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

 ^â- . JlJSj^itr.' I^^ W~-Sl-,r'^y,f^^ â- *--fei?" • .* prominent u „ ,â-  "â- ^ly. and hirbo|?8i inrchyard by a V7 " '^a8then8aciifieed'"'ri' son of Fechter tl,« antagonUt's foU chk„*Li Z^" eye throughTSJ 6ria8toodbdoreanniJ 'i the eyes and moati »3 understood. " rifle as described, b, a soldier can carrToo* ha new smokeless powd. J er^ces^a brick w^ei^l )een decorated for braverJ e Society for the Prev^ Animils m Parfg. qâ„¢ from a burglar, and child from drowning. 1 Hyde Park corner teJ il2andlintheaftemo3 girls that pass have thea ir eyebrows and eyelaaha iir lips reddened, the principal veteriiu tish army, has discovers nes from an impedimen i can be removed by â- a cured several horsea Hard says in the Berli that the man who planii_ ge to the Bonth pole u the director of the Hani rvatory, a man of gcienoj iman. 3 felt in Manchester as l. r. Spur£;eon will do. hJ to return to the Baptii y form a confederation which share his views, new denomination. "oils, the Knell of Partr Day." iid to have been introduiL y William the ConqusrOTl it was ordained, unaerse len the curfew bell rang n /ening all lights and file uished. There are thof 3 was mer ;ly the enfcrcin, very common police ree Bct. The absolute prohii er the ringing of the curl shed by Henry I., in thi practice of tolline; a be' the evening was continue still extant in some placet the curfew of medi*va he common hour was ,s gradually advanced ices to o'clock indee ilock was not an unnsaa was a regu'^tion mo ly days, when it was thi the fire in a hole in thi under an opening in i escape of smoke. Wne^ for the night, thel by covering it up heaa u, or curfew. Therewj rviceable in obliging thC their houses, and thnl â- awls in the s;Teet. It "I historical authority fol on that the severity «1 queror, in enforcing ob«f w was most particular^ t the English from asaemj dan schemes of rebalUoy an lords. s Even Again. f each other, very; wjl But they q«*?*"*^ to make it up. HecaUi »t her father's hoo*--* an on business, of conw ring at the door-beU i,,l_, I believe I â- â€¢' " No, sir,' she « in at present, Doyo lonally?" "" ,8e, feeling that she «H particular p«rsonaIbuBj udly turned to go awayi "^^V called,.^ fi^ tamed Cheap. it I a pose yo^. Oh no;Igot"'°* ive cents.' kno* Blifil thd fil" said the editor. â- .deed. I nerj5j-r rasn'talmMito'"" ckmerboot^en^^„;a "i**-'°me«S^'"l to gimme w""*- I f IB8T itTBLISHBD.] [All Kiohib Bbsxbteo.] I^TKE AND UNLIKE. AuJbor By M. B. BRADDON, of " Ladt Audley's Secbet," " Wtllaed's Weibd, ' Etc., Etc. ;,;e5Snt ""t^^'n^Vupon Helen's health and "^^ BStness would return to the fair rH^pIER XXV.â€" Past Cuke. V Ifieid was content to cherish and " 4 of h«r daughter-in-law without "' "" V awkward questions. There was •^^^ of remonstrance from Valentine, 'f/p it might be supposed that he took *-â-  rion to his wife's absence and so '"•â- ^^'tM well. Early hours, fresh air, gjciety, would no doubt soon exer ""'â- 'â- f»re"and7eviving health would bring I'^^tfkme of mind. ^^f'n conformed very amiably to all her •n law's arrangements. She went to I '""â- ^!Im soon after ten o'clock every night, ' when there were visitors but she ""Allowed ample latitude as to her habits morning, and rarely appeared until "â-  "Cakfast She walked and drove With Sb Ifield. and took afternoon tea, with ' I ^l Belfield's friends. She did not care to '^L to nlav tennis, and those amusements jt his mother. Lnted was rest. in â-  iboai It might be that all she Adrian watched her at- ..n-ively. witho'ut seeming to watch, fuU of â-  He knew now but too well how weak •id this was upon which he had once Sed the happiness of his own life. «r Rockstone and the Freemantles were most frequent visitors in the long sum- ^»V3 dropping in at all hours, sitting -7he lawn with Lady Bslfield and her n bringing all the news of the parish, and Sussin^ the more stirring though less in- fr^tiug news cf the outer world. betimes the Miss Treduceys came in, .nhosr I'jtore afternoon tea, just in time "a double set at tennis, with Adrian and ;l vFreemantle, who was less sheep-faced id a "ood deal prettier at twenty than she iXlSua^ girl, with light brown air and clear blue eyes-eyes in which the !- spirit of candid and innocent girlhood „ne:l to smile and sparkle. She was a Ly-temnered, bright, industrious girl, ,ebin^ her father and mother m all their "and all their plans, and ruling her tbiea i I very inferior brother with affectionate -4Bny There could have been no greater rtrast than that between Lucy Freemantle Ir'te vigour and freshness of her girlhood, Li Helen Belfield in her broken health and iepressed spirits. "What a very sad change in yonr pretty liMshter-inlaw," said Mrs. Freemantle to Lady Belfield. " She looks as if she were MEg into a decline." ^, a^ ' "oil, we won't allow her to do that. She 1 3 here' to ba cured," Constance replied, jieeriuUy. â- ^- a a She did not want to have Helen pitied and iesjiired about by half the county. " People told me she was quite the rage inkndon when I was there in June," said iliiilda Treducey. " I met her at two or â- iree parties, but she was always so sur- Tcmded that I couldn't get a word with ler and I hope, dear Lady Belfield, you ton feel offended if I own that I don't like Mrs. Baddeley, and that I rather avoided By encounter with Aer." Lady Belfield was silent. She, too, had ier donbts about Mrs. Baddeley, and was Mt inclined to take up the ondffeli in that idy 8 behalf, albeit she inwardly resented IfiK Treducey's impertinence. Ihedays went by peacefully and pleasantly Mngh, but there was no revival of Helen's ipiria. Country air and country hours were iolng her some good, perhaps. She was a lit- Je lees wan and pale than she had been on it: wrival, but Adrian's calm watehfnlness ;»roeivedno improvementin her moral being. I! she smiled, the smile was evidently an ifc. When she talked there was the same lir of constraint. If he came upon her sud- italy in the drawing-room or the garden, it »M generally to find her sitting in listless feaess, with the air of one for whom life »d ceither pleasure nor interest. This state of things wont on for more than ixcnth. It was the middle of August, and «ie weather was sultrier than it had been in %. Mrs. Baddeley was astonishing the W*i visitors at a Scarborough hotel, and leiighiing her train of attendants, who had allied to that point from various shooting- W on the Yorkshire moors. Valentine 'M going to and fro over the earth like the "^One, in his journeying from one race- Jneang to another. He occasionally favonr- ais wife with a few hurried lines from a ^iTincial hotel, telling her his whereaboute. He appeared thoroughly to approve of ^residence at the Abbey, and promised 'join her there before the first of October. This, so far as it went, seemed well, or « east it so seemed to Lady Belfield. msn was not altogether satisfied. Idon't like Valentine's patsion for the '^1 he said one day when he and Helen ^^° sitting on the lawn after luncheon, akbg believe to work, he with a vol- *^«.tii Herbert Spencer on his knee, and ^.-coughta very far from the pages of that Moiopher. '• I hope, Helen, there U no j"' m a lumor I heard at my club when '^Ija London the other day." ,;»w rumor?" A aian assured me that Valentine has 'J*" m Lord St. AusteU's lacing stable." ,M crimsoned at that sudden utterance of iL. *^^' name, and could scarcely *^er nim. "I T L 4i^ ,*~have never heard of such a l| ahesaid. Tom. â-  1°" ""^ow that St. AusteU and â-  â„¢ iBsband are close friends, although ^^1 met a little while before your C^«i when St. Austell was at Morcomb, Biarif "•*°y "**^ "» *•»« report, Valentino "Ptw ??" "^y *** ignominious bank- 4, '•. He has only yonr settlement and W,, .*!"=« my mother makes him. ««diw"^}"*^ would be available for his ^ii. Practically he is a man of straw, I i^^ix) right to speculate in a racing 1 Jk|,^Ja't believe he does speculate. He ' '" go to races, and he bete a littk enough of race-meetings by the end of thi year, and that he will sober down to a more domestic life. That pretty Japanese draw- ing-room of yours ought not to be always empty." Helen did not reply. Her head bent lower over the group of poppies in crewel-stiteh which she carried about with her in a basket all day long, and which seemed to make no more progress than Penelope's web. Within two or three days after this little conversation, Sir Adrian was surprised by a subtle change in his sister-in-law's spirite. It was not that she seemed happier than be- fore; but she was certainly less listless, less despondent. She had an air of suppressed ex- citement, which showed itself in forcedgaiety. She talked a great deal more, laughed at the smallest jokes, and she suddenly took it into her head to play tennis violently wi'jh Jack Freemantle. To Adrian it seemed as if she was impelled by soma hidden agita- tion which found relief in movement and oc- cupation of any kind. Looking back at the evente of the pre- vious day, he remembered that she had been wandering about the Park alone in the af cemoon for two or three hours. She had for the first time, avoided driving out with Lady Belfield, on the ground that the after- noon was oppressively warm and then soon after luncheon she had taken a book j,and strolled out into the (;arden. He had misted her later on, and had met her two hours afterwards returning'from the Italian terrace by the river, that cypress walk where he had received the proof of her inconstancy. He felt that there was an evil influence at work, and he feared that the evil influence was St. AuetelL He had seen enough while he was in Lon- don to inspire him with grave doubts as to the relations between his brother's wife and that nobleman. St. Austell's position and St. Austell's reputation were alike danger- ous, and that light nature of Helen's was not formed for resistance in the hour of temptation. Adrian remembered the scene on Lady Kild are's terrace and the morning ride in the Park, both open to su^icion and his heart was ill at case for the woman who was to have been his wife. 1 WV-,**" H« has given me money th»t hft J,"â„¢ «» the turf. I know that A«f« is a I «ii i^"^g to-ioâ€" Mr. BeeohlM-Mid ^C^«J«U but I don't tUnkVaten- ^li«r,J^*»g to do with it beyond going ' "n^tbe horses now and thm." _. »*te» «• right, Heton. " '•*»r. IhoM ha wffl htcn tad* CHAPTER XXVI.â€" Opening his Eves. While Helen was pacing th? cypress walk in the long August afternoon, Valen- tine^was at York, where the summer meeting was' in full swing. Interest as well as pleasure had led him to the northern city. He was not, aa his mother had been told, a partner in fhe St. Austell and Beeching stable, but his interests were deeply involv- ed in their successes, and he had mixed him- self up in their turf speculatioiu in a man- ner which might result in a great coup or a greit disaster. One of their horses was entered for the Great Ebor, and stood pret- ty hieh in the betting another ran in a smaller race, and there were three of the stud entered for selling stakes. Valentine had backed Posteard rather heavily for the Great Ebor, and he knew that Beeching and St. Austell had both laid their money pretty freely, and that both iMlieved in the horse. To Beeching, losing or winning was a matter of very little con- sequence but like most millionaires he was very intent upon making his stable pay, and was very savage when the luck went against him. St. Austell was by no means rich, and to him Postoard*s success must be a matter of considerable importance. The value of the horse would be qurdmpled if he won this great race, to say nothing of his owner's bete. Under these circumstances, Mr. Belfield was surprised at not finding St. Austell at King's Cross when he arrived on the plat- form just in time for the speciaL It had been arranged a week before that he, Beech- ing and St. Austell were to travel together by this train, which left London at eight in the morning on the first day of the races, and were to occupy a suite of rooms to- gether at the hotel till the meetinjc was over. Mr. Beeching had charged himselfâ€" or had been chargedâ€" with the duty of engaging the rooms, and of securing a coupe for the journey. Mr. Beeching was on the platform, with his valet in attendance upon him. The coM/wwas engaged, and a picnic basket, containing a Strasbourg pie, a chicken, and a couple of bottles of G. H. Mumm s extra dry, was in the rack but there was no St. Austell. "What does that fellow mean by being behind time?" asked Valentine, when he and Beeching had token their seats, and the doors were being clapped to, all along the line of carriages. " St. Austell He's not coming. " Not coming " Not coming to see Poet- card win the Great Ebor I" ^, " No. He's chucked up the stable. " Chucked up the stable I" " Yea," answered Beeching coolly. "You see he owed me a hatful of money one way and another, and the other n^bt he and I had a general square up, which resulted in mv taking about seven shUUngs in the pound aU round. He «o'"»'i««'J. " J^" ierest in Postcard, and the rwt of the stud, Sl gave him back hU 1 O IT'S. He is go- in? to India next week." "Why India." „ " LuMS. Can't stand a European win- ter His doctors advise him to try Ceylon or India. He fa keen upon a grand eastern tour, and he's off to Venice next week on Ss WW ewtward. He'll potter about m Northiin Italy, P^^^P*!*" »f °°*V'"' and then put hinuelf en board a P Q. "Q^r," said Valentine. "He never told me ailything was wrong with his lungs, Songh he looksiather sickly at the best of **^"we can't all be gladiators like you, Tj iaIm r dont think St. AusteU knew ?h^ i- LyAU.r'»dioaUy wrong till he *^^ ^SLT wEn Jenner a litS while '""IJT W hSSS overhauled. But he SS bii Wd^S?^ or less every winter Jff-i'^JS^ {Mt, aa yon know. I shonld wonld " ES iSdleTcaplUl move for tUnk hte.' MBinaBlbeir VdaBifaM, pondn- Mr. Beeching had to give the same expla. tion to a good many people. Mr. Belfield waatRitatod by thk itenition. " Deuce take the fellow, what a lot of trouble he hae given us," he said angrily " He ought to have come to see the horse's performance, although he had parted with his interest in him. He has got a good deal ot money on the race, anyhow." The great day and the great race came. The Knavesmire was a scene of life and movement, of vivid colour and ceaseless ani- mation, a scene of universal gladness, one would suppose, toking the pictore as a whole. But in detail there was a good deal of disap- pointment. It was only the disinterested lookers-on, the frivulous people who go to race meetings to eat and drink and stare about them in the sunshine, the clodhoppers and bumpkins, who stand beside the rails and gaze at the scene as at the figures in a kaleidoscope â€" it b only for these that there is no bitter in the cup of pleasure, no fly in the ointment. Posteard, after a magnificent lead, which elated all his backers, shut up â€" in Mr. Bel- field's parlance â€" ^like a telescope. He was a poweriul horse, and would have pulled splendidly through heavy ground, but the weather had been peerless, and the course was dry and hard, so the lighter horses had the advutege, Beeching and Belfield ate their lunch in moody silence, and drank twice as deeply as they would have done to signalise a triumph. "I'll be hanged if I spend another night in this cursed bpl«," gaid Valentine, when the day's racing was over. "Oh, you'd better see it out. I've got the rooms for the week, don't you know, and I shall have to pay pretty stifflly for them, and I've ordered dinner. You may just as well stay." ' Make it Yorkshire if ypu grudge your money, and when you come back to town I'll square up," retorted Valentine, sulkily, "I'm tired of the whole business. Your stable has never brought me luck. Good night " It was only half past five o'clock the sun was high still, but sloping westward, and carriages and foot people were moving out of the great green valley in vast masses of shifting lights and colours. A pretty scene but far from pleasant to the jaundiced eye of Valentine Belfield. He got into a cab, drove to the hotel, bundled his things into bag and portmanteau, and had them carried to the adjacent station just in time for one of the specials which were taking the racing men back to London. He got into a saloon carriage, coiled himself up in a corner, out of the dust and the glare, and presently, when the express was flying across the country, past those broad fields where the com was still standing, low hills where lights and shadows Came and went in the softening atmosphere of evening, he fell fast asleep, and slept for nearly a couple of hours, sleeping off that extra bottle of cham- pagne which he had drunk almost unawares in his disappointment and exasperation. It was dark when he awoke, black night outside the carriage windows â€" and within only the dim light of the lamp, which was almost obscured by tobacco smoke. There were very few passengers in the spacious carriage, and of thos'e few, three were asleep, sprawling in unrestrainad re- pose upon the morocco cushions, worn out with open air, sun, dust and drink. Two men sat in the angle of the carriage, in a line with Mr. Belfield's comer, and those two were talking confidentially between the lazy consumption of their cigarettes, talk- ing in those undertones which are some times more dutinctly audible than the brawl and babble of loud voices. " I toll yon, my dear fellow, everybody knew all about it except- the. gentieman most oonoemed," said one, " and whether he was wilfully blind, is an open question. I don't like the man, and I should be willing to think anytiiing bad of him, but he's a good bred 'im, anyhow, and I suppose we ought to give him the benefit of the doubt." " He was never about with her," returned the other man, " she went everywhere with her sister, and we all know what the sis- ter fa." " A very charming woman," said hb friend with a laugh, " and a very dangerous one. She's about the cleverest woman out, I think, for without compromising herself very seriously she has contrived to make more out of her idmirers tbsin any Wdnum in London. She must have bled Beeching to the tune of a small fortune. I fancy." " Oh, Beeching fa fair game," said the other man "Nobody miniu Beeohins. That kind of pigeon was made to be plucked besides, E^eching to uncommonly carefuL Nobody will ever do him any harm. He has the commercial intollect fully developed. You may dedend he keeps a close account of his menus plaisira, hu grass-widows and such like, and knows to a shilling what they cost him, and will never exceed the limito of strioc prudence." Mr. Belfield's attention was fully awak- ened by this time. He. had tnmed himself round in hfa shadowy comer, and was wateh- ing and Ifatening with all hfa might. He knew one of the men, a member of the Bab- minton and the Argus, slightly; the other not at alL "The worst story against her is the story of the dumonds," said the man whom he did not know. "Ah, you were in India when it happened, uid knew all about it, I suppose," replied the other. " It was a rather ugly story, I believe, but I never heard the details." " I was in Baddeley's retiment when she came to India with him," said the other. " She had not been married six months, and was about the loveliest woman I ever saw in my life. As handsome as Mrs.. Belfield fa BO â-¼, which fa unsurpassable while it last, great gray eyes with black lashes, a com- plexion of lilies and carnations, form and colour alike lovely and luxuriant, a woman who makes every cad in the streeto stop all agape to look at her. She started ns at our hill station, I can telll yon, and the Badde- ley madness raged there all that season like hydrophobia. One of our men, a poor little lieutenant, a mere lad. Lord Brompton's son, took the disease very badly. What was sport for ns was drath to him. He fell madly in love with hfa Major's wife and hung about her and followed her abont in a diitncted, despairing way that would have been laughable had- it not verged nptm the tragic" " Did she encourage him?" "Of ooone aha did. Hs was a awdl, and he had lota of monaw. She nlok-naoMd hfan Baby, talked of hbn â- â€¢ 'a aloe boy, aadbefarakpgba warkaowa •^lirnrhin BaddalOT was the belle of the place, and everybody from the Grovemor-Generalldown- mtiat waa w?«»adl|r in love iriih her. Pow yonng Stroud hung on to h«r and was savage wi every man she spoke to. One night at the Govemor-General's ball, she came ont in a blaze of diamonds. One of ns chaffed the major about hu wife's jewell- ery but he took it as easily as possible. She had hired them from Facet, the great Calcutta jeweller, he told ua. ' I suppose I shall have to pay pretty stiffly for the use of them,' he said, but if she likes to cut a dash in borrowed plumes, I can't complain. It'll be a duced long time I'm afraid before she'll beable to show a diamond necklace of her own.' " The speaker stopped to light a fresh cig- arette, and then went on lazily dropping out hfa sentences between puffs of tobacco. " Baddeley fa a big, good-natured, self- indulgent ass, but I don't know that he's anything more than that. We all laughed at hfa story of ths hired diamonds, and six months afterwards when young Stroud broke for six and twenty thousand, most of it money borrowed from Calcutta Jews, we all knew that Mrs. Baddeley's diamonds count- ed for something, and Mrs. Baddeley's little caprices for something more iv the lad's en- tanglemente. We were all very sorry for him. Brompton was said to be a martinet, and the young man went about Calcutta looking as white as a ghost for a week or two, while he was trying to make terms with hfa creditors. Then one morning in bar- racks there was a great scare. Young Stroad had shot himself half an hour after morning parade. He had left two letters on hfa table, one addressed to his father, the other to Mrs. Baddeley." " How did the lady take it?" " I suppose she was rather sorry. She never showed herself in Calcvi'^*' after the catastrophe. The regimental iT...:ti,r .vviit to see her every day, and the AIoj r told everyone that she was laid up with low fever, and that the climate was killing her. She went back to England a month or so after Staroud's death, and she carried the spoils of war with her and has worn them ever since." "And yon think the younger sister u as bad " said the other man thoughtfully. There was no malevolence in either of then!. They were only discussing one of the problems of modem society. "I don't know abont that. I belieye she has more heart than Mrs. Baddeley; and that she is over head and ears in love with St. Austell. They have been carrying on all the season, and I wonder they haven't bolted before now." " My dfar fellow, nobody bolte nowadays. Elopementa are out of fashion. There fa no- thing further from the thoughts of a modem seducer than a menage. The days of postchafaes and Italian villas are over. We love and we ride away. St. Austell is a man of the world, and a man of the time. Here we are, old chap. My trap is to meet us here." They took up their sticks, hate, and over- coate, and left the carruge before Valentine Belfield's brain had recovered from the shock of a sudden revelation. He started to hfa feet as they wei)t out, called out to the man he knew, followed to the door just as the porter slammed it, and the train moved on. He hardly knew what he meant to do. Whether he would have called the slanderer to account, caned him, challenged him. He stood by, the door of tihe swiftly moving carriage, dazisd, bewildered, recalling that idle tuk he had overheard from the darlcness of hfa corner yonder, won- dering how mnoh or how little truth there WAS in it all. Abont Mrs. Baddeley, hfa wife's sfator? -Wall there might be some .foundation for scandal there, perhaps. He had long known that she was a coquette, and a clever co- quette, who knew how to leAd her admirers on, and how to keep them at bay. He knew that Beeching had minfatered pretty freely to the lady's caprices and he had always looked upon St. Austell as the lady's favoured admirer, and the man for whom she was in some danger of compromising herself. The story of young Stroud's futile passion for his Major's wife, and of costly jewellery given at a time when Lord Brompton's heir was already deeply in debt, was not alto- gether new to nini. He had heard some vague hinta in the past but men had been shy of alluding to that old story in hfa p r os e no o He had known that hfa sfater-in-law had been talked abont but no man had ever dared to insinuate that she was anything worse than a clever woman, and perfectly .capable of taking care of herself. " I back Mrs. Baddeley and her poodle against liueretia and her dagger,*' he had heard a stranger say one night in the club smoking room, and it had seemed to his somewhat cynical temper that hfa wife could not be safer than with a thoroughly worldly woman, a woman who knew every knot and ravelled end in the " seamy side " of society. But St. Austell his wife's admirer 1 They two head over ears in love with each other Never for one instant had such a possibility dawned upon him and yet those two men had talked aa if that mutual passion were an estoblfahed fact, known to all the world, except to him, the deluded husband. Helen, hfa Helen The wife who had satUted him with^weetneas, whose devotion had cloyed, whose fondnecs had been almost a burden. That she shnld play him false, that she should care for any other man on earth. No, he could not believe it. Be- cause two fools in a railway carruge chose to toll lies, was he to think that the woman who had counted the world well lost for love under her sfater's wing. The arrangement relieved him at all troble, and Helm seem- ed happy. People oomplhnented him upon "Bi '#16^1 beatify, «« 1ft tecepted thdr praises aa a kind of tribute to himself; pleased to show the world how careless he could afford to be abont a wife whom every- body adored, secure in hfa unbounded dominion over her, able to neglect her if he chose and yet to defy all rivalry. • (tobkcontincbd.) Frank Millet's Base. Everybody has heard of Frank Millet. He painte pictures and writes magazine articles in times of peace, but when a war is " on " he become a " war correspondent," and is likely to turn up in the Soudan, the Transvaal or the Balkans. But there was a time when he was not known. He sent pictures to exhibitions, to be sure, and good ones, but no ne paid any partictdar atten- tion to them or said anything about them. One day he osnceived an idea. He painted a picture of a lady in black sitting on a bright red sofa standing agunst a vivid yellow background. The effect waa jist a trifle startling. Friends who saw^it in process of production expostulated with him, and asked what he was going to do with it. They were simply astounded when he an- nounced that he was going to send it to the exhibition. They lalwred with him, but in vain. Tney told him that the critics would " wipelthe floor "with him. " They can't do that without mentioning me," said Frank, quietly, " and they've never even done that yet." To the exhibition the picture went. It killed everything within twenty feet 9^ either side of it. Yon couldn't help looking at it. It simply knocked you down and held you there. The critics got into a tow- ering passion over it, They wrote whris. columns about it. They exhatisted the Englfah language in abusing it. They ridl- culed the committee that permitted it to be bung. They had squibs and ^bes about it, but every time they spoke of it they men- tioned Frank Millet. He suddenly became the best- known artist in town. Somebody, because of the stir it had made, bought t£e picture at a good price, and removed it to the seclusion of his own^home. When the next exhibition came off Frank had another picture -ready, one of a very different sort, and very good, but no better than others which had been exhibited before. The critics had much to say about it, and "noted with pleasure the marked improvement ' thatMr. MiUet had made "'an evidence," as they modestly put it, " of the value of criticum, even though severe, to a young artfat." And the majority of them never saw that Frank had simply compelled their attention by a clever trick. Daring Engineering Featâ€" Renewing the Niagara Suspension Bridge. The Nfagara FaUs railway suspension bridge carried successfully a heavy traffic tor 26 years it was then found that some repairs to the cable were required at the anchorage. These repairs were made, and the anchorage was substantially reinforced. At the same time it was found that the wood- en suspended superstructure was in bad condition, and thfa was entirely removed and replaced by a structure of iron, built and ad- justed in such a manner as to secure the best possible resulte. For some time it had been noticed that the stone towers which supported the great cables of the bridge showed evidences of disintegration at the suriaoe, and a careful engineering exam- ination in 1885 showed that thoee toweiB were in a really dangerous condition. The reason for thfa was that the saddles over which the cables pass on the top of the towers had not the freedom of mo- tion which was required for the action of the cables, caused by differences of tem- perature and by passing loads. A most interesting and successful feat was accomplished in the substitution of iron towers for these stone towers, with- out intorrupting the traffic across the bridge. Thfa has been accomplished very recentiy by building a skeleton iron tower outaide of the stone tower, and transferring the cables from the stone to the bron tower by a most ingenious ar- rangement of hydraulic jacks. The stone towers were then removed. Thus, by the renewal of ite suspended Stmctnr and the replacing of its towers, the bridge has been given a new lease of life and fa in excellent condition to day. Thfa Niagara railway suspeudon bridge has been so long in successful operation tut it fa difficult now to appreciate the general disbelief in the poedbiuty of ite success as a railway bridge, when it was .undertaken. It was projected and executed by the late John A. Boebling. Before it was finfahed, Robert Stophenson sidd to him, " If yonr bridge succeeds, mine [the Victoria tnbnlar bridge at Mohtreal] is a magnificent blun- der.' The Niagara bridge aid succeed. â€" Scribner'i Mtigazine. â€" " Struck the Bight Spot Lady (to country editor). "I called, sir, to learn something in regard to the condi- tion of the poor of the place." Editor (with alacrity). "Yes, madam, be seated, please." (To offioe-boy). " James, go down-stairs and tell the busi- ness manager to send up the books." Foil Begolatioa Wei«rht. Wife (proudly). "I made thfa ponnd- cike myself, John; what do you think of it?" Husband (critically). " Well, my dear, I think it will run fully aa Mrs. Baddakr*" Baby, taadadpaoflar to Caloattakt aadaOMHicd ..u^....r.....,»^.. ..... ...,..» ..... .»o. .u. .u,« "i^teen ounces to oSThim had "tumoT Mckstw an7"trtdtre88 1 **** Po»«»d.' and was carrying on with another man t St. Austell, a notorious rake a man who heul the reputation of being fatal in hfa in- fluence with women. The man had seemed safe enough so long as he had thought of him only as Mrs. Baddeley's lover, but with hfa suspicions newly aroused, Valentine Befield looked back at the history ot the last few months, and saw all thugs in a new light. He remem- bered how in all Mrs. BtLddeley's festivities at HnrUnpham. Banelagh. or Sandown, water partus at Henley or Mulow, Sunday dinnets at Biehmoad, at Greenwiob, St. Ansteil bad always leen one of the parfrr. Beecfaiag and St. Aaatell had alwaya been at hand. Whoever e^-se waa inolndatl, thoae twowaniaaTitaUa. Habadraekoaadtfaam bodtaatoeaora'idavoteaa; tii^ WW tiia peirwbielidhBdraTeinhcrear ol.trinmb, OkmYmmllt'iafm, «r Jana'anMoodca. Oaa aO Why la it? Will some fair maid enlighten me On thfa momentous question â€" That fa, of course, if she feels she Can offer a snggesticn t Why fa it that whene'er a man Has wooed a maid and missed her, She alwaya tells him that she can Be to him but a sister If he a brotiier's kiss has claimed. Why grow her cheeks ao red Why does she say, " I'd be ashamed," And tnm away her head T Wbydoeashawbiapar, ' Oh, take pan I Yoa must net be ao free "t And tiMo, *• I aboolda't tfjnk yoa'd TotitethalUMrty." If aha*a hii rirtar. tdl m»» wv,' WbyahaaliAabaaa â- iiiia Of oMMa I Iwta jM wOtw^ mf III" if P.t i^ • ' -Si. s ' W^^i^y\ i-.- â-  ;- !• r '7X ' y-' â- , y 'â- " â- \ 1 ' 1 *â- â- â-  i.M.: • t ' ;.-V. 7 â-  r 1 -â- - s^ ic " â- .it' "..:'5 â- ;ii-. V i mi. m â- i ':â- â- - i' t' I i I •: m â- A' '"•:.» '«â- â-  -^ • ' t â- Ai' iiirmniil' -jiiiini 111 niinftiHilBiririrfif' stfiiiitSiMiili