SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR.

Saved by a Hairs-breadth.

TOLD PY TnE HOUSEKEEPER £f ' ski.

Between forty and fifty yea rs since. Miss Adda Paulinson was the reigning belle of the largest English county—York shire—and, being the only sister of the then Baronet, who was a widower with one son, a child four or five years old, was entitled to a considerable fortune' The knowledge of this, «dded to her own great personal beauty, naturally procured the young lady many suitors. Amon* these was a certain Sir Luke Hendon, a dark, handsome man of perhaps five-and thirtyand of somewhat'austere demean or, hnt nevertheless a great favourite with the ladies. He was a man well-known, and, on the whole, popular throughout the country, and especially was he talked of as a bold, fearless, and even reckless horseman. Sir Luke's estates were scarcely ten miles apart from those of the Paulinson family, and consequently Sir Kichard Paulinson approved of Sir Luke's suit to his sister Adela, and thought that in every respect the match would be a suitable and advantageous one, 'Not so, however, the lady herself. Adela would have none of Sir Luke. It happened that amongst her many suitors there was a Mr. Everard Durncastle, a young son of a good old family, whose pedigree was longer than his banker's account, So it stands to reason that the young gentleman wasn't encouraged by Sir Kichard Paulinson. Mr. Everard was a slight, fair young man of about three and-twer ty, and almost girlish in appear ance ; but he seemed to please Miss Adela's taste better than the stern, dark Sir Luke—she was but twenty-one her self.

Well, it was the Winter of—let me see, I think it was' 29 ; anyway it was one of the twenties—and a great county ball was coming off at York. You may be sure it was pretty well talked of. Fami lies didn't go up to London then for the season, as they do now. There were no railways then, and posting from York shire to London was a serious business and a heavy expense. Young country ladies couldn't go up to town and be London belles, so they were content to stay'at home and be county belles. And Miss Adela, at the time I speak of, was the acknowledged belle of the county. I might have been about 32, and I was Miss Adela'3 own maid, for I was not then promoted to the post of house keeper. I had been married about a year, and my husband had just been made second game-keeper-six years after wide.) he was head keeper. The ball, as I have said, was greatly talked about by all the young ladies of our county young enough and pretty enough to feel sure of partners. Those were days of great punctiliousness, and at all public balls there was a regular master of ceremonies to fix partners for everybody. People didn't find their own partners then, as they do now. A royal personage was to be present at this ball, and all the young ladies for thirty miles round York read Cinderella over and over again,' till they knew it by heart; and each and all of them no doubt, for days previous to the ball, dreamt of pumpkins, rats and mice, and little glass slippers.

At last the day came—and it was a bitter cold one, I remember. Miss Adela's dress was pink silk and pearls, and a real princess she looked, I canas snre you. The drive from here to York is about fifteen miles; but that didn't matter, as the carriage was to start with our own horses, and change for post-horses half way at a roadside inu, known as the 'Hendon Arms,' after Sir Luke's family. But on the. very morning of the ball day Sir Richard would not hear of his sister's going alone, and there was no other gentleman but himself at Manmngton Park to accompany her/ At last, how ever, after a great deal of coaxing on Miss Adela's part, it was settled that I should accompany her in the carriage to York, wait at an hotel there till the ball was concluded, and then we should sleep there; for beds had been engaged for Sir Richard and his sister at the ' Ebor Hotel.' You see, as Miss Adela said, this ball was such a grand affair she might not have such an opportunity again ; so Sir Richard gave way at last, and went with my young lady.

O dear! Odear! To think she never saw that ball, after all!

f . We were to start at six o'clock, the journey being so long, and at that time of the year it was dark at five o'clock. But Tomlin, the coachman, knew the way well, and was a steady man. Ths footman was a young man called Kemp, who had not been long in Sir Richard's service. My young lady was wrapped from head to foot in a costly cloak of sables, to protect her from the cold ; and, as of course she could not go all that distance bareheaded, her head was muffled in her fur hood. The pearls she was to wear in her hair I earned in her jewel-box, for she was to put on her ornaments in York, as we were going first to the rooms engaged at the hotel before proceeding to the Assembly Rooms. As I was not in evening dress, of course I did not require to be so much wrapped up as my young lady; but I wore a large cape of gray squirrel fur, which Miss Adela had lent Die, and a coarse straw bonnet and thick veil. Miss Adela was to meet her uncle and aunt and a large party at the Assembly -Rooms, so all was right and proper, and she would have a chaperone, as they call it, which, I believe means a married lady to look after young girls. &_The last thing Sir Richard said to me, after his sister had kissed him, and we were just going down to the carriage, was, Kaites, mind you bring me Miss Adela back by 5 o'clock to-morrow afternoon.' 1 was giving him his colchieum at the time, and he spoke so abrupt like, that he almost made me drop the glass. But I said '0, certainly, Sir Richard you shall be obeyed.' Little did I think where we should be next day at five o'clock. How ever, off we drove at last. As I have said, it was terribly cold, and the first seven miles of our journey I and my young lady, in spite of our furs, could net help shivering occasionally. However, we kept as close to each other tor warmth, as possible. At the end of about eight miles we arrived at the ■Hendon Arms,' where we were to leave Our own horses. The 'Hendon Arms' was a small roadside hostelry about a mile and a halt from the Hendon estate ; and Mr. - %«\

Everard Durncastle's family also lived about two miles farther on, on the other side of the inn.

I can't say I much liked the place, as tar as I could judge of it, as we drove up It was but dimly lighted with oil lamps, and it was situated just on the edge of a bleak moor, where three or four road. met. There were no houses nor buildings of any sort, as I afterwards learnt, nearer than Hendon House, which was from a mile and a half to two miles further on But the ' Hendon Arms' did a fair trade, as it lay at the junction of several roads, one of which led direct to York.' The house was a long, low, red-tiled building, with a wooden horse-trough beforethe door, for the accommodation of the York coaches, which passed by at intervals ; and there were benches under neath some scrubby-looking bushes, which I suppose were used in Summer time bj peddlars, shepherds and such like persons, whilst drinking their draughts of ale.' ' Of course we were expected, and the landlord —I remember his name was Dum met —came to the carriage door to see if my young lady would alight and warm herself whilst the horse were being changed.

' No,' she said ; ' why should I do that P It will only take a few minutes.'

• Just as you like, madam,' said Dum m.et, ' But Ihave a really nice parlour, well warmed, and I thought you nrght like to sit there whilst your servants took some refreshments.'

I felt my young lady shiver, and I said that I really thought it would be well to warm herself and take perhaps half a glass of wine and water. I don't think she would have aligted on her own account but she was always considerate for her servants, and when I reminded her that there was a long, cold drive still to come for the coachman and footman, she con sented to enter the ' Hendon Arms ' for a quater of an hour.

pit must say the parlour surprised me. Though it was not large it was well furnished. There were sofas and mirrors and paintings and wax candles, and the floor was covered with a beautiful white carpet, flowered with crimson roses, aiiu felt like velvet under your feet ; a small round table was spread with oranges, comfits, cake and wine. We heard after wrrdsthat this room was never used by the landlord or any of his customers, except Sir Luke Hendon and his friends. Sir Luke, it appeared, was in the habit of spending some of his evenings here pluy ing at cards or dice with a few of the neighbouring squires. When I say ' neighbouring,' 1 mean within a circuit of a dozen miles. A sort of club was in fact held here by these gentlemen ; and you must bear in mind that forty years ago gentlemen were not nearly so fastidious in their tastes and habits as they are now On the evening of the York ball, this room had been specially prepared for nij young lady by Sir Luke's order, who knew that her carriage would change horses here on its way to York.

I could see that my young lady was as much surprised as I at the unexpected ap^r-arance of this Aladdin's palace on a dreary Yorkshire moor. In fact, she was about to put some questions to the inn-keeper, when a side-door opened, and to our extreme astonishment in walked Sir Luke Hendon.

He walked toward us as airily as if we had been in some fashionable drawing room. But the position was an awkward one, and Miss Adela received him very coldly, for was he not a rejected suitor ol hers ? Still, with her high breeding, she was polite, though frigidly so.

After an interchange of a few polite phrases, Sir Luke explained to my young lady that knowing she was to change horses at the ' Hendon Arms,' he had come across the country in order to ask to be permitted to escort her to York, he having accidentally learned from a friend of Sir Richard's sudden illness. I remem ber that, although this conduct would have been perfectly natural in an accepted lover, it struck me as being exceedingly strange on the part of a rejected one. But Sir Luke was not one who would readily take 'No;' and, woman-like, 1 admired him for it; and so, perhaps, in her heart did my young lady. She seemed a little confused and disturbed ; but she could not in common courtesy make any objection after Sir Luke had taken all this trouble upon her account. So, though with considerable reluctance, she assented.

Sir Luke was not in ball costnme, although he also was to be at the ball at the Assembly Booms. He informed us that he had sent his valet on with a dress suit to one of the York hotels, where he had hired rooms for the night. So it was all arranged, and my young lady was pursuaded to take a glass of wine and water spiced and a sponge cake. As for me, I don't mind saying that I had two glasses of wine, and a large helping of a beautifnl trifle covered with custard ; and I really don't think I ever enjoyed any thing so much in my whole life. Sir Luke had retired for a few minutes, and at last he came back in a huge buff overcoat, which he said he had borrowed of the landlord, and announced that the carriage was ready. He handed us in, but he would not get in himself beside as, as he said he should only crush my lady's dress; and, besides, he would not press his company on her, as he knew it was distasteful to her ; so he got upon the box. It was so exceedingly dark that I could not see Tomlin. our coachman. But I knew young Kemp was all right behind, as I heard his voice saying ' Good night 'to the hostler. Kemp, I must remark, was a raw country lad, bred on the Paulinson estate; and although he had been but a very short time in Sir Richard's service, he was devoted to my young lady. Well we drove on, and warmed, as we were, by our rest and refreshment, the road did not seem so dreary and cold as before. My young mistress was very silent, and for my part I must confess that I actually fell asleep. We reckoned to arrive at York a little before nine. At last I was roused by a slight shake from Miss Adela.

'Raites,' she said, 'we must have missed our way !' And she took her watch from her bosom and showed me, by the faint light of a carriage taper that we had with us, that it was nearly ten o'clock.

Just at that moment we heard a very gentle tapping at the back of the carriage. I must tell you that in our old-fashioned carriage there was a small trap, through which any one inside the carriage could

communicate with the footman behind, in the same way that people riding now in Hansom cabs communicate with the driver. I got up on the seat, and raised the trap softly for I began to have a faint suspicion of something wrong. Young Kemp's face was so close to the open trap that it al most touched mine. * Mrs. Raites,' he whispered, in a frightened tone, { what can this mean ? We are three miles beyond York, and I have just discovered that Tomlin is Dot on the box. It is Sir Luke Hendon who is driving us.' I was petrified at tho lad's statement; but I always had a good share of what is called ' presence of mind ;' so I gently shut down the trap, and proceeded to re late what I had heard to my young lady She was greatly startled at first; but, after a few moments pause, she said, 'The only thing to be dono is to speak to Sir Luke at once.' She spoke without hesi tation ; yet I could tell by the trembling of h^r hand that she was much agitated. As for me, I guessed at once that it was a plot of Sir Luke's to run away with Miss Paulinson. It was a hanging matter, how ever those days, and I trusted to frighten him ; so I put my head out of the window and screamed out, ' Sir Luke ! Sir Luke ! my young lady desires to speak with you !' 1 suppose that he knew an explanation must come sooner or later, for he pulled up the horses and descen .ed immediately. His face was hard, stern and determined, as he came to the carriage window; and I saw then what 1 had never seen before, the villanous nature of the man peeping out through tho mask of outward cour tesy, beneath which he had hitherto veiled it.

Miss Paulinson asked, in as steady a voice as she could command, what was the meaning of this extraordinary proceeding. ' And where is Tomlin?' she added.

' Tomlin is at the Hendon Arms, sound asleep,' said Sir Luke ; ' and the meaning of this proceeding is that I am taking you to Scotland, there immediately to make you my wife.'

I really think to this day that the man could not have been perfectly sane ; for, as he pronounced these words, he pulled out a couple of pistols and showed us that they were primed and loaded. ' There is no one on this desolate road to hear you cry out.' Sir Luke said ; ' but when we come to inhabited districts, if you venture to cry out, there will be an end of you all three.'

Well, what could we do ? The lad Kemp was unarmed, and only 18 years old, and we were two poor defenceless women. YVc could not cope with an armed and desperate man. Sir Luke extracted from us all throe a promise to hold our tongues until we were over the border. My young mistress, who believed we had a madman to deal with, whispered to me not to excite him. So we gave the required promise. But I thought to myself that directly we wore over the border, no mortal man should keep my tongue between my teeth. Sir Luke grew calmer when we had given our words not to call out for assistance, and, when my young lady asked our des tination, he said, quite culmly and coolly: ' We are first going to be married at Gretna Green.' And so we drove on, in what state of mind you may imagine. At any rate, we were not forbidden to speak to each other, and my young lady and I held a consulta tion in whispers. At last a brilliant idea occurred to me —for, having nothing to dread on my own account, I was by far the calmer of the two. ' Miss 4dela,' I said, ' have you your tablets with you ?' My young lady drew from her bosom a set of small ivory tablets suspended by a gold chain, which she usually carried with her, and which, I suppose, on this occasion she had intended to use for keeping a list of her partners at the ball. ' Here they are Baites,' she said. It may seem strange to you, my dears, but the greater the danger the stronger became my nerves. I believe it is some times so. Miss Adela was trembling like a leaf, and did just as I bid her. I made her write a few words to Mr. Durncastle. I believe they were as nearly as possible ' these: ' I am carried off to Gretna Green by force. Follow immediately!' My poor young mistress wrote them. Then I softly raised the trap and I spoke to young Kemp. I told him to drop gently to the ground, and carry the tablets across the country to Mr. Everard with all speed. He was a born Yorkshireman. and knew every inch of the country ; and, besides, as I have said, he was devoted to my young lady, so he needed no pressing. I watched him with great anexiety as he stealthily swung himself out of the rumble, for 1 feared the terrible consequence, if Sir Luke should hear him. But the snow broke his fall and deadened the sound, and I breathed again. On we bowled, and I was busy with my own thoughts, whilst my young lady sat with clasped hands, and never uttered a syllable. At daybreak we stopped to breakfast at a roadside inn, where the people were clearly in Sir Luke's pay, as they showed no sort of astonishment at my young lady's dress. She was supplied also with suitable travelling things, so it was evident Sir Luke had laid his plans well. For my part, I saw it was useless as yet to raise any alarm, and so did Miss Adela. There was nothing for it but to take things quietly aad be patient. Well, we travelled all that day and part of the next, and at dusk we reached Gretna Green. Here Sir Luke conducted us to a small cottage, where we were watched by some creatures of his own in fact, kept close prisoners. Sir Luke, I suppose, had gone to make preparations for the marriage. I can't tell you how terribly long those few hours seemed ; my young lady sat in a sort of dull despair, heeding nothing that was said to her. I had almost lost hope, for I expected Sir Luke every mo ment, and I thought that by this time Mr. Everard ought to have appeared.- What if anything had happened to young Kemp ? He might have lost his way in a snow-drift, and the message have Dever reached Mr. Durncastle. The idea was terrible. I shut my eyes and prayed as I never in my life prayed before. At last, we heard the sound of Sir Luke s voice, and my young lady shivered from head to foot. The dreaded moment had arrived. Sir Luke entered the room ot the cottage in which we were sitting, with a look of cool determination on his brow, and his lips firmly set together. Come Adela, was all he said, and he I

held out his arm. But she did not move, and I verily believe she had lost the power of moving.

At that moment I fancied that I heard the sound of wheels on the road, deadened certain'y by the snow, but .still I felt sure I heard them. My whole object was now to gain time. I said to Sir Luke, 'My young lady must not be hurried ;' and I proceeded to eke out the time by offering her a smelling bottle and other feminine conveniences for averting hysterics. At last Sir Luke would no more be trifled with; he seized my young lady rather roughly by the arm, and insisted on im mediate compliance. He in fact dragged her on to her feet, but as he did so the sound of a loud altercation was audible in front of the cottage.

' I tell you there is no lady here,' I heard the woman who rented the hut say.

Quick as thought, and before Sir Luke could stop me, I forced open the door. ' There is — there is !' I screamed; and my eyes fell upon Mr. Everard Durncastle and young Kemp, who were standing out side expostulating with the virago who called herself mistress of the cottage.

* O, heaven be praised, Mr. Everard !' I exclaimed. ' You are just in time.'

' "W here is she ?' he cried. And I led him to my poor young lady, who bad fallen into a dead swoon.

Never can I forget Sir Luke Hendon's face as he glared at us. The veins of his temples stood out like cords, and his eye balls were like coals of fire; a purple flush spread over his flountenance. He tried to speak, but words failed him; he gave a sort of husky snort, and, produc ing one of his pistols, took aim deliberately at Mr. Everard, but before he could pull the trigger he fell heavily forward, and the pistol exploding, the bullet passed harmlessly through the window.

Sir Luke Hendon, a victim to his own violent passions, had had a stroke of apoplexy. He never spoke again. I suppose you can guess the sequel. Sir Richard consented to his sister's mar riage with Mr. Everard Duucastle, and for the sake of Sir Luke's family, his misdeeds were hushed up. Let us hope that the poor man was mad. Tomlin, the <;oachman, I must add, had been faithful, but had been drugged by Sir Luke.'

"Clawing off."

Yestebday, as a policeman was stroll ing past a house on Fort street East, a woman, a year or two over forty, having her sleeves rolled up and her hands covered with flour, ran out to the gate and called to him:

'It's a little delicate,' she said, as she leaned over thj gate and tried to blush, ' but I'm a person that knows my rights, and, besides, I'm all alone in the world and no one to advise me ' ' Speak your mind freely, madam,' replied the officer, as he tapped the pickets with his baton. ' You know all about the law, don't you ?' she replied. 'Everything, madam. T can tell 1 you how to go to work in an Admiralty case, and bring you from that down through divorce, bankruptcy, arson, burglaiv, false pretenses, hitching a horse to a shade tree and getting in toxicated.' ' It's a little delicate,' she softly said as she rubbed the flour off her hands, but, as I said before, I'm all alone.' 'Trust me,madam —repose confidence in me,' he replied, swelling out his eh est ' Well s'posen you were a widow ?' ' Yes, madam.' 'And s'posen one of the boarders gave you a breast-pin ?' 11 see, madam.' ' And s'posen he smiled at you, and sent you poetry, and asked you to ride out on Sunday, and the neighbors whispered around that you were engaged ?' ' Proceed, madam— -I congratulate you. ' No you niusn't, for s'posen' after all this he suddenly began to draw off, and didn't smile on you any more, and didn't praise your cooking, and took another woman to the minstrel show ?' 'Ah ! the traitor! Perhaps he has transferred his affections to some one else.' ' That's what I think. I know it's a little delicate, but I'm all alone in the world, you see, and I want to know if there isn't a law to bear on him. It isn't right to go and encourage a lone woman like me and then claw off.' ' He ought to be roasted alive, he had.' 'I don't know as I'd want him arrested, but I'd like to have you call on him and make threats. Tell him he is liable to State Prison for clawing off this way. I tell you it's a pretty serious thing to go and -encourage a woman of my age and then skulk around behind a hen-coop all of a sudden. Isn't there a law ?' ' Less see. I hardly think there, is.' '. Well, you can call on him. 'lake him alone—look fierce—have your handcuffs in sight. Just tell him you know all about it, and that I'm good hearted, pleasant, rich, and that he'd better be careful how he prances around, or he'll think a tornado struck him.' The officer promised, and she rubbed a cloud of flour off her hands and ran up the path with a light heart.— Detroit Free Press.

When two Pike county men are about to make a mule trade, the first question asked by the would-be purchaser is, 'What's his re cord ?' Seller replies, 'Three niggers and a couple dozen dashboards.' 'Here's your money,' and the new owner leads his pro perty off. When a man mistakes the height of a chair he is going to occupy, by about an inch and a half, it is remarkable the amount of momen tum he will acquire in making that little dis tance. He will strike that chair with nearly as much force as if he had sat down in it from the roof of a two-story building.— Danbury News.

Robert Burns, Poet.

fDiKD July 21st 1796.]

BY JOnii BLACKMiN.

"'Thare Uan inner world of thought and feeling in whi h eacb of us lives, wherein we ara prcfcui d alone ; and many a light and shadow may sweep over that little- world, many a twilight gloominess m»y come, and many a heaven-sent light may scatter it, of which none save ourselves wilt ever know.''

—A.X H.B.

On Ayr's green banks, profusely spread With wild flowers sweet of every hue, The peasant-bard to manhood grew A.nd laboured for his daily bread. He walked the valleys, 'stern and wild' And held a\i bile the sturdy plough, And mused b9neath the hawthorn bough, Where Spring's first fragrant primrose smiled And as be grew, Lis opening mind Was charmed with every flower and tree,

The feathered warbler's spring-tide glee, And dreamy fancies undefined. He loved the forest whisperings, He dallied with the simplest flower?, In golden glooms and vocal bowers, And all of earth's delightful things. He loved the jewelled coronets Of glittering daisies on the plain, The gentle Spring's refreshing rain, That wakes the purple violets. The early dawn, the deepening frown Of gathering clouds, the eve's repose,

When moonbeams kiss the folding rose, And night puts on its starry crown. The rippling music of the streams, That through the summer landscape flow, All bade his ardent bosom glow, With happy thoughts and happier dreams. He bowed at Nature's lovely shrine, And twined a wreath with sacred awe,

And in her features read the law Of order and of love divine. In faith he wrought till time unfurled His aspirations, long repressed, The treasures of his youthful breast, And gave them to a listless world. He sang the 'braes o' bonnie Doon ', The beauties of the sylvan grove, And gave a tuneful voice to lore, Beneath the lustrous, white May moon. He boldly sounded human wrongs, And breathed the language of hi 9 soul, In strains beyond all meaa controul, And those who scorned his truost songs. No matter where the Scotsman turns, Where'er he breathes, where'er he roam 3, He finds within a thousand homes, Some cherished thought of Robert Burns.

Traits of the Iron Duke.

I can remember well the time when the Duke of Wellington returned to England after his brilliant campains, crowned by the battle of Waterloo; at that time he was cheered by the people wherever he went, and lauded to the skies. Afterward, at the period of the reform bill, the fickle people forgot all his services, and constantly hooted him in the streets. On one day, coming from the Tower on horse back, the mob attacked him with so much virulence and malice, that he was exposed to considerable personal danger in the street. It was in that year, at a ball given by him at Apsley House to King William IV. and his queen, when the mob were very unruly and indecent in their conduct at the gates; and on the following days they proceeded to such excesses that they broke tbe windows of Apsley House, and did much injury to his property. It was then that he caused to be put up those iron blinds to his windows, which remain to this day as a record of tbe people's ingratitude. Sometime afterward, when he had regained all his popularity, and began to enjoy that great and high reputation which he carried to the grave, he was riding up Constitution hill, in the park, followed by an immense mob, who were cheer -ing him in every direction ; he heard it all with the most stoical indifference, never jDUtting his horse out of a walk, or seeming to regard them, till he leisurely arrivedat Apsley House, when he stopped at the gate, turned round to the rabble, and then pointing with his finger to the iron blinds which still closed the windows, he made them a sarcastic bow, and entered the. court without saying a word. Some years ago, it was proposed to him to purchase a farm in the neighbourhood of Strath fieldsaye, which lay contiguous to his estate, and was therefore a valuable aquisition, to which he assented. When the purchase was completed the steward congratulated him upon hav ing had such a bargain, as the seller was in difficulties, and forced to part with it. ' What do you mean by a bargain ?' said the Duke; the other replied 'It was valued at £1,100, and we have got it for £800.' 'In that case,' said the Duke, 'you will please to carry the extra £300 to the late owner and never talk to me of cheap land again.' — Thomas Bailees in the latest Bric-a-Brae.

A Strange Story.

Me. Woon (in ' Man and Beasts') relates a number of cases wherein animals and birds have died for love of human beings, when the object of their attachment had been removed by death. But, of all the stories he relates, the following is perhaps the most mysterious and inexplicable. The lady who related tho story to Mr. Wood was living in an old chateau in France, and, at the time when the events she described occurred, she was nursing a favourite cat in her lap. She says : — 'Of a sudden I became aware that something had affected my cat's equa nimity. The purring ceased, and she exhibited rapidly-increasing symptoms of uneasiness. I bent down and endeavoured to coax her into quietness, but she in stantly struggled to her feet in my lap and, spitting vehemently, with back arched and tail swollen, she assumed a mingled attitude of terror and defiance.

\The change in her position obliged me to raise my head, and on looking up, to my inexpressible horror, then perceived that a little, hideous, wrinkled old hag occupied mamma's chair. Her hands were rested on her knees, and her body wds stooped forward, so as to bring, her face in close proximity with mine. Her

eyes, piercingly fierce, and shining with an overpowering lustre, were stedfastly fixed on me. It was as if a fiend were glaring at me through them. Her dress and general appearance denoted her to belong to the French bourgeoisie; but those eyes, so wonderfully large, and in their expression so intensely wicked, en tirely absorbed my senses, and pre cluded any attention to detail. I should have screamed but my breath was gone, whilst that terrible gaze so horribly fascinated me ; I could neither withdraw my eyes nor rise from my seat. ' I had meanwhile been trying to keep a tight hold on the cat, but she seemed resolutely determined not to remain in such ugly neighbourhood, and, after some most desperate efforts, at length succeed ed in escaping from my grasp. Leaping over tables, chairs, and all that came in her way, she repeatedly threw herself, with frightful violence, against the top panel of the door which communicates with the disused room. Then returning in the same frantic manner, she furiously dashed against the door on the opposite side.

1 My terror was divided, and I looked by turns, now at the old woman whose great staring eyes were constantly fixed on me, and now at the cat, who was be coming every instant more frantic. At last the dreadful idea that the animal had gone mad had the effect of restoring my breath, and I screamed loudly. ' Mamma ran in immediately, and the cat, on the door opening, literally sprang over her head, and for upwards of half an-hour ran up and down stair 3as if pursued. I turned to point to the object of my terror —it was gone ! Under such circumstances the lapse of time is diffi cult to appreciate, but I should say thnt the apparition lasted about four or five minutes.

' Some time afterwards it transpired that a former proprietor of the house, a woman, had hanged herself in that very

room.'

The Art of Dress.

Tiie Pall Mall Gazette, in a review of M. Charles Blanc on the art of dressing, says: ' Some of our readers will per haps be surprised to learn that the style of a lady's dres^ should depend up on the shape of her nose, just as the colours she wears mnstbe chosen with due regard to her complexion gind the particular shade of her hair. If the nose is classical the toilet must have a certain style about it, especially when the person's features and bearing are imposing But what is style ? asks M. Charles Blanc; and he then proceeds to tell us that this question may be answered by the first principles of decorative art —namely, that there is more majesty in repetition than in alternation, and more dignity in har mony than in contrast. Few colours, lines that are seldom broken, an air of simplicity even in the midst ol richness, uniformity of materials and quiet trimmings constitute a toilette severe. O'a the other hand, different shades of colour, broken lines, novel trimmings and piquancy caused by contrast are the characteristic features of a toilette de genre and would suit a person with ' tip-tilted' nose, as Tennyson has it, or at least an unclassical one, a plea sant countenance or saucy eyes There are these two extremes —austerity and coquetry or, in other words, dignity and gracefulness—as well as a medium style, which may be termed pompous elegance. M. Charles Blanc compares the three kinds of toilet to the three orders of architecture and tells us that by taking a little from one and a little from another we can compose dresses that'will suit any style of features. A lady, however, in selecting her toilette should always bear in mind that she

must adorn herself in -such a manner that when people look at her their attention, after resting a moment on her dress will become concentrated on her person. In this manner the ele gance and gracefulness of a lady's attire will cause people to admire the the lady herself. How often have we heard it said, ' We saw some magnifi cent dresses this afternoon.' JNow if the clever dressmakers who fashioned those robes had * exercised a little more ingenuity the same people would have remarked, 'We saw some very pretty women this afternoon.'

Beyond.

I shall steer my bark where the wav^s roll dark, I shall cross the stranger sea; But I know I shall land on that bright Btrand Where my loved ones are waiting for me. There are faces there divinely fair, The earth lost long ago ; And foreheads white where curls lay bright, Like sunbeams over snow.

There are sunny eyes like their ovi n blue skies, that I've seen before, That will grow as bright as the stars of nig ht When-1 near the welcome shore.

There are little feefc I loved to meet, When the world was sweet to me ; I knowthej will bound when the rippling sound Of my boat comes o'er the sea.

I shall see thorn stand on the gleaming sand, Their white arms o'er the tide, Waiting to twine their hands in mine, When I reach the farther side.

CouiiDN'T bb Bluffed.—A couple of horse men, coming into the city the other day from the interior, overtook an old man and hia wife seated in the bottom of a mule carfc. Feeling in high spirits, one of the men called out:

' Hello, uncle, how much will you take for your wife, cash down ?' ' Ob, I dunno,' he slowly replied. ' Well, name your price.' ' How much'll ye give ?' he asked. 'Ten dollars.' ' Take her.'

The horseman didn't know what to say, and was gathering up the reins, when the old woman jumped to the ground and exclaimed :

' Pass over the ducats, mister; I like the old maD, and he likes me; but we are a family which can't be bluffed by no man on horseback.'

The ' bluffers' got out of the scrape by riding off at full speed.— Vicksburg Herald.

Scott's Method of Work.

Some of Sir "Walter Scott's books were penned as fast as his quill could ' trot' over the page; but then 34 years had passed over his head when he wrote his Lay, and 43 when Waverley was published—to accomplish such a result during which he had steeped his soul iv archaeological lore, border legends and ballads, and studied character with unwavering minuteness. No thing could exceed his care when ' getting up' a subject. For example, when writing MoTceby he visited Mr. Morritt, and said he wanted 'a good robbers' cave and an old churGh of the right sort.' That gentleman says: ' We rode out in quest of these, and he found what he wanted in the ancient slate quarries of Brignall and the ruined abbey of Eggleston. I ob served him noting even the peculiar little wild flowers and herbs that, as it happened, grew around and on the side of a bold crag near his intended cave of Guy Denzil, and could not help saying that as he was not to be upon oath in his work, daisies, violets and primroses would be as poetical as any of the humble plants he was ex mining. I laughed, in short at his scrupulousness, but understood him when he replied: ' That in nature her self no two scenes are exactly alike, and that whoever copied truly what was before his eyes would possess the same variety in his cescriptions and exhibit, apparently, an imagination, as boundless as the range of nature in the scenes he recorded ; whereas, whoever trusted to imagination would soon find his own mind circumscribed and con tracted to a few favourite images, and the repetition of these would sooner or later produce that very monotony and barrenness which had always haunted descriptive poetry in the hands of any but the patient worship pers of truth.'' Lockhart was aston ished to find that even during a trip in which he accompanied Sir "Walter in i anarkshire, the latter continued his literary labours. Wherever we slept, whether in the noble mansion or in the shabbiest of country inns, and whether the work was done after retiring to rest at night, or before an early start in the morning, he very rarely mounted the carriage again without having a packet of the well known aspect ready sealed and corded and addressed to his printer in I din burgh.—Chambers' Magazine

Food for Laughter.

An open letter—O. Sound doctrine—Acoustics. Matrimonial quan oh make couples despair, The most difficult thing to remember—The poor.

The hair of a young lady in Vermont turned white in a single night. She fell into a flour barrel.

' Gently the dues are o'er me stealing,' as the man said when he had thirteen bills pre sented to h;m in one day.

Jane Lace has been arrested in a Western city for being ' drunk and disorderly.' Another victim of tight lacing.

Punch says that a man who knows all about drains and such like sanitary contrivances may fairly be ranked as a counoissewer.

The terrible power of appetite ia illustrated in the case of a young man who drank up an entire mill-pond which his father left him.

' Why do you use paint ?' asked a violinist of his laughter. ' For the same reason that you use rjsin, papa.' ' How is that ?' « Why to help me draw my beau.'

District Visitor (blandly)—* Well, dame, and how do you find things now ?' Crusty old cottager—' How do I find thin gs ! Why by looking arter 'em, to be shore—drat you !'

At a recent meeting of a society composed of men from the Emerald Isle, a member made the following motion : ' Mr. President—l moves ye's whitewash the ceiling green, in honor of the old flag.'

'Remember this, Henry,' said a dying wife in R ode Island, ' never marry a woman with a molo on her chin. She'll use butter to shorten biscuits, and throw napkins out with the dish water.'

An Irishman with a heavy bundle on his shoulder riding oa the front of a horse-car, was asked why he did not set his bundle on the platform; He replied: 'Bejabers, the horses have enough to drag me. I*ll oarrr the bundle.' ' J

An old author quaintly remarks : ' Avoid arguments with ladies. In spinning yarns among silks and satins, a man is sure to be worsted and twisted. And when a man is worsted and twisted, he may consider himself wound up.'

An Arkansas youth came to his father and said : * Dad, they ain't knives enough to sot the table.' Dad—' Whar's big butclb, little butch, the case, cob-handle, granny's knife, and the one I handled yesterday ? That's enough to sofany gentleman's table, without you ye lost urn.'

' Tnat carpet,' said a dealer to an old far mer the other day, ' that carpet is one dollar thirty-five per yard ; but, seeing it's you, you can have it for one dollar twenty.' While he was cutting it off, the farmer proudly said to his wife : ' I never met him before, but you see he takes me for some big man. Now, then Mariar, see what 'tis to have a husband. who' looks smartish!'

Smith, the future poet laureate, has beaten every one who wrote of the seasons before He has got the four seasons into four lines for which he charged the editor of the Blue Buzzer $4. This is the poem :

'First comes the sneeze, Then comes the'peas, Then comes the fleas, Then it begins to freeze.'

| Abner Kobinson of Newbury port hat poin ted to a gun over his fireplace for Beveral years, and said each time : • That's the weppin my old dad carried at Lexington.* The other day at the celebration the Maj or of the town went to investigate matters, and after awhile found that the gun was a breech-loader of the pre sent day, and that AbnerY dad had died of black measles in State prison, and than Abner crawled uader the barn and wouldn't come out till next morning.