will pay you back a portion of what we owe you." She rose as she spoke, as if she were about to go, and a great horror fell upon Ambrose that she would go and do as she said. Of course it was untrue, absurdly untrue, that his Doris was Adrian's child, and not his. But if these people came and swore the opposite in a court of justice, and if this clever, designing woman, came and told, in her clear, matter-of-fact way, all the circum- stantial evidence that went to show the probability of her story being correct, who was to prove that I it was false ? Judgment would be given that Dora, ugly, disfigured Dora, was his child, and that his beautiful Doris, the darling of his heart, belonged to Adrian Blair. Thus Adrian and this wicked wife of his would rob him of his child. His darling's heart would be broken. He could imagine the dis- tress in her dear face, the way in which she wouid look appealingly to him to disprove this thing. And he could only swear-swear that it was false. And who was to believe him ? You fiend he cried, again. You fiend I could slay you where you stand He rose feebly as he spoke, and groped about fer a weapon. Constance laughed scornfully—mockingly, then she said, On one condition only I will spare you ?" Name it name it cried the wretched man, grasping hold of the table, in a sudden paroxysm of pain caused by his trying to walk." Name it, and you shall have whatever you want-in reason." I want you to save the mine for us. Give me five hundred thousand pounds. I must have that amount at once." I cannot I cannot It is too much," gasped the miserable man, his hair almost standing on end at the enormity of the sum she required." "Very well," said Constance; "Behold your daughter," and she pointed to Dora, who had gently opened the door, and now stood, looking with astonishment at Ambrose Blair, elingmg to the table in what seemed like mortal agony. "No, it is not Doris, it is only me," she said, answering Mrs. Blair's remark as she ran round to support the half-fainting form of Doris's father. "Mr. Blair," said Constance, carelessly, "I accept the conditions. I will drive over to-morrow for what you agree to let me have. Au revoir," and, without a word to Dora, she went out of the room and through the hall to her carriage outside. Ambrose clung convulsively to the girl, as she helped him to lie down again upon the couch. Did you hear what that woman was saying as you entered ? he demanded. "I only heard her say Behold your daughter.' I suppose she thought it was Doris who was coming in," said Dora. I came, Mr. Blair, because I could not help overhearing loud and excited tones, and I thought, perhaps, I had better come myself, and tell her firmly, once for all, that I will not return with her. My parents so treated me that they have, I consider, forfeited all claims to my dutifulness." Quite so," replied Ambrose Blair. And," he thought, she is coming again to-niorrow to receive all that money. Shall I give it to her, or shall I not ?" (To be continued).
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In some homes there is nothing thought of except to give the baby a chance to sleep. "Liberty" is always represented as a female, but it is difficult for some married men to under- stand why. "Ah," sighed the wretched Mr. Newpop, "what can be more wearying to the nerves than a baby that cries all night long?" "Twins," answered1 the man who has been through it.
I RUSSIA AND BRITAIN. I
I RUSSIA AND BRITAIN. I THE HULL INQUIRY. FRESH EVIDENCE. — PROCEEDING'S ADJOURNED SINE DIE. Admiral Sir Cyprian Bride and Mr. Butler Aspinall, K. C., sat again at the Assem bly Rooms, Hull, on Saturday, to inquire into fhe circumstances of the North Sea outrage. At the outset of the proceedings Mr. Collis Cnn- liffe, solicitor to the Board of Trade, said he found that three witnesses they had hoped to call had arrived in Hull, and, if the Court thought it advisable, questions could be put to them. One of the witnesses spoke to firing at seven in the morning by another vessel. Admiral Bridge suggested that notice should be given to Dr. Woodhouse, the solicitor for the Russian Embassy, who was not present. The claim for Lld of a man named East, third hand of the trawler Gull, who badly jammed his finger when lowering a boat to go to the help of the Crane, was then heard, after which it was intimated that Dr. Woodhouse had been communicated with, but did not think it necessary to attend. Herbert Henry, skipper of the trawler Majestic, of the Gamecock fleet, was then called. TWENTY MINUTES UNDER FIRE. He said that on the night of October 21, when he was heading east, about thirty lengths from the "Ad'miral's" ship, he noticed some large vessels passing. It was about 11.30 p.m. He first saw their green lights, and took them to be men-of-war. The vessels fired at him or near him for twenty minutes. He steamed away. He lost his "otter board," and had to put a new trawl on next morning. He had two small shots through his mainsail. The vessels steamed away S.W. by W. A large shot struck outside his vessel, sending a rush of water on board and down the engine-room. Another shot splashed in the sea near by and sent a cascade of water ten feet high across the ship. In the morning he found that the windlass had been hit and smashed. Did you see before this occurrence any etrange vessels with the fleet?—No. Not before I saw the warships. Ralph Hall, skipper of the Avon, of Hull, said about 8.30 on the night of October 21 he saw some larg,) steam vessels. They went to the south-west. They were about six or seven miles from him. He was about ten miles from the "Admiral's" ship. About one next morning other vessels passed' him, he was heading S.S.E. He noticed the lights of these vessels, asd they began showing searchlights. At the same time a shot whistled over his bridge, and afterwards there were two more shots. A fourth shot sent a quantity of water on board the vessel. The firing lasted about twenty minutes. Before seeing these vessels, had you seen any strange craft—torpedo-boats or Japanese? -No, sir. FIRED AT ABOUT SEVEN NEXT I MORNING. Joseph Lyons, mate of the steam trawler Kennett, of Hull, said that he was with the fleet on the night of the firing, and was passed by v4msele which fired on the fleei Mr. Cunliffe: At 7 or 7.15 next morning did you see a vwsel?-Yes. She approached us on our starboard quarter about a. mile and a half to two "miles away. It was thick at the time. What sort of a. vessel was shet-She looked like a warship she was black, excepting one funnel, and had two masts. She had two funnels. Did the vessel fire on you?—Yes. Where did the shot pass?—Between our funnel and maittnast. I called to the skipper, and he came up. All hands saw the vessel. Did she stop close by you?—Yes, sir, on our port quarter for three or four minutes, and then she steamed away S.S.W. Did slw hail you or you her; did you call to her?-No. Did you see anybody on her?—Yes, thirty or forty men—bluejackets. Did you see any flag?—I never took that notice. Did you hear them speaking on board?— Ne. Did you see any of your other vessels?—rvo; we were away from them. Did you see any foreign craft about before this?—fco. This concluded the evidence, and after a brief conversation Sir Cyprian Bridge announced that after some formal work the inquiry would be adjourned sine die. CONVENTION SETTLED. I Great Britain and Russia have agreed upon the text of the Convention, which t, will, it is expected, be signed in a few days. According to the St. Petersburg representative of the "Echo de Paris," the English text said: The Commission shall make an inquiry into all the circumstances of the incident and shall fix the responsibilities." It has been modified- thus: "The Commission of Inquiry shall determine whether the persons who took part in the incident, whatever their nationality, deserve blame in the event of it being found that they are responsible for the incident." The date at which the Commission will meet has not yet been fixed, but it is believed that fully a month will elapse before its first sitting. AUSTRIA TO APPOINT FIFTH COMMISSIONER. It is stated' in well-informed circles in St. Petersburg that at the request of Great Britain and Russia the Emperor of Austria will nominate the fifth member of the International Commission of Inquiry.
MEMORIAL TO DEAN FARRAR. I
MEMORIAL TO DEAN FARRAR. I Viscount Peel on Monday unveiled a portrait Medallion of the late Dean Farrar at St. Margaret's, Westminster. In performing the ceremony, Viscount Peel said that no one who heard the late Dean's sermons could forget them, though some critics thought they contained too much of the glamour and imagery of the East.
BETHOTHAL OF THE GRAND DUKE…
BETHOTHAL OF THE GRAND DUKE OF HESSE. The Minister of State of the Grand Duchy of Darmstadt announces the betrothal of King Edward's nephew, the Grand Duke of Hesse, to Princess Eleonore of Solms-Hohensolms-Lich.
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A disastrous fire occurred at the winery ot Messrs. Thomas Hardy and Sons, who own the oldest vineyards in South Australia. The nearest water mains were half a mile away, so the firemen played jets of wine on the burning buildings for an hour and a half. While the mail packet was crossing from Dover to Calais on Monday a large whale was seen making its way up Channel. The whale wa-s about mid-Channel, aod pa.ssed not far from the steamer, the passengers' attention being first attracted by the familiar spouting.
ART AND LITERATURE. ——-<&
ART AND LITERATURE. ——-<& Mr. Maurice Randall, who is showing at the Stafford Gallery in London a collection of water- colour drawings and pastels, is an artist of pass- able ability. He gives the best impression of his capacities in his water-colours of sea and coast subjects, whch are treg ted with undeniable vigour, though without much subtlety or refine- ment of manner. The most noteworthy of these are "The Lonely Shore," the strong study of sunlight, "The Questing Whalers," and the small sketch, "The Silver Sea," In such, sub- jects as "The Needles," and others of the same type, in which he has dealt with atmospheric effects over the sea, he is inclined to be a little too assertive, and to miss those gentler charms of colour and tone which are of so much value in a really sensitive interpretation of nature. But despite these defects, he is decidedly an artist with possibilities, and as his observation becomes more acute the quality of his work may fairly be expected to improve. His pastel por- traits are fairly capable, but they are pot so promising as his sea studies. n Mr. John Bloundelle-Burton's new romance, "The Land of Bondage." will be published by F. V. White and Co., Ltd., immediately. The narrative, the main facts of which are drawn from contemporary documents and MSS. still in existence, deals with the traffic in those unhappy beings transported to our American and West Indian Colonies, who were, a couple of centuries ago, variously termed "Redemptioners," "Bond- r, slaves," and "Indented Apprentices." In this sale of human beings most of the characters are concerned, as they are with the terrible raids frequently made on the Virginian settlers by the native Indians. In the present story it is shown how all attempts to kidnap the hero re- coil upon the heads of his enemies. A special feature of the first two volumes of the Centenary Edition of Lord Beaconsfield's earlier novels, edited by "Diplomaticus" (Lucien Wolf), which have been already announced by the De La More Press, will be the illustra- tions. These include two drawings specially made by Mr. Herbert Railton illustrating the birthplace in Theobald's-roa-d, and the house in Bloomsbury-square in which "Vivian Grey" was written. The frontispiece to Volume II. is a photogravure of the bust of Mrs. Sara Austen, the staunch friend and adviser of young Disraeli. This has been reproduced from a bust in the possession of Miss Layard for the purpose of this work, and is therefore of especial interest as it is now published for the first time. Miss C. O'Connor Eccles is the author of "Aliens of the West," just published by Me-sers. Cassell and Company. Mrs. Harding Davis, in her recently-published book "Bits of Gossip," gives some interesting glimpses of Dr. Holmes, who spent a summer morning in wandering through Mount Auburn with her, in a mood half merry and half sad. He told her that he believed he knew every grave in the old villages within a radius of thirty miles from Boston. He searched out the histories of the long-forgotten dead, and "when I have found out all about them," he said, "they seem like my own friends lying there." Every spring, he added, "as soon as the grass begins to come up, I go my rounds to visit them and see how my dead men do The exhibitions of pictures by British Masters which are annually organised by Messrs. Agnew for the benefit of the Artists' General Benevolent Institution have always a very definite interest for lovers of great achievement. They usually include a number of canvases of the highest pos- sible merit, and command attention by their as- sertion of the best cha-ra-cteristics of the art of this country. The collection which now fills the gallery in Old Bond-street is decidedly one of tlie most important in a remarkable series. There is in it scarcely a single work that is not ade- quate as an illustration of the capacities of one or other of our greatest masters; and though not more than twenty-two works altogether have been. admitted the gathering is one of striking significance. It affords opportunities for com- paring the methods and intentions of half a dozen men who did much to establish the reputation of our native school; and not only does it show them under the most favourable aspect, but it has also the advantage of presenting examples of their practice which are mostly unfamiliar to the general public. The novel feature of the new Oxford editions of the Holy Bible is the type, which is "Clarendon Pearl." Though small it is extremely easy to read owing to the peculiar blackness of the let- ters. Both the reference and text Bibles are provided with maps, and they can be obtained! on ordinary or Oxford India paper. PrilJted on the latter and bound in limp or yapp leather covers it would be difficult to find volumes that better fulfil all the requirements of a really ideal pocket Bible. Their publication is timely, for doubtless :the new editions will be much sought after for Christmas presents. An Oxford edition of Shelley's poems is nearly ready for publication. It will contain material which has never yet been printed; the early poems first published in Professor Dowden's^Life of Shelley, but omitted from his edition of the poetical works, and all other poems which have appeared in any previous edition and the im- portant fragments recovered by Mr. C. D. Lo- cock from the Bodleian MSS. The volume will be uniform with Canon Beeching's Oxford Mil- ton, and will consist of about 1,CCO pages, with three collotype illustrations, one of the Bod- leian portrait of Shelley, the other two facsimi- lies of his handwriting." Mr. Thomas Hutchin- son. editor of the Oxford Wordsworth, has seen the'new Shelley through the press, and he has supplied footnotes where the variant readings are important, in addition to a few longer noies and a general preface. Those interested in the maintenance and re- covery of health will find something of great and even absorbing importance in the third edi- tion of Dr. Rabagliati's book, "Air, Food, and Exercises." When we say that in the whole five hundred and sixty pages of this remarkable work there is scarcely a single word to be found about the taking of medicines, and not one recom- mendation that drugs should be administered, we think our readers will be struck by its unique character. As a doctor with a long and varied experience of both private and hospital practice, the author speaks with, authority, the special character of the book being that attention is concentrated on the means, of maintaining heaxth and preventing disease rather than on its cure, although on this latter subject he has really a very great deal to say. To use the terse lan- guage of the author of the "Religio Medici," Dr. Rabagliati tells us in plain English that we eat most of our diseases and that, if we dieted ourselves properly, between two-thirds and nine- tenths of the medical faculty would have to join the unemployed. At the Modern Gallery there is to be seen an exhibition of pictures and sketches of Irish sub- jects by Mr. J. W. Carey, Miss J. O. Douglas, Mr. Percy French, Mr. C. Maclver Grieison, Mr. G. Wakeman, and Mr. Alexander Williams. Much of the work is of only moderate interest, but a good many capable sketches and pleasant notes of attractive bits of nature are scattered through the collection. The most commendable performances are Miss Douglas's fancirul heads, "A Broken Song," "The Water sprite ancr ffThere's nothing half so sweet in life as young dream," and her low-toned landscape, JTL Wild Donegal" Mr. Percy French s Tramore Sands," "Fair Head, from BaUvcastte, and "The Twelve Pins"; and Mr. J. W. Careys "Dunseverick Castle"; but there are others which deal not unsuccessfully with the piclt.i- esque scenery of the more remote districts of Ireland. _————
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Sir Martin Gosselin, British Minister at Lisbon, who (according to the usual custom), kas come to England for the visit to this country of the sovereign to whom he is accredited, is a musician of no small ability. Etonians of his generation remember how he and his friend Parry, now Sir Hubert, used, to be the musical stars of the school concerts in the 'sixties, winning unstinted applause for their brilliant piano-playing. Sir Martin is, married to an aunt of Lord Gerard's, and arrived in England just in time to wish the young peer joy OB the attainment of hia majority.
PRINCE AND PRINCESS AT ORMSKIRK.
PRINCE AND PRINCESS AT ORMSKIRK. GUESTS OF THE EARL OF LATHOM. I On Monday night the Prince and Princess of Wales arrived at Ormskirk Station from London and drove three miles to Lafchom House to be the guests of the Earl and Countess of Lathom for four days. The Prince has been enjoying shooting over the estate, where game is very plentiful. The Royal guests, accompanied by the Countess of Airlie and Lord Crichton, were received by Earl Lathom and a guard of honour from the Naval Volunteer Reserve, of which his lordship is com- mander. As their Royal Highnesses alighted the band of the Liverpool training ship Indefatigable plaj'ed God Bless the Prince of WaJes. The Royal visitoi-s were preceded in their drive to Lathom House by the superintendent of police and a constable in a motor-car, and were followed by mounted county police. The Prince nodded to Sergeant-Major Nunnerly, a Crimean veteran, who stood among the local councillors. The Princess, who looked in excellent health, bowed her acknowledgments to the greetings of the local townspeople.
I HOME HINTS. I
I HOME HINTS. Oilcloth will last much longer if rubbed with a cloth moistened with paraffin oil than if washed with soap, ammonia, or soda and water. Copper saucepans should be washed in hot Bcda-water, and then cleaned with soap and silver- sand. Rinse, dry, and polish with a leather and dry whiting. Children under eighteen months of age should not be given bread-and-butter except in very small quantities. When given, the bread should' be cut as thinly as possible. Children under two yea.rs of age are generally better without any meat, though gravy or beef-tea may be given with vegetables for dinner. No feeding between meals should ever be allowed. Pineapple Sauce.—To three-quarters of a cup- ful of fresh-grated pineapple add three-quarters of a cupful of water, and cook until the fruit is tender, then add three-quarters of a cupful of sugar, and cook until the fruit is dissolved. Soften a teaspoonful of gelatine in two table- spoonfuls of water, dissolve over hot water, and strain into the first mixture. Add a tablespoon- ful of lemon juice, the juice of an orange, and chill on ice. Fruit Puneb.-Finely chop a small, fresh pine-apple, cook it in two quarts of water for twenty minutes, and strain through a flannel bag, pressing out all the juice. To six cups of the liquid add three cupfuls of sugar, and boil for ten minutes. Cool, add two cupfuls of straw- berry juice, the juice of three oranges, the juice of two lemons, and four cupfuls more of water. Strain through a fine cloth and chill. To serve, fill small, thin glasses about a third full of craekea or shaved ice, and fill up with the punch. Tapioca Custard Pudding.—Put two cupfuls of milk into a saucepan over hot water; when hot stir in a third of a cupful of quick-cooking tapioca. Add a few grains of salt, and cook until the tapioca is transparent, then add a table- i spoonful of butter. Beat two eggs and a third of a cupful of sugar until light, add a grating of orange or lemon rind, a few drops of vanilla and the hot mixture- Turn into a buttered pudding dish, and bake in a slow oven about thirty minutes, or until firm to the touch. This may be served hot with vanilla. lemon, or orange sauce, or it may also be served cold. London Journal." To Prevent Steel Rusting.—To prevent bright steel from rusting, shake over it unslaked lime. To Purify Meat.—Meat that is slightly tainted may be made edible by washing in mild borax- water. ——— Smoky Lamp-wicks.-A good way to avoid smoky lamp-wicks is to soak the wick in strong vinegar and dry it well before using. It is not a bad plan to sprinkle unslaked lime around the dark corners of your cellar to absorb the dampness and kill disease germs. For the Window-Boxes.—A few drops of am- monia twice a week in a can of rain-water will make fuchsias, geraniums, and other flowers bloom freely. A Hint About Silver.—When putting silver away, with several lumps of camphor wrapped in flannel, in an air-tight box, the brightness will be preserved. j A Creaking Hinge.—Some persons will en- [ dure the annoyance of a creaking hinge until they are almost distracted, when the mere appli- t cation of a little soap will remedy the evil. < Never leave vegetables, fruit or cooked meats in a tin vessel over night, or any length of time, as there are poisonous substances in the tin which are highly dangerous and often do in- i jury- When Dusting Furniture.—Many people pre- fer to use warm dusting cloths when dusting fur- miure, as they claim a nice polish is thus secured with ease on the wooden frames of the furniture and on the mirrors. J Don't let rolls of goods, scraps, and shoes lie about on cupboard floors. Wall pockets of old sacking tacked on the walls will be much neater, handier, and more economical for storing away your old odds and ends. Spots on Dresses.—A quart of water poured over twopennyworth of soap bark and boiled for an hour and strained is invaluable for cleaning spots from woollen dresses or men's clothing. Rinse the garment well to remove all trace of soap. If you get badly burned, at once dip old linen or fine cotton cloths in milk and bind loosely on the burn. Then put over that a thick layer of flour, wiiich dampen with milk, poured on as fast as it dries. No scar will be left, and the burn will heal rapidly, unless, of course, it is of such a character as to need a surgeon's attention. Blanquette of Veal.—For a small dish two pounds of the fillet will be ample. Tie it round, and lay it in a stewpan with just sufficient water to cover. Add salt, a bunch of herbs, a clove, a tiny onion, and a sprig of parsley. Cook very gently for two hours. Now strain off the liquor, keep the meait hot on a dish, and put the liquor in a small stewpan and let it boil up. Skim thoroughly, add to it the yolks of two eggs and a squeeze of lemon-juice. Stir quickly, taking great care that it does not curdle, then pour over the veal. (Garnish with julienne vegetables and tiny rolls of fried bacon. Stewed Mutton Steak.—Trim the steak very j neatly, taking care to remove every particle of j fat. Put it in a saucepan just large enough to ] hold it, with about half a pint of good stock (boiling), a carrot, an onion cut in slices, two or | three cloves, a 'tiny bit of mace, pepper, and salt. Let the steak simmer in this as slowly as pos. j sible for over three hours. Then strain off th. j stock into another saucepan, and put it over a j quick fire, so that it may reduce to half its quan- titv. Then lay the steak without the vegetables i on"a hot dish, pour over the reduced gravy, into j which some chutney is mixed, and serve at once i with chip potatoes. Macaroons.—One pound castor sugar, lIb. | sweet almonds, three or four bitter almonds, whites of six eggs. Blanch the almonds, cut them in shreds, and dry them in a cool oven. j Whisk the whites of eggs to a stiff froth. S'tir in the sugar, lastly the almonds. Drop the mixture in small round heaps on a tin rubbed with white wax, and bake in a moderate oven from fifteen ] to twenty minutes. A few strips of almond may | be reserved to place in the middle of each maca- roon. | Cocoanut Cakes.—Beat 6oz. of butter to a cream with 8oz. of sifted .sugar, add the yolks of three eggs. Stir in gently one pint of fine flour, to which has been added a desertspoonful of baking powder and a good pinch of salt. iMd three tablespoctesful of desiccated cocoanut and the whites of the eggs, beaten to a stiff froth. Bake in well-buttered tins, filling them only three-parts full, in a moderate oven for about twenty minutes. Beetroot.—The roots should be freshly dug and the soil carefully washed off in such a man- ner as not to break the skin or any of the root- lets. Boil until quite tender, remove the skin, cut into slices and put into jars. The vinegar should be prepared by boiling, together with half an ounce of peppercorns, cloves, ginger, and salt to each quart; this should then be strained, and, when cool, poured over the beetroot. Mixed Pickle.—Chop up finely half a peck of green tomatoes, half a white cabbage, three large onions and two heads of celery. Boil up a quart of vinegar, together with peper and cinnamon a teaspoonful of each, cloves and allspice half a tea spoonful, half a cupful of sugar, and a table- spoonful of salt. Strain, and, when cold, pour over the chopped vegetables in the jars.—"Agri- cultural Gazette."