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7^ LORD -KILLEEN'S REVENGE GHAi'TEU xirr. It was, as has LK!<;n said, a glorious night. The hoavons wens bright with •Urs. Outside, in the pertumed dark- ness of the gardeua, a liRht hreeze.flow- er-scented, was rustling through the trfies; a dainty wind, soft as a herald- igK breath from the suiiuuer, now so near. The silver moon liung high in the vast dom»; " a dewy freshness filled the air;" from the woods beyond, a sleepy, trem- ulous cooing, as ot man; birdsi stole on the senses. Hero and there colored lamin ipleaiued through the dusky vail thai covenwl all things, lighting up the gleaming limlis of statues, or throwing a si>arkling radiance upon the water that dripped from the fountains. Low Beats were arranged in subtle comers to tempt the unwary into the meshus of that dangerous game, flirta- tion ; and through the open windows the sound of the sad, soft music was waft«d out to those who sought the coolQi^as of the night air. Mrs. Uuudas, slowly descending the stops that led from the conservatory to tbo award beneath, glanced upward^ as though struck by the briUiuucy of the sailing moon ; perhaps it was to â- how the purity of the lines of her throat and neck. Fair as these were andoubcedly, the heavens were fairer •till, and full of a strange, mysteriouit power. The sense of fairness, the aw- ful caliii, the serenity, the eternal lul- ence â€" all seemed to descend suddenly, and make the heart stand still within its bosom, as the vast grandeur of it made itself felt, and sunk into the soul. The terrible immovability would have l>een unbearable, save that sometimes a pale oloud stole over the radi- ant moon. and some times a star shot across the sky, leaving for an instant a trail of fire behind it. " lie has behaved to us pretty well aijout the night," said Mrs. Dundos, with a complacent and complimentary glance around her ; and another cast backward, over her shoulder, at her companion. Lord Varley. She was al- luding to her host. " Why lake that tone ?" Have hia oth- er arrangements failed to please you?" His manner was cold and slightly com- bative. " On the contrary, everything ia as perfect as a nouveau riche would be â- ate lo have it. The mayonnaise was Ixiyuml praieie, and for ouce it is impos- sible to cavil at the champagne. Corunis says â€" " "It can scarcely matter what 'i- said," inlerrupUia Varley, with a sneer. Coronis w.is the name of the Italian priaac< who wasted so much adoration on Mrs. Dundas. " A iKJor Iwggar like that, who lives, or starves rather in thai empty palace ot his in Home, cx>m- mil.t an imprudence when he criticises thi! arrangement of a hou.so like this." Mrs. XJuudas cast a swift glance at him from uudel- her long lashes. The fact that he was with difficulty it- straining an outbri^ak of temper caus- ed her some amusement. That jeal- •usy ot t.he Italian's attciiiions to" her had created the temper caused her de- ighl. " Oh I it matters to me," she said, jwwlly. â- â€¢ His opinion is sonielhing, at *asl in my eyes I You forgel he is my Iriendâ€" poor Ihough he may lie." "Only a friend »" asked he, insolent- ly. She laughed. Another woman in all probabilily would never have forgiven Lim I Ills 8|>eechâ€" or rather Ihu meaning of ilâ€" but Donna wa-s alxivo all such weakness. The only pride she knew was in (ho a<'uomplishiuent ot the ends she, tiod in view, and so she laughed lightly and easily. " .My lover, you mean * Well, yes. Ho makes (hat apparent enough, poor man. Hu( an accepted one, which you al.so mwinl < No. lie is a very great niiiu.ance and ulmoMl a folly, I admits but he- is amiable, and baniisomo^ and he has his ILSI'S. IJundos s<^emod wonderfully couiplais- anl. " My husl)aiid is fully aware, Lord Varley, that his honor is suf<i in my keeping!" She uUerod this dignified as- surimcK with quit* a grand air, but as she did so she made a .-jaucy little nioue tor Lor.l Varley's Ijenefil, and a nmck- itiir gleam full of wicked merriuii^nL ligliled her eyes. She lifted her sliiiiil- der.s, gave herself a hug full of en jny- menl. and .shut up her fan with i.' lit- tle sharp snap, a trick she hud Imirn- ed abnwid. Then it was all over, and she was looking at Varley once again in her wouI<I-Ij« demure way, witli a mischievous smile upon her lips. Var- ley gave her no smile in response. That sudden liit of tt(^ling had occasioned him ui) mirth ; had rather deepened his ang- er into passion. And she looked so lovely there in the moonlight, with that wild light in her lustrous eyes, and her .soft, naked armsi ami â€" " It I were your husband I should kill you !" ho said, hoarsely. " U suggested itself to meâ€" that," re- turned she auilaciously, " many a month ago. .So long ago, indeed', as when wo were together in Italy. You remem- ber'? and yet, Varley," she drew <doaer to him, anil laid the feathered tip ot her tan U|H>n his arm, " and yet hail we lieen married, you would have had no reason for the slaying of me. Where I loved, I shimid not l)o false." Her tone.s had grown tremulous; the smile had liied from her, and all her exnuiaito face was quivering with a feeling she ttxik no pains to suppress. " Kalse I" said Varley. "That is a matter not to lie gone into; the real fiueslion is, could you be true'* You speak of thosd far-otf daysâ€" in Itftlyâ€" when you were mine in heart and soul, as I madly believed, and whenâ€"" Ho paused abruptly. " Pshaw I" he said, with a frown. "Well? Buiâ€" Go on," she entreat- ed, gently. " What ne*d la there to go on ? Whnf k tbera to be said «" " Nothing, perhaps. Except that you forsook me." " None ot that. Donna I" Ilia face was st<>,m and pale, as lie looked at hei- with flashing eyes. " Delude the i-est of the world if you will, but do not waste your powder upon me. I know you." " Yet it ia the truth I speak." de- clared she, quickly. " Were you not the one to cry off, to draw back« to leave me ? And all for a cause so tri- vifil." " Trivial I when i.he man was making love I o you before my eyesâ€" when I was ojienly discarded for him '{" " Yet I could have married him. and did not. Yea, it was trivial; it was sel- fish I" she said, with superb cx>ntempt. " You would have denied me such a small amusement for the sake ot your amour propre. Y'ou cast me off be- cau.se of it ; me. whom you professed to hold so dear I Pouf I a murrain upon such love, cry I V " I did, then, what I should do now." " The opportunity happilj; is deiiied you," retorted she, a trifle bitterly. She drew liack from him an angry line about her lips; and then ail suddenly her mood changed from scorn to a soft, seductive tenderness. " l'"reddy I" she whisiiered. A sigh broke from her parted lips. The old fond naim- fell on the passing breeze, and all at once the air seemed full ot it, and of more than il ; of orangegroves, and moonlit terraces, and love, and light, and joy. " Why should wo quarrel ?" she slid. " Have I not cause against you, andâ€" yes -not another angry word now I Vou have your cause, too, doubtleas. But shall we not forgive 1 Has there l)een no punishment meted out to me, as well as lo you ? Ah I let cold words die l)e- tweeu us two, now we are once moreâ€"" "What?" demanded he, unsteadily. "Together I" she murmured, softly; " together, and â€" " " And V " Lovers 1" The word broke from her like a sigh. Her breath came quickly through her parted lips. The moon shining on her head, turned her hair to threails of living gold. She put up her long white arms, that gleamed snow while, to push bock her hair from eith- er side of her head, and kept them thus upraised, us she looked straight at him with soft entreaty in her eyes. She could see the effort with which he witlLstood her â€" the restraint he plac- ed upon himself in this, his last strug- gle to remain )at least in act( faithful to the woman he had married. She marked all. and fell only a fresh ac- cess of deal re to obtain the mastery. She let her arms drop slowly to her sides. "You have not forgotten," she saitl, " you rememlier all, and yet â€" what holds you from mt; i f^et the past die I What good is there in anything for joy or grief, when the ashes are scatteretf, and lie on the path liehind us { To-day alone is ours, 'rake the sweet present, Varley â€" take it, when I give it." She held out her hands. She moved as it lo go to him. The darkness of the night lay around their fe«t, though the moon illumined her lovely face, and as sh'^ t<K)k a step for%varil, .she felt herself che,<;ked by the root of an old eliii-lroe ihal had grown upward and (Tos.'vhI t he path. .She swayed a little. Involuntarily Vnrley sought to save her, and in a moment she was lying in his arms. She WHS close in his embrace. Alas! il wits not for the first lime, and he knew ihe sweetness ot it I His heart seemed to stop healing. " You ari" not hurt ?" he whispered, liending over her. " No ; oh. no," The answer came to him a little indistinctly, and a soft), Ireiualoas bntath seemed to pass through her. She was within hia arms, and now the agilaliou was at an end, yel slu^ made no effort to tree herself. She did not even stir. She lav there ccmLentedly, and presently let her head drop slowly backward until it lay up- on his breast, and she could turn up to his her large, lustrous eyes in the aediiclive moonlight. An odd expression grew on Varley's face. He hud not iniuuit lo hold her thus. So far he had lieen loyal to his wife, ina,smuch as deeds count,, but now â€" Her bold, beautiful eyes seemed lo burn into his, and draw them down to h<'r. He could feel her breath upon his cheek ; the little fond yet halt- mocking smile that widened her red lips could lie so plainly seen. If she had been an atuiuainlanca of a year ago â€" ^six months agoâ€" one known but yejsterday, as it were, it might have iMten all different ; but oh, those old past days, so full ot lifeâ€" those day* ihat will not die; the memory of them dwelt so near the surface that a touch, a glance, ntcalled them. Again they are tloalmg on the Mog- gioreâ€" the oars idle, the arms that should have labored at them wound round her. As she is lying now, so she had ln.in upim his brttast a score of limes in that soft, rows-hued pastt, her fingei-s twined in his, their hearts mat- ing in unison to one same sweet tune. Almost he (Mm hear the rhythmical rise and fall ot the oara of the other boats, .so far away as to leave him and her in a ble.ssed solitude. He can bear, too', the taint splashing . of the sparkling water-drops, the sound of voices sing- ing, now coming, now going â€" swelling â€"dying. lie started violently. All at once he came hack to the life he wa« now load- ingâ€"I he life duwen. He rememlwred how things were with him. and Yo- lande's pale, grave face (so unlike the brilliant, laughing one now looking in- to his) rost( Imfore him. With a slight shudder he threw up his bead, and turned hia glance from the warm gaze riveted upon him. Marking the shudder (which, indeed, ran through her), and feeling his arms loosen round her supple form. Donna, with a swift, lithe turn ot her body, so moved herself that now her cheek lay pressed to him, and liftin); one hand, slowly, slowlyk she laid it uiion his throat. Very delica.ely it crept ever upward .this small, clinging, devilish little hand, now with the fingers clos- ed ,now opening, until at last her nak- ed arm had risen with it, and had form- ed a soft, warm, palpitating necklet round him. The magic worked. He drew her to him. Once again his eyes sougtt hers, and then omie again lie remembered. If he fell now, he fell forever, and lie knew it. He lifted both his arms, ami, taking hers, resolutely pushed her back- ward, still holding her. " Have you no heartâ€" no conscience?" he said. " Conscience I No." She shook her head deliberately. She t^lt the game was won, as she looked into bis wild eyes, and triumph made hes reckless. " He,arl I Yesâ€" for you I" " Think of Dundas I" She laughed softly, merrily, with up- lifted brows; a laugh full of music. " And you to call yourself my friend!" she whispered, gayly. "What have I done to you, then', that yoci should compel me to call to mind that amiable misfortune?" " Do you know what you are doing?" asked he, still holding her from him. " What am I doing, then '!" she laughed again. "That question should Ije to you. Do not put; little red marks upon my arms, Freddy, for all the world to see. You ask me why I do not think of Mr. Dundas. And you think- ing of Lady Varley ?" She was reckless indeed, and sure of the end, wh^n she said that. " Leave Lady Varley out of it," com- manderl he. in a low, vehement tone. As he spoke, he shook her slightly. " Ay, gladly I" whUjiered she. Her eyes took fire again. She had been standing erect, drawing herself, as it were, away from his masterful grasp ; but now she gave in to it. She leaned toward him; her lips trembled. "Let her go â€" let all the world go," she breathed passionately, " so long as you and 1â€" are left â€" to loveâ€"" The victory was hers I The arms that had tried to hold her from him, now fas- tened round her. They drew closer- closer still. Their lips met. A slight sound roused them from the mad joy they felt. It had lasted, alto- gether, but » mic'ite or two, and now it was at on end ; but it had changed the course of many lives. "W'e had forgotten," said Donna, drawing herself quickly from his arms. "The world as yet is peopled. You heard a sound. Come." She threw herself into a Utile stilted so<'iety attitude, and moved toward the house. Varley, unable to bring him- .self back from that past sad dream of love as qu'ickly as she, walked lieside her in a silence he could not break. Donna, <m the contrary, .seemed gay with lite, and full of a vivacily as real as it was reckless. She chattered to him, unceasingly, and rallied him on Ills silenc.!, and laying her hand light- ly, delicAtel.'., upon nis arm, glanced up at him every now and then with that fond, sweet smile on her lips, that then in the old days, as now, belonged to him alone. He knew that, and .seem- ed, silent as he was, to care for nothing else. Her touch thrilled him. He hardly beanl or heeded her light banter, the voice that spoke being so sweet. He had given himself up to her. His day of grace was past. As they drew near the lighted win- dows, Mrs. Dundas stopped suddenly and looked up at the balcony that over- hung the nearer garden, where a tall figure leaned over the balustrade. Good heavens I There is my old man," exclaimed she. "1 must run." Her tone was slightly alarmed, yet com- ical. She made a movement as if to go in another direction. But Varley stopped her. "lie has seen you," he warned her in a low tone. A second glance at the tall figure on the balcony convinced her of l,his, and instantly she changed her tactics, turned once more to the house, and threw into the whole air quite an ac- cess ot joyousness. Meantime she told Varley to leave her. "You are to the right about. I to the front," she said, with a little grim- ace, and then went leisurely across the moonlit space alone, and ran up the stone steps that led to Ihe balcony. As she reached the top and saw Dun- das she started very naturally, and let an expression full ot delighted surprise cross her toco. "You!" she cried, gladly, and came to him, with loving eyes, and parted, smiling lips. "Xea," he said, and drew her to him. and gazed with a grave rapture into the exquisite upturned face. She was beautiful, truly, and she was his! He loved her with a passion, the depth ot which ho hardly understood himself. She was his sole joy, the one delight of a lite that up to fifty had been singu- larly solitary. "And what are you doing here, you bad, had boy ?" she went on in a soft, purring tone, giving his tie a little pull this way and that, as U to arrange it. .She put her head on one side to mark the effect of her meddling. "Try- ing to catch cold, eht And when you know X have forbidden you, on pain of death, to seek the air at midnight." "It was so warm," returned he, quite apologettcally. It was so sweet to him to hear her scold him for this little act of imprudenoe ; to know himself so dear to her. "Tut! Non.sense I Warm? Feel me?" She was still prettily scolding ; and its she spoke she lifted a oool, slim hand, and drew it in a glow, caressing fash- ion across his brow. He caught it and pressed it to his lips with a vehement fondness- with all the ardor of a new- born lover. "My own wife I" he breathed, in a low, eager whisper. Uis usually austere fa(» grew brignt as he ga«ed at her. There was deep thanktulness, and a certain pride in it. "How is it that I have been so blessed above my fel- lows," he asked hor, " as to gain your love?" And not a little of itâ€" not a fartâ€" but all the love of your sweet ifel" She laughedâ€" she seemed thoroughly amused. She placed one finger beneath his cihin, and looked at him archly. "You would have compliments, then ? But not. oneâ€" not one, I tell you, to- night I Is it not enough that I should waste all my precious time here alone with a foolish old husband simply lie- causeâ€" well, because I'm happier here â€"whilst there within." poinung airily to the ball-room beyond, "all my many swains are searching for me high and low ? Ia that nothing to you, sir ?" Here she changed her position alightly, so as to get a better view of hia face. "Tell me," she went on lightly ; "you saw roe coming here a moment since?" "I felt you coming, even more than 1 saw it. You stood in shadow, and your gown ia black, but yet I knew you. I should know you amongst ten thousand. Were I lying in my grave and you drew nearâ€" you rememlier those lines, sweetheart? They haunt me al- ways. 'My heart would know it and beat, had it l3hi for a century dead.' Oh, yes, 1 saw you. Who was that with you ?" "Captain Craddock," returned ahe easily, running her ohoek softly up and down against his sleeve. "I thought it was Varley." "Well, do you know I've often said itâ€"" "Said what?" "There is a wonderful similarity be- tween those two men." "A likeness, yes, perhaps. But cer- tainly one should give the palm to Var- ley." "Ye-es," indifferently, "T dare say." "I am glad it was not Coronis." said Mr. Dundas, after a slight pause. "Oh. that absurd patriot! Do you think I would fhng away an Lui.r on him '< Pas si bete. By the bye, when does he leave? He arrows insufferably dull." "He grows troublesome. He makes the idle tongues round here wag ; and I wish no silly talk about my wife." He uttered the las ttwo words with the utiuoi.1 tenderness. "I think I hate Coronis," cried she petulantly; "he makes you unkin 1 to me." "Unkind, Donna?" "Yes, terribly unkind. You are scolding me now because that odious man fancies himself hopelessly attached to me. As if that was my fault." "When have I accused you of a fault? Where is the fault in you ? And as to scolding, that is a little unjust, is it not ri "Well, there's a fault," cried she g-iy- ly. tapping him on the chest. "YJu have accused me of injustice. Now I've caught you, eh f " She had thrown off the vague suspicion of ill-humor of a moment since, and was now all life and smiles again. "And as for your scoi. 1- ings. you tyrant- oah !" she snapped her fingers at him. "If these silly fellows who run after me annoy you, why, that is part of the lurden you must bear â€" a little of the price to be paid for having married a lovely wotian like me." She threw up her head auu darted a saucy glance at him. He laughed, as she meant he should. ".And, after all," whispered she, nest- ling closer to him, "what does it allâ€" what does anything matter, so long as we love each other, you and I?" "Nothing. Indeed," returned he with some emotion. "To know ihat you are entirely mine in heart and feeling makes me a king above all others. Not to many, 1 believe, is it granted to have so supreme a trust in anything mortal as I have in you. If I were deprived of that, my life would be savorless ; it might go when it wouldâ€" it could be of no further value to me. But it will not go. As for Coronis, you fancy me annoyed about his too evident admir- ation ; but it is only for your sake I care. Beauty has need to be very guarded, so swift, so undying is the hatred it engendersâ€" as well as the love I I would guard you from even Ihe faintest sting ot scandal. And this Italianâ€" No ; 1 trust you." "You say that over often, I think," she said, with a pensive uplifting of her brows. "Do If" He smiled again, and pat- ted her cheek Indulgently, as if a little amused by Iwr pique. "Well. I won't do it again." "What! not trust met" "Always that," with a return to hia gravity; "but of this Coronis I would speak. You need not fear my being un- civil to him. your guestâ€" he is harmless, be may go ; but avoid public censure. He is only a handsome fool, who could have no influence over you â€" " He paused; his grasp tightened un- consciously upon her arm, and into hia eyes came a fierce light. Donna moved a little lieneath his touch. "You are thinking?" she suggested calmly. "A mad thoughtâ€" an unn.'\tural one !" He drew his breath sharply, and his grasp loosened on her armâ€" the round, perfect arm, the smooth whiteness of which was just a little damaged liy the pressure ot his fingers. She refrained, however, from even a glance at it. "Comeâ€" your thought ?" she persist- ed playfully. "Influence!" He haa m part forgotten her again, and bad gone back to hli first disturbing idea. "If," he said slowly, bending his stern gaze on her, "the time ever came for me to find some one who ix>uld thus influence you â€" 1 should shoot him as I would a dog !" Donna laughed lightly ; but aa she did so she felt her blood run cold with- in hor veins, and was C4)nscious of a quick shiver that chilled her. "A terrible throat," ahe said gayly. "Let us be thankful that it must per- force be an idle (me. Ah I what a sol- emn face to turn to hia lovely wife I Come, then, a smile to reassure her." In her e^race, her beauty, her deviltry, she was uresislihle. Mr. Dundas for- got hU moody refleotions, and, with a sharp sigh, banished them. "Don't assassinate ib» poor prince quite yet," she said, with a charming grimace; "think of what a bore, an ex- pens*!, it would be to forward his long body to Rome to repose in the tomb of hU moldy ancestors. Spare him yet awhile ; if we go abroad in the autumn, you can do it then far more cheaply. And now. in-doors with you, these moon- light fUttings are bad for your morals. In with you I say. Ah I a moment ; I had almost forgotten. In the garden just now I thought of you (when, in- deed," with a delicious little touch of heartfelt sentiment, "do I not think of you?), and I plucked yop f>>i« flower." She went up to him, and having de- tached a rosebud (given her by Varley) from her bosom, arranged it carefully in his button-hole. "F()r you I" she said, coquottLshly, stopping back as if to admire hor handi- work, and lifting gay. saucy, laughing eyea to his." "For your own self I From your own Donna I" (To Be Continued.) WATCHES. How They Are Froien and Thea Baked i'er Ailjn<(tin<-iil. Before a first-class watch is sold it has to go through a variety of tests or "adjustments," and one of the moHtinv portant is the adjustment for tempera- ture. Chronometers are adjusted for temp- eratures varying from 50 degrees to 90 degrees, aa a rule, In^ some makersâ€" especially in France â€" oool them down to zero, and otie^ they are heated to 120 degrees. Beyond this iioint it is dang- erous to beat them, as the oil would lie liable to injury, and even the works might suffer. Pocket wi^chqs are adjusted for temp- eratures varying from 85 degrees to 96 degrees. The process consists in put- ting the watch in a close-fitting case, and placing this in a cold room, or a refrigerator with ice, and leaving it there for some time, altering the works op as to make it keep regular time. Then It is very gradually heated, great care being talcMi not to let the moisture in the warm ajr condense upon it. Next It is put ip n st)eciaUy construct- ed oven, aod heatad to 90 or 100 or 120 degrees, the machinery being again ad- Justed to go regularly. Chronometers are usuaUy kept a week in the cold chamber. After that they are ready to make voyages to any port lietween the Equator and the Poles without losing or gaining a minute. FraS AND THEE BATE THE BATHHOUSE IS HEATED BI MEANS OF HOT BOULDERS, Onee a Nunth it Ol'trn F.Bongh, and th* Whole tlilnsr iednlees Ibe Hame Day - naee Frnm Their Hntii lo the Bath< Hou»c la :«iititrr'H Own Vnrmtat*. If you lived in as cold and uncom- fortable a country as Finland, it ia highly probable that you would never take a bath. Therefore you will ap- preciate this remarkable story, which proves the great virtue and bravery of the Finns. There are Finns, no doubt, who bathe every day but, like the most of the real heroes of this world, they live and die in obscurity, unhonored and unsung. There are, on the other hand, n* Finns who do not take at least one bath a month. And this Is a pretty high average, when you consider that for all France the average is one bath a year for every Frenchmen., and in Germany the average is seven-tenths ota hatha year for every German, and in England ^he average is one-half a bath a year fur every Knglishman. These are thin and poor averages when compared with the Finnish average of twelve baths a yei>x a person. :iiit it is not the number of liatha that is so interesting as the Finlander'a method of taking those baths. Ot course, even in such centers of civilization as Keitele, the people have lung ceased to be quaint. But take a village like Tras- borg, which is tucked away in an ob- secure corner of the banks of Ulea Trask, and you liuu cne ancient and honorable Finnish bathing custom la full force. PRIMITIVE BATHING. On the banks of the lake about a quarter of a mile from the huddle oi huts called Trasborg you will see a small log house with no windows and apparently .with no door. All around the outside of this queer hut runs a bench, the back ot which ia the wall of the hut and the seat a single board supported by uprights. 'rhere is no chimney. There is a box like a sentry shelter at a little distance from the hut. and it is from this box that an underground passage leads to the interior of the cabin. On a certain day you will see a huge fire blazing near this oabin. And after it has been going tor several houn' you will observe that the old woma..-" who has been watching the fire will reach into it with a huge pair of 'onga and lift out a boulder. The boulder la red hot. PREPARING THE BATH. She will drag this into the box and so through the underground passage. She will lay it finally in the center ol the earthen floor of the cabin. And so she will go on dragging red hot boul- ders out of the fire and piling them up in a mound in the ceter ot the cabin tl(K>r. When she has brought the last boulder she has a large mound, and the oabin is dieginmng to warm up. In a corner of the cabin stands a huge barrel of water. She dipaa bucket into the barrel and throws the water on the mound ot rocks. Steam bursts from it. When she has thrown on half a dozen buckets the cabin ia choked with steam. The joyous bathers begin to arrive. While the old woman has been making the steam the villagers bava been get- ting ready. In every family there haa been a grand disrobing. GAI'HEUING OF FAMILIES. And now from every hut burst tht inhabitants, clad only In the simple, tight-fitting and innocent garments with which nalure has provided all her children. The weather is coldâ€" bitter oold. But the hardy (•"innish men. wom- en and children are not disturbed. They leap over the frozen ground, shouting with laughter and going at full speed to keep their bl(x>d circulating. 'The Finns are far from lovely to loJk upon, even when swathed in their winter farments ot fur. In a state of nature hey would never attract otters from painters or sculptors seeking models. But they are so frank and so cheerful and so happy that one doea not mind their squat bodies, their rolls of fat, their coarse and greasy skins. So they go hounding to the common bath-house ot the village, running races, tripping one another, jostling one another aside. All are in the merriest pu.ssible mood. There Is quite a scramble at the door of the sentry-box, as so many arrive at the same time. Hut gradually they dis- appear until the whole village popula- tion Is lying or silting about on the shelves that line the interior walls ot the cabin. The mothers have brought the babies. Not a soul is left in the village huts. It is a deserted village. VILLAGE DESERTED. There are lively times in the bath- house, as you may imagine. The women are all on one aide, the men on the other. And forms, can just be dimly made out by the dim tallow dip that sheds a falnl, smoky light. The place is full of steam, and the temperatura U away up towards bl(x>d heat. Hour after hour the ingenious Finns lounge or sleep or gossip. They stay until they are thoroughly lx>iled out antJ tha riwm begins lo got chilly. Then they sit outside the hous^ on the bench. They do not mind the freez- ing air. They lounge alx)Ut as if it were summer time, smoking, drinking were summer time, smoking, drinking, feejing clean and light-he.arted. They do not destroy this pleasure by indulging too often. Once a mouth ia often enough. Thirty days of quiet and â- ^tiicr one day of the full, round joy ol perfect cleanliness ia just about right for keeping the balance adjusted. OUR TEETH. An adult should have 16 teeth in eaoh jaw. viz., 4 Incisors or cutting teeth (front teeth), 2 oaainea or tearing teeth (eye teeth), 1 on eaoh aide ot the incis- ors, and 10 molars or grinders, 5 on each side of the jaw. k SMALLNESS OP MICROBES. Louis Pasteur once saiii that th«l« were forms of bacteria and microbaa that were so small that a bundle aC them containing 1,000,000,000 i<peoinuMW could be put througb the rv'. ol a oor mon sewing needle.