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 I Uti 'i •si T. TTCTil AND UNLIKE, By M. B. IMIADDON, AxJTHOB o» "Lady Audlit'b Sbcbbt," "Wtllabd's Wdbd," Era, Era j g*v.: CHAPTER XXXVILâ€" Colonel Deveeill Has Hopes. Colanel Devetill loitered in London for a week or so after he left the Abbey- He pat np at a sporting clnb in Piccadilly, where tiiere were rooms for birds of passage, and he spent his life in a variety of smoking rooms and billiard rooms, card rooms and reading rooms. He was a member of seven West-end clnba, and had a choice of places in which to smoke and saunter bat the clabs were nearly empty at this time of the year, and the few men whom he knew were comini; and going â€" tall of tiieir antumnal engagements, ansettled and somewise dis- tracted; not a solitary wanderer like the Colonel, who had made no plans for aatamn or winter, and who was beginning to feel old and desolate. The men he knew were civil, and some of them had a sympathetic air, which implied eompassion for bin in his affliction as a father, bat he felt a stmg even in sympathy, and dreaded lest some officious friend should offer to ' condole with him. He wondered whether his daughter's flight had become town-talk. There had been no stir made â€" no row, no open scandal, and it was possible that her disgrace was only gaessed at by the few who where'behiod the scenes of society. There was one man, however. Sir Randal Griswold, of the County Clare Rangers, with whom Colonel Deverill was on terms of al- most brotherly confidence, and from him he withheld nothing. " Have you heard anything about that scoundrel, St. Austell," he asked. "Do people know that he hu gone off with my daufjhter " " Upon my word, Deverill, I don't think anybody knows as much as that, but I be- lieve there's a general idea that Mrs. Bel- field has gone wrong somehow. Onenevercan tell how these things get known. Theyjaeem to be in the air. St. Austell was always about with her, you see. There was no mistaking the nature of his attentions. The fellow is all the more dangerous because there is a vein of sincerity in him he is desperately in earnest for the time being. People saw that he was over head and ears in love with your daughter â€" and when he sold his share in the racing stable and an- nounced his intention of going to Ceylon, everyone knew what it meant. He was going off with Mrs. Belfield." " Do you know^if anyone has seen them together " faltered the Colonel. " He was seen in Paris â€" with a lady he was heard of at Genoa â€" with a lady and he was heard of ae;ain at Venice â€" with a lady â€" only a week ago." " I have a good mind to go after them and try to bring her back with me," said,Colonel Deverill. " Don't attempt it, my dear fellow. A father's influence and a father's authority go for nothing against an infatuation of that kind. A little later, perhaps, when they are both tired of each other, you may do something â€" but noi now. Besides, they would be on board a P. and O. before you could get to Venice â€" or they would be hid- ing someivhere in the Apennines or the Aus- trian Tyrol." The Colonel felt the wisdom of this advice. He was not the kind of maa to wander all over Europe in search of an erring daughter, though he was assuredly the kind of man to shoot his daughter's Eoducer, could they two be brought face to face without too much trouble on the colonel's part. Laissezfaire had been the guiding principle of his exist- tenoe. It had left him in very low water in this later stage of life but he did not mur- mur against fate. This last blow hit him harder than any loss of fortune. He went to Wilkie Mansions, in search of sympathy from his elder daughter but Mrs, Baddeley was at Ostend, with some friends who had a big yacht a certain Mr. and Mrs. Digby Smithers, stock exchange people, newly rich, and very glad to cultivate the friend- ship of a lady who went every where â€"or nearly everywhere â€" and who knew nearly everybody. That there were some people whom Mrs. Biiddeley had never succeed' ed in knowing, gave her just that touch of poor humanity which brought her in sympathy with Mra. Digby Slithers, who found it hard work to force her way in society, even by the aid of Gunter and Din Godfrey. Under these circumstances, Mrs. Dic^by Smithers' houses in Eton-place and at Mar- low, and Mr. Digby Smithers' yacht, the Clotho, were very much a; Mrs. Baddeley's service, and still moic at the service of Mra. Baddeley's fashionable hangers on. " Ask as many nice fellows as you like," said Smithers. " There are eight good cabins in the Clotho, and she's pretty well iound, as I think you know." "The Clotho is fairy land." cried Leo, gaily. " The Clotho ought to be called For- tunatus, or the Wiahins; Cap. Oae has only to ask and to have. When I had one of my bad headaches the other day, and Mrs. Dig- by Smithers wrung from me that there was only one brand of champagne that ever did my headaches the least good, there was a bottle of that very brand open beside my â- berth in two minutes. The Clotho is a yacht of miracles. If it were only big enough to carry a roc's egg, I should not scruple to ask for one. I know it would be there. Per- haps you hive some patent compressible roc's egg in the hold, all thiS time." Digby Smithers laughed. He liked Mrs. Baddeley to chaff him about his yacht, though he did not always follow her mean- ing. He was not a man of profound read- ing. He had, in fact, never read anything except the newspapers, and there his studies were confined to such information as affect- ed his own interests. For thirty years of his life â€"from seventeen to forty- seven, he had given himself up to the business of mon- ey making â€" and now at forty- seven he had at last brought himself to believe that he had made enough money, and could af- ford to spend some. Hitherto his wife and he had been content to live their jogtrot lives in Bloomsbury, at an expenditure of fifteen hundred a yoar, taking their chief pleasure from the knowledge that they were amaaaiag thousands year after year but at last the time had come when Mia. Smithers, ohlld- lesa, and seeing her charms on the wane, told herself and told her husband that it was naw or never. If tbay were ever to m« life and enjoy the fruits of prosperity, time waa not an hour to loae. Uraed br iiii wife, fehenfora. Mr. Saaitli ers assumed the prenomen Digby, bestowed on him in baptism by an impecnnioin half pay captain, with whom Smithers the elder had claimed ooosinshipb With an abnost feverish haste he exchanged Bloomsbury for Eton place, and the solid upholst^of Fina- bory Pavement, for the artistic oabuwt work and high-art fabrics of Drnce. He bought a river -side vilte at Marlow, and a ateam launch, which speedily became a horror to rowing men â€" but Mrs. Smithers, who hank ered for a life of excitement, found the steam-launch dull, and insisted upon a yacht. Mrs. Baddeley had made this worthy couple's acquaintance at Marlow, where their villa was used as a water-side hotel b} a somewhat rowdy social circle, and where the luncheon table was openly talked of as the table d'hote. Leo and her chosen friends used the table d'hote freely, made undisguised fun of the Smitherses, and found fault with their cook but anything bad been forgiven in a lady who had two or three tame noblemen in her train, first among all. Lord St. Austell, whose reputa tion as a mam of fashion seemed all the better because of its savour of iniquity. No virtuous nobleman had ever achievisd such world-wide renown as the erring St. Aus- tell. Colonel Deverill went over to Ostend, to confer with his elder daughter, and was re- ceived on board the Clotho with almost op- pressive cordiality. " You will stay, of course. Colonel," said Digby Smithers, who was a short stout Oraigers, Capri after a long" lllm man, pmk of complexion, and sandy of ladyship was among the English hear, "you shall have one of our best „j,;; a J f,«„ v»«i««. *t. thA fir«t cabins â€" the one we saved for St. AnstelL "Val has had one of his loni{ daB with the foxbhnnda," said Lady Belfield, ^wloge- tfisally, "so yoa moat not take any notice ofbimifheisdnlL" Q^onal Deverill was bent upon conciliat- iiJlg#iB son-in-law, and was nareful to talk «f*xlie things Valuitine loved. They played a couple, of games at billiards after dinner, and talked (S the hunting. Valentine was gloomy, but not iU-naturcd. " If you care about huntin/, we can mount you for two days a week all through the season," he said. " There are plenty of good hunters. My mother has been very generous to me lately and we have increased the stud. It is the only thing a man can do in this gloomy hole." ' Yon find Chadtord gloomy." ' I always did. I have tolerated the place because it is my home â€" it has been needs must, don't you know â€" but I believe 1 have always hated it. I'm very sure I hot* it n- f."„i Thw seemed natural in a man who had been badly treated. The Colonel paused opon hie stroke to sigh, and then made his canj3 neatly, with a subdued air. "Yon have had reason to bs set acainst the p7ace â€" lately,' ho said, despondently, nd then he dawdled for a little while as he city, the lanea and alleya and crowded quartera where the hard working poor onn- tiftni â- rnTarnly^nmnilnr^fnt mMthva: villaa perched high np on the orest of j fiower-eoeuted iiO, wiGh^efr^luuilBK /^ tHs orange grovea. and their faoee ^i^ eei. ifo cbolem p«bon. v«aldIpoUnt« tMai^ that Ue w in at Lady St. Austell's windo wa. S ae would be safe enough. Notwittistanding this opinion that n^barm could possibly con-e to Lady S«. Avstell, Colonel Deverill read the cholera columu with a keeneV interest than other parts oi the paper, and had a particularly aharp eye for news from UTaplea. Cholera 4^a8 repor l' ail through Southern Italy, as well as at Toolpn and Marseilles and every day •bowed a new-list of victim.? All the Eng lish visitors were leaving Naples and ita vioinity. At last appeared the name for which Colonel Deverill was on the watc^. "Lady St. Anstell has left her villa at Posilipo, for the Island ot C*pri, where she will be the guest of the Marquis of Luj^arno di Melioa, whoEO picturesque chateau and orange groveik are known to Italian tourists. No case of cholera has been heard of on the island." " So she has cufc and run after all," said the ColoneL " What nervous fools some ♦ c^'jk^T his"cue,"tey'ing"to"find "the "best women areâ€" and vet they are of the same â€" clay as Florence Nightingale and her sister- hood." After this, the Colonel glanced at the cholera news with a careless eye. The one woman whose death might have seemed a one we He promised us a week in September, but tbose.tireaome doctors have sent him off to the east." The Oolonel spent a couple of nights on board, in the cabin that was to have been St. Auatell's. He only stayed those two nights in order to have a quiet talk with his daughter. Mrs. Baddeley was looking ill, and was obviously out of spirits, though she put on an air of forced gaiety now and then out of compliment to her hostess. Even Tory's blandiahments seemed to have lost their charm, and she allowed that sagacious animal's somewhat fickle fancy to be won by Mrs. Digby Smithers, who had conceived an ardent affection for him, and who min- istered to his appetite with a reckless dis- regard of consequences. " You look dread- fully cut up, Leo," said her father, when they were sitting together under an awning, at a comfortable distance from Mrs. Digby Smithers and a brace of frisky matrons, all absorbed by the fascinations of Tory, and all diversLFying the inanity of their conversation by still more inane gigelings. " I am dreadfully cut up," she answered curtly. " Well, I don't wonder at it. The girl was in your charge, and you must have felt responsible for her, in some measure. I suppose there's no doubt she went off with St. Austellâ€" and not with any other man. "Doubt? If you had seen them together, you would not ask such a question ' "But if you saw how things were tending why didn't you stop her â€" you are ever so much older â€" and a woman of experience." 'Stop her! Could you stop the Ganges? She went headlong to destruction from the hour be began to care for her. You don't know what he is when he pretends to be in love with a woman 1 God knows what he is when he is really in love and I suppose he was really in love with Helen." The Colonel listened, with a thoughtful brow. "Its a bad buuaess," he said, "and I don't see any remedy for it. If he were only free â€" but I suppose there's no hope that his wife will take it into her head to divorce himâ€"" She can't do it, if she would. Her own position won't boar scrutiny. He might have divorced her five years ago if he had ciosen but he didn't choose. There were money interests at stake, and I think he preferred his own position as a married man without the incumbrance of a wife, to the idea of absolute freedom. He might triflj with any 'tv Oman's afiections and not fear to be called to account, don't you see. And to a man utterly without principle, the position has its advantages." " I wish he had been free to make an honest woman of your sister," said the Calonel gloomily. " You mean free to make her Lady St. Austell," sneered Leo. " if she had run away with a Jones or a Smith, you would not care half so much about it. I know your Irish pride." " Can I help having a long line of ances- tors. A feeling of that kind is in a man's blood. Do you know where L\dy St. Aus- tell is and what she is doing " "She is at Naples, I believe â€" she has a villa somewhere in the suburbs, and lives in a certain style. She has a rich Italian Marquis for her banker, and is said to spend money rather recklessly. I am told she takes chloral, so there might be a chance for Helen, if St.Austell doesn't get tired oi' her too soon." " How heartlessly you talk of your fcister. ' " She has coased to be my sister. I have done with her forever. " One would think you had been in love with St. Austell, or you would hardly be so bitter." " Suppose I was in love with him 1 At any rate, I did not compromise myself on his account. Why could not Helen take care of herself as I have done Could she not like a manâ€" without throwing herself into his arms." " She was less a woman of the world than you, Leonora. It is not every woman who can take care of herself, as you have done, and yet amuse herself as well as yon do." â-  • • • â-  A month later. Colonel Deverill opened his Timei, on loard his Scotch friends' yacht in the Orkneys, and started at seeing a line in large type, among the telegraphic news, "Cholera at Naples, aeventeen deaths." " By Jove," mattered the Colonel, with a thrill of gnilty piearare, " Lady St Anstell will have to cut and ran from hor Nenpoli- tan Villa." Woald ahe cot «id rnn Hardly*.: naleaa niewere a very fooliali wmnnn. I)ib'dia- eaaea which na»asm utm namiw alMiflU of a special favor of providence, was out of reach of danger^safe on her sea girt isle. Colonel Ddverill unfolded his GcUignani one wintry morning in Paris, some weeks after he had forgotten all about Naples and the cholera, and this time he was startled much more seriously than by the Neapolitan news of September. " We regret to announce the death of LMly St. __Anstell, who expired at Lea illness. Her residents who fled from Naples, at the first outbreak of the cholera and, from the time of her flight, she had been suffering from a nervous fever which ended fatally on Saturday morning. Lady St. Austell was the third daughter of the Eirl of Swathling. " Gone," cried ^he Colonel.- " Then there will be a chance for my girl after all." To rehabilitate his daughter, to raise her from disgrace and seclusion to a better place in the world than that which ahe had occupied before her fall, was the most fervent desire of Colonel Deverill's mind. He hardly stopped to ask himself whether society would accept such a marriat^ as a rehabilitation whether the world would ever consent to cOndone the past, whether the divorced Mrs. Belfield would be lor- gotten in the second Lady St. Austell. The one point in his mind was that re- paration could now be made to his daughter, and that it was his business to bring hit seducer to book. The first thing ty be managed, however, would be the divorce and that must needs be a work of time and of unpleasant- ness. It must be brought about with the least possible publicity, and it would be the Coolnel's duty to use all the influence he could command, in order to shorten those hideous reports which form the delight of the newspaper reader, and the chief terror of those whose names figure therein. Colonel Deverill had been daily exjMcting to hear that his son-in-law had petitioned for a divorce but he had as yet received no notice to that effect. The young man was evidently in no haste to free himself but now he would have to be gently stimulated to the effort W^ith a man of St. Austell's temperament, there was no time to be lost. He must not be allowed to tire ot his last victim before he was free to espouse her. He felt that the matter was one in which he could not afford to be precipitate. He must approach the question delicately, in the character of a disinterested friend, and broken hearted father. With this view, he wrote to Lady Be'field, asking her to hire the furnished cottage on the bank of the Chad for him, if it were still in the market. " I am tired of Paris, and I don't care for another winter on the Riviera," he wrote. "I spent two winters at Nice with my two girls, when life was brighter with me than it is now. Those scenes would only awaken painful associations. Your Devonshire nlim- ate is mild enough for a tough old soldier like meâ€" so if you can get the cottage for me on reasonable terms, I will engage it for six months, and telegraph to my old butler and his wife to take possession." L idy Belfield replied by telegram. " Cot- tage taken. Feel sure yoa will approve terms." " " Admirable woman," replied the Colonel ' ' as business-like as she is charming. If my poor girl had married the right brother in- ste*d of the wrong one, how happy we might have been." He made all his arrangements, and was established in Myrtle Cottage within ten days of that announcement in Gaiignani The slovenly old Irish butbr and the un- tidy Irish cook-housekeeper had the art of making their master thoroughly comfort- able. A red-elbowed drudge, hired in the neighborhood, and a boy to clean boots, run errands, and work in the garden, complet- ed the household, and the Colonel was more carefully miniitered to than som'i noblemen with thirty or forty servants. The cottage was picturesque without be- ing damp, an admirable quality in cottages. It stood well above the river, with alout an acre of garden sprawling in an irregular figure on the- hill-sideâ€" good old garden ground, teeming with old fashioned peren- nials, and riohin old-fashiond shrubs, gueld- er roses, golden bloom, arbutus, liUc and labumam. The rooms were small, cosy furnished with substantial old-fashioned furniture of the Raform Bill era â€" clumsy ponderous, comfortable. Lady Belfield had taken a basket of hot house flowers to fill all the bowls and vases, and had seen cherry wood fires lighted in all the rooms, and had spread new magazines l^d periodi cals on a table in the drawing-room, ao that the Colonel'a first exclamation on entering the room was " Tliia looks like home." There was a note from Lady Belfield on the chimney-piece, asking him to dinner that evening, which he haatened to accept by means of a harried aorawl and the handy boy. Thwre was no one at the Abb^y bat the family, and the dinner was not lively, al. versatnn. TioM w»a a dogged glomn in VidentlBela manner whidi repeUed oooa* dsnoe, uid ^«e waa « «didued iii^lfetebbl# words in which to approach a difficult sub ject. " You â€" you have not petitioned for yonrdivorce yet, I suppose." He said yovr divorce, making the matter, as it were, a foregone conclusion, and in Valentine's especial interest. " I am not going to petition " answered Valentine. The Colonel tried an impossible cannon off the red in sheer confusion of mind. " Not going to petition " he faltered. "No. Why should I? I don't want to mairy again â€" f never should m*rry again â€" whatever might occur. I have mado one mistake, and I had rather abide by it." " My dear Valentine, that is one way of lookiog at the matter, bat fortrive me if I say it's not the right way." " Where's the wrong " " To yourself first â€" to my wretched daughter in the second place. You don't want to marry apain, you say â€" of course you don't â€" not now. Your wound is too raw yet every touch is agony. Wait till your wound is healed, my dear boyâ€"and fancy yourself then thrown into the society of a pretty and sympathetic woman â€" who pities you, and is quite ready to give you a happier experience of married life. Get your divorceâ€" and yon may let the coming years do what they like for you â€" find you a wife or not, as heaven may order. But keep yourself bound to a womem who has been false to you, and you shut yourself out from all hope of future consolation." " I am not the kind of man to be consoled â€" in that way," answered Valentine, dog- gedly, goin? on playing, and making a shot between c^h comma. " I would rather bear my burden in my own manner, if you please, Cilonel Dararill. I don't complain of anybody, and I don't ask anybody for consolation â€" that's game, 1 think â€" or for advice." " So l)e it. Then we'll leave you out of the question," said the Colonel, putting his cue in the rack, with an air of imperturb- able good temper. "But now we have to think of my daughter, I have her interests very much at heart, Mr. Belfield, althcugh I grant you she has behaved dooced badly and her interests demand divorce without loss of time." " What. You really want to see your daughter in the divorce court, to have her name bandied about in every newspaper in the kingdom " " I want to see her righted by the man who has led her wrong," answered the Col- oneL " I want to see her Lord St. Austell's wife before these grey hairs go down in sor- row to the grave." "Lord St. Austell's wife " cried Valen- tine, with a hysterical laugh. " Oh, I see your game. Colonel. Lady St Austell died a week or two ago, and St Austell is free to marry againâ€" and you would like him to marry your daughter. Yoa are a far-seeing man, upon my soul." Ho burst out laughing^aughed long and loud this time, but it was the laugh of hy- steria and not of mirth. His face had whit- ened gradually since the beginning of this conversation, and he now looked ghastly as he stood leaning against the billiard table in the glare of the lamps. Presently the laugh changed to a choking cough, and he put his handkerchief suddenly to his lips. When he sook it away a minute afterwards the Colonel noticed crimson stains upon the white cambric. " Do you spit blood " he asked. " Occasionally. It is nothing of any con- sequence." " That is a question for your doctor to de- cide. I don't like to hear a powerfully- built young man hysterical, or to see him spit blood." There was a silence for some minutes, while each man took out his case and light- ed a cigarette. " Has my daughter sent for her luggage "No." " Strange." " yery strange. Will yon come to the drawing- room and have a chat with my mother " " 1 think not. It's getting late, so I won't disturb her. I'm going to walk home." They went into the hall together, and Val- entine helped the Colonel on with his over- coat. When they shook hands. Colonel Deverill noticed that the young man's hand was cold and clammy. " There is something wrong with my son- inlaw,"he said to himself as he walked across the park, on hb way to a small cot tage, "and it's deuced awkward that he should put up his back against a divorce. I believe it is sheer malevolence towards my unhappy daughter. There are some men who don t know how to be generoos." Although theOolonel waa very fond of a good rup with the hounds; he did not take ^vantage of Valentine's offer of a mount Ue went the round of the atablea with Sir Adrian oae non-hunting morning, and ex ammedallthehoraea, and praised some of tnem bat he woald not pat himself under an obligation to hia eon mJaw. " I don't feel like hunting, thU winter, for 1 ve had aome ugly twItoEea of aont," he ahalli^t.fer aliMe ' and she felt aUo that V.i •ome amend* for tJIT W*^^ »^, i to hi. daaghter" ma^"**WjS K\ been all HelenWa„ri«»^ It S glj^^hadtobecoS^edJy-Cl; The Colonel settled M *^' quarters and was content fl!*' kU n^ lead a sleepy kind of Ufi!S.««filib' -walking a Httle-readhrfr»«»Utt -and sleepmg by his soffi?! »«»Ji evening after hU. solitary dfn^""*^!^ heavyat heart in spite!* .7°" HtJJ of contentment Hrknt*" ^W^ b3en a careful father. Stt Sj'^t^ of hisdaughter s sin must rS,*^* '»m1 upon his conscience. All th. "*«e jZ enedby his daaghterin herlon, o"»»k- 1 ^e had thought of herand if «, little m her early married lUeli'-«'«T L' '^^K 'l^'" '^«"»"'i'« business '.ou?"" her but now in his rustic soli.ni^r "««« haunted bi.n perpstuaj it .."'"' i sorely troubled lor her^b* " " "'^^ "If r could but see her Lidv Qt before I die, I mi^ht go down L '"Wl in peace," he said to h.mseir " 1"" ' He had dreams about her in v bed c'namber, lulkd bythen-i^Wi u"**^ I flowing. tide. _HissCS'tt2|l those distorted visions.^b'^whiLh"' action of our serious waking though^- 1 refl interwoven with ^i^^v-^^^^'^^^^^;^l'S'^-^'^\ with St. Austell by her side theiin but there »v always seme discordaat imacre Bomp.i? " stop the ceremony before ^hev"?** clianged mt« Mm spoken or St. Austell incongruous stranger-or thechurchwZ a church-or the parson w^ „ot a No such dream ever came to a hapnv enT" -and he had such dreams by theZ" "I shall go off u.y head if I had thiaU iife much longer," he told himself, m the dead of night after one of those W bled visions. "I nmat get Leonora f. J: to Mrs. Baddeley nea For Gods E»ke J 4. -.L ,?"" get Leonora to COB and stay with me." ' He telegraphed morning. " Una, despondent and ill. come and take care of me." Mrs. Baddeley was far from being perfect, I but she was not a Goneril, and she arrlTed by the express next day, with her RumIu poodle. (to be C9KT1NUED. Ancient Prussian " Cabbies. In the time of Kiog Frieclrich II. cabs «•« hackney coaches were rarities intne sian capital, and were on y '^^f^J^^.l by the^fch. Prince Heinnch '^^ »^J,e increase the number, and m or^ l°g^ to increase tne nu'n'»""'^,j-'" industry ce a help to the cwriaqebmldiDginduit^^^ :„„.:. „„,! „ *,»a hill at his place, w «^,^ ,, uitted, provii ho drove up to the door in a carriage. any citiz ft free ball at his ?««:,-â-  .n could be admitted, P"'*,^Z atdd; fiahiqs in **" y finft o' I ma^ UW a ahet«tttieMrda though Conatance Belfield didall ii'h^ Adrill "TtSSr'^* y?"' P«™*«o»' S» AdriS^'" »~riy • mile beyead,*' repUed LadyBelfioU, mm Adrian'a coaat^aa|»e. which wm #£ diJl^ 2ti!? i^SP^ Cohiiel DeverfU to institued a free ball at hisplac lould be admit barber apprentices were cag^*" '° j^* few the princely entertainment fut wbeeled-vehioles which =°"1^ "*ueir charg- of course prodigiously 'P'""«**®r„f theyoong es, and thi whole united money rft^ey^ ^^^ men on -^ -^ 'â- - carriage. hired a ly8offi3edtopayfortheh^«^,,d They put their w't.n.jrfo^ droschke whichhad b^n j^,h.g hours driving Part'«\*°J"„ barbers p} free ball. Four of the y^f^g/;^ » auSH into the cab, and were J"«°jit talked pace to the palace the other eign pace behind it. nn Deiv' When the carriage f/^^^ .flight f great gate under the dim «' ,^/^bicle a«e Tays, both the d?o" J^pj-don* wereopeied. ^^^^^"" Ton " .at one^door. and the ^gb^f'^d foUo*«J aively atopped in a the ^%^^^^j^«^ thereat into the palace. Bf in torn passed from the «»" ^gifsr** The dec^a, the ato^ Jf^ ,a»tfl* 3~lendidily; the ?»'*«" °"fobtf«** tSttS, if they Vew »« "V,VS. ^. th^^St have been a-J^-JS halite amount o«/£»f JV'«^ whioh had •«^«T^^J^t\a«9i^Z at once. Yet with »U 'J^J'Sey ff^ r^ST ^„i,h whether 'J^^t.i. His Gratitude. In one of the chapters of Lidy Barken " Station Amusements in New Zealand ' there is a long and graphic description of i tramp, or a swagger, as such a persjn ii called in that part of the world, who once put up at her house. He arrived ia tin morning, during a fierce " sou'wester," rig- ged, drenched, and through'y exhausted, All that day he acted " exactly like a loit, starving dog," eating and sleeping, but say- ing not a word. He stayed three days, till tbe storm was over. Next morning a flood of sunshine awoke me " bright and early," as tbe country people say. It seemed impossible to stay in bed, so I. jumped up, and went to the window. What a morning it (vas and for midwinter, tool No haze, or fog, or vapor onlld* green hills. But I had no eyes for beauty of mountain or sky. I could do nothing bst gaze on the strange figure of the silent swag- ger, who knelt, yes, positively knelt, oathe still wet and shining shingle which formed an apology for a gravel path np to the buk door of the little wooden homestead. His appearance was very different from what it had been three days beforft Now his clothes were dry and c'.ean and mended- my Irish maids' doings, bless their hearts He had cobbled up his boots himse'J, and his felt hat, which had quite recovered from its drenching, lay at his side. The perfect rest and warmth and s;ood food had filled up his hollow cheeks, but still his countenance was a curious one, and never, until my dying day, can I forget the rapture of entreaty on th*t man's uptumea face. It brings the tears into my eyes now to recollect its beseechiDg expression. I do not think I ever sair prayer before or sinM. He did not perceive me, for I had hidden be- hind a sheltering curtain, to listen to hn strange earnest petitions. There, exactly where he had croushedt wretched, way-worn tramp in a pouring rain, he now knelt, with the flood ol sun- shine streaming down on his uplifted tace, while he prayed for the welfare and happi- ness, indivirluilly and collectively, of eveiy living creature within the house. Then he stood up and lifted his bat from the {{round but before he replaced it on tw head he turned, with a gesture that wonW have made the fortune oi any orator, a ges^ ture ot mingled love and farewe anfl solemnly blessed the roof tree which haa sheltered him in hia hour of need. I watched him turn and go, n°' f-^';^ clo5ing the gate after him, and-Eha" i fees it?-nw heart has always felt ligl| whenever I have thought of that swagger^ blessin?. t^^jTuiieTheir Eair. "' -«« It ui to see a woman -^^ to****^?a tiny twUt of hair behi ftrt*^^ked a fashionable ha ^* wSWYork " Mail and Expre » *• •..! venture to say, however, i *. f Jn " that if you ask her **^-hin she was a girl she ha JthatJ^f h^. Now what is J^i h" The woman has lost r?S«?bVsicalchanr.s, but her ^•l^^STc'niolve^^^ I *^ J niaht she goes to sleep w •«^n^ her hair or giving it the vi l^tS^id brushing which 18 abs »b«« *7, Us healthy viahty. H beoew»'J ^^men do that, ii M?*^ot careful as to the kind friie » »" Metal hairpins she pin^^fitSeM possible, for rubbei »^'lK Pi" are t*' peiferrable ^„ mav seem more clumsy b £btbey»»y»,^„,en they should pwV "r bi"t tonic for the hair l^' vn^ I have found that a g- ^S^d regular bruebing is the best tc ^Wrfs coming out rapidly, let P?fJL« hlir and brush it m its nat M Sn with a suflf. white br r°8n«rawirrono First brush rnt hair Then change the bru; â- of the hair. ^^ ^^^^ ISesrm'eftrhlon' The same o I wfd be repeated in the evemng *5!Si-^h about fifty strokes ou Woradually increase^ the treati ^t l«8 th*n two hundred stroke t°lh morning and evemn?. It ffcSomeahabit, and before loo I will cease to come out Mm. Gladstone. „•«•» ouite domestic iu her tastes, Sie is highly, delighted to fin. Cfamong her friends. In the seh tiTthUriady U never influenced b KtTbirth. wealth, or social po^ fWo reouirements are moral wortl U Thus the proudest home m En Eways open to profwMional peoph " dwingthe cotton f amme, Mrs. ' worSd night and day to allevia i She established an orphans Sphamin 1866. This afterwan a home for incurables. ba Gladstone's social, educationa htable projects have always been w Lded by her husband, who is fa of his wife than of anything « id, not excepting hU own hononrab die iMff^'um story will illustra Uy woman's great heart r0h,ifl oould only do Bom«^i' » a singer whom Mrs. Gladstoi i able to render a great service on jned' Plhatiseasy, my dear," the la ^aw for me to be of service to yot rexdaimed, the grateful tears niher cheeks. 'Yes, by doing something for son i A kind word, a bit of practical Wpinif hand, even if there isn't m f Mrs. Gladstone replied with s till always be doing something f td more than that, my child, it wil [something for yourself and son I God.-' Cclor of the Eyes. :iear, light blue, with calm, s( tee, denote cheerfulness, good jtancy. Bine, with greenish tii ,10 stiongly indicative of these tra light propensity to greenish tints any colour is a sign of wisdc rage. Pale blue, or steel colour* [tang motion of eyelids and pupils .leitfulnesa and selfishness. Dark ilet, denote great affection and pui tmuch inteliectuality. Grey, or ty.widiaranpeor blue shades ai ring tints, are the most intellect indicative of the impulsive, im] le temperamentâ€" the mixture ignine and bilious, which produce 1 artistic natures. Black (dark s uga of passionate ardour in lo v f- bnwn, without yellow, denote uiate disposition, sweet and gent vker the brown the more ard â- lion. Light brown or yellow d ottancy green, deceit, and yes of no particular colour {oi eUe shades of blue or grey, dull onleas dead-looking), belong to th c temperament, and denote a listle i*position, and a cold and thorongl ktare. Two of a Kind. BY KKMPER BOCOCK. She asked him once, she asked h She asked him thrice to wed. He thought her friendship "ver; Bat eajh time shook his head, At last, when he felt more incli The wedded state to try, He told her be had changed his Bat she ssud, " So have I." Never Closed. "Is that Mr. Smith's place of " Yes, sir but it is closed no* "Will it be open in the mornii " Ko but hia wife's month wi A. Special Favor. ^«»eaved widow (to country eo y«m diarge for obitaary notices, J iJoontry Editor As a genera Mra. Bontly but your husi ^••â-¼â€¢ryold friends, and I w sUd to publish hia obituary 1 A Daiperate Man. ..T^*V^"nid a pale bat bei tiataaad Mr. Sampson last n i*^ to go he aaid ' XiH MODntoa, yonr refns All the oolora o I^KOtlo^ in the pi^era to-m