A "WOMAN'S WILL; on, N E II G Y REWARDED CHAPTER XI. ■ 4( .A A TE'f'E-A-TETE. -A she should go to-day, if Sir Philip were not nungj" Suj(i ^orace in a bitter whisper tc Astasia. Lady Whittlesea. was buried in her afternoon's j, and the only occupants of the room were Mrs. otffaCe aiul A •i'stu.-ia. Anastasia was sitting on an toman, a book in her lap, but she was not reading-, seemed wholly occupied in studying the pattern ady "Whlttlese.i's carpet. ■al- B^en;'er, childish figure, with arms and neck of faster; a soft, 11 owing dress, and a string of gold c*ds clasped round her delicate throat. ^iioh was An;stasia. e "'as, in fu t, dressed up to receive Sir Philip, 0 was stayiiii' in the town, and who would most drop in fort™. ijj A,1asta £ iH was reading a book of poems. One of 6 t 8" poems was about love, and perhaps this had v-r j lastasia dreaming. She had not heard one inrtv ^le but tie scene depicted by her augus tr>v liLLt the mention of Sir Philip called her t0 herself. She closed the book, saying gentlv-for she feared ? awake Ladv 'Vhittlesea- Who should go, «i«inaia r" lb ^ow tiresome vou are, Anastasia I have taken V'oubiu to tell you about it, and now you answer 4| your head were in the clouds.' « LWus in the clouds just then, mamma." Then pray come down, my dear, and attend to g0(V,"ary -'ife. I am determined Miss Godirey shall so, mamma? I rather like her." A ,ioii always do like extraordinary people, ^"stasia..Hut you must please cea^e to like her. le 3s a girl without any principle, and she has ton 111 y mollu-r into letting her stay. Perkins "lfi mo all a'.out it, and I am convinced that she is «<•»]- Perkins:" Cr0(jl y dear, how stupid you are! iNo, Miss ^Irs. Horace spoke too loudly, and without auffi- nt discretion. Lady Whittlcsra awoke. Miss Godfrey," she repeated. "I want her; ^ere is she r" "Mother," said Mrs. Horace, "I beg you will not allow that woman to make tea while Sir Phi.p is here." "Indeed I shall. Just ring the bell, Anastasia." Anastasia did so. Perkins, I want Miss Godfrey." Perkins retired, and there was a pause. Mrs. IIojace looked white and grim. Anastasia oegan to study the carpet. Presently the door °peued, and in rustled Winifred. I want you to make the tea, Miss Godfrey, said old ladv, "boluly.. ■Mrs. Horace was ahout to explode, when Sir Philip that pre, ise moment entered the drawing-room— sn event which occasioned a temporary suspension ■Of hostilities. Mrs. Horace smoothed her rumed plumes, and deceived hiai with great courtesy. Lady Whittlesea held out her hand to him. "AUowme to introduce Miss Godfrey, a young iriend ( f mine," she said. Sir Philip bowed politely. He was a middle-aged man, quiet and undemonstrative in his manner- Hot quite young enough for Anastasia, Still he had houses and lands. He was an unex- ceptionable match. Of course she will marry him," thought Wini- fred, "and there will be a grand wedding, with feathers, and laces, and diamonds. Dear me it is something to be bom fortunate Winifred presided at tea, according to the will and pleasure of her patroness. It was not a very so. -able meal. Sir Philip had no great conversa- tiunal powers, Anastasia was wholly silent, and Mrs. Hor ice and her mother had to do all the talking between them. After tea the party broke up by mutual consent. -Mrs. Horace and her mother went to the old lady's dressing-room, and Winifred, left alone with the lovers, beat an instant retreat. Then Sir Philip and Anastasia were tete-a-tete. Anastasia, shy and beautiful as any nymph of old, sat on the sofa, her fair head bent over the book of poems, her shining curls almost concealing ei' face. She had hitherto evaded Sir Philip. She had con- lv, d to slip away at the all-important moment, and secret" herself till he was gone. He had never been ^ble to hscrt tain the important question as to how "0 stood in her affections. She would have followed her mother from the Z()Orfi on the present occasion, but Mrs. Horace had f^'d in a stern whisper, "Remain." And Anastasia ~,n°t dared to do otherwise. Phe poor child was like a fawn driven to bay. She sat on the sofa, her cold, trembling fingers holdmg her book of poems. She would have held it 'up, haa she the courage, as a barrier between herself and the terrible Sir Jrhilip. For Sir Philip, to her unspeakable dread, came and sat beside her. She gave a little start, and would have flown, but he took her hand in his, and detained her prisoner. She glanced round the room in a kind of despair. There was nothing but empty chairs and sofas to appeal to. A hard, forbidding likeness of Lady Whittlesea, that hung against the wall, gave her no ^neourageuieiit whatever. Her cheek like a rose, her €.vcs glittering with tears, her lip quivering, she was bewitching in her agitation that Sir Philip, in a h»rst of enthusiasm, raised the lily-white hand to his lips. Then Anastasia, roused by this demonstration, sprang up, flushing scarlet, and pulled violently to aN' It was of no use. Her hand was fast, as in a 'lce. This time Sir Fhilip would have no trifling. 'My dear Miss Horace, listen to me. I have a Question to put to you. Nay: nay Eet me go! let me go!" cried Anastasia, struggling with all her might, and the crystal drops down her cheeks. lionI-U let you go if you will answer my ques- ^.hat do you want to know?" said Anastasia, c??1.?" still, her face averted. TV •vou my wife> Anastasia ?" cf t> 16 Was a Pr°f°UU(l silence. The solemnity dumb (iuestion seemed to have struck Anastasia y ill you?" cried Sir Philip, eagerly, "will lefc1'" ^nd, in the excitement of the moment, he lil ?° *ler Anastasia, finding herself at 'f^y, looked round with a frightened air; then, Jtn a sudden bound, she sprang^to the door and was ?°n,e.' Sir I'hilip darted after her with a vehemence d not often display. But it was too late—she had vanished. V. I Wout back baffled and disappointed. But he a(t great perseverance. He intended to follow her Ul spite of rebuffs. -A'l in good time," he thought, "alJ. in good time, -^astasia is but a child at present."
CHAPTER XIL A DISCOVERT. IXIFRED'S sole policy, during these troublous days, dS to hold fast by Lady Whittlesea. She knew Perfectly well what she was about. She knew that e old lady's selfishness and combativeness were iri'1'^6^ her side. She had it in her power to an! ^er Pa^r0ll08S extremely comfortable—to tend anause her beyond what had ever been done lo °r° Lady Whittlesea, aware of this, would, so "^ith hS ^le £ ame cou^(l he kept up, refuse to part jjlhen the old lady was on ill terms with Mrs. to°lj,aCe' as two equally self-willed persons were sure As Perking sagaciously observed— ker y ltuJy wants her way, and Mr. Horace wants coir,ay' ,8,°> between them both, there are pretty ouings on>»> th^m^ so ^here were! The only link that bound T' t0sether was Anastasia. Amr'a81a was tenderly beloved by both. Not that fred Tr.Cf,°uld ever kave mied the place of Wini- Wonid J,, 8UC^ an arrangement been possible it It • Ye answered. Winifred*1"^ great tact and experience to act as did Wot?>^a Tas a lovely child of impulse. She Wore her'l or heart upon her sleeve. ] The economy of ihe far-off planets, shining in their serene splendour, was not more unknown to man th ill tho tactic3 of this terrestrial sphere were to Anastasia. At this precise period she spent most of her time in reading the book of poems spoken of aoove. When she was not reading she was studying the carpet. 081 )n her beloved volume she found a world of heroes and of demi-gods— an ideal world, from which all unpleasant things were either banished or were over- come where love reigned, and virtue triumphed, and happiness crowned the days. Such a as! was not life. And yet of life, with its soirows and its joys, Anastasia had no other con- ception. Betwccn Winifred and Anastasianobondof union could possibly prevail; nor did it at present. She is very lovely, but she dreams," thought Winifred. What a hard woman of the world is Miss God- frey mused Anastasia. Yet she was always gentle and kind to her. It was in Anastasia's nature to be kind to every one. All at once, however, the wall between these two women was suddenly broken down. One morning Winifred was engaged in sorting some music in a small ante-room leading out of the drawing-room. This little apartment was separated from the larger one by folding doers, which happened to be partly open. Winifred's position whs -io.-e by the window, where she was completely IIcreeAAd from observation. As she busied herself with her music a sharp ring at the bell was followed by a hasty step on the stairs. The door was flung open, and in came Harry King. She was sure it was ITarry King bccause Lady Whittlesoa's summons had reached him, and he was that very hour expected. Besides, no stranger would have entered with such an air of self-possession. Winifred took a survey through the niche be- tween the folding doors, She did not como for- ward—for the moment she was too much taken by surprise. lie was not in the least the sort of person she nad imagined. Instead of a down-trodden, poor relation, the slave of an imperious woman here was a youth as beautiful as an A donis—regular features, a dazzling complexion, brilliant eyes and coral lips, a slim, lithe figure, graceful, and moulded with exquisite pro- portion. Such was Harry! Outwardly, one of Nature's fairest productions. Inwardly But we will not be precipitin. Winifred had not recovered from her surprise sufficiently to stir or make the least demonstration before another step, light as a fairy's tread, was heard on the stairs. The door again opened, and in came Anastasia. Winifred, with unutteiable wonder, beheld what happened. She heard a wild exclamation of joy, and thoLwo were folded in each other's arms; They were lovers 1 Anastasia's fair hair was streaming over Parry's shoulder. li e was calling her every tender name the language could coin. He was uttering all the rhap- sody of love. And Winifred heard it. She stood rooted to the ground. She could hardly believe her senses. By-and-by the lovers sat down on the sofa, and she heard Anastasia exclaim, alluding to Sir Philip— ,"I will never marry any one but you, Harry. Ifobody shall make me I" # If yon dirf, I could not survive it," replied Harry, playing with her golden ringlets. We must do as we said, my darling—we must run away some fine day, and marry each other." Harry waB barely nineteen. li What incredible folly!" thought Winifred. Anastasia made no immediate reply, except by nestling nearer to her lover. Presently sho said— It will not matter to us having no money, will it, Harry? In that book you lent me Bertha and Hildebrand have not any money at all, and they go and live in a cottage in an island, and are happy all their lives long." Yes—but, my precious one, those were in the days 01 chivalry," exclaimed Harry, more in love than ever. Then do you mean to leave me to Sir Philip ?" said Anastasia, pouting. Heaven forbid No, my dear one, I shall-" A step, a fatal step, was heard, and the noxt moment Anasta-ia had lied into the ante-room, and was literally in the arms of Winifred. It was evident, from her manner and appearance, that the romance with Harry was being carried on clandes- tinely, and that she feared detection. She was deadly pale, not a trace of colour was in her lips or her ciieoks. Her eyes looked wild and terrified. When she became aware of the presence of Winifred she could scarcely refrain from utter.ng a shriek; but Winifred held her tightly. "Hu3h," she whispered; "you are safe if only you are silent." Then. opening noiselessly a door which led into the corridor, she drew the poor chi'd, panting and breathless, towards her own apartment. Just as she did so 11 rs. Horace entered the draw- ing-room. This is a pretty mare's nest to be sure," thought Winifred.
CHAPTER XIIL HARRY KING.. ANASTASIA, helpless, and unable to cope with any disaster, lay on the floor, at Winifred's feet, her lovely curls dishevelled, and her cheeks wet with tears. All she could say was, clasping her slender finders together—" Ho not betray me, Miss Godfrey! for the love of heaven, do not betray me Winifred raised her from the floor without speak- ing. Her manner was stern for the folly of the whole transaction made her angry. The chances of life, seldom happening, were not to be lightly thrown away. Presently Anastasia grew more composed. Still her blue eyes—blue, indeed, as heaven, and bright enough to bewitch a score of Harrys-were fixed on Winifred. Pray do not betray me, Miss Godfrey I will not," replied Winifred, if you are reasonable." What do you mean by that P" said Anastasia, looking down. I mean if you will act like a sensible girl. If I see you trying to destroy yourself, I am bound to prevent it." Do you call- And Anastasia's face was tinged with a lovely carmine as she stopped without finishing the sentence. Pardon me," replied Winifred, severely. If I understood matters aright, you were engaged to Sir i- hi lip r" Anastasia trembled in every limb. Oh, no, no!" she cried. Do not name him. I cannot, cannot Cannot what, Miss Horace P Cannot be rich and prosperous and happy? Is that what you mean Richr" and Anastasia looked up with an expres- sion of innocent surprise. Do you think I would marry a man simply because he was rich f" "Why not? I would," said Winifred, shortly and bitterly. But then you-you are so different," faltered Anastasia, thinking of her pet reference, Bertha and Hildebrand." Pertha she knew, according to the poem, had not where to lay her head. She was wandering forth forlorn when H ildebrand met her. Yet Bertha and Hilcledrand lived happily all their days, and were wholly independent of circumstances. Why could not she and Harry do the same ? Anastasia was barely sixteen. She had fed prin- cipally on romances, and they had not proved the most wholesome nutriment for one who had so little friction with the world. I am different," replied Winifred, bluntly and my experience might stand you in some stead. I advise you to marry Sir Philip." Never! never!" cried Anastasia, vehemently. I cannot marry a man I do not love." Better than marrying a man who does not love you," said Winifred, shortly. "Miss Godfrey, how dare you say that Harry does not love me r" exclaimed Anastasia, bursting into tears. "If he really loved you he would not tempt you to deceive your friends," replied Winifred, sensibly. Oh, Miss Godfrey, pray do not tell mamma!" And the child, for she was no more, flung her arms round Winifred's neck, and hid her face on her 1 shoulder. Winifred smiled erimlv. There is the bell for dinner, Miss Horace," said she pray compose yourself." I will-I will—if you will only promise I do promise for the present. Come, dress your- self." Anastasia still clung to Winifred. I will wait for you, and we will go into the drawing-room together," said she. "I am so frightened." Very well," replied Winifred. And she retired to her chamber to prepare for dinner. Anastasia's helplessness and folly roused Wini- fred's better nature. I will see about this Harry," thought she; "what kind of stuff ho is made of." She shrewdly suspected that under a smooth, shin- ing surface lay a vacuum. "At any rate I will prevent the child from making a fool of herself," added she, resolutely. Winifred was quick at her toilette. Very soon she was again in Anastasia's chamber. Anastasia, thanks to her maid, had stepped forth from her dishevelled state, neat, trim, and present- able. She made Winifred go first. She knew she would have to encounter Sir Philip. The party in the drawing-room was broken up into two groups—Lady Whittlesea and Harry, Sir Philip and Mrs. Horace. Harry was standing before Lady Whittlesea's chair, talking very fast and very loud. For my part," he was saying, "I hate the French like poison I" Indeed! And on what ground ?" asked Sir Philip from the other end of the room. Oh, I don't know! I always did hate the French," replied Harry logically, and with a loud laugh. Now, Harry, do hold your tongue. You know you are a fool!" said Mrs. Horace, angrily. Anastasia and Winifred heard the words, You are a fool," and Anastasia blushed to the very ears. Just at this moment dinner was announced, and Sir Philip stepped forward, and offered her his arm. The getting Lady Whittlesea down-stairs devolved, as usual, on Winifred. Harry was therefore obliged to escort Mrs. Horace. During the transit to the dining-room she con- trived to give Harry a few sharp stings. As you are here, do behave yourself," she said. I can't think why in the world you need have come." Sir Philip said nothing, but he gently pressed Anastasia's hand. He had been led clearly to under- stand that she would marry him. He loved her with a tender, chivalrous affection for under a plain exterior were hidden all the virtues that could adorn a gentleman. During dinner Anastasia was trembling and ex. cited. Just opposite to her sat Harry. If she raised her eyes, they met Harry's eyes. If she spoke she felt that Harry was listening, and, so to Bpo:tk, devouring every word. To her enthusiastic mind, her exi-tenco was bound up with Harry' existence. When dinner was over Harry held open the door for the ladies to pass. Then he and Anastasia exchanged a little, briof glance it was all they could ;10. At a later period the lovers contrived to snatch a few delicious moments in the recess of the window. Winifred, who was in the secret, took note of them. She saw Anastasia's cheek grow crimson as tie whispered in her ear. They could not clasp hands or indulge in the slightest demonstration. Eyes and ears were open to catch the slightest trace of treason. The girl has not common sense," thought Wini- fred, indignantly. "No, she shall not have Harry. Have Harry ? Yes, and in a month she would be ready to destroy herself. I should." (To be continued.)
A YANKEE STAGE DRIVER'S STORY. Fourteen years ago I drove from Danbury to Littleton, a distance of forty-two miles, and as 1 had to await the arrival of two or three coaches, and I did not start till after dinner, I very often had a good distance to drive after dark. It was in the dead of winter, and the season had been a. rough one. A great deal of snow had fallen, and the drifts were plentiful and deep. The mail that I carried was not due at Littleton by contract until one o'clock in the morning, but that winter the post- master was obliged to sit up a little later than that hour for me. One day in January, when I drove up for my mail at Danbury, the postmaster oalled me into his office. Pete," said he, with an important, serious look, there's some pretty heavy money packages in that bag," and he pointed to it as he spoke. He said the money was from Boston to some land agents up near the Canada line. Then lie asked me if I'd got any passengers who were going through to Littleton. T. told him I did not know." Hut, suppose I have not ? Why," said he, the agent of the lower route came in to-day, and he says that there were two sus- picious characters on the stage that came up last night, and he suspects that they have an eye upon this mail, so it will stand you in hand to be a little careful this evening. He said the agent had described one of them as a short, thick set fellow, about 40 years of age, with long hair, and a thick, heavy clump of beard under his cilia, but none on the side of his face. He did not know any- thing about the other man. I told him I guessed there wasn't much danger. Oh, no, not if you have got passengers all the way through, but I only told you this so that you might look out for your mail, and also look sharp when you change horses." I answered that I should do so, and then took the bag vrider my arm and left the office. I stowed the mail away under my seat a little more carefully than usual, placing it so that I could keep my feet against it, but beyond that :i did not feel any concern. It was past one o'clock when we started, and I had four passengers; two of them rode only to my first stopping-place. I reached Gowan's mills at dark, when we stopped for supper, And where my two passengers concluded to stop for the night. About six o'clock in the evening I left Gowan's mills alone, having two horses and a sleigh. I had seventeen miles to go, and a hard seventeen it was, too. The night was quite clear, but the wind was sharp and cold, the loose snow flying in all directions, while the drifts were deep and closely packed. It was slow, tedious work, and my horses soon became leg-weary and restive. At the distance of six miles I came to a little settlement called Bull's Corner, where I took fresh horses. As I was going to start, a man came up and asked me if I was going through to Littleton. I told him I should go through if the thing could possibly be done. He said he was very anxieus to go, and, as he had no baggage, I told him to jump in and make himself as comfortable as possible. I was gathering up my lines when the 03tler came up and asked me if I knew thai one of my horses had cut himself badly. I jumped out and went with him, and found that one of the animals had got a deep cork cut on the otT fore foot. I gave such directions as I considered necessary, and was about to turn away, when the ostler remarked that he thought I came alone. I told him I did. Then where did you get that passenger ?" sa'd he. He's just got in," I answered. Got in from where ? I don't know." Well, now," said the ostler, that's kind of carious. There ain't been no such a man at the house, and I know there; ain't been none at any of the neighbours." Let's have a look at his face," said 1. 44 We can get that much at any rate. Do you go back with me, and when I get into the sleigh, just hold the lantern so the light will shine in his face." b" He did as I wished, and as I stepped into the sleigh got a fair view of such portions of my passenger's face as were not muffled up. I saw a short, thick frame, full, hard features, and I could almost see that there was a heavy beard under his chin. I thought of the man whom the postmaster had described to me, but I did not think seriously upon it until I had started. Perhaps I had gone half a mile, when I noticed that the mail bag wasn't in its place under my feet. Halloo! says I, holding up my horses a little, where's my mail ? My passonger sat on a seat behind me, and I turned toward him. Here is a bag of some kind slipped back under my feet," he said, giving it a kick, as though he would shove it forward. Just at this moment my horses lumbered into a deep snow drift, and I was forced to get out and tread down the snow in front of them, and lead them through it. This took me all fifteen minutes, and when I got in This took me all fifteen minutes, and when I got in again I pulled the mail bag forward and got my feet upon it. As I was doing this I saw the man take some- II thing from his lap, beneath the buffalo, and put it into his breast pocket. I had caught the gleam of a barrel in the starlight, and when I had time to reflect I knew I could not be mistaken. About this time I began to reflect somewhat seriously. From what I had heard and seen I soon made up my mind that the individual behind me not only wanted to rob me of my mail, but he was prepared to rob me of my life. If I resisted him he would shoot me, and per- haps he meant to perform that delectable operation at any rate. While I was pondering the horses plunged into another snow drift, and I was forced to get ont and tread down the snow before them. I asked my passenger if he wouldn't help me, but he didn't feel very well, and wouldn't try so I worked all alone, and was all a quarter of an hour or more getting my team through the drifts. When I got into the sleigh again I began to feel for the mail bag with my feet. I found it where I had left it; but when I attempted to withdraw my foot I discovered it had become fast in something-I thought it was the buffalo, and tried to kick it clear; but the more I kicked the more closely it held. I reached down my hand, and after feeling about a few moments I found that my foot was in the mail bag. I felt again, and found my hand in among the packages of letters and papers, I ran my fingers over the edges of the opening, and became assured that the stout leather had been cut with a knife. Here was a discovery. I began to wish I had taken a little more forethought before leaving Danbury but as I knew "making such wishes was only a waste of time, I quickly gave it up and began to consider what I had better do under existing circumstances. I wasn't long in making up my mind upon a few essential points. First, the man behind me was a villain second, he had cut open the mail bag and robbed it of some valuable matter-he must have known the money letters by their size and shape; third he meant to leave the stage on the first opportunity, and, fourthly, he was prepared to fihoot me if I attempted to arrest or detain him. I revolved these things in my mind, and pretty soon thought of a course to pursue. I knew that to get my hands safely upon the rascal I must take him wholly unawares, and this I could not do while he was behind me, for his eyes were upon me all the time-so I must resort to stratagem. Only a little distance ahead of us Was a house, and an old farmer named Lougee lived there and directly before it a huge snow bank was stretched across the road, through which a track had been -'eared with shovels. As we approached the cut I saw a light in the front room, IS I !"Ilt confident I should, for the old man gener- ally sat up until the stage went by. I drove on, and when nearly opposite the dwelling, stood up, as I had frequently done when approaching difficult places. I saw the snow bank ahead, and could distinguish the deep cnt which had been shovelled through it. I urged my h ses to a good speed, and when near the bank 'I ced them right into it. One of the runners mounted the edge of the bank, after which the other ran into The cut, thus throwing the sleigh over about as qcick: "I though lightning had struck it. My passeii,, r had tcl calculated on any such movement, and was n prepared fcr it; but I had calculated, and was prepared. He r')l!.a out into a deep snow with a heavy buffalo robe about him, while I alighted directly on the top of him. I punched his head into the snow, and sung out for old Lougee. I did not have to call a second time. The farmer had come to the window to see me pass, and as soon as he saw my sleigh overturned he had lighted his lantern and hurried out. What's to asked the old man, as he came up. Lead the horses into the track, and then come here," I said. As I spoke I partially loosed my hold upon the villain's throat, and he drew a pi-tol from his bosom, but I saw it in season, and jammed his head into the snow again, and got it away from him. By this time Lougee had led the horses out and come back, and then I explained the matter to him in as few words as possible. We hauled the rascal out into the yard, and upon ex- amination we found about twenty packages of letters which he had stolen from the mail bag and stowed away in his pockets. He swore, threatened and prayed, but we paid no at. tention to his blarney. Lougee got some stout cord, and when we had securely bound the villain we tumbled him into the sleigh. I asked the old man if he would accompany we to Little- ton, and he said, Of course." So he got his overcoat and muffler and ere long we started on. I reached the end of my route with my mail all safe, though not as snug as it might have been, and my mail bags a little the worse for the game that had been played upon them. However, the mail robber was secure, and within a week he was identified by some officers from Concord as an old offender, and I am rather inclined to the opinion that he is in the State Prison at the present time. At any rate he was there the last I heard of him. That's the only time I ever had any mail trouble, and I think, under all the circumstances, I came out of it pretty well.
MISCELLANEOUS^EXTRACTS. A TINY EAir.WAY. — A railway five miles long connects the village of Westerstede in E.ist Frisia with the station of Ocholt on the Oldenburg and Seer line. The district isthinty peopled, but the line helps to carry the cattle and other produce of the inhabitants to market. Owing to the soil being marshy, a good deal of drainage had to be done, and the line had also to be carried above the level of the frequent floods. Yet the cost of construction amounted to only JE2103 7s. Cd. per mile, and the cost of working it (including wages, fuel, and all other expenses) amounts to £ 1 7s. 6d. a day. The buildings compri,e a shed at each end; the ter- minus is the yard of the chief inn at Westerstede; half- way there is a station, which consists of the house of a gentleman, who entertains passengers while waiting for the train—an agreeable mode of passing time that might hang heavily on their hand?. There are two small four- wheeled engines, three carriages with doors at each end, two open goods trucks and two covered. As the engine cannot turn, it is in front )f the train one journey and behind on the return. The turf of the district supplies fuel.—Little Folks Majtazine. EARLY MARRIAGES IN THE MANUFACTURING DISTRICTS.—Early marriages are nowhere so common as in the prosperous manufacturing districts. Boys and girls not out of their teens, but earning big wages and having their feeling of independence prematurely developed by the absence of home life, get united in holy wedlock at a time of life when, in the higher ranks of society, they have not left school, nor begun to think of a calling. Saturday is the favourite day for getting married because it is a short one, and the cere- monv Ciin be got through with a minimum of loss- a thing certain to be considered by a thrifty operative. The town is paraded for a few hours in cheap tawdry finery of glaring colours, which can never serve any useful purpose again; perhaps one of the watering places is visited if it be fine; and On Monday morning by the stroke of six the newly-married couple may be found at their looms in defiance of all poetry and romance, and the wear and tear of life begin with them once more in real earnest. Marriage makes no alteration in the position of the wife so far as mill work is concerned she puts in her ten hours a day now as she did before. Indeed she has incomparably the worst of the bargain, for when the day's work is over, it is her privilege to light the fire at home, get the supper ready, and do the necessary household work, while it is the prerogative of the husband to use his leisure according to his own sweet will. When the time conies for the baby to be born, the mother-expectant withdraws from the mill for a few weeks, and when she is well enough to resume her place at the loom the baby is placed in the care of some old crone who is past work herself, and ekes out sufficient to live on by taking charge of five or six of these luckless babies for the consideration of a shilling or two a week, according to the age.-Good Words. A STORY OF ABRAHAM: LINCOLN.—Among the many anecdotes which have been told of President Lin- coln is the following: A German officer who had emi- grated to the States succeeded in being admitted to the late President Lincoln, and by reason of his commendable and winning deportment and intelligent appearance was promised a lieutenant's commission in a cavalry regi- ment. He was so enraptured that he deemed it his duty to inform the President that he belonged to one of the oldest and noblest houses in Germany. Oh, never mind that," said Old Abe « yo„ wm nJfmd tQT™1™ obstacle to your advancement." -London Society. HEATH, NOT DISHONOUR. — The death of General Douay at Worth looks like an act of voluntary self-sacrifice. When the battle was hopelessly lost he stood apart upon a mound, watching the last desperate struggles of hhl men. He then gave some orders to the officers of his staff and when they had left him he de- scended the slope alone. At the bottom he drew a pistol, killed his charger (like Roland at the battle of Ronces- valles), and, sword in hand, began to ascend the opposite h'M- ere are voll going r he was asked by some of his soldiers. To the enemy," he replied. They en- deavoured td dissuade him, but he continued calmlv to advance. In a few minutes he was struck dead.— Cassell s Illustrated History of the Franco- German War. THE five good Emperors of Rome were Nerva, Trajau, Hadrian, and the two Antonines. A TRENCH ScrLi TOR.—Of M. Eo 'in himself there will presently be much to say. For the moment we shall but note that he is a pupil of Barye, and that after years of toil and obscurity—he made his first great stroke at the Salon of lSrO, with an Age d'Airain," a superb nudity of a man in the prime of ye.,rs and the fulness of strength. It was designed and modelled with irresistible authority it was instinct with imagination and the quality of style it revealed a great sculptor. But it was savagely criticised for all that; as realism, naturalism, and a t;core of "isms" beside. It was suc- ceeded, in 1881, by the St. Jean," exhibited in the Salon, and again last year at Vienna. In Paris it.,ittracte I a good deal of attention, and was visited with a great deal of enmity and respect at Vienna it was ill pi iced, and bad to vield to ivoi-k of nD more iccouiit than l,irac's LSA- lanimbo." It is larger than life, and entirely naked the hand is raised in a large and imposing gesture- as of one who sways a listening multitude the head is thrown back, and the mouth is open in the act of speech. It is the pre-entment of a kind of inspired santon, a desert saint, a wild and awful eremite, sunburned and savage, desperate with fa-ts and vigils and the posses- sion of a great, implacable idea. Last year M. Rodin exhibited nothing but portraits. In Paris those of MM. Carrier-Beleuse and Jean-Paul Laurens were prodigiously successful; in London that of Professor Legros, its extraordinary merit notwithstanding, was hardly seen. Just now the artist is enaged upon a pair of colossal bronze doors for the Palais drs Arts Dccroatifs. The subject is the Divina Commedia," and the work will be in relief. Some parts of it exist alreulv in the round -a superhuman Dante;" a lovely and affecting Paolo and Francesca a terrible lTgolino." There is nothing like them in modern sculpture.—Maaazine of Art. THE STEPPES AND VILLAGES OF STPERTA.— The scene was entirely changed. We were now cross- ing the great Steppes of Western Siberia. For nearly a thousand miles hardly anything was to be seen but an illimitable level expanse of pure white snow. Above us was a canopy of brilliantly blue sky, and alongside of us a line of telegraph poles crossing from one horizon to the other. Occasionally we came upon a small plantation of stunted birches, and every tifte n to twenty miles we changed horses at some village built on the banks of a fro.'en river, whose waters find their way into the Obb beneath their thick armour of ice. These villages were almost entirely built of wood, floated down in rafts from the forests on the distant hills. Most of them were Russian, with a large stone or brick church in ths centre, and a gilt cross on the steeple. Others were Tartar villages, where the crescent occupied the place of the cross; and it was somewhat humiliating to us as Christians to find that the cross was too often the sym- bol of drunkenness, disorder, dilapidation, and com- parative poverty, whereas the crescent was al nost invariably the sign of sobriety, order, enterprise, and prosperity. The general opinion amongst the better educated Russians with whom I was able to converse was that the chief fault lay with the priests, who encouraged idleness and drunkenness, whilst the Mahometan clergy threw the whole of their intluenee into the opposite scale. Living is so extravagantly cheap in this part of the world that the ordinary incentives to industry scarcely exist. We were able to buy beef at 2d. per lb. and grouse at 7d. a brace. We h:d a very practical demonstration that we were in a land flowirg with hay and corn, in the price we paid for our horses. Qur sledge was what is called a tro'-i-ka," and required three horses. Up to Tvumnin these horses had cost us sixpence a mile. On the Steppes the price suddenly fell to three-halfpence—i.e., a halfpenny a horse a mile. At one of the villages where we stopped to change horses it was market day, and we found on inquiry that a ton of wheat might be purchased for the same amount as a hundredweight cost in England.—Henry Seebohm. HAREEM LII K IN EGYPT.—The life of hareem ladies can hardly le favourable to good health, even under the happiest circumstances. They rarely take exercise, properly se called in these days, indeed, many are permitted to drive out, but only in shut-up car- riages but even that poor kind of exercise is not psr- takeu of by a large number, who are accuston^pd to the old-fashioned style of living. Some pass years without crossing th.'ir own threshold. A lady (a native Christian, bnt one whose family kept up the old habits of seclusion which the Moslems .seem to have introduced when they Came into possession centuries ago") actually livel within a mile and a half of the great river -Nile, and had attained middle age without having ever seen it, nor, as she expressed no particular wish to do so, is it likely that she ever beheld those waters on which her country! depends for its fertility, but probably died without quitting her voluntary prison— for in her case it was not compulsory. Most of the wealthier establishments have some sort of garden, certainly, and not a few have very good gardens, even in the heart of the town but the languid habits of their life are such that the ladies rarely walk they prefer to sit in the verandah and smell the air," as they say, and the gardener brings roses, jasmine, and other flowers tied in somewhat stiff bouquets, and hands to the slaves to present^to them. The delightlof strolling about to gather flowers for oneself, or picking oranges from the bough, though hanging in rich profusion within reach, hardly seems to occur to them and some have been much diverted and amazed at hearing that English ladies not only gather flowers for themselves, but even like to cultivate them and to pull up weeds, rake beds, and cut off dead blossoms with their own hands. Labour of any sort is looked upon by these caged birds of women as a thing for those compelled to it by poverty or dire necessity of some kind, never as a voluntary thing, still less as one which sweetens the life of man, when not in excess, more than all the luxuries of idleness and wealth. Slavery has, no doubt, much to do with this contempt for work, but the lao- guor of an inactive and purposeless existence perhaps does more. They wander listlessly from room to room, or sit for hours smoking, till the head must become more or less stupefied by the fumes of the tobacco—though it is certainly a lighter kind than that in vse in Europe- and never seem to think of roaming about in the garden, even in the most delightful weather What do you do all day long?" an English lady once asked a friend in a harem-a person of more than average intel- ligence, be it said-who often1 complained of headache, and was stouter than was natural at her age, for she was then at most only two or three and thirty. Why," she answered, I go and sit on that divan yonder, and then come here and sit upon this one awhile," shrugging her ehoulders as she spoke,M'ar.1l L. IVhat/ly. WHY THE PIPES BURST.—The expansive force of ice is often very troublesome in our household arrangements in bursting our water-pipes. As it is oniy when the thaw comes and the melted ice pours through the broken pipe, many people suppose the bursting of the pipes is due to the expansion of ice in becoming wat<r but, as we have seen, this is not the case the pipes are really burst when the ice is formed, not when it melts, but the crack is closed up by the ice itself, and we don't know the damage till the thaw comes. It is rather un- fortunate that in building our houses the water-pipes are led often through the coldest parts, among the rafters and near the slates, where the temperature is soon lowered to the freezing point. It would be mere in keeping with our knowledge if some care was taken in lrotee, ing them from the effects of the weather. It is a good plan, however. in very severe weather, to keep one or tuo of the taps constantly running to a small extent, as this keeps up a current through the pipes, and runnhig water is not so readily frozen as still water; and, besides, the expansion of the ice acts merely in narrowing the opening through which the water runs, and not against the sides of the pipe. This is easily understood. A pipe shut up at both ends is just like a bottle full of water corked tightly, and if the water freezes it must burst, as we have seen in our experiment; but if it has a narrow stream of water passing through its centre, the only effect of the expansion is gradually to shut up the passage for this stream.—Cassell's Family 3Iaqazine. THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH FORESHADOWED. -Arthur Young, travelling in 1781, writes: "In the evening, at Paris, to M. Lomond, a very ingenious and inventive mechanic. In electricity he has made a re- markable discovery. You write two or three words on a paper; he takes it with him into a room, and turns a machine enclosed in a cylindrical case, at the top of which is an electrometer—a small fine pith ball. A wire connects it with a similar cylinder and electrometer in a distant apartment and his wife, by remarking the L corresponding motions of the ball, writes down the words they indicate; from which it appears that he has formed an alphabet of motions. As the length of the wire makes no difference in the effect, a correspondence might be carried off at any distance within and with- out a besieged town, for instance- or for a purpose much more worthy, and a thousand' times more harm- less, between two lovers prohibited or prevented from any better connection. Whatever the use may be, the invention is beautiful.. M. Lomond has many other curious machines, all the entire work of his own hands mec lanical invention seems to be in him a natural pro- pensity. —London Society. THE doctrines of the Ca ala sprang tip in the Alexandrine school. The J carried certain mystic doctrines to Egypt, and thes ombined with the Peri- patetic teachings and the id *m of the Egyptian, pro- duced a great mass of allegorical and fanciful comment on the Books of Moses.
LADIES' COLUMN DRESS AND FASHION. A correspondent in the Queen assures us that there is but little to chronicle in the way of novelties. There is a lull in the fashion market, pending the spring arrivals, and meinwhile the wilJtor goes by mildly, without much startling variety of costume. The vendors and possessors of furs do not entirely despair of display- ing them, and numerous prophecies of a cold spring, and possible skating, are in circulation. The most fashion- able and popular style of outdoor garment at present is the long, tight-fitting coat, reaching almost, and in many ca.;cs entirely, to the edge of the dress. It is made to fit as perfectly as possible, without being glove- tight, with inverted plaits at the back, and full feathers or fur at the throat and wrists. For spring wear these coats will be equally general, as they are very becoming to nearly all figures. Ruby, dark gendarme, or porcelain blue, green and dark terra cotta coats are worn, as well as black. Thin cloth lined with satin, silk, or Italian cloth, is generally used, but black and coloured velvet for better wear, with or without fur flouncing. The short Newmarket jackets, in cloths and tweeds, still hold their own, and are to be very frequently seen. They are considered, by many people, to be smarter looking than the long coats, and to display the skirts better. There is a variety in the battlemented basque bodices. They are cut a little longer, and in the form of a tulip petal, rounded, and pointed in the centre. Those in plush and satin for wearing with ball skirts have occa- sionally plaits of lace some inches deep, showing between each division, while others have silk balls hanging from the points. Jersey bodices are much again in vogue, with plaid and other skirts. They are turned under on the hips, or cut to give the effect of a pointed bodice, back and front, and a fold of velvet or fancy material is laid along the edge. The folds of the skirt are caught up to meet the point at thebackwithhookand eye, or a looped sash is placed there. Many skirts have now double puffs on the hips, taking the place of paniers, above the deep box-plaiting. The puffs do not meet in front, but commence on each side. Other skirts have the panier drapery folded down perpendicularly for some wav, and then looped back. Bodices for young, slight figures, either in the day or evening, are often full and round- waisted in front, with a band coming from the sides, and have the plain back and basque, with long loops of ribbon on each side of the basque. This stvle looks par- ticularlv well in foulard and nun's cloth, with inch-wide satin ribbon. Many red costumes are trimmed with red cock feathers, mixed with the green one from the neck of the peacock. This trimming is novel, and has a good effect. Marabout feathers are to be seen everywhere, from tippets and boas, to muffs, bonnets, and fans. It is lighter-looking than fur, showy on all kinds of materials, and moderate in price but it has one draw- back-it will not stand rain. Quilted satin petticoats are being substituted for the ordinary flannel ones. They are short and gored, quilted almost up to the waist, and finished off with two narrow flounces, edged with Valenciennes lace. Pale blue, pale pink, and cardinal are the colours usually supplied. P!ain flannel petticoats have two gathered flounces of lace-edged foulard sewn on while others, more elaborate, have a box plaiting, bordered with lace, with hand-embroidered flowers in white silk up each plait, and horizontal bands of embroidery above. For evening dre-s petticoats, fine Swiss muslin is arranged as kilting, with one deep or two narrower flounces of Swiss guipure above. At the back there are five stiff muslin flounces, with a draw-string above each. All petticoats are made without trains now, and most of them to clear the ground. Dressing jackets of cashmere are lined with a contrasting colour, and those of soft washing silk are trimmed with a cascade of lace down the front, and loops of satin ribbon. The sleeves fall loose and full from the elbow, and the collar is sometimes upstanding, bordered with a wire run round the edge. Below the waist, at the back, plaits are let in in three places, with a panel between, finished off with two sets of ribbon Joo; s. In hosiery, the new cream fine Balbriggan and Lisle thread, as dalicate and almost as costly as silk, is to become fashionable for wearing with all coloured shoes and light dresses. In silk, narrow horizontal-striped hose, in all colours, with embroidered clox, are to be worn for both day and evening. The shades of bronze, green, and red, with fairy-like open- work up the front, embroidered with a contrasting colour, are very lovely. Red teagowns, and also black, lined with colour, are profusely trimmed with black lace. The favourite material appears to be foulard, although satin Merveillcux, brocade, and plush are still popular. The, loose falling sleeves from the elbow show the colour of the lining, and are graceful when trimmed with lace and a cluster of ribbon loops at the bend of the arm. The front of the skirt is sometimes arranged with two gathered draperies, like flounces, with long paniers caught into the fullness of the back. The bodice is almost tight- fitting. Small black satin aprons are prettily trimmed at the points of the bib and sides of the skirt with ribbon bows of two colours, and also with black spotted net, which is gathered half-way up to the bib, then below the waist, and drawn Lack like small paniers. Ladies' morning aprons for wearing while arranging flowers, &c., are of fine muslin, scalloped at the edges with lace have a heart-shaped bib, and one wide pocket, all trimmed with lace. The long tan gloves are not quite as general as they were, for at several of the recent large balls gloves matching the dresses have been worn, such as grey with a grey tulle and satin costume, cream with white and cream, lavender with lavender, &c. A few gloves have been seen with a serpent or some other device worked up the backs in coloured beads, and some of the black ones with steel or jet, as simulated bracelets, at the top. Fans of black or red brocade on gold, with black and gold sticks, are fashionable for elderly ladies, Large black and also white muslin fans, painted with birds silk fans, cut out round the edge in undulations, with a chain of large linked roses painted at the edge, and black ostrich feathers, with a wreath of hanging daisies, are among the most popular. At balls, this winter, several of the dried palm leaf f ans, wi th a large spray of choice real flowers and ferns, fastened across, and the handle bound and finished off with satin ribbon, have been seen, because it has been much the fashion to send these to young ladies instead of bouquets, A reil of lace sometimes conceals the unadorned side, but not often.
USEFUL HINTS. PRESERVED PLUMS.—To lib. plums put lib. loaf sugar well moistened with whisky boil for one hour on a slow fire, add a little more whisky to moisten the sugar. The plums do not require stoning. FILLETED SOLEo. Egg and breadcrumb the fillets, then make each one into a deft little roll; fill the interior with lobster or cod roe, and fry in a wire basket, in boil- mgfat. I^requenUy the lillets are not filled, but served h"tle of scalcd parsley on the top. Anchovv sacce is served with them. OYSTER OUTLETS.—For these the large stewing ovsters are the best. Take about half a pound of veal, and an equal quantity of oysters. First chop them finely, and then pound together in a mortar, adding a little finelv- choppel veal suet, and three tablespoonful of bread crumbs, which have been soaked in the liquor from the oysters when opened. Season with a little salt, white pepper, and a very little piece of mace well pounded to this add the beaten yolks of two eggs. Mix this thoroughly: then pound it a little more, and make it up in the orm of small cutlet. Fry them in butter, after having dipped them in the usual way in egg and bread rr Dram them w,.II and semi them to table very -h t Hi f Scrved on a napkin, and garnished with little sprigs of parsley.—Experience, in the Queen STKAWEERKY JELLY.—Ingredients 2oz. Nelson's opaque gelatine, four lemons, 10o.. sugar, a piece of cinnamon, four cloves, the whites of three eggs, and one pint and a half of water. How to use thc £ Soak Se geiatme in the cold water about an hour, then add the juice of the lemons, the sugar, cinnamon and cloves, the whites of tnree eggs whisked in a little cold water; stir all together gently over the fire until boiling, let it settle a few minutes, then pass through a flannel jelly-bag, pouring back a few times until quite clear. Stand the jelly in ice to get nearly cold, pour a little in a jelly- mould, place in a layer of fine strawberries, then a little more jelly, then more strawberries, until the mould is full stand in ice-water until wanted. When required, dip the mould in warm water for a few seconds, wipe with a cloth, and tarn out on to a silver dish garnish with white flowers and green fern-leaves. BLAVC MAXGE. It is better, if possible, to soak some gelatine all night, because it will then dissolve in warm liquid, whereas if it is only lightlv soaked, the milk must be boiling. Warm three gills of milk or cream, and dis- solve in it £ oz. of gelatine, previously soaked in half a 2 gill of water. Sweeten to taste, and flavour with extract of vanilla. When nearly cold, stir into the blanc mange the whites of two or three eggs beaten to a strong froth. This blanc mange will be found light and nourishing in cases of great weakness. COFFEE MADE IN A JCO WITHOPT BOILING. Warm your jug, then measure out the coffee, say a good tea- spoonful for each cup, pour the boiling water on to it, stir it round well, cover it over, and let it stand for five minutes; then stir it round again, put a tablespoenful of cold water and a good pinch of salt in te fine it, cover up. and let it stand for ten minutes, when it will be ready for use. Serve with hot milk.-Girls -I Own Paper