LORD RILLEEN'S REVENGE. I In Lady Varlej there was the divine strength of woinanlMiod, that knows all. Meanwhile Constantia hart snne home endures all. and still is stronjt. with Lady Varley. At first Ihfl girl's Sha turned suddenly to Constantia, mind was so distraught with rpcoUeo- and mpt the girl's eyes bent wistfully »i » r. • >,..„k„,..r ,.r,,i i.va(h* "Pon her. I here was genuine love in tions of Donnas treachery, ,.nd J-eath- , ^^{^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ erston's falseness, that she could hard- , gjjo would not see. ly think of anything else, and had not ' "You are tired," she said. "Come - â€" â€""â- '- â€" You must go to sleep at CHAPTER XXVril. even wondered at the fact of Lady Var- ley's a^jrupt lieparture. But after awhile she became sensible of the ex- treme quiet of her companion, whose face she oould not see in the brougham. She put out her hand at last and touch- ed hers, to find that it was icy cold,and that the fingers were clinched. Her, ... . ,. , ^ . . 1 V- 1 J f _ 1 /:* -# â- pointing to a distant corner ; prepar- touch woke \ olande from her fit of ^ j^^ * ^ j j„ ^^^ ^^^^^y^ Myself you dumb misery, and with a sharp sigh gee," with another sad attempt at a she roused herself. {smile; "I can sleep if I choose, but I ia driving!" she r "'"' '" be-near her." A heavy sigh cs- with me. once." " Are you going to stay here 1" -ask- ed Constantia, quickly. "Yes; 1 generally stay here every night. I do not sit upâ€" you must not think that," with a wan smile, " but it eases my heart," laying her hand light- ly on her bo.som. " to be near her ; and so I have had that couch over there, " How slow Hunt cried, feverishly home I Speak to him. Constantia." Constantia did as she was desired, and then, a little unnerved by Lady Var- ley's manner, waited in silence for what she next might say. Rut she said noth- ing. She sought and found the girl's hand again and pressed it with a con- vulsive earnestness, l)ut no words es- caped her. " You are unhappyâ€" uneasy," return- ed Constantia at last. " Uneasy I What a word I" returned she, with terrible though repressed agi- tation. " My child, my darling, how oould I have left her. even for a mo- ment I And all this horrible night, .it has seemed like a nightmare. Yes, I have been justly punished. But I did not leave her willingly, Connie, you will believe that. It was forced upon me. I could hardly have refused to enter that woman's house, and yet â€" Oh, for- give uie, dear 1 I forgot she was yonr cousin." " She is no cousin of mine," cried Con- stantia, vehemently, " I disown her. She is nothing to me. Nothing I" " Yes, yes f Is it so between you f lYet 1 should not have spoken. Has she been cruel to you, Connie â€" to a girl like you ? What I Is this only Hill- side if Why, we should be at Araglin by this time. Oh, what hours can lie in I hirty minutes I Connie I Connie I If anything should have happened." An awful fear had seized hold on her. She was trembling violently. She half rose in the carriage as though it was impossible, to her, in her stale of im- patience to sit any longer still, but Con- ,,, ,, . u. t 1 caped her as she finished. Constantia bhall we ever be at ^^y^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ j^^^^t was broken- that in her secret soul, hard as she battled against lit, she had lost all hope in her little one's recovery. " Let me stay with you," entreated she, miserably. " Do not send me away. This arm-chair is very comfortable, and â€" Do let me stay with you." " As you will, dearest," said Lady Varley, gently. She said something in a low voice to one of the women, and presently wine and sandwiches were brought which she pressed on t'onstan- Cia. She touched nothing herself, and after that took no notice at all of her guest. Between her hours of sleep and waking, the girl saw that Lady Varley had spent her night upon her knees beside the tiny cot, praying for what a a gracious Lord had seen fit to deny her. The morning dawned and deepened, and still the child lived. Apparently, it was no worse, no better; out was it no worse ? Toward noon, Constantia, with whom Lady Varley would not con- sent to part, entreated and prevailed with her to take a walk for half an hour in the garden as she could not sleep. " Well, yes; if you think it wise. All this anxiety is perhaps foolish," said Lady Valley. " And of course it is ne- cessary to keep up one's strength ; when she is on the meu<l it would be very awkward if I were laid up and not able to look after her." It was terrible to Constantia to see how she clung to a belief in the child's recovery, the chilil who was already half way on its journey to heaven ; but she pt^rsuaded her to go into the garden with a silent caress, and a hopeful word or two, all the same. Lady Varley went down the stair- case with a languid step, and out into the sweet suuiiner air. It was midday, and the sun was high in the heavens, and I he pi-rfume from the open flow- ers filled the passing breeze. All was cloudless blue above her head, all was stantia placed her arms round her, and f^Zl^a'T^Z^ZJ:":^ Zt' AZTs drew her back very gently into her that one felt overpowered by it, and seat. It was a shock to her to see Lady thought only of some shady n(x>k where Varley, who was always so studiously cold and calm, thus given over to des- pair, and half wild with nervous dread. " Why should you give way like thisr' she said. " Why should you let a fear so vague disturb you I Baby was as â€" as Will as usual when you left her. What could occur in three hours' And besides, would they not have sent you Wf>rd /" one uiighl sit beneath u branching elm and dream the hour away. .V tremu- lous haze lay over the distant sea, and the rocks shone out white as burnished silver. All round her grew the flow- ers. Ulowing carnations swayed to and fro with the velvet wind, and " Hed roses opened pas-siimate hearts To wooings of the sky." It was indeed " the tiiuo of rosea," and crimson, cream, and white, they .She sought eagerly to soothe her, and i,i , „ , . , â- ... , , -, â- Varley grew com- !V""'""^ *•- every turn. As they nodded by ilegrees Lady .amj kicâ„¢ la^m- , . , , - , , , naratively calm. The arrival at the I.L':1!;, ,.','.':?!''. u'"'?''?;. 'i '.'*' nail door, however, tended more to calm her nerves than even Constantia's ten- der enileavors. She sprung from the carriage, and hurried pas) the servants »nd up to the nursery, with only a sign to Constantia to follow her. She ha«l icate oilor es- caped from them llwt was wafted hith- er and thither until the very wind grow languid with it, and in the centres of thiir warm liosoms yellow-winged bees hummed drowsily. As Yolande turned aside to reach the ivii'd gate that led tii the cool shade of apparently forgotten to drop the girl !,"'" "^r*-" }"^' ' . i, u . .. at The Cottage, and Constantia had been '"'."rclmrd she niet her husband saun- " tenng slowly in her direction, CH Vl'TKR XXIX. ige, too alarmed about her to menti(m it Besides, would it not be selfish to leave her in her present mood I Connie was suffiriently read in human nature to undersland that there was something beneath her anxiety for her child, some- thing inferior to tnat sacred care, but avoid hnr if |).).ssible. .She gave no sign yet strcmg enough to disturb and har- "' having noliei'd thus; and, in<leed, the ass her. relations between them of lute hud After all, there was nothing in the ['•'en so strained that it scarcei..' trou- nursery to cause fresh grief. The baby \ "';''* her. was no worse. It could tianlly be that, ' , " ' '""^ '>" '•^â- '* I should see y<m here," poor little thing, unless it lay within "^ said, less awkwardly llian he Its shroud; and then, no doubt, it would thought.^ " I fancied you in the nurs- •be Ix'tterl It lay, apparently asleep, in the calm stupor that had composed its life during the greater part of the past week. That it was slowly dying, that days, nay hours alone divideid it from til â- moment when its soul should quit I hi- earth, was plainâ€" to every one save the mother, who would not, who darerl not believe it. She hung over it now with such a nassion of love ami long- ing on her face as ma<le Constantia's heart contract with feur. .She dropped into a chair in the background, and clasped her hands. Her own grievance was forgotten in this supreme grief, Here was Lady Varley's allâ€" a lillle morsel, hardly worth the counting in the great roll ened brow, "I hail hoped you would have shown her at least courte-sy; hut to leave her house as you <iiil last niifht was to give her up to the cruel in- sinuations of our world. There was a want of refinement in it, a lack of deli- cacy that I should not have looked for in you," "you aro very good," said Yolande, wilh'a curl of her lip. "You cre.lit me with fine feelings in one breath, and destroy your credit in the next. But a truoe to thU pretense," she c.-ied, suddenly, lifting to hia a face pale and stem. "I do not like your â€" friend, and let that admt«ion explain all." "But whyf" demanded he, angrily. "Let that rest." "I will not. What fault do you find in herf" "Yo\i are a warm partisan," said she, in a low, dangerous tone. "Is It wise, then, to insist?" "I think 80. As you have yourself suggested, it will be well to put an eivi to all fencing in this matter. In censuring her it hw seemed to me, of late, that you oensuro me." "You have courage," she said. "Why not? What is it, I again ask, that you find fault with in her?" She threw up her bead as if almut to .speak, her face grew deadly white, her lips pai t«d. AVhatever she knew she was almut then to disclose; but something checked her. She withdrew her eyes, and by a supreme effort lieat down the emotion that was trying to conquer her. Presently she was calm â- ".Tiiu, anil only the tight clasp of her hands betrfiyed any feeling whaLso- evex. "I think her vulgar," she said, slow- ly, contemptuously. Varley was surprised, and too reliev- ed to be annoyed. He had failed to read lictween the lines, and did not guess at the sleeping volcano that lay within her breast. He suspects her of knowing, or guessing more than it was expedient she should knonv; but her answer had convinced him that whatever were her Buspicions. tier knowleilge was suffici- ently imperfect to prevent her accusing him openly. "Oh, it that is all," he said, lightly, "it was a piiy you did not remain for the rest ol tlie evening. It was about the liest dance we have had here for many a day. I quite enjoyed it." To this she made no answer. A strag- gling spray of a blackl>erry bush near h'td laught her eown.andshe now made herself busy uniasleniag it. "As you justly remarked, all our lest friends were there," he went on, with an a»iuinptinn of eayety that sat. how- ever, rather unea-sily upon him, "O'Gra- dy, amongst others. By the bye," he said, lightly, turning to her with a lively smile, "you must confess that the time you <lid spend there, short as it wa.s, was not alto^rother dull. You and O'Graiiy, I could .see" â€" here ho laughed indulgentlyâ€" "enjoyed it â€"to- gether." Lady Varley started as If he had Mtruck her, and raided her eyes slow- ly to his. She was paler than before, â- if possible, with a tsoorn uiisiieakable. Was this sidelong accusation meant as a condonement of hLs own offense? Was it a vile effort to kill the sense of shame within him by an attempt to drag her down to his lower levelâ€" to sully her, the tall, pale, pure creature who stood i«lore himâ€" to cast filth up- cn his wife? With a sharp movement she put her tiand to her throat. Her nostrils di- lat.vl. "Take care!" she said in a low tone. "NeKlect, insult me, as you will, but do not Hare to lower me to the standard of th«! woman tor whom you have l«- traytid mel" She haa withdrawn from him a step or two, and now .stood regarding him with large, contemptuous eyas. Every line of her figure breathed of vehement indignation. {ler lall. slender form, girlish still in li^ outlines, was uplift- ed to its lullest height, and was filled with the imlignant passion that had at last driven her to .M)e<!cli. An uneasy laugh broke from Varley. "Now I guessed," he said, "that under- neath your assumed indifference some such lie as this was working. I don't He halted somewhat abruptly and ?"''' ""i" ^T;^-^^, "'°'^^T'„ . „? f then came on; but it waj evident to ''"""'""" P"'^^ ,',*• T'"A'!"'^ f""*^ '„ vJ her that his first impulse had been to suppose that little ilevil Confitantialfou have magniried a very ordinary friend- ship into an affaire de ooeur. Women who iuKist on living an anchorite life like yours, are iKiutid to find some safe- ty-valve Cor their fancies. It in a pity you should have chosen this one. It is apity.too, that you take things so ter- ribly au grand wrieux." Here he smil- e<l with "an attempt at carelessne-ss, though in reality ho was somewhat quelled by the suddemuws of her ac- cusation. "If you were a little less in- ' He heal II thingsâ€" save one? She controlled herself, however, and stood waiting to hear what ho should say. " I often told you that doctors were false pro- phets," he said; "you should not give call of humanity, yet to he'r of more 'j'»''_ to their eroakingsâ€" you should not value than the whole world itself. Tears ery ; at least, your women told me you were there. How is she?" He alluded to his child. . ".lust the same way, I think." Her i . i, , . . eyes were on the ground, and her tone 'â- J*"fS' y" ^o^<^ '« e'"'*'' ' was carefully compose<l. It was impos- I '*.'i^.- ,., .„ . , , , ,,„ sible. therefore, fSr hun to know the 'J ^•"'« with?' she suggested, coldly, anguish lh;it was consuroinjr her. I ?*"' paused, always with her eyes fixed •l dare .say it will be nothing," ho 1 l"^-''*'*'''?,*"' ?"• Th'-y al"ne ^i'°^^' said cheerfully. He had not seen the ^'^''y. '^"'«<i ^° ''"â- "" '!"," him; but oth- ehild for a week, and so knew nothing '"^^'^'^ •*''« W"* '^''"' ^'M'^V^^l "^F,,,'!?*" about it. Ilia careless tone grate<l on was on lire, and her soul riven. 1 her* her. His own child I Was he dead to !* always a pejnedy, she said at lasU welled to Constantia's eyes us she la.v back listlessly in her chair, whilst her friend talked eagerly in soft murmurs to the, nurse. How sad it all was for her â€" her child d^ing, her husband, faithless I Constan- tia olinche<l her hands, as she thought of Donna's gay triumphant laugh â€" as she pictured her making a light jest out of the knowle<lge of Varley's sul>- nii.ssion to her power, his treai-lierv to his wife. Could such things lie and the world still go on in all its round i>f careless mirth, its swift pleasure that Bcariie gave time for thought or jus- tice? Surely the day of reckoning would come I Hut in the meantime must Yo- lande suffer â€" must she sink beneath her troubles with no hand held out to help hei ? She looked at Lady Varley's clear-cut features, calm again, now that the mo- mentary suspense, waa at an end, and told herself that |>erhaps she wnmged her. .She was too pure, too proud a woman to sink beneath dishonor un- deserved. There were those whoilrag- ed down beneath the wave of affliction, but there were also those who rose out of it with senses dulled indeed, and wounds all gaping, but with faces ser- ene and passiimless though the cruel rocks had out sore. These gave no sign of the agony within. These have their reward. The stormy petrel skimming the tempestuous wave Knows such wild throes of passion (leroe and strong as Is unknown to the gentler bird who Kwsrs amidst the fragrant inland apobes to tuda it from the cubing fret as you do." â- True," she said ; ' it is b/apoiK Mona. thing to fret over any matter, small or great." There was meaning in her tone, and Varley winced a little. " You left very early last night," he said presently. He was regarding her intently, and she felt it. "Yes; I was tired," she said. " Kor one so uniformly truthful â€" one who so prides herself upon her yea be- ing a yen â€" that is scarcely honest, is it ?" asked he, laughing, yet with an only partially ooncealeii sneer. "Say, rather, you did not care for your com- pany." "It was very excellent comiviny, as it amieared to mo. Almost every one we knew or likod was there." "That surprised you, perhaps; but, as I have often told you, Mrs. Dundas, ip spite of certain rumors that may have reached you, is not so altogether ob- jectionable as you believe." Slie lifted her head now, and looked full at him. Her dark eyes flashed. "Who told you I thought |hor ol>- jectionable?" she asked. "Did it oo- â- ur to .you thttt there might l>e reason in a tone .so low as to sound like a ilis- tant liell, ve' so clear as to .smite heav- ily upon Ills ear. Just yet be was undecided as to whether he would or would not desire a separation, and lo be revolted from her suggestion. Donna's hold over him, a foolish *'""8 "" 't was, had not c^uite led him to (ie.spLse the world's opinion "You must Iw mad to talk to me like this on so trivial a caus<>," he was be- ginning, hut she interrupted him. "Heroics are out of plaoe here," she said. "I know your real desire, and a word will do. Btdieve me, I would gladly ca.st my lite adrift from yours." "To join it toâ€"" (To be Continued,.) STORIES ABOUT RINGS. •olomoii Renlored Hli Klugdoiu by Ike Be ceverT of a Loat â- !>â- ;. There is in the Talmud a curious le- gend alK>ut a ring which King Solomon And Aniina? Did Solomon divorce herf "The Talmud gives no further detail* One wife more or less in Solomon's la- raily mado no difference. "IJut we don't want to go back to such remote periods for ring stories. There was that blessed St. Mungo, the apostle of Strathclyde, whose special patron was the tjucen of Cadzow, whose huslwind was King Roderick, which po- I tentato was a contemporary of the oldest of Irish kings. The queen was rather volage of the Mary Queen o£ .Scotd kind, and had parted somehow or other with a ring the king had given | her. Then one day Roderick asked for I the ring suddenlike, and the queen wilted. She begged St. Mungo to help her. As a good saint he felt sorry for her, so he seat a monk to fish, with in- structions to bring him the very firs^ fish he might catch. Whether the knight who had the ring had thrown the ring into the river or not is not known. Atjhow, the monk took his fly rod and reel and swept the river near Glasgow, and a salmon rose, and be played it and gaffed it and brought it to St. Mungo, and in the stomach of that fish was the ring, and so the bonoir of the queen was saved, and her neck, too, and that ia the reason why there is a salmon liearing a ring in his mouth which belongs to the armorial bearing of the good city of Glasgow." Fingers were in the most remote period liedecked with rings. There is a print of two hands of a mummy exhib- ited in the BriiUh museum. The right hand is overloaded, and on the left : there \a a thumb ring. Thumb rings are things of the past ; that is to say, { in Kuropeau adornment, but are still worn in the east. A ring was placed on the thumb of the right hand by archers, and there was a notch in it, so that the string of the bow might be caught in it. Karly European arch- ers were in tbe habit of usmg some- thing like IX guard on the first two f Lu- gei's of the right hand, so as to save chafing from the bow string. There really is not so much differ- ence as to the adornment of fingers l>y modem women, when we compare the mummy hands of those of Lady Staf- > ford as she appears in effigy over her tomb in Bromsgrove church, Stafford- shire. Her ladyship was laid to rest in U50, and her very mucn bermgea fingers are conspicuous as indicative of «|H>rl(lly vanities, though the hands are lilte<l in prayer. SolHT-senseil modern toxicologists qutvition whttthor in former periods there were any poison rin^s or rings , capable of containmg poison in sufficient I quantity to bring about imme<llite death. Of course a ring of huge size ' might have been made in the pa^t able to hold a fairly large quantity of pois- son. But, notwithstanding all the fame Locusla has acquired, it is ques- tionable whether she or any other pro- fessional poisoner knew how to concen- trate her materials. The Briuvilliers woman used arsenio in fairly large quantities. There can l>e nothing ibe ancients did with vegetable poison that we do not kQow alxjut to-day. 'fhough Juvenal alludes to a poison ring as ' liaving done for Ilannilxil, how Hanni- ' l>al <mme to hi.s <leath will never he known. If liomoral Kgmont tried to poison the I'rince of Orange by means of i)oUon kept iu a ring, the attempt fail'jd. Kqiuilly alwurd aro the stories of poisoned keys, which, pressed into a ' lock, loosed a little needle which dart- ed into the hand and so poisoned and killed the user of the key. Riiigs laL>- eled "|>oison rings" find a place in many collections. Some of these rings have figures of the saints engraved on them, them. The Romans had some very good practical ideas, as shown by their key rings, These rings must have been UM'ti to o^H'a caskets. The shank of the key might be set on a hinge so as to allow the wards to lie flat on the ring. These rings were not always made of gold, for some have been found in Kngland which are of bra.ss or cop- l>«r. Possibly these keys of inferior metal belonged to the Roman slaves or servi. Rings in the middle ages were some- times so designed as to inflict injury. In Uiivaria up to the beginning of the last century the peasants wore rings of bradSi on the octagonal bezel of which stood out five steel points, half an inch high. Worn on tno middle finger of the band, a blow from a bur- ly fist, thus armed, would have left a lasting mark ou the taoe of an oppo- nent, Hcnv much gold is used in manufac- tures? There is a question the bimetal- liflls are always trying to solve. Grant- Mi that for braoeleia. brooches, chains, the jewellers used a groat deal of gold, xtU\T all it is the marriage ring >vhich must consume the larger proportion of the precious metal. In England the as- say office in a provincial city account- ed for £30,000 in six months, in all Kngland the niunlier is infinite. Suppos- ably, no woman in the United States considers herself married unless the golden circlet is passed over her finger. It we had the statistics ot a'.l marriag- es in this oouutry in the year, and the average weight ot the gold ring, we might present a figure, in pounds of ?old, which would startle tne itatis- loian. When the Duke of Hamilton married the beautiful Miss Gunning there was no ring, and the parson refused down- right to perform the ceremony. Hor- aco Walpole tells us that there was quite a scene. "The Duke swore be would send for the Arrhhishop; at last they were married wii h a ring ot the bed curtain at half an hour past 12 at night, at May Fair chapel.^' As for MTS ON J0AD-MAffl5. PUBLISHED BY THE ONTARIO DB- PARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE, • Br A. VF. I'aniplH-ll, (.'. E., Provincial i^ atrurtor In Kuail-.llakliMi. Wke g/m Jam haned Knilclln Ho u" DRAINAGE, Perfect drainage, first, of the founds* tion of tbe road-bed; secondly, of thk road surface, are the points in roati. making on which too much stress can. not be laid. The first ia accomplished by under, drainage, tile drains being laid at k depth of three or more feet l>elow tb« surface on each side of the roadljed at the foot of the grade and parallel to it. Care should be taken to fit and settle the tile in tbe trench so thal^ when refiling with earth, they will not be displaced. As a rule two and a ball inch to four inch tile will be sufficient The joints should be close and tbe grad* a true line. Loose joints and an un-. even grade allow silt to pass into tb«- tile and remain there, destroying tba- drain. Surface drainage is accomplished hf,- open drains on each side of tbe grade,, having sufficient capacity to drain, not . only the road-bed, but the land ad- . joining. With open drain*;., and witb - tile drains make and maintain a fres outlet to the nearest watercourse. A drain without an outlet is useless. Ia constructing a good road a dry found»> , tion is the matter of first importanott, CROWNING THE ROAD. The gradetl portion of tbe road should be wide enough to accommodate tbe tra> vsl upon it, and not greater, tbe slop* Ijeing uniform, not heaped in tbe centra. Tbe crown should be well above tba overflow of storm water, tibd should have a grade sufficient to shed water readily to the open ditches on eitbei side. Do not round it up so as to nuUc* the grade steep and dangerous, undea the mistaken Impre&ston that liettei drainage will thereby be secured. Nor should it be so low as to allow wataf to stand upon it in depressions. Undea ordinary ciroumsiances one incJi oron« inch and a half to the foot is a propel grade; tba': is, a roadtied twenty-six feet wide should be from tbirtaaii to twenty; inches higher at tbe centrvlpiaa at tM side. QUALITY OF GRAVEL. The gravel should preferably be sbarpi clean and of uniform size. Pit gravel usually contains too much earthy mat* ter, and where the latter is in excess, the gravel, as a road-making material, is useless. Lake gravel is apt to b* rounded, water-wurnm and lacking ia the necessary earthy matter to mak* a solid and compact surface, but is gen- erally a letter road metal than pit gravel. A coating of pit gravel withl a surfacing of creek gravel is a good combination. All large stones should be removed as they wilt work to the sur- face, and will then roll loosely or fona rough protuberanoes. - PLACING THE GRAVEL. Tbe gravel should lie spread evenljl over the surface of the suligrado to A depth of six or eight inches, and to the required width, then rolled wiA a heavy roller. Rolling should be l>er- formed in showery weather, as it Is im- possible to consolidate dry earth oe gravel. The heavier tbe roller the liet- ter will lie tbe results, but if a beav7< roller cannot bie obtained, a light roller is much Ix^tter than none. I'he roller should be passed over the surface un- til the gravel or earth is so comijaot as not to be displaced and rutted byi tbe wheels of a wagon passing over it with an ordinary load. Tbe surface must Iw maintained smooth and hard, to shed water and resist wear. Every; municipality should have a roller, but whether one can be obtained or not th« gravel should not be left in a heap just as it falls from tbe wagon. Spread it evenly. REPAIRS. Gravel roads alreadv constructed will need repair. By the use of road ma- chinery scrape the surface and cut ofC the corners, which will have formed at tbe foot of tbe grade by the washing down of dusty material from the crown of the road. Loosen the surface, par- ticularly that part of the travelled pttr- tion and where the road is rutted, with picks, or, if possi)>le, with road machin- ery, then appl.v a coating of gravel and roll thoroughly. It is of more im[iort* ance, however, to see that the drains are not obstructed In their course and tbat their outlets are free and open. wore, and on the possession of which that, we know of a marriage in con- tbe keeping of his kingdom depended. { federate times, when, no golden rings Once Solomon went into tbe bath and J*''*^ obtainable, a key ring did the ' h im I n AAA left bU precious ring on the shelf, when a concubine of his, Amina, filched the ring, and the fiend, Sakbar, flattered „ , Amina and wheedled her out of tba ring, for my so thinking ot beil I oerUinly ^nd Sakhar took tbe form of King 8ol- never said so. , , . . u- * j nZlLa â- "Your manner toward her U liarely "n"" a""! ^^^ "> •"* »*«»'^ Poor Sol- civil, however. She Is on old friend omon was put to it to regain his power, of mine, and, of course I am bound to but be raised such a first-class incan- . . j^„. . .„„„ - . ,. , - ,â€" - •â- â€"• lie friendly. ,\a myâ€"" L ., ,u ^ a i «.«_ ~,f -f_.M .^ah,, -. edâ€" that Is aupimer; she has a fur ahoul- "Why sfiould you apologize for your 'a* '«°^'>''^''''*'«°'^»f'»''^?f?*'"^«r def 'jp-tbat U wint«r; she has a â€" friendahipf" interrupted she, with a tbe ring into the sea, and a fish swft silk shirt waistâ€" that is spring; and a lurious smile. "Pray do not; surely lowed it, and a fisherman caught the i^lotb skirt- that is autumn. This thpre is no necessityâ€" to your wifel" fish and found the ring. It was restor- comi>inatii« is ix)nduolve to a wood- "As ray wife, I was going to say," ed to .Solomon, and with it be recovered '? overcofct with silver handles; but he went on quietly, and with a dark- bis kingdom. "»*" »°"*» woman ui tou«h CLOTHED THE YEAR ROUND. Just loHkat that young woman, said a crusty old fellow to me this morn- ing. She is dressed like a supreme Idiot. Why, she represents tbe four seasons. She Is practically liare-head THE PRINCE'S KINDNESS. The following story is told of a pleoB of silverware now exUtinig in the plat* room at Marlliorough House: One dayl the Prince ot Wales, om alighting froml bis carriage at the door of a bousB where be was alwut to pay a visit, saw: a blind man and his doig vainly trying! to effect a passage across the thorougb- tare In the midst of a thr^hg of car- griages. With characteristic good na- ture the Prince came to the rescue, and successfully pilot e<l tbe pair to tbe oth- er side ot the street. A short time af- tetiwards he received a massive silver inkstand with the following inscrip- tion: "To the Prince of Wales. Fronn one who saw him conduct a blind Iteg- gar across the street. In memory of a, kind and Christian action." Neither note nor card acoompanied tbe offerings and the name ot the donor bad nevAC! been discovered. AN OLD KEEDLE. A curious needle with a potUhadl triangular eye large enough to carry stripes of beaten gold and for use up- on embroidery of linen was once shown to an Ameiioan woman in Constantin- ople. Tbe particular interest attaoh- iiog to the needle was tbe assertion ot its owner tbat it bad been (n the po^ sesaiod ot bis family more than 90t , jrears.