mw^^.^^ HEALTH. III r-^ Moderation and Begnlaritr- The means to be adopted for ehe attain- ment of robnst health are cleanlinen, regn- larity of habita, moderation in diet, exercise, preferably in the open air, in accordance with the capacity of the individual and nat- ure of the contest, and abstinence from strong drinks and tobacco. If a man trains simply to improve his health he docs so more or leas moderately if for a contest, more or leas strictly in ac- cordance with the importance ot the event A man can do either without a trainer if he has an ordinary amount of common sense and will power. The man who simply de- sires to live in a sound, healthy condition should follow these rules, modifying them slightly, according to the age or physique Get up not later than 7 A. M. sponge and rub yourself with a coarse towel until the «kin is red. It is good exercise. Then dress and take a fairly long walk before and after breakfast. Walk to your place of business. Attend to work in the usual way, resisting every inclination you may have to give way to indolence. Walk home. Never mind the weather a little rain will not hurt you and Summer heat will not affect yon when you have done it long enough to do you good. Then have dinner, avoiding, as at your lunch and breakfast, fat, greasy, sweet, highly flavored or seasoned food. Water is the best thing to dnnk and that is better drank after finishing your meal. Take your time over dinner in particular and other meals in general. If you have not time to get a meal leisurely go withoat it, as it will not injure you quarter as much as it will to eat it in a hurry. Amuseyour- self in the evening according to your taste, which as yon get healthier will incline to active rather than effeminate amusements. Repeat the sponging and rubbing and go to bed before 11 P.M. A gentleman of our acquaintance on the shady side of 40, who is following this pro- gramme, stands about six feet and weighs nearly 200 pounds. He took my advice and has long since done away with his collection of medicines and imbrocations, while since commencing he has had no occasion for a doctor. Neither the heat last Summer nor the cold this Winter troubled him. During the day business tasks have ceased to be burdensome, and at night he sleeps the sleep of the just. The little trouble it takes has become a pleasure, and he is quite satis- fied that the benefit he has derived is worth more to him than he could pay for it. He never has any inclination for and can easily resist the temptation to partake of luxuries or bilious dishes. The professional should train more strict- ly. Nearly all the time he is not sleeping or eating he should spend out of doors or in practising that, or some part of that, teat which he is training for. Neither amateur nor professional should work too hard at first, but should at all times bear in mind that over-exertion is more harmful than in- sufficient exercise. I advocate the subjuga- tion but not the extinction of any natural desire. A requirement of nature should al- ways afford pleasure, but should never be- come a propensity. If a person desires to improve deportment, grace and freedom of motion, and to acquire vigor, he should box or fence, or both, taking lessons at first that he may commence with a good system. A Lesson Fiom a Fagilist. In writing lately on muscle-forming food, we referred to the interdependence between the different bodily organs and tissues, so that the body, to be properly built up, must be built up as a whole. £ven muscular de- velopment may be carried to such an extent as to impoverish the brain and reduce the fat below what is required as surplus food against emergencies, as a protection against cold, and to supply those parts which con- sist largely of fat â€" the brain, nerves and marrow. For, while surplus fat is an incumbrance, and sometimes a disease, a ^normal amount â€" and this not small â€" is as essential as mus- cular fibre. An illustration of some of these principles is given by the experience of Sullivan, the pugilist, in his recent fight in France, and it is perhaps the only useful consequence of that brutal encounter. Sullivan had spent six weeks in preparing for the contest, and is said in that time to have reduced his weight forty pounds â€" at the rate of nearly a pound a day But while thus getting rid of fat, he was net at the same equally building up muscular fibre. This is a far slower process than "training down to weight." Moreover, the loss of fat 'made him over- sensitive to the chilling rain, in the midst of which the fight was carried on, while the muscles needed an extra support 'for their long-continued and exhausting work. At the same time the nerve power was greatly reduced, for the fat, of which the brain and nerves so largely consist, is as essential to their normal action as is any other consti- tuent. And, indeed, this nerve-power is the working force of the system as truly as steam is of the engine. Says Mr. John Boyle 0'B.eiUy, the weU- known poet and writer, and a good author- i^ in physical culture "Sullivan was over-trained. This is the rule rather than the exception with English trainers. " They reduce a man's nervous or vital force to build up his muscular powers, and they take out idl bis fat, so that he gets chilled when he strips, and cannot heat again. " It vas just the same when Heenan fought King in England. He was a marvel of TOauty when he stripped, but before the fourth round his breath was roaring in him as he said himself. He had to come to a stop while his muscles were filled with power, because there was no nervous force to drive the muscles. " This is admirably put, but it is hardly proper for Mr. O'Bielly to say, " while the muscles were filled with power. " There was only a capacity for the use of power â€" the nervous ibrce â€" ^which the central ner- vous system was not then in a condition to furnish to the degree required. Sore Throats. Few ailments are more common than acre throats, yet they are largely preventable. That Is, they seldom come to one in vigor- ous health, except as the resnit of acme vio- lation of phyaidd law. The more rimple form of sore throat is cmnmonly dae to enosnre to indement weatiier, bnt often indneotly to a dis t urb ed stomach. In fact, it is not nnbeqiieiiliy doe to this owse alone. The penon says lie has taken odd, and voadera now he could have done ao, while the tmth is, he has not takoi cold at alL The atomach, ssophagna, month, noae, ete., ue lined with a mncoaa membrane continnons through this whole regioB, and the irritation b^^n in the atonach ia pio- pagated over tiie whole mncoos anrf Me. In all such oases the seat of the troaMe ia the stomach, and accordingly the efftHrts at cvre, whether by medicine, by diet, or by treat- ment, should be directed to that organ. Follicular tonsillitis ia a more serioas form of sore throat. It b perhaps dae to an infectious element, but even this is general- ly powerless where the physical oonditioB of the person who is exposed to it is other- wise good. In this case, too, the stomach may be the prime offender. More frequent- ly the disease comes to those whosephysical condition is depressed by bad hygiemc sur- roundings. There are feverish symptoms, the tonsils are inflamed and swollen, and covered dkh-c or less with small white circular spots. These may individually enlarge, so as to form patehes somewhat resembling the characteristic pateh of diphtheria, which, however, is a skin-like membrane, while the patehes in tonsillitis are merely an exuda- tion on the surface, which can be wiped off. The case should, nevertheless, always have the care of a physician. Sometimes the tonsils become greatly in- flamed, with a tendency to abscess. It be- comes difficult to swallow, and, indeed, to open the mouth. Behind the lower jaw a painful swelling is observed. The difiBoulty may increase for several days, and then the inflammation may go down, or, what is quite as likely to happen, a very painful abscess may be formed, on the evacuation of which the symptoms sub- side. This is what is often called quinsy. "Soda-Water." The drinking of so called " soda-water " is becoming more and more general. Soda fountains are found not only in drug stores, but in restaurante, bar-rooms, confectionery stores, and retail merchant establishments. All are familiar with the effervescence and foam that attend the mixing in water of carbonate of soda and tartaric acid. As the term " soda " is applied both to the foun- tain and to the drink issuing from it, one naturally supposes that there is soda in the foaming fluid he is taking. It is not so, however. The water is charged with carbonic acid, and is flavored and sweetened with some of the various syrups. The carbonic acid gas forced into water with a pressure of one hundred and eighty pounds to the square inch, and it is the escape of this gas, when the faucet is turned and the water flows into the tumbler, that causes the foaming. The gas was formerly obtained from car- bonate of soda, and hence the present name, which still clings to it but it is now obtain- ed from marble, which is a carbonate of lime. Marble is simply lime and carbonic acid chemically combined. The union is a weak one. Sulphuric acid has much stronger affinity for the lime than the car- bonic acid has, and upon being poured on powdered marble releases the carbonic acid, which is. then absorbed by the water. It makes no difference with the drink whether the carbonic acid is obtained from soda or from marble, eince nothing bnt the acid passes into the water. lUi and in the neighborhood of, large cities, the sellers of soda-water do not charge their own fountains. It is done for them at large central establishments. The question has been put to us U soda- water is wholesome. Almost any acidu- lated drink is pleasant in summer, and it often meets a real need to the system. Probably carbonated water is as wholesome as any. We should advise less of the syrup than is commonly taken, partly becaase it is apt not to be pure, and partly because, even if pure, it is not very good for the stomach. " Plain soda " is better than soda with syrup, and, after a little time, quite a pleasant as that. We believe that care is taken to have the water pure, and -to keep the apparatus free from corrosive matter, and when this done, no harm is likely to resnit from a moderate resort to the fountain. Frecantions A^inst Sunstroke. The full meaning of sunstroke is not in- cluded in that ternr. Heatstroke or inso- lation is a better word, and implies a further peril besides the downright glare of an un- clouded sun. The concentrated heat of a close workroom, as well as the exposure in- curred by some careless laborers ia the open field may lead to most seiious consequences. The exhaustion of work also, particularly if clothing is heavy, it a predisposed condition which should not be lost sight of. Ventilation, regular nutrition, light clothing, and, as far as possible, remission of the pressure of work, are strongly indicated by the weather conditions under which we are now living, and we therefore venture to impress their importance alike on employer and employ- ed. Beer and other stimulants are hurtful rather than helpful, and the substitution of non-intoxicant cooling drinks for those bev- erages is a truly scientifi' and sanitary ad- vance in public taste. Protection of the head is a subject which is now fairly well understood. It should not be forgotten tiiat the neck as well as the cranium requirles to be covered. Madame Fattl Letters lately received from Buenos Ayre give details of the debut there of Madame Patti in " The Barber of Seville." As some doubt has been expresaed about the total of the receipts, it may be as well to quote from the officiid returns supplied to the Govern- ment, which state that the amount taken at the first periormance reached the enormous sum of $24,400, most of the best aeata being sold at a high premium. Madame Patti has dnce sung in " Troviata " and ** Kigoletto." It appears, too, that the new arrangemen between Messrs. Giacci, Abbey and Graut who are Mudame Patti's impre»ario8, is a, follows :â€" Madame Patti receives $5,000 a^ a night certain in English gold, and if the raoeipts exceed f 10,000 she receives 40 per cent, of the sniplns. She is cmly obliged to aingtwice a week, need not attoid rehearsals, and receives also all travelling and hotel ex- penaea for heraelf her hnaban^ her aectetary and three domeatica. Wlthaoch an income the poor prima donna, at any rate, need not atarve. It is add that no one of Time; bnt wha is to stop » adnata. an«pt the flbht Wfo, m not. aUe T££ JOSJBBIESOFinBEBS. geaeBeauwkable Mtm "Vrke Begaried Wealth Abeve aU rhjtlem.1 Cemf erCs. Perhaps the moat famons miser that ever lived was John Elwea, an Engliahmap, who died from neglect beeanae he refnaed to in- cur the expenae of jAyaioians and nurses, though worth not less than $4,000,000. In the case of John Elwea, his sordid char- acter was not the resnit of ignoranoe for he was a graduate of a Swiss university and later in life was a member of Parliament. His greed of gold was an hereditary sin. He was a son of a London brewer, who died when the boy was only four years old. His mother survived, but to such an extent did her passion for money gain a hold upon her that, though she had $500,000 in her own right, she actually starved to death. An uncle, Sir Marvey Elwea, was also a miser, and the example of these two blood rela- tives exercised such an influence upon John Elwes that he became the nost famons miser of three centuries. After his return to England from Geneva Elwea moved in fashionable London society, where his pro- spective wealth entitled him to recognition. When he visited his uncle in Suffolk^ where the latter lived in most abject pen- ury, his hopeful nephew would play a double part. He would wear his fashionable gar- ments as far as a little inn in Chelmsford, where he exchanged them for a pair of pateh- ed troBsers, a worn out coat, darned stock- ings, and clodhopper shoes with iron bdckles. In this attire he would call upon his uncle. The latter would not permit a fire on cold March days on the score of its being extravagant, and the two wonld sit with a crust of bread and one glass of wine between them until it was too dark to see each other's faces, and then they wonld re- tire to save the expense of candles. When this uncle died he left his nephew a fortune of $1,000,000. As he grew older John Elwea developed the terrible avarice that marked hia life by a passion for cards. He would sit in hia threadbare clothes with the Duke of Nor- thumberland and play with feverish eye and trembling hand with thousands at stake, and then after having lost or won as the case might be, he would walk to hia miserable lodgings, three miles distant, in a peltering rain rather than pay for a cab. Elwes owned a magnificent country seat in Berkshire. When he would leave London to visit it he would put three hard boiled eggs in his pockets, then mounting a horse would ride over fields and through lanes, going miles out of his way to avoid roads where he would have to pay a few pennies toll. A more than faithful biographer says of him " He would eat hia provisions in the last stage of putrefaction rather than have a fresh joint from the butcher, and at one time he wore a wig about a fortnight which he picked out of a rut in a lane, and which had apparently been thrown away by a beg- gar." At his country seat he allowed of no repair a save little brown paper and a bit of bioken glass. During the harvest he would amuse himself with going into the fields to glean the corn on the ground of his own tenants, and they used to leave a little more than common to please the old gentleman, who was as eager after it as any pauper in the parish. To save bed coverings, before his death, {he would go to sleep completely dressed with boote and hat on. He died miserable, his mind weakened by worry and privation. The value of his fortune, which went to two sons, was not less than $4,000,000. Another celebrated miser was Ephraim Lapes Pereira, Bskron d' Aguilar, formerly cashier of the Eirpress Maria Theresa, of Austria. Strange to say, the early years of his life at the Austrian court were years of splendor. Then he moved to England, mar- ried a wealthy lady and settled down. He lived in sumptuous style; kept several carriages and twenty servants. He waa marri^ twice, and after his second marriage he left his family and friends and withdrew himself from the fashionable world. He tnrned farmer. At this time he was worth $1,000,000. After a year in the country his place began to be known as " Starvation Farmyard." His cattle and poultry were a mass of skin and bones, and peasants began to hoot at the baron whenever he appeared for his mean treatment of his animals. He always insisted on being present when the stock was being fed, so that he might see that there was nothing stolen or Mrasted. He went about his farm clad in naean and dirty clothes, and refused to spend money to buy new ones. After a life of selfishness and meanness he died in March, 1802, leav- ing property estimated at $1,100,000. His diamonds alone were worth $150,000, while his solid silver plate weighed over 700 pounda. But exceedincr by far the example of John Elwes is that of Daniel Dancer, whose life is the most striking example perhaps in all history of the inaatiable thiratfor gold. His father died and left him, together with a sister,^ a comfortable fortune. Dancer and hia sister lived in a miserable hut near Harrow,^ in Middlesex, England. Their fae consisted of a piece of cheap beef and fourteen hard dumplings boiled on Sunday, and this lasted them the rest of the week. The pair dressed in rags, and when the sister was dying;.from cold and starvation her brother refnaed to aummon m^ical aid on the ground that he could not apend hia money for medicine, because U the ' old girl" waa going to die the doctors oouldq't save her anyhow. Dancer was too miserly to provide soap and towels for himself. He would waah in a neighboring pool and lie out in the aun till he waa dried. Hia clothes, a mass of patehes, were held up by a belt of twisted hay, and his whole appear- ance was that of abgeot misery. Dnncan on his rambles never returned empty handed. He would gather up the bones in the vil- lage streets and lanes, bring them home, and after piokinfr them clean himself would crack diem and feed them to the dtw. Once neuhbors complained that his dog worried and killed their sheep, and for fear that he would have to pay for future depredations, he took the dog to a blacksnuth's where he had all the poor dog's teeth broken off to prevent a further recnrrenoe of the trouble. He mended his own shoes uid wore one hat continuously for thirteen yean. Whoi he lay on his dying bed his only garment was an old meL When remon- atrated with he said that be oama fatto the world withoat a shirt and he wonld oo oat (rf it that way. When a visitar soMeated t^t he have a piUow for Us head heocder- ed US onqr aarraii^ whoae wmUv ynam waa tiiirtar oeatp, to hriagUm awi^ of Sm" xUoh he BsedasnpiUovtfflliiB daa«h.a HmfbmUtm;. Beftaaertatavi^iSrat ta5,00$ anplr anfiiteft for a hhT^ during his life-time, had he so desired. Tbds money, in odd suns, waa hidden in old rags, naOed down to 'the sader part of tiie manger floor in his miaeraUe cow abed, and over $10,000 waa found hidden in the ma- nure pile, whwe it had lain for years. â€" Wished to Oontiniie Bear Mtudc. Mistreaa (to new girl) â€" " 1 had to dis- charge the last girl on account of her muai- eal inclination ahe would inaiat upon naing the piano here, and â€" " Katie Clancy (without tundog round) â€" " Oi do not approve of sich conduct in the lady, mum. (X would not intrude an the parlor, nor yeraelf mum so fer me, yez kin hey the peanny put in the kitehen. I must continue me music. Gonld Not Fossibly Agree. Wife â€" " I hear, that young Mr. Sissy and Miss Gnshington are to be married." Husbandâ€"" Is that so 1" Wifeâ€" Yes bat the Uaion will never be a happy one." Husbandâ€"" Why not " ife â€" " Because he prts his hair *ia the middle and she parte her's on the side." Dot's Wish, She never gete a scolding. She's never sent to bed. She hasn't got a napkin To put on when she's fed She plays with me, yet no one TeU's her, " Don't make a noise," I sometimes wish my dolly Waa me and I waa toya. fiace Frejodice. I grinda de org' and I playa de fid^ And I aella de ripea oanan' No ateala, no rob, I never did Bnt 1 work like de honeata man. I buy me de monk wid de leeta red hat And I tie 'em a string by de neck, I grabs de org' and I t'inks me dat I maka de mon' by de peck. I play de tune from " II Trovatore " And " Tom by Hia Mudder He Stick,** And de monk' he climb up deaecondaatory, Where de leeta gal gib 'im de nick. I worka free day and I maka four dol. And I feel me ao rich like de king. When â€" sacra diavlo, estrito chrystal I De Irish kid cutta de string. Like â€" what you call 'em Ah, yes, de blue streak, De monk' break awiw and was hid. I find 'im no mo' and I go busted dat week, Dat's why I hatea de Lruha kid. He Enew What a Mountain Was. It was in a Tar Flat school a week or two ago. The school teacher waa worming the usual kind and amount of information out of the boys. At length she asked the ques- tion: â- " What is a mountain " â- That seemed to stump the class for a minute. Finally a little hand was timidly held up. " Well, do you know what a mountain IbV ;;•:::...â- - " I guess I know." "What is it?,' " It is a lot o' land pointin' up in the air." Artful " What a perfect picture Mrs. Mournful is this evening 1" " Indeed yes. She is exquisitely painted. " Nicely Fut. "Now, Mr. Bjones," said Mrs. Ring- finger, who was visiting Mrs. Bjones, "don't try to be polite. Do just â- as you would if we wete not here, and we shall feel ever so much more at home." Easily Discouraged. "Yes," said a base ball man, "I'm dis couraged, and have given up the busineaa forever. Why, the very first game they got onto me ia the second inning, and pounded me all over the field." "That ought not to discourage you. Many a piteher has had similar luck." " Yes, brt I wasn't the pitcher I waa the umpire." The Time to Lay in Stock. Aunt Dinah (reading the paper)â€" I aeea, Bastus, by de papah, dat poultry am quoted as wery quiet. Freparing For £im. Young Featherly (waiting for Miss Clara) â€" " And so your aister expected me to call this evening, did she, Bobby " Bobbyâ€" "Y'ea, air, I guess she did. I heard her tell ma that she had set the clock an hour ahead." Mitehell. R. K. Couns. Not Safe to Leave it Around. Colored Deaconâ€" "Sister Simonades, sdn't yon 'fraid dat boy of youm'l take de menin- gitia, runnin' wild all ober town " Slater S.â€" "WeU, brudder, I'ae tried to raiae dat chile right, but if dey leab any of it whar he kin git his handis on it, he'a more'n likely to ateal it, de trifflin' nigger I" Disconiaging. Gentlemanâ€" " If you will get my coat done by Saturday I ahall be forever indebt- ed to you." Tailer.â€" " Oh, if that'a your game it won't be done." She Thought So, Too. "I think," aaid the miniater, who waa viaiting a pariahioner, " that it ia eaaier to ooax children than to drive them. Gentle worda are more effective than harsh onea." " I think ao, too," aaid the lady tenderly. Then ahe nuaed her window and auddenly ahouted to her boy " Johnnie, if you don't oome in out of that rand-puddle I'll break your back. GiyinarDpaOueer. "I'm sola' to be a soldier, ma, when powup,^' said Bobby, as he crawled iato be^ "and fight in wars and battles" " AU right, Bobby now go to sleep." M "^^ BMOTung she abode him for the foorth time and Md • â- al^er obaiiged aqrnM. about Remedies for file Ether aloepleaaneai k«,,, modern faciUtiea for the iS5f '^^ freq^iently in print. ^^ pliabed a vast amontt otm,^ an outlay of some brain 00^! -•««»,« r,n order to bring up the?^S^'»-.C and make both ends meet Ti^ are perhaps too ambitious • ». ^-^ energies intrying to keepJ^^W who are stronger m mind, W °C purse we not only overw^ »i we dweU too long npon 2^'i7' »«tj monomaniacs. Indead, I^ii„*~' change, not merely from^^'^T^ W from one kind of work to m^J,!? %. 1* firm belief that the gr^^T' '" duties we can discharge ^tJ«^! v' i burdened, the steadie?^,'*^'^?" come. '" ""WTei ' A friend of mine, a aAtnn\ ». i enthusiast inherwoVk, ^^i^, •« haps unconsciously beoaW^^r^.»« her occupation that she »« to ;??"**'« time and strength. H«Sli'"' »^ voted to the conectionTf rSX^^ her pupils and to the seaffij » matter and methods for her ^w!?*" safer than opiates. Althoaghb^KS her parents, she had given up ^S^ .domestic details of thehouwhold. ^F^! to lose her reason, she accepted theS t«on. and devoted her tiioe to homS At thia time the sudden S ft ^nrch organist left a vacancy which,h. beins a musician, waa urged to aupply " deciaed to accept, although ^^^J thought her unwise to add to her S gr«it responsibiUties, bat ahe loved m£ and was conscious that her art wag raS Bhppmg from her grasp for want of pnSJ Mdsaw in this opportunity the po«aibit. of retaininjg and increasing her powenb thu direction. To her own Bnrpri8e.ud that of all her friends, her health imrnwd under the new burden when she worried. It was not always about the school, tat sometimes about the troubles in the chnrdi choir. (Did ever church choir exist withow them?) At this time an unforeseen financial al- amity occurred, and my friend took up her pen. which she had wielded for many yews with grace, and helped to lift the hea^j load. Sickness in the family required iier to spend a few of the hours she could ctE her own in nursing. No one ever acoom- plished more yet her health improved daily. She learned to systematize her u- duous labors when the school-room doet was locked, all thoughts of school were banished when the church organ \ni closed, the bickerings of the choir wen shut out of mind when the pen waa laid down, the manuscript was regarded aa ac- cepted when the school- room door opened, all care of the invalid at home was left be- hind, and when she laid her head upon bet pillow at night it was to sleep. She told me that her constant change 0! occupation gave her health and strenj^ui, which in turn gave her the will power to concentrate her attention upon the work before her, whether teaching, nursing, play- ing, sweeping or sleeping. It is said that farmer's wives constitate the majority of occupants of onr insaneasy- lums, and that overwork, monotonous work, unremunerative work, is the cause. We do not often read that the farmer becomes ia sane he does not overworkâ€" he lures eita men for extra work. He does not find his work monotonous he is constantly chang- ing his crops. As they mature in rotatioij, he has always something of interest to absorb him. Neither is his work unremunerative; he would soon become insane if, after a haw season of labor, he received nothing in «• turn. Not so the farmer's wife; she works in* hot kitehen during the lonp summer day preparing food for extra men, sometim" without one person upon whom she cm »" for help often with a teething baby mUff arms, while other little ones clamor teiK- tention. The washing, ironing, ooowg and sewing are all to be done by this won- out woman, who receives asremunenWJ perhaps two or three calico dresses a P«- (This may seem an extreme case, onu^ been an eye-witness of such a 8»w affairs.) What wonder that 8n*»y" loses her power to sleep and ends her bw erable days in a madhouse My sisters, don't be skefi^ssi l*«| change of occupation; do Bometiaai^ day tiiat you enjoy doing above "^^ learn to do something that »»" I moneyâ€" a woman who does "Ot «?J^ jj, own pocket-book in these daysB W5?" age. It wiU save you worry and w" ' up your drooping spirite Mif»oto« Although it is desirable to "»°*%oa; do oneShing well," do not devote. y^ energies to one object, to the »" ^a. everything ebe, but make as ^fV,^ aelvla as possible, and, m"^S'U aleepleasn^ will be, in a measure, 1^^^*'" mtH«atim; the idea of a ldi«r W^g abed n« this hoar r Mged a^y IBM jOmm* ImU a\w^ come. A The ),000,(X)OW.W.Sclie»ft he people of Paris, France, tt«^^ Ing a scheme submitted by » ^TTrttf city tothe municipality for ban^^ w»W with an ample supply^ M^n^tsc*' from Lake Neufchatel, Switza^l«J^ of J60.000.000. Thed«fa«cew^ijji lake of Neuf chatel and Paru J w ^^ the surface of the lake 1. 1.6» '.„ vti er than the mean level of ^*â„¢^ jhiiwf area covering 140 square «°i'*,ple«*' bodyof wateF, even i?it wcrenoW'^^ would be sufficient to snpply "^h,,jp» years at the rate of 1^ rtSS»««** day, the level of the lake fall«g»5„i„Ptf» th^ feet, and the waterwonW am^^ at a temperature of SOl^P^^froa* It ia not proposed to take ^^V^aSH' surface o? tifclake, bntf-SUf^jS underground heading 262 g J^ttf^ face of the lake, where .th«^^7^ of only 43 degrees. T^«*St.tir« taken thr"-?*^ i *^^LT£^^JI taken tnrougn a •""^l" .^-im to "' long under the J«» ^oonto" j ^W »uSre valley, in the f^PjJed Donbs, and thence inW^^tfUjJ along the alopea '^^.f'^J^as^Z it would arrive atiU at »nJL»ii o(*l| feet. Aa the preaent rew^ Lyeanelevatio^ oi^f J^^'J^^ the fall, or preaanre, 1^ J^ ' I«r0^ FIB8T PUBUSHBD.] LIKE A By ]M Aathor of " Lady Audlki CBAPTER XXII.-^Mr. Beechi: MATUM. -ifr BeecUng took a hansom *.i^treet off Cavendish-square, a Zlln'to all the best dressed fr^^ As he drove along h tjSt^niumld do for Mrs. Badd ^io inherently a man of busin* rriimd 'never soiled his fingers â- ^.^Bof a city officeâ€" that it irk » hundred pounds into thi ^w as a sop is flung to Cerberus. *iL2. him bettor to make some k JT^th the harpy, even if the t Swild cost him more than a Iggnds. He wanted to get some t^Taia money. He sent his card to Mrs. Ponsi vaa at once admitted into the ve ^of the house near Cavendish sc i2v'b wavate room, study, offic aofr, which ever she might prefer lad her® ^^ waa.recieved witl ^^es by Mis. Ponsonby herself. She needed no explanation of I far she had seen him in attendanc handsome Mrs. Baddeley at rao and other places of public resor jln. Ponsonby went occasionally tjie world was using her customer diere that she made up her mind her doubtful patronesses, as to he yightbe worthy of her confidei {^h she saw at Hurlingham down served as the chart by gteered in dangerous seas. In maker's estimation of Mrs. I iriuise acount was a bagatelle com otiier accounts â€" Mr. Beech ing « portent factor. He had never c Uireshold until to-day, and she ft with herself for havirg written tiiat had brought him there. She was not so pleased, howe^ quarter of an hour's conversation cl Of money on account he would her a sixpence. If she were pi settle her account upon equitable thirty-three per cent., he woul his cheque and take Mrs. Baddele in full of all demands. If she w( posed to tuscept this offer, she mi 1^. Baddeley alone for her m would have nothing to do with it. what dressmaker's' bill's were, anc 008 profits they exacted. He w that thirty-three per cent, would that ahe nad supplied, and leave of profit. At any rate that was tnnu Mrs. Baddeley had given h powers. As for the gowns for th Mrs. Baddeley could do very w them. It was by her thcting, not tome ahe was to please her au was not to be supposed that he frightened into paying an exorbite Mrs. Ponsonby held out for a She was not in the habit of compr Mconnt. She was in no immedii auMiey. She meant to have her 1 Baddeley would be obliged to pa] "My good soul, it is all talk," replied Mr. Beeching, wh at his ease in a business intervi society " but can you get bio stone 7 Can you get nine bund: oat of an officer's wife â€" a lady band is being roasted edive at somewhere, in order to keep boc together. You have made your trusting a lady in Mrs. Baddeley tien, and you ought to think commonly lucky if you get a your account, without law bother of any kind." "Mrs. Bddeley may not hi bnt she has friends," argued the "No doubt she has friend friradaâ€" but I take it I am MBong 'em who would pay six pence in the pound to get her caty. One thing I can assure Pmaonby, I won't pay seven liave made my final offer." He had his cheque-book pocket of hia summer overcoi ^wing distinctly against the He touched the book luhtly a •ad that touch decided Mrs. Po She had felt some uneasiness Baddeley's account, and it was gat the cost price of her materii ^odit of having dressed a lad |own and admired in a partici who had brought Mrs. Ponsoi w»l of custom. I should be sorry to disobligi »h«n I have a great Uking," si •prtroBiaing air " and rather "U nacept your cheque." And give me a receipt in ti SMadst' ^, ' *^*«, so far as the acccu «•». The gowns that are to "« Mtemoon are not in that s •What are they to cost V wi. Ponscmby looked at a c ** ?W[«»port. Seventy-seven pounds eight "â- * "ioepence." I'll Md thirty-five to your 7|*oan cross Mrs. Baddeley ^•*J»ltogether." ^^ W°*t J I am to take a th ^Jn and to lose my customer j^*«t at alL She says then l2*«obutyou whocanmaki 2rtJ"\eo on dealing with 3 j^»; butif she takesmy a Sy* pay ready money, and ^Tj "'•M going to pay when jJJ*- You'll both of yon fin ^i?«Joh pleasanter." ~. ««t if my prices are te be ?Sy?y» wpliod Mrs. Ponsoi was a further discusi loq^c and his cheq te wrote his cheque, accounts, saw the â- ted on the top of [*«wn in charge of it, iJM^lkie Mannons. E â- •w and the big basl [Baddeley was in her d I Imt lovely, in a im green, unc ^sJ*^ si kBaeohing, have yc ^dinJi *..£? I'^i-^i-M^: 5'Si;ij^_/i\:»s- m-: