The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

A DEFIANT BEAUTY. rilAI'TKH VI. "T*if>u troubk-at tnr . I am not in the He accosts fhe u"irradou pcrmls- lon. anu torft rher ili,-> Mr >:i town I the g1ius>-houe*. where McPai ! fsn-.ou* rows ar<- still In all their !">'. Autumn Is cl >.e upon us. .- th* flrl had said to him a mo- ment ago about them iirul dinner Is new rankling In Dalrympl '.<* mmd. and pr*M*iiily. aftr a firm, n.ward resolu- Uot< ' r tli.in ii'i'i'iach either of th..- . .Kiits, t\f tuir.s abruptly to her and asks Hie one question that of all other* he had forbidden himn.-lf : " W*o li dining here to-night '"' " The Maxwell*, the Moore*. 8ir John Amory and Lord Durtford." " Dart? Td ! I thought he was not te rr4um until September." " He ha c->me, nevt-rthele**. He ar- rived hut night. I told grandpapa about it, and be desired me to servl him a card." " If he only arrived last night, how did you *end him a card T" " This mat-runt, at course, and had an acceptance tlUa afternoon Any- thtasj strange about It ?" with a saucy Uttle glance from und.-r her long hha at hm frowning fa " Rattier more than strunge. I think. For instance If he only came ia?t night, how did you know he was In the coun- try ?" " Why. that I* the simplest part of It all. He wrote me word of his Intend- ed return hurt wek From Paris h- wrote. I think." " You correspond, then '." Hl face I* whit.-, now. and th-i- is a curious expression on his III*. " Doe* your grandfather know tint, too ?" "I don't know." nonchalantly. "I daro- aay not. You can tell him." Colonel Dalrymple, catching her by her arm. swings her lightly round to as to face him. "Once for all." *ay* be. "you are a girl. I know, and I am a man. but un- derstand at once that you (hall not in- sult me." "What a t.-mper you are In." saya he. shaking herself free of him. with little rapid movement, "and all be- cause you lost that ganu* of tennis." "It that win all the low I am evr t.. en*ire !" irmye he In a voice now low and subdued, but very sad. He se.-ms a*aniMl of his late violence. "Still, you don't like It." ays she. "You hat.-.! having to play with m . for one thing, because you know I am uncertain with my balls. Yes. I quIH unovntood what you meant by 'that ! r*-nda.' when Dickey railed out to you. and wild Chat he would give you a 'lickinK ' You wanted to play wit 1 ! Mary." "I really don't believe I gave th* matter a thought." icily. "However well you play tennis, you certainly play the lover badly," says she wlrh a scornful laugh "If you had been sensible, you would have given me a thought. Not that I wanted it. I much prefer Dickey as a partner- but still It would have li'-.-n more grace- ful than to rihow op Tils what a bore you thougiM me." "DM I show that ?" "Well ! I leave It to yourself. Of course. I know Mary plays beautifully, and that I am very Inferior to h>-r in every way ; but there la a certain amount of courteejy. that I think." he says quickly, perhaps at heart a little ashamed of using her best frit-mi ZM a medium of her desire to torment her cousin, " I think Mary Is the weetmt thing alive." "Ml> Sylvester I* charming, is ill the world allows." says Dalrymple with warmth. The warmth has its priiM i|,iil source from the anger that IH Mill burning luvt within him ; and In o priinouno-d that Involuntarily Nell turns her eyes to his. It IH not the answer she had expected, and some- li'.u -for a moment It startles her. How. iw why, sihe could not have >-x- plnlned. "Yes. all the world." says she. slow- ly, "and you." "It la really a matter of no lm|H>rt- i" her." says Dalrymple ; "hut he certainly stand* very high In my estimation.'' \Vh.-n sh>- in.trrles. ' Buys Nell, still staring at him. "I shall lone my best frl"inl " "I hardly see that." says he. "but If M ,),, I,,,., ii,.,.. nhe will be. I should think. ;i rnl loss to you." "You admire h.-r very much." saya rtie Hlnwly. yet with mucli vli'-i. "An I have said." shortly. "W"ll ' You can't many IH-I- i-ltlier'" crleii she, with all th- CUI-I.-MS miner of a spoil. -,1 i-lnld "I!.-, IIIH- nho In going to marrv John Amorv '" "N.-II !" mys Colon. -I l> ilrvni|,|.'. "h.irply. as If hi>cke,|, ax Ind-.-d he well might be. " l>,,n i peuk to un- like that." He lays his hands upon her shoulders anil preim.ii II.T hack from him, and as she thus looks Into Ms eyes, something In lli-in should have tinirhed her- but It d<-Hn't. "I have no d.slr.- to murry M!H Syl\.s- ter. or any one unions ' " Ah ! there we are equal." int.-rrupt* he. quickly, not heeding the end there might be to his sentence. "That'll Just hmw I feel. We are companions In this on.- thing at least. I don't .mt to marry any one. either " Mon'l you ?" nyH he. " Well, hut I do . so we are not such clone compan- ions aa you thought. And yet, all my desire hew that way. For, aa you are tired of hearing no l-.uM I would be y*ur .in|.HMion nlways." " Don't make me null.- hate you," ayn she. with a fierce little wrench that leave* her free nf his graop. Dalrymple, aa though effectually sll- I. walks on beside her without a word It p.'.-nis to him. that If he was ever >n eager to pursue the nrgu- ment. no language |s left him in wi.i ii *o do It. Mb* u killed within him all poiitan>*.iua) th'iiigbt. A dreadful i hill seems to h,n f.ili.-n Into the li-.ii of the summer day, and Indeed as 'ie looks round him In a half-heart' i fashion. It occurs to him that duy Is K'.ne. :in<l evening In alr.-.i.ly here. Tho warmth, the vigor of life, ha fad.--l. the ashes of It now remain. Anl *<j with lil life. As If In pxMlonate protest against this miMii-nfiil il'Hirt.-, he thrown up his head, and comi>e! hlmxelf to eni.r once again Into * onveri*i'tln with the wilful beauty walking In stuMiorn sil- ii. ^ by hla side. He will talk K alitles to her anything everything If only to show her that he Is not al- together slain by her bow and npear. " Warm day." says he. making this brilliant remark wltli all the force tlia.t It requires. , " Warm evening," correct* he, sweetly. " Dull In the country, Isn't It T" " ! It ?" "Seems absurd, the monotony, after the Incessant change of town." " I'm afraid y.ou are very unhappy. Why stay here? I am aure grendpa.pa will excuse you If you wish to return to the sweet, shady side of Pall Mall." "Oh. no. thanks: my solicitude was all for you. As for me ; I like monotony and all the rent of It." " Am I the reat of It ?" She laughs provoklngly as he says this. and. plucking a flower next to her, holds It up before him. and then second by second advances It. until It Is right un- der his nose. " You are cross," says she. wlrh a tilt of her chin ; "and with me. r.lve It up. What good will it do you ?" " None, none." says Dalrymple. with .in Inward groan and much conviction. " Why I let you triumph over me aa you do I can't Imagine. But what I can Imagine Is. the folly of your caring for HO cheap a victory. Why not let me go ?" " <iod heavens ! One would think I was holding on to your coat-tails." says the spoiled child, with a little lauph. " I'm not. anyway. You can go. when and where you please." Is that man going to play your ac- companiments to-night ?" asked Dul- rymple. abruptly. " What man ?" " You know very well Dartford." " I don't know him very well, as It h.ipp-ns. Hut yes I daresay he will." " You must know him uncommonly well to be on letter-writing terms with him " " What an extraordinary sentence ! ' letter-writing terms !' Why not say 'as you correspond with him '? o mii'-h prettier !" " You are very clever at evading an accusation." he says, with a KM- r " And who attempts to accuse me ?" demands nhv. hotly, stung by his tone. "You ? And why. then ? Where lies your claim ?" " I am your cousin, at all event*. After your grandfather your nearest relative. I have no Intention of stand- ing idly by and seeing you make a fo >l of yourself." " Really. Noel." says she. as calmly as possibly, though she Is positively choking with Indignation ; "permit mx to suy that you go sometlmen a little too far. There Is a line ;hat must be drawn A Joke Is a Joke, and I presume you wer> attepmpting one when you called me a fool, but one can be some- times too funny." " It was no Joke." gloomily. Somehow this reply, which should have Increased her anger, touches in .HI .nld w iy her versatile nature, and comp-ln her to laughter " It was not. Indeed." says she, glv- in* way to mirth. " Well, don't do It .tguln. that's all. or I Hha'n't let you off so eanlly. Oh, there's HcFarlune" 'Sta\. N.-II stay one moment. I don't often ask a favor of you, but - don't let Dartford play your accotn- panlmenta to-night." " And If I say 'yes,' who will play idem will yon " You kn.iw 1 c.in't," unys the young in. in. ivpio:i, hfully. You know what you would have." she. disdainfully. " You wotiM li.iv,. in.- ifive up music altogether. You li.it.. MI. ii |.i , ...in violin of mine. You would break It Into a thousand pieces If you d*re<l i Vine ; deny all that If V .01 i in ' I can't," says he, slowly. In truth, wise and able man as he Is. he would gladly wreak hln vengeance on that hiirml-sn IIIMI iiin.'iii . Not n,ven Dart- Mi unli laiiiTlv he hns begun to 'liink ol him with deep suspicion la so dangerous a rival In the path that leads to Hie heart of this capricious in.i'oen !< the violin Khe so dearly loves. '1 1 boy ' (in up on" ! The tnith in-fore all things ' \\>ll, you sha'n't >! iiiollxh It, be mire of that, so long MS I'm alive. As for I..T.I Innfoi I I !' \..u won't demolish him either until I <an get a aiilmtlluie. I di.n't think In- has Sol an iiinli-rnludy ready. in.) In liiiiiM.'ir he U so Incomparable >li:it I can't .iff.. M| to l.-t him go." I j.e," snys Dalrymple. with a ntrang glumv at her. He In evidently on the point >f saying something more a good d i\l more but by u supreme effort controls himself. Presently he says, quite quietly. " You like him ?" Why n..t ? He Is a good mn-i i iti he understand* me." He understands you !" almost vio- lently. " My playing, at all events. Concede so much to him " ' I coiiciili' nolhiiiK to him." V.'ii in . as I have ald. Illiberal : you would deprive me of my friends, and of my art. You would leare me -orly " " tVhal .'" defiantly. with even greater defiance II' I* -il'-iii. staring at her, wonder- Ing perhaps a little at her audacity. and a great deal at her beauty us ' What an lnsol-nt. ml.'h.'-v- ous. . 'lire; with a heart that might contain HO much !. v.-t will hold nut one small grain fur him. " I confess H would be a poor . liniiKe ' savs he. at last. In a sort of glvlng-up curt of tone. " I'm not worth the quarter of It but." his strength returlng to him. " neither is he nub a half .(unrter ! A despicable fallow, to whom one would be asham- ed to hold out the hand of friendship." " I saw you shake hands with him at Ascot," says she. mildly. " A man might go so far, but I can- not bear to think that you should re- gard him with even the barest civil- ity. I; ia very hard to speak." says he. desperately ; " but If you knew nil" " If I knew 'all' about everybody. I dare say my acquaintance would be limited." " That Is true, of course. But Dar>- ford la on a worsw footing than moat. There are people In your own set." (peaking with difficulty, and feeling how much easier It wuuld be to put her on her guard were he not so en- tirely heart and soul her slave, "who have refused to receive him." " What nonsense ! You are Imagin- ing evil against him. Why. he was the most petted guest at the Darnly- Stalnea last Autumn." " Ah. but thoae girls are so old and, of course, be has money." " It doesn't seem to cover hi* sin*." with a short little laugh. " He hasn't enough for that. It would take a Croesus to live down his reputation." " He talk* very kindly of you when he talks of 'you at all," say* Nell, gently. Having delivered this stinging llt'le compliment, the moves on more brisk- ly. and coming up with McParlane. dismisses Dalrymple with a cool nod. and carries off the old Scotchman In triumph to the Rose House. CHAPTER VII. " Amid the golden glf.s which Heaven Ha* left, like portions of Its light, on earth. None haih such Influence a* music hath." The room Is rapt In a soft silence ; tb* old man. I<ord Carbyne. Is drawing In deep, long sighs of contentment ; great aavagt as he 1* to his domestics ii ml tho*) dearest to him. music hath charms to soothe hi* breat and b- \ond all oth?t music, that of his grand- mid. She Is norw standing beside th* piano In * careless, unstudied attitude. with a pretty flush upon her cheeks, snd at all event*, part of her heart In the sweet strains she Is drawing from her violin. Now. most sad, most mournful th*y run, and now, wild with glad mirth, and now again, till' d with a martial meaning that stirs the souls >f ii. i^e who linten. Yet to Dalrymple. who ha* made her a study, unconsciously, for the past twelve months. It m plain that she Is but coquetting with her violin ; mak- ing use of It, a* it were, to get through the pre-nt movement, with a view to another movement further on, rich in promise. His Jealousy but too plainly points to Dartford as th* one who I* to bring that promise to perfection. And presently, even as he Is brood- Ing unhappily over this suspicion, the music c >mee to an end. and Miss Fair- fax. with a pretty word or two of thanks to the pale young man who had vary Inefficiently accompanied her on the piano, and an Ill-suppressed sigh of relief, moves lightly across the room to where Mary Sylvester Is silting be- side a very lean young woman, got up Ilk* a mediaeval saint. Thin latter he ha* Indeed managed to acquire for public occislons, and an expression n >t to be matched for melancholy resigna- tion. and la now shaking her snort, tangled, flaming locks In Mils Sylves- ter's rather bored face. Eleanor. bearing down upon her. drops on one knee hra'de the saint and most Irrever- ently chucks her under the chin. " What's the latest craze, Sally r" auks she. gayly. "t>h. not Sally, dearest, I Implore I" cries Mm. Mountby-Maugre. with a de- *l in INK mo. in. " Sarah that beauti- ful old name. Not. not that terrible" She appears on the point of fainting, Hnd K'l'l'es blindly for the vinaigrette that II.IIKCH by a long s'lver chain from her Kirdle. ' Why. it was Sarah laat month," says Bleanor. unfeelingly. "A month' Wliil an eternity may lie In i\ month '" breathes Mrs. M.mnt- I>y-M.ugre " How you talk of tim ' 1're, i., i| 4 Time ! How much may not be acci.mplt.-hed In thirty-one days." " A good deal, certainly." says Elea- nor. springing to her feet with all the adorable elasticity of youth. "It has ii.|.-.l you to get christened ali over IK.llli '" Sonii-lii.dy laughs a* she <iys this. snd turnlnR her eyes quickly, she ftnds I.ord Dartford at her elbow . a slight, siure man. with a dark complexion, heavy moustache and light-gray eye*. A man outwardly polished, inwardly dingy to a degree. Not vulgerly dls- sliated In appearance, but unmistak- ably so for all that. An excelle.it .nuslclan : n good talker ; ever with a good-humored word upon his !lps, or a jeM. becoming i.r oth.-rwlie as Ms company shifts Itself, without a par- ticle of heart, and no character whss That he Is notoriously eprl* about Miss Fairfax Is a fact now accepted by his set Where she goes he goes. as oftn as Is practicable throwing I'linneir in her path on all occasions. To i ho Klrl herself, he Is nothing more than a most excellent Interpreter of her favorite composers, and sn Invalu- able ally when vhe want* some < ne to aid hr In her m'. sir al triumph*. To I Dartford, she happen* to pai her the blase nun of the w.nld. ac.-ust ". an I mindful of Mr warning things a " f ln<> morning the malicious prlt* me she displays In his so- that has ktpt closely at her aide all lety ha.< but one meaning, that che ihe evening prompt* her to throw him . i.-n to him her young heart's ' a defiant word or two. first love, ind Is pining to r->'--ive fr..in' "We are going- to glv* yow *one- t.im the asurai:<e that the battered | thing to dwell upon." erte* she. with and hideon* remains of what he Is grown to regard the unconscious El- pleased to call his love has been gra- radiant sau-lnes*. looking back at him clcusly laid before her. to rick up. and ' v-r her shoulder, while, with one hand cherish In her Innocent bosom. lifted. *he tr.fles with the amber bead* ; ar. cruel !" whisper, he to 1,,-r arou "f **"* 3 """ >thl Jo re- .'riwli.K h'-r a little away from member. the affronted saint, who has now con- "V? ln , to c ' my f* lf ' **>** D * rt ' jured up % martyred air. "And not ford has Inured me. only tj h-r " This with dinlir : It is an audac.ou* little speech, aird : ,g ; but Miss Fairfax mls?s it-Jarft for the extreme childlshne** that "No to myelf, also. Could any- characterizes her. might be termed i.iR b- more mur.'-rous than the way bold. It mak^s her nothing, however, Mr Mors.in treated ihut last scherzo? [ ave a naughty chil 1. Dalrymple re- It was horrible. Yc-t I endured I ,tums her provoking gaze steadily, with I in now talking to you !" 'an unftmlllng eye. He Is worth ten There is nothing beyond a pretty [thousand DarVords. but. unfortunately, compliment to his superior power* a* I Is so much in earnest that he give* .nveyed in these la*t| himself away a good deal, and permit* words ; but Dartford, who has been a I h*r to see only the uncomfortable sld* good deal apoiled by a certain cla** of 'of him. Beyond the glance, ht make* no reply. "You are so entirely a person to be congratulated on every point," say* Dartford. a* they move on. "that cii* crumpled rosleaf cannot afflict >ou greatly. I ahould say that cousin of your* 1* It." " How ?" saya ahe. with women, mistake) her. " Do you think I am not sensible of that ?" iys hi-, with conlderable era- presaemi-nt and an earnest I.P >k that has done considerable service off and on. Miss Fairfax stares at him, and then, as If a little uncertain a* to hi* meaning, but charitably supposing , that It la not non*ere. but an absurdly i Innocence, looklnf quickly around, humble tribute to her K enlus that has ] " Surly beggar, eh f" says Dartford. a.-tuated the enigmatical reply. *ays. i *">" In the knowledge that ha had given Dalrymple a rather anejry glance Well. If* very good of you, I'm >hen he bad refused to answer ht-r. " I think I have gathered from him " Eh ! What r say* he, pausing a*' that you are not a very Intimate friend one might who Is partly deaf and hajof hl." ay* she. coldly, annoyed wlth- f a iled to comprehend. If he had been enigmatical to her, *be (. ..- been doubly so to him ! " You are very good, too good." per- sists she. secure in her own reading and feeling so ashamed of such praise from a man who really understand* music. After all '. What she The world has yet to prove her a genius, or merely talented. " Oh. ay ! Just so." say* Dartford. till at sea : and now with hi* usual beaming smile that ha* so little in It. " By Jove ! It's the rirst time I've been told that." Somebody coming up to Eleanor at this moment, and touching h-r rm. she imp iti.-ntly turns to her right. Dalrymple his face paler and sterner than usual. Is standing beside her " Mrs. Maxwell Is so anxious to near Lord Dart ford sing. ;hs>t your grand- father ha* sent me to you. to to ask him to do so " Ther Is something in the grave re- proach that I* so very near to anger In his eyes that enrage* Miss Fairfax. she gives him but curt reply. rtalnly." she says, "lie I* so kind, so igreeable always, that I am ure he will not refuse." She turns a cold glance from Dalry- n pie to let a beaming smile fall on Dartford. "Have you heard 7" ahe says. "Mr Maxwell will be unhappy until you have sung to her. Oo. Put her out of pain. Sing to her." 1 Not to her. to you." say* he. softly to low that Dalrymple cannot hear the out knowing why. Truly, she tell* herself. Dartford. though unrivalled a* an accompanist. I* a little trying at time*, and. of course. It is always la bad taate to abuse one's relation* to one'* face. " What shall It be ?" cay* *he. look- Ing down at the heap of music oo th* stand near the piano. TO II CO>T1.M ID. COREAN MARRIAGES. ! Tk.i flrr Wo.ld Bat) AsMrlcas Mew Wcaiaa. Corean girli, according to Mr. H. S. Suodermon, after enjoymq freedom till they art sight years old, art consigned < th* womea'i quartan, wnre they lift IB seclusion till thy r married, at aiiiesa or seventeen years. After marriage lae woman is allowed to * no man bat her hueband. Th* boys OB the other hand, are laugh* that it ia undignified for them w our the women's part of the boo**. They sever eee their bride* till the wed- ding day, all baring been arranged for them, often whea both brileand groom ar* infants. The marriage oeremony is Ten iimple. The bride and bridegroom miU their moet intimate friend* to assist then in dressing their hair IB the manner befit ting their new tetat*. Then the bridegnxm mounts a whit* pony, which U led by iw> errant*, while word*, but can mark the lover-like i two other* on either *id* support th* rider look and attitude, and can feel the | IB hi* saddle. pang that contracts his heart. Thut he proceed* W the bride'* hoax, "It I* a co npllment !" saya Eleanor. I accompanied by hie relative*. At their prettily, but utterly without sentiment, destination they find a pavilion erected in ..-,.| presently Dartford'* well-culti- vated voice 1* sounding- through the room. He lias chosen a quaint little love-song, u* simple aa possible, and Into the laat verse he throws as much devotion he dare*, hoping Eleanor will accnpt U for herself. "S> that our heart* be one. So that our love be true, The world may laurh or frown For me and you. Men m iv be wl*e or fools. Stars may iie out above. We ask of Mfe no grift But love but love !" It Is a distinctly passionate little ef- fort on Dartford's part. but. unfortun- ately. Mrs. Maxwell, a little, llg-ht- hoared. half-pre*ty woman of thir'iy- five or so. who ha* a passing tenderne** for him. .ind who had aslced him to sing, take* the devotion, the words, the subdued passion, entirely as her own. "What a heavenly *on*T !" lay* *he. waylaying him as he rise* from th* p:no. and, herding forward. In a little fashion of her own. to glsvnce up at him M >m und^r her lashes. "And how true! Oh." rapturously, "love, love !" "Uove that makes the world ga round." says he. curtly, making a pr-- t- n . l( f tilling up her sentence. ,ili, nit a* near rubbish, you know. 44 they make It. now-a-day*. It money th,.t makes the world re. \olve That's the true axis. You take m\ word for It." There Is something a little brutal al'out the man little vulgar. Hav- lix thu<i. without recjard to the small- eft courtesy, "choked off." a* he would himself have *ald. this woman, with whom he had dallied innny an hour and oft. J\e crosses the room to where his latest fancy sits smiling kindly at old Qeneial Maxwell. "I am tellln*; Miss Fairfax that she ha* been a littl-j unkind to us to-night." rays the Oervral, looking; up at Dart- f. rd "We no aeldom hevve the chance ,>f hearing her divine Interpretation* of our favorites that ahe should not grudge u* a rood deal of her violin when we do meet. And you. Dartford. I have heard you accompany her. It was a treat. Might." turning gallant- ly to Eleanor, "an old man plead for such another perfect half hour to- night r "You have a silver toi-.gue. General. What I* It I could refuse you ?" say* Miss Nell. wwetly. "Are you I' the vein, Lord Dartford T Oome. then, we will do our beat to rharm this cleverest. If kindliest of critics " She smiles down at the General, who. In truth, has a fine knowledge of music, a nd a love for It. passing all others. Moving across the room beside Lord th* courtyard of th* bout*, in which the bride and her relative* are awaiting their arrival A goo** (the Corean lymbol of fidelity), which the bridegroom bring* with him, I* then produced. The bride, who ha* I* oov*r her fnoe with her long ileevee, aid Ihe bridegroom then bow to each other until their bead* aiiroet touch the ground. Thu they do three or four times, and ar* then man and wife. A loving cup i* | wir.i around, and then the bride u taken off to th* women'* apartment* of her ho*bead'i home, wher* he i* looted after by n*r mother sad mother-in-law, while the groom enlrtaia* hit friends. Fidelity is imposed OB the wife, but the buibaud I* under no (uos obligation. He can marry but one wife, it i* trne,but he i* allowed a* many concubine* as he oan afford. Three, however, never inhabit th* am* noune a* hit pimc Th* hu*l>and i* for cipal oed to l wife. maintain hi* wife properly and treat her with recpeok Marriage i* th* great event in a Coreaa'i lift, for h* then attaiui man'* Mtate. Be- fore marriage, no matter how old he may be, ne i* treated as a bey, and ha* to main- tain a deferential attitude toward the mar- ried men, even though tiny may be oulj half his age. A Cure for Toothache. In Staffordshire and Snropihire, England, (hy have a mntt extraordinary ure tot toothache. The eutferer walohe* a mole'f runaway with a ipatl* and trap*, and, a* oon a* he riooeed* in capturing one of theee reputed eyeles* Imle animal*, entf off it* paw and quickly applies it to th* aching molar. In order 10 make the our* ure and effective, the paw mu*t be ampu- tated while the mole I* yet alive ; further* more, if the aching tooth n on the right id* of th* jaw, a left-hand mole paw 11111*1 be u**d, and vice vena. A umilar tooth- ache uperitiliuu exiet* in the I'epe Verdt liland* and alto on th* Canaries, Neit In a Clock. A euriou* incident ha* juit occurred at Birchingten Paruh Church, England, mi- mortaliMd in the " lagoldiby Legud*." IB commemoratiau of the Queen'* j ubiU* * clock with a *k*l*tan face wu placed ia th* church tower. The other day the olook unaccountably (topped, and upon inipection it wu found that a house tpar- row had built in ne*t bteu the project- ing VII . and l.\. *o firmly a* to prevent the clock from working. The neet was promptly removed, only u> be rebuilt a day or two later in th* same unique poeiiioa, (foe* mor* the face ha* been cleared and Ihe or>|irtunity taken to regiM thefignroa. Theiparrow* to far hare not made aaothei attempt to build Uier*.