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1i [ALL EIGHTS RESERVED.] .'V-V T-V FETTERED OR FREE? BY E. L. KERSEY, Author of "Her Worst Enemy," U De Fatal Shadow," The Snakestone," etc. etc. — PROLOGUE. .1 A STRANGE MARRIAGE. "YOTJLL call me an ungrateful brute, doctor! but better have left me to die, a thousand times, than with so much skill and trouble have brought me back to life-fot this! Nonsense I I've not patience to hear you talk in such an absurdly morbid way. Why, roan,-I tell you again-empliatically-that in a week's time you'll see things through very different glasses. I've a lot of patients, Who have suffered from La Grippe as se- verely as you have, and, also like you, have passed through a period of horrible despondency. My dear fellow, go to a cheerful place at the seaside, where you'll get bracing air and pleasant society, and (JIOu'll not know yourself at the end of a month!" The scene is a dark, dingy room on the third floor of a gloomy London lodging- iiouse. There are no comforts—hardly any inecessaries-to be seen. A young man, of twenty-five or there- abouts, is leaning back in the only approach to an easy chair in the place. He is thin and pale, with hollows in his sunken cheeks Sris grey eyes look unnaturally large and bright, his thick brown wavy hair is care- lessly pushed back from his high forehead; the long fingers of the aristocratic-looking hand, with which he is nervously plucking at the torn tablecloth, are slender as a woman's. He has evidently only narrowly escaped from the jaws of death. Doctor Ferrard is keenly observing his patient, as he stands on the threadbare jnearthrug, his back to the almost expiring -Are; and feels a thrill of just pride as he con- siders that, in the struggle with death, his skill and ceaseless care have, under Heaven, .3Jeen victorious. The young doctor has only lately started ^practice in an unfashionable part of town aiad, as yet, it is uphill work. But he loves fhis profession dearly, and is ambitious. There is something in the earnest, clever sface, the keen eye, the massive determined <cjhin, the well-cut features—something in aftie poise of the upright, lithe figure, that [betokens a spirit in the man that will not "brook failure. You've been awfully good to me, doctor, the invalid goes on to say, but you don't iosow what you've brought me back to life for. Simply ruin. You've given up no end of your precious time to me, and not a single penny have I to repay you with. My land- lady"—he glances round the comfortless maoin-11 threatens to turn me out. I feel like a cheat. I can't pay her-its simply impossible. There's nothing for it but-" He stops suddenly, and glances at a pistol lying on the mantelpiece. Dr. Ferrard's grave face becomes a trifle more grave; and there is a world of pity in his eyes. J "My dear fellow, take courage," he says gently: "Forgive me, I don't ask from carious motives, but seeing-as everyone must see at a, glance—that you are a gentle- man how did you come to such straits ? The young doctor has seated himself on a •chair opposite to the apology for a fire. John Marchmont regards his questioner jwrith a look of despair. A simple story enough"; he says bitterly. "A hot-tempered lather—son ditto. Like a young fool, I fell in love—or imagined I did-with a rustic beauty, our keeper's daughter; swore I'd marry her. My father and I had a violent quarrel. In a fit of anger I left home, vowing I'd get my own living. He swore he'd cut me off with a shilling. I was mad. Everything has gone wrong with me since. Just before my illness I heard that my father had died suddenly, and left every- thing away from me. I'd give the world—if I had it—to be sure that he forgave me before he died." And—the keeper's daughter ? "Married John Hodge, and is perfectly happy in her own station of life-milking cows, keeping poultry, nursing babies. I'm quite cured, for ever, of the tender passion." He sits up, and pushes the thick hair back from his forehead. "Well, that's over. Why should I have inflicted my miserable story upon you-a busy, prospering man ? Its enough to say that I'm stranded. This woman will turn me out into the street shortly, and no one can blame her. She must live. She's been kind enough to me, Heaven knows. The only prospect before me is the Workhouse, and that is out of the question; a walk to Waterloo Bridge—or—" he glances signifi- cantlyat the pistol-" That would bring a scandal on the house. Rather a shame, when the old lady has treated me well. Though I should prefer it myself." He sinks back in his chair, with a hollow, mirthless laugh, while the doctor watches him gravely. "You are well educated? I needn't ask that. Would you work, if you had a chance?" I. Wouldn't 11 I'm young-and life is dear to the young. Ah! if I could only get a chance!" An eager look comes into his face as he leans forward, but it dies out again in a moment, and he sighs heavily. Everything Is hopeless. I must throw up the sponge. Don't worry any more about me, doctor, you're only wasting precious time for nothing and your time's money." "Money isn't everything," returns the other rather sharply. Then, as if with a sudden thought, his face brightens. He feels in his breast pocket, and draws out a letter. "It has just occurred to me," he says, opening the letter, and glancing through it. I heard from a friend this morning, telling me that Lord Lowther, who is, he writes, a very wealthy man—not a saint by any means, very much the reverse, I imagine- has just lost, by an accident—a fall from a borse-his confidential agent. His lordship Is in a great hurry to leave England for the Continent, and my friend asks if I know of a thoroughly reliable man—he must be a gentleman—who understands the working of a large estate; the management of tenants, etc. in fact, the business of a great man's confidential manager and agent. Lord Jjowtherwill evidently blindly engage any- one my friend recommends. Salary most liberal-m every way a first-rate appoint- ment. Must be filled up within a week. Can I do liim a great favour, and put him up to anyone suitable? Would that sort of thing be in your line ?" John Marchmont starts up, his eyes gleam- ing, a flush on his pale cheeks. "Mine! Good Heavens! He pauses a mornent, then leans forward, and seizes the other s hand in a tight grip. "Just the work I should like, and just wha,t I could do well, I verily believe. Before the wretched quarrel with my father, after I returned from Oxford, I had a good deal to do with the management of our tenants, and of the estate. It was always a hobby of mine. You don't mean to say there's a hope ? You don't mean to say-By Heaven! I didn't know till now that life was so dear, that it would be so bard to-) He breaks off with something very like a IIOb. Doctor Ferrard lays a firm, kindly hand t his shoulder "If this piece of good fortune should come to you," he says quietly, you must rouse yourself, and get up your strength as fast as possible. There'll be no umei,i»J?se* I don't see why the thing ahouldn t be worked. Let me see——" He reads through the letter carefully to himself, Marchmont watching him anxiously the while. Ah!" Doctor Ferrard's face clouds over and he bites his lip. "There's a postscript I overlooked," he says, 'my friend writes: There's one thing Lord Lowther is deter- mined about-his confidential agentn-ticst be a married man." A dead silence follows. The doctor instinctively feels that despair is clutching at the other's heart; but he sits motionless, and says never a word, while his face grows white to the lips. The two men are sileofc for the space of two or three minutes, then Doctor Ferrard rises. Don't lose hope, my friend," he says cheerfully. Then he stands an instant looking down upon John Marchmont's paleface. "You would like the appointment—if it were possible to secure it ? Like it?" Marchmont repeats bitterly. Its either that-or-an end of everything to me. I'd do anythingr, that isn't dishonour- able, to secure it. I should get strong and well again directly—I feel it-if there were only a chance of earning my living honestly." Keep up heart, then. I own that I can't help feeling a deep interest in your welfare, perhaps because I may have had something to do with pulling you through this illness. I have an idea. Keep yourself quiet until I return; I promise you it shall be within a few hours. Then he hurries out, without another word leaving his patient deep in thought, staring into the expiring embers. Doctor Ferrard goes down the street with quick, firm steps, his tall figure looming through the thickness of the yellow fog. He does not go far, but soon stops at another dingy-looking house, more dreary, if pos- sible, than the last. A dirty servant opens the door in reply to his second sharp ring, then leaves him inside with a familiar grin on her sooty face. Evidently he is acquainted with the geography of the house, for without hesita- tion he goes at once up the dark, steep stairs, to a room on the third floor, where he taps, a trifle breathless. A low voice bids him Come in." There is no light in the poverty-stricken room, and he can hardly distinguish the sUm figure of a girl seated beside a little table, until he is close beside her. Surely, you are not trying to write in this blackness of darkness ? he says cheerily, as he takes the girl's thin hand. Only a little. My eyesight is very good, and Doctor Ferrard knows quite well what she means-wehe can't afforn to burn the gas. He gives an involuntary sigh as he looks keenly at the delicate, sad face in the semi- darkness. You are better ? he asks gently, sitting down beside her, and laying his fingers on her pulse. "Ob, yes, thanks to you, doctor." She tries to smile, but her eyes grow dim with tears instead. She has to pause a moment, before she can speak distinctly. "I want to thank you, Doctor Ferrard- oh, so much 1-for all your great kindness to me. You have saved my life. I shall never forget your goodness; never cease to bless you for it. But I am so ashamed—I don't know how to tell you. I haven't a penny in the world to pay for all—all your- The despairing tone in the girl's voice- the white, quivering lips, the thin hands clasped so pitifully, move him strongly. Pray don't distress yourself, Miss Les- lie," he says, very gently, very kindly, as he lightly touches the clasped hands. Don't give a thought to me—in that way. I am amply repaid by your restoration to health." She looks up at him gratefully through her tear-dimmed eyes. If I only could- she begins, then breaks off with a sob. After a pause, Doctor Ferraud says, For- give me, I do not ask from mere motives of curiosity—I'm sure you'll give me credit for that-but-areyou in very great difficulties ?" The girl leans forward a little, fixing her dark eves earnestly on his face. Oh Doctor Ferrard," she bursts out impulsively, I am in despair! AH alone in this cruel city— without a penny; without the means of earning anything. My landlady, who has been very kind, very patient, but is poor herself, she says warns me that I must not remain here longer than the end of this week. I owe her four potimls already, just think—four pounds I've nothing to pay her with, and not a sing.fe friend. Think of it! A helpless girl turned into the streets of London to starve. What shall I do ? Where can I go ? There is the river-it haunts me day and night as I saw it last, the water looked so cold, so cruel "You musn't talk in this wild way, Miss Leslie. You are weak and depressed. We must see what can be done. Do you mind telling me some of your antecedents—before you were ill, you know ? My poor little story won't take long to tell" she answers, with a sad smile: "My home was in a Devonshire village, by the sea. My mother died when I was twelve I was an only child. My father was a Captain in the Navy. He retired from ser- vice after .my mother's death. We lived very happily together. I suppose my father was rash and careless about money matters. I know he received a pension. We kept open house, had everything of the best; he gave me all I wished for, and more. One miserable day he died quite suddenly and I found myself left an orphan at seventeen, knowing nothing of the world. I won't enter into particulars enough to say, that after expenses were paid, I found myself with only a few pounds of my own. Friends of happy days were not so cordial in mis- fortune, and I was too proud to accept favours. I came to London, determined to earn a living. I have been able to get on well enough as one of the young ladies in a big drapery establishment. The manager and the other girls were kind to me, and helped me in my ignorance. For nearly a twelvemonth I kept my situation and my salary was to have been ra,ised this month. Then came my illness—and—you know the rest." Doctor Ferrard has listened intently to her simple story. "I ought to a,pologise for taking up so much of your valuable time," she says ner- vously, but you have been always so kind —you are my only friend." Then, after a pause, she takes a news- Caper from the table, and holding it close to er eyes, reads— "Wanted at once, a young lady as cheerful companion and amanuensis. Must be musical, and a good French scholar.—Apply, C. A." I saw this advertisement in the paper, and replied to it," she goes on to say, "frankly confessing that I have taken no situation of the kind before, but that I am friendless, and in want; and I begged the lady, out of pity, to try me. I am really a fairly good French scholar, I was always fond of languages, and there happened to be an old man—a Frenchman—in our village, who taught me. I can play the piano, and violin, too; my father loved music, and I inherit that love. But of course there is not the least hope of my getting the situation. I've had no reply. Frankly, if I did—I've I no garments fit to appear before a lady in." # The doctor looks at her enquiringly. She replies to the look biushmg..painfully as she does so. My landlady has pawned everything for me. It was all I could do," she says, simply; "I've nothing bat what t rm wearing now. In this dim light, I hope irou ZMW& see how 1 The door opens, and the slip shod servant comes in with a letter. "Forme?" There is a ring of hope in her voice, as she eagerly holds out her hand for the letter. Doctor Ferrard lights the gas. As she reads, she gives a cry of joyful surprise. "Only think! It is really an answer. The lady—she does not give her name, promises that she will give me a trial! 'She is touched'—she writes— by my sad story. If Mr. Evans will give her a good account of me, I may go to her. Oh Doctor Ferrard, I am saved! She lets the letter fall, and clasps her hands together, as if in thankfulness while a soft colour comes into her cheeks, and a new light into her dark eyes. Doctor Ferrard finds himself suddenly considering how very pretty she would be if she were not so thin and pale. In another moment, the brightness dies out of the mobile face, and tears dim her eyes again. I can't go-I can't! she cried, piteously; "she would never take me-like this! I've simply nothing fit to go out in. Oh, it is impossible "Would you really like to go?" Doctor Ferrard asks gravely. Like! Oh Doctor Ferrard, that is not the word. It is life or death to me. It is thai-or-an end of everything. If I onlv nad-say ten pounds—1 could pay my land- lady, buy something to wear, and have some for a journey—but oh it is hopeless Doctor Ferrard is wishing in his heart, that lie could give, or even lend her the sum she requires; but he knows he cannot. He is living, just now, from hand to mouLh himself; and many of his patients are bad pay. I may be able to help you out of the difficulty, and put you in the way of earning a fifty pound note—if you will agree to a strange bargain—" he says slowly, after a pause. "Yet I am not sure that I am right even in suggesting to you what I have in my mind." The girl slips from her chair to the floor, and kneels before him. "God will reward you, if you will help me!" she sobs out. "I will agree to any- thing you can suggest, only save me!" Three days later, in a dark, unfashionable London church, a man and woman stand before the altar, while a clergyman hastily scrambles through the marriage service. A verger, an old woman, and a ragged boy, who have drifted in out of idle curiosity, and Doctor Ferrard, are the only witnesses of the ceremony. The bridegroom wears a thick, heavy overcoat. The bride, who stands beside him, repeating the responses in an almost inaudible voice, is shabbily dressed in a gown of dark material, and a long cloak, which envelops and conceals her figure. Her face is covered by so thick a veil that it is impossible to distinguish her features. When the bridegroom slips the ring upon her finger, he notices that her hand is very white, and delicately formed and that the trembling fingers are long and tapering. The hastily conducted service is soon over. The old woman and boy follow the newly- married pair into the porch, staring curiously after them. At the church door, the bride withdraws her hands hastily from the bridegroom's arm, and without once glancing at him, hurries away alone down the street, her head bent, her cloak drawn closely round her, and is soon lost to sight in the lurid gloom of the fog. Doctor Ferrard and the bridegroom walk away in an opposite direction. They are silent for a while, then John Marchmont says, with a laugh-" I've not the faintest notion what my wife is like, doctor! When I arrived at the church, I found I'd been fool enough to forget the ring. Fortunately, I was wearing one on my little finger, which my mother had given me. It was a trifle large for the lady, but it answered the pur- pose, though I'm sorry to part with it." Doctor Ferrard does not echo the other's laugh. His face looks very grave and stern, as they stand for a moment, near the light of a lamp, grasping hands. Heaven grant that I haven't qoneyou both a great wrong," he says, solemnly; "I'm very doubtful about it. God knows that I did the thing with the best intentions. There appeared no other loop-hole of escape from ruin for either you or her." "My dear fellow, you've given me-I answer only for myself, of course, as I know nothing of the lady's affairs—a fresh start. You've saved me from despair—and worse. I shall always look upon you as my bene- factor, my best friend, and shall always be —I can't say hoio deeply—in your debt. I owe you my life—and more. God bless you. Good-bye. ( To be continued.)
THE MOROCCO REVOLT. I
THE MOROCCO REVOLT. I Telegrams received in Madrid state that the rebel Moors who captured the fortress Fragana quarrelled over the booty. Sanguinary conflicts ensued, in the course of which ten were killed and many wounded. The rebellion is said to be spreading and the situation is considered serious. A force of rebels is reported to have left Tazza to attack Fez. The "Echo d'Oran" has received a telegram from Marnia stating that Muley Arafa, the Sultain's uncle, and the Sheik of Udda, accom- panied by 200 troops, have taken refuge in Algerian territory belong to France. In con- sequence of the approach of the Pretender, a squad of Spahis and a force of sharpshooters have been sent by the French authorities to the frontier. An official despatch from Melilla states that the number of Moorish soldiers belonging to the Sultan's army who have taken refuge there is 400, of whom 20 are seriously wounded. It is added that fresh fugitives continue to arrive. Senor Silvela, the Spanish Premier, has stated, in reply to an interviewer, that if the number of refugees at Melilla continued to increase, it would be necessary to remove them to Tangier. I
ACCOMPLISHED APES I
ACCOMPLISHED APES I Esau, the apa who possessed almost human intelligence, died of consumption a few weeks ago, and now Sally, a clever female chimpanzee, who was a perfect lady in every respect, has succumbed to pneumonia in the Dublin Zoo. Since her arrival in Ireland twelve months ago, as the gift of Chief Justice Smylie, of Sierra Leone, she picked up many customs of polite society, and her "drawing-rooms" in the monkey- house were presided over with a. grace and ease that evoked the unbounded admiration of her juvenile guests. She conducted herself at table like a human being, and her three daily menus included boiled eggs, eaten in the con- ventional fashion, rice, bananas, grapes, oranges, and coffee.
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The Viceroy of India, after visiting Rewah' arrived at Gwalior on Easter Monday morning. In connection with the approaching stay of the King and Queen at Dalkeith Palace, the Dalkeith Town Council on Monday night appointed a com- mittee, consisting of the whole council, to make arrangements. It was resolved to ask the com- munity toco-operate in the decoration of the main streets of Dalkeith, at the east end of which is the chief entrance to the Duke of Buccleuch's resi- dence. The International Agricultural Congress was opened in Rome on Easter Monday, in the pre- sence of the King and Queen of Italy, the Ministers, and the highest State officials. Speeches were delivered by Prince Colonna, the Mayor of Rome; II Signor Baccelli, the Marquis Cappelli, President of the Agricultural Society; and M. Meline, the French ex-Premier.
) WOMAN'S WORLD.
) WOMAN'S WORLD. Fancy Leather. Those who fancy fine leather goods can have them in all sorts of beautiful leather, plain or richly embossed, and mounted with precious metals and even gems, for belts, purses, wrist bags and fobs. Handkerchief boxes, glove cases, collar and cuff boxes, and hat and bonnet boxes are lined with coloured or white suede or heavy moir6 silks. Fashion's Foibles. Flower trimming is conspicuous on the smartest new hats. A variety of blossoms are em- ployed in this way with most artistic results, dahlias and fuchsias being the latest additions to the list. A brocaded slipper to match the gown is a novelty to be worn at a fancy dress ball, and the buckle which should grace such a shoe is of old gold. Braid trimmings of embroidered leather are one of the developments of the fashion of using leather for the outside garment. Lace collars are in greater favour than ever. They have a coarser mesh than previously, and are longer, with stole ends. The new stole yoke reaches two-thirds of the distance from chin to waist. It is open and double, and the two long fronts hook together. It is made of gold- coloured gauze over orange silk, and it fills in the cut-out front of a black silk princesse gown. » Hair Ornaments. Diamond stars or crescents are just now being largely used as hair ornaments. One well- known duchess has almost dis- carded her magnificent tiam in I favour of these less pretentious decorations. A fillet of tulle or chiffon, caught down with diamond slides, is another favourite decoration. The Baroness de Meyer often appears wearing a high comb tipped with pearls. Many women adorn themselves with wreaths of flowers or garlands of leaves or grasses. Lady Westmoreland often has a twist of tulles to match her gown; and Miss Muriel Wilson once scored a success with red tulle twisted in her locks. A smart Parisienne the other day wore an arrangement of ribbon in her charming hair, tied in a huge bow in front, and arranged in a flat true lovers' knot just above her low coil of hair. » # Ideal Hands. The ideal hand is in colour a clean, healthful white, with a tender, firm surface, "as though it were of fine silk or softest cotton"; the hollow beauty of the palms suggest seashells, rare petals, or whatever else is delicate of tint; the fingers are flexible, and taper- ing, with nails clear, thin, yet firm; the wrist round, white, and delicately veined. In regard to the shape, the most beautiful hand is one which, held so that the eyes scan the outer edge of the little finger and of the palm, appears wedge- shaped, the thickest end being, of course, at the wrist, and the wedge tapering out to the, finger- ends. The whole hand should be thin when it shows this wedge shape, and the effect will be marred if the joints are swollen so as to interrupt the regularity of the slope to the finger-ends. A Woman of Business. Mrs. E. S. Tome, the American banker, is a charming person- ality. She is the president of two flourishing banks in Mary- land. Her late husband left her 3,000,000dol., and named her before his death trustee of the Maryland Institute of Learning, which she founded. The partners in the bank h. managed elected her president, and she entered into business relations with a second, which she brought up in four years to its present state of prosperity. Her fortune in that time is: believed to have doubled. Mrs. Tome is about to marry Mr. J. L. France, the chemical lecturer at the Institute of Learning. She there made his acquaintance. He fell in love with her, and as she divined his worth as a citizen and scientist, they entered into a matrimonial engage- ment. She intends to invest a jmrt of her fortune in a factory for chemicals, which he is to direct, and expeets that it will be the best investment she has ever made. » » » and expects that it will be the best investment she has ever made. » » » Parting the Hair. The girl with a high forehead should wear her hair drawn low over her brow. If she has a low, smooth, white brow, she should brush her hair well off the fore- head. A Madonna face requires the hair parted in the middle. The girl with an intellectual brow or a fair share of youthful beauty can afford to draw her hair back in loose waves, sans pompadour or parts, and coil it on the, neck. For elderly matrons the pompadour is dignified and stately; and it seems to increase the height of stout women. The round, shapely head looks well with a soft puff of hair at the nape of the neck. Every woman should study her own style. If she looks best with her hair low, then low she should wear it, though every other woman in the land is piling her hair on the top of her head. A wise woman never curls or frizzes, or over-dresses her hair if it is beautiful of itself. Colour in Cotton. It is impossible to tell whether colour in cotton material is fast before washing; by far the safest plan is to "set" the colour before it goes to the tub for the first time. Another thing, delicate shades often take on a second washing unless set." One of the best methods of setting delicate colours is also the cheapest and least troublesome. It con- sists in simply making a strong brine of cold watertand salt, and'soaking the garment from 12 to 24 hours. Of course, this should be done just before going to the laundry, and the salt should not be allowed to dry in it. This is especially good for all shades of pink and green, and colours once set this way will be bright as long as it would be possible to expect it. A strong solution of alum and water is good, particularly with blues and the more delicate shades of brown; but its effect is not so lasting as that of salt, and it is sometimes necessary to renew the bath after the first three or four washings. Some people recommend solutions of lead and copperas; but as both these are poisonous drugs, it is better to avoid them—cer- tainly if there are children or animals in the house. In choosing cotton, remember that pinks and reds will not fade as soon as paler colours in the sun- light. (■# ■ Embroidery Hints. Although the use of embroidery silks has become universal, there are still many women who have not yet learned how to use them correctly. Silks, like fine paints, may be quickly ruined by inexperienced or careless handling, and as their application in- volves valuable time, it is wise to study out the most approved methods before beginning, and then try honestly to get the best effects from the knowledge thus gained. It is essential that the workers' hands be absolutely clean and smooth; rough hands' will ruin the best silk made, causing it to wool up and giving a very unsatisfactory surface to the work. The roughness of one's hands can some- times be overcome by the use of toilet pumice- stone rubbed lightly over the finger-tips. Too much moisture is also annoying; for this, dust the hands with talcum powder, rub in well, and wipe off the surplus. Many of our best teachers now prefer ordinary sewing-needles to the regular crewel-needles which were so much in vogue, claiming that the round eye does not injure the thread as the long eyes do, by allowing the silk to slip upward and downward with every movement of the worker. There must also be harmony between the fabric, thread, and needle. Do not make the mistake of using too coarse a needle, for the holes made in passing through the fabric will be so large that it will be impossible to set the stitches closely,as they should be;neither use one too small, for this will force the worker to pull hard in urging the thread in the eye of the needle through the fabric, which is quite as detri- mental to good work as the former, for it dulls the luster of the thread. Use a needle just large enough to allow the silk to pass easily through the holemade.
I HOME HINTS. I
I HOME HINTS. I A KITCHEN stool is a great boon to delicate women for sitting on when washing up. BEFORE laying a carpet, rub the boards c rer with turpentine to safeguard it agtinst moths. RED tablecloths will keep their colour when washed if a little borax be added to the rinsing water and they are dried in the shade. Soup AND STOCK should be boiled up every day in summer and put in clean, dry basins. If this precaution be taken they will keep sweet for several days. f AN EXCELLENT FURNITURE POLISH is made by mixing together one-third of alcohol and two- thirds of sweet oil. Apply with one soft cloth and polish off with another. To CLEAN TINWARE.—Wash it with hot water and soap, and then, after drying, polish it with dried flour, using a piece of old newspaper as a polishing cloth. IF A LAMP should be overturned, don't attempt to put out the flame with water, for it will simply spread it. Instead, throw down flour, sand, garden earth, or salt, either of which will have the desired effect. To RENDER BOOTS WATERPROOF.—Melt together a little molten fat and beeswax, and, when liquid, rub a little of it over the edges of the soles, where the stitches are. This will render your boots quite waterproof. To COOL AN OVEN WHILE BAKING.—Keep the door shut, put in the damper of the oven flue, and remove one of the rings on the hot plate. This will reduce the temperature quickly, without ad- mitting cold air to the oven. SOAPSUDS SHOULD BE SAVED FOR THE GARDEN.—Applied to the roots of fruit trees, raspberry canes,"&c.they cause a vigour and growth which are quite surprising. No one who is lucky enough to have a garden should allow this useful fertiliser to be wasted. To REMOVE STAINS FROM MAItBLE.-To half a pint of soap lees, a gill of turpentine, and a bullock's gall, add sufficient pipeclay to form a paste. Spread it over the surface of the marble, let it remain for a couple of days, then rub it off with a soft cloth. FOR CLEANSING AND IMPROVING THE HAIR.— The following old-fashioned recipe will drive away dandruff. First boil in a stone jar, stood in a pan of hot water, half a pint of rose-water, and a quarter of an ounce of sassafras wood. Let this stand till cold, then add half a small wineglass of alcohol and a sixteenth of an ounce of pearlash. Apply to the scalp once daily. BUTTERSCOTCH.—One pound of brown sugar, quarter pound of butter, six drops of essence of lemon. Put the sugar into a preserving-pan, and beat the butter to a cream. When the sugar is dissolved, add the butter, and keep stirring thG mixture over the fire till it sets, and just before the butterscotch is done add the essence of lemon. Put a knife into the mixture on it, and when cool it will easily separate from the dish.—" London Journal." THE JUICE OF HALF A LEMON in a cup of black coffee, without sugar or milk, seldom fails to cure a case of headache. WHEN IT IS NECESSARY to pour boiling water into a tumbler or glass cup put in a teaspoon first, and there will be no danger of the glass cracking. To RID A HOUSE OF COCKROACHES, throw all potato parings on to the back of the fire daily, and allow to burn in the same way as cinders. Afpotato ash is thus formed which banishes the cockroaches, as they will not come where it is present. This is a simple but highly successful remedy. To REMOVE A STUBBORN GREASE STAIN, put two thicknesses of blotting-paper on an ironing- board. Place the grease-stained material on it, saturate it with benzine, cover it with two more thicknesses of blotting-paper, and iron it with a moderately hot iron. But remember that benzine is highly inflammable, and, therefore, must not be used before near a fire or light. To RENOVATE A FELT HAT.—Ammonia and water is excellent for this. Put a little cold water in a saucer, add a few drops of ammonia to it, and with this sponge the hat thoroughly, after first brushing to remove all dust; then wring a fairly thick cloth out of cold water, lay it over the hat, and iron with a moderately flat-iron till dry. Pulling the cloth away will raise the nap, and the hat, unless very dilapidated, will look almost as good as new. CURRIED CHICKEN.—Cut the chicken into good- shaped pieces; put them into a saucepan with a few little pieces of salt pork, an onion, and a little salt. Put in enough cold water to cover it; let it simmer over the fire until the chicken is very tender, and the water has simmered almost away; then mix a tablespoonful of curry in a little water; stir this into the gravy, and let it stew with the chicken ten minutes. Have ready some rice boiled, and formed in cups. Dish the chicken; take out the onion; turn the gravy over the chicken and lay the rice around the dish. HOW TO SPREAD A TABLECLOTH.—There is a right and a wrong way to perform everything— even so simple a matter as the laying of a table- cloth. When not in use, a tablecloth should be kept in folded creases, and brought out to be spread should be laid on the table and unfolded its entire length (the width being doubled), with the centre crease along the centre of the table. Then the half breadth that is folded should be turned back, and the cloth will hang evenly. Careless servants often gather up the cloth anyhow," with- out taking the trouble to fold it up again in its own creases, and thus fresh ones are made. A table- cloth will lastlfresh-looking as long again if it is only folded up after its own folds, and put away until the next meal.—" Spare Moments." STEAKS AND MASHED POTATO.—Chop finely' on a board, one pound of raw beef-steak, add to i one ounce of chopped suet, a flavouring of her III and parsley season all with pepper and salt and bind with a beaten egg. Mix, and then bake into flat cakes. Dissolve some dripping in a frying-pan and directly a faint blue smoke rises from it set the cakes in, one at a time, and till a good brown colour on either side. Set mashed potatoes on a dish, arrange the steaks round it, and over them pour a good thick gravy. ¡ CHEESE CUSTARDS.-Butter some small cups thoroughly, and cut some thin slices of bread and butter into small dice, arranging them in a pattern on the sides of the cups. Scatter grated cheese- Parmesan, if possible-over all. Make a good custard with the yolks of two eggs and three- quarters of a pint of milk. At the last minute before cooking, add the whites, beaten to a froth. Season with salt, white pepper, and cheese. Fill up the moulds, and steam very slowly till set. Turn out to serve, and garnish with chopped parsley or truffles. TAINTED MEAT.—Very often, when a joint smells a bit tainted, it is really only a small piece of gristle or meat that needs cutting away, The rest of the meat, after being trimmed, should be washed in a little strong vinegar and water. Always hang your meat up as soon as it arrives from the butcher's, and see that the hooks used for this purpose are constantly washed and scalded. To PICKLE SHALLOTS.—After peeling, immerse in cold salt and water, and leave for ten days, changing the pickle daily. Drain, and then put into a jar, and then pour boiling hot salt and water over them. Cover, and leave till cold, and then repeat the process. Put the shallotm into glass jars, adding a slice or two of ginger, a little mace, and a few peppercorns. Fill up with best vinegar, and pour-salad oil over the top. Tie down closely and keep » ft oool place.
I SIX MEN BLOWN INTO THE AIR.
SIX MEN BLOWN INTO THE AIR. A fearful accident, in which six men were killed, is reported from Malaga. The men were convey- ing in a waggon a carboy (that is, a large glass globe-like vessel) of sulphuric acid (vitriol) to the neighbouring village of Elpalo, when suddenly the carboy exploded with terrific force. The men were blown up into the air and drenched with the acid. Their bodies were horribly burned by the fluid and BUt with splinters of broken glass.
MR. CHAMBERLAIN ON THE WAR.
MR. CHAMBERLAIN ON THE WAR. Mr. Chamberlain, replying to a question from a Birmingham correspondent as to whether he had stated in South Africa that the war was the result of a misunderstanding, says the war was caused primarily by the Boer ultimatum and invasion, and further back by the desire of the Boer leaders for a superior position in South Africa. But it is also true to say that the war would never have taken place if there had been a better understand- ing as to the power of this country, the chances of Continental intervention, and the indisposition of the Cape colonists to rise in general rebellion.
MASK OF DEATH.
MASK OF DEATH. Emma Brand, once a famous actress, but latterly A vocalist in the music-halls, has committed suicide in Berlin. Disappointment at her failing uccess accounted for her death. Her method of aelf-destruction was theatrical. She made a mask of wire, and having filled it with cotton wool soaked with chloroform, fastened it over her face. She was 32 years of age.
THE QUEEN IN DENMARK.
THE QUEEN IN DENMARK. Queen Alexandra, the Dowager Empress of fiussia, and the Danish Crown Prince paid a visit lasting two hours on Tuesday to Professor Finsen's Institute at Copenhagen for the light cure of lupus. Her Majesty, who was much interested in the progress of the hospital and laboratory, had a long talk with Professor Finsen. The Queen is most anxious that all the latest developments of the system shall be introduced into the sister insti- tute in London.
i | RELICS FROM THE DEEP.
RELICS FROM THE DEEP. Interesting Discoveries. The first relic of the British frigate Anson, which was lost in a destructive southerly gale, and which has lain undisturbed since December, 1807, in Mount's Bay, Penzance, was brought to the sur- face on Tuesday morning. A few months since Captain H. E. Anderson, the chief officer of the West of England Salvage Company, discovered the remains of the frigate off the Looe Bar, Porthleven, and his declara- tion that he had dived down on to her decks and seen her guns lying about was received with some incredulity. On his second visit the vessel had become sanded, as she doubtless had been at recurrent periods for the last century, and the mission of search was fruitless. Then came trouble with the Admiralty, who claimed the wreck, and prohibited further exploration. Even- tually, however, Captain Anderson and the Admir- alty came to terms, and the wreck was sold. On Monday afternoon the vessel was again seen and buoyed by local fishermen, and on Tuesday morning the salvage boat Green- castle left Penzance for the scene with A few privileged spectators. The conditions were eminently favourable-a bright, sunny day, with a smooth sea, and an off-shore breeze. By noon the buoys had been picked up, and the Green- castle anchored scarcely more than her length from the high, shelving, sandy beach. From the bows of the boat could be seen dark objects lying promiscuously on the bright sand, and two of the objects were unmistakably old muzzle-loading guns. Captain Anderson him- self donned the diving-suit, and descended first in about six fathoms of water, bringing back an old perforated circular cinder-box, which probably had nothing to do with the Anson. At the fourth descent Captain Anderson succeeded in getting a chain around the trunnion of a gun, which was embedded in shingle. The steam winch pulled it out of its position sufficiently far for & chain to pass around it, and after a big haul a re- markable relic dangled in the air alongside the Greencastle in the shape of an old broad- side gun. When heaved in and safely deposited in the hold it became the object of much curiosity. It was thickly encrusted with small shingle, and, of course, corroded, but otherwise was in perfect condition. Attached to it by the encrustation were, curiously enough, several round cannon-balls, suggesting that close to the gun were lying a number of shot. There was also a piece of the gun-carriage. The gun measures 10ft. 6in. in length, and has a muzzle bore of 6in..Captain Anderson estimates the weight of the mass pulled up at 2! tons. A curious incident illustrative of service methods occurred just after the Greencastle had left with its trophy for Penzance. Off Porthleven a coast- guard officer boarded the salvage boat, and in- formed the captain that he had received instruc- tions from the Admiralty just after the discovery that no person was to be allowed to tamper with the wreck. The captain informed the cfficer that his company had since purchased the wreck, but the officer replied that his instructions had not been cancelled. The Greencastle, however, was allowed to proceed to Penzance.
INOTHING NEW.
NOTHING NEW. It was found necessary by an ancient King of Babylon to enact severe laws, including the death penalty, against jerry builders. Defoe's "Journal of the Plague Year," 1665—published in 1722—contains some equally amusing instances of earlier generations' trickery. "Blow-bladder- street had its name from the butchers, who had a custom to blow up their meat with pipes to make it look thicker and fatter than it was." The same book records that the Flemish and Dutch bought our manufactures "in several parts of England where the plague was not, carrying them to Holland and Flanders, and from then transporting them to Spain and to Italy, as if they had been of their own making." It their unsophisticated ways they appear to have anti- cipated us considerably in the good old times.
I .PROFESSOR OF THE NAVY.
PROFESSOR OF THE NAVY. It is officially announced that Professor James Alfred Ewing, LL.D., F.R.S., Professor of Ap- plied Mechanics in Cambridge University, has been appointed to the post of Director of Naval Education, recently instituted by the Admiralty in connection with their reorganisation of naval education. The professor is the son of a, Dundee minister, and was associated with Lord Kelvin in marine cable laying expeditions. When only twenty-three, he became Professor of Mechanical Engineering in the University of Tokio returned in five years to take up a similar position in Dundee," and seven years later was transferred to Cambridge. As a result of his close study of earthquakes in Japan, he invented the seismo- graph, an instrument in general use.
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A meeting of the Penrhyn quarrymen was held at Bethesda on Monday, and was attended by many of the men who have found work in South Wales and who had returned to Bethesda for the Easter holidays. A resolution was unanimously adopted, adhering to the previous decision to remain out until the men obtained fair terms. Telegrams were read from former quarrymen approving of the adoption of this course. A further resolution was carried, affirming the willingness of the men to submit the whole matter in dispute to any gentleman of impartial judgment and to abide by his decision. The names of either the Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, Mr. Chamberlain, or Lord James of Hereford were suggested as being acceptable as arbitrator, or, alternatively, any gentleman nominated by either the Prince o £ Wales or his Majesty's Government.