strangely wavering between certainty and uncertainty, and as he walked from Mr Blisset's house to his own, he pondered over the history of his own love for Adrienne, and, almost for the first time, began to won der what would be the end of that history. It was three years now since he had first met her. There had been a chamber con cert, in Coblenz, of classical music. Adrian Blisset had played violin, and his daughter piano, and Sebastian had been one of the not very numerous audience; for the taste of the Cobfenzors for music was not of the severe sort. Perhaps the small audience was the more appreciative—at least Sebas tian Mallory sat a long two hours and a half, without a thought of being weary or any wish to go. When the music was over he had penetrated to the little room whither Adrian and his daughter had retired, and. knocked, and been bidden herein. Apologising for the intrusion, he had in troduced himself, and said he imagined that certain pieces that had been played that evening, and. which stood on the programme without any composer's name, were the production of the musician himself. He was right, and those compositions had ap peared to him to possess a certain wild weird beauty of their own. There had ensued a long conversation upon the subject, during which Sebastian's discrimination and real, earnest love for the art he professed had got over even Mr Blisset's reserved and moody disposition. Thus the acquaintance began. The musician had been kinder and more open than he usually was, not only to strangers but to anyone at all. Sebastian had been allowed to visit him and his daughter. Adrienne had played for him; she had talked with him, and he had found her charming. From Coblenz they had gone to Wetzlar, in the vain and illusory hope that they might find an audience.aud receive remune ration. The projected concert never took place, but certain other things did. They spent altogether a week in the sleepy old town. They floated in a little boat up the river, between the rows of poplars and the level meads; they sat under the shadow of the grim old Heidcnthurm of the cathedral, and looked over all the landscape below. Adrienne sat upon the wall above Goethe's Brimnen, and looked at the girls coining to fill their pitchers, and said to Sebastian, who was standing beside her, and looking earnestly down at her: "I wonder if it was to such a well that Hermann came and helped Dorothea? I could almost fancy so, could not you?" " I think I could," Sebastian had an swered, looking, not at the well, but at her.. With each day that he saw her, his admi ration for her grew greater. She was a fair jewel in a poor setting. Her gentleness, her dignity under sorrow, her Fasten Math in BChweren Leiden, impressed him and delighted him. Her flashes of quaint humour, which showed him how gay the spirit she ownedniight be if .only the sun would shine a little npon its dwelling place; her grace, her intellect, attracted him irresistibly; and he loved, too, the quiet independence with which she met him; the calm dignity with which she ig nored his wealth, his position, his advan tages, and treated him as her equal—no more, no less. Amongst the list of events which made, as it were, a gaily coloured kaleidoscopic pattern in his memory, that week at VVetz far stood out from the rest, like a little patch of pure gold, like the lucent back ground on which stands out, pure and cleor, some mcdioeval Madonna.

One morning, wheo he went to call upon them, he found Adrienne in sore distress, which she tried in vain to conceal. She was alone, and he had succeeded at last in get tine her to confess what troubled her. A creditor of her father's pressed hard for a certain sum of money, due long ago. The fact was in itself painful enough, but it alone would not have been sufficient to break down Adrienne's calm and steadfast courage. It was her father's manner of ac cepting, or not accepting, his position, which alarmed and made her wretched. More than once he had uttered dark and oracular hints as to the wisdom of leaving a world which was full of nothing but misery and contradieffons. At that time he was m his room, and had refused to see her or speak to her. She did not know what would hap pen, what he might not do ; and Sebastian saw the young girl's courage fail for the first time, for the first time saw her fold her hands, and with tear-stained eyes, ask piteously: "What ami to do?"

'' Leave it to me, Miss Blisset Of course something must be done, and I will do it For your sake I will do it gladly," he had said, taking her hands, and looking into her troubled eyes with a glance that made them mote troubled still, and going straight to her father's room.

The "something to be done" naturally resolved itself into pecuniary assistance. The matter was perfectly simple. Notes for three hundred thalers settled it. Sebastian insisted upon becoming Mr Blisset's banker, and Mr Blisset said that he could not refuse the possibility of being under obligations to a gentleman who would understand the feeiragsof another gentleman, rather than to a coarse-minded tradesman,1 who could not by any possibility understand such fine sen sibilities. The money was a loan. They both called it a loan; and Sebastian came out and told Adrienne that it was all right.

She had burst into tears; then recovering, had said: " There is nothing that I would not do for yen." V > . To which he had replied: "Then come and have a row on the river." ' • Upon which they had straightway had a very delightful row on the river, the Lahn; and delicacy alone had prevented Sebastian from then and there saying to Adrienne that he loved her, and asking her to be his wife. He deferred the question—he hoped, not for long—only until he had spoken to her father; and that he decided he would on the follow ing day. "..'••. . x,: ... .In pursuance of thi_ resolution, he had - called during the forenoon at the musician's lodgings, and had asked to see him. •.</_/" the hostess told him, with a, shrug of the shoulders, " the Eerrsehaften had left by the first train that morning. Last night the gentleman had snoken very sternly to the Fraulein; she hadheard him. The__aulein had expostulated, and cried, and said, ' How unthankful it wiU seem!' To which her Herr Papa had replied that he could not endure such a burden; he must leave the place. After which he had desired his Fraulein ToclUer to pack up, and they were gone." "Where?"asked Sebastian.

"Ja ! How should I know, mem Eerr . Apparently to Frankfort, since the first train in the morning goes direct there; but from Frankfort, I have heard, one may go out anywhere over the whole world, even to Africa, if one chooses. What do I know?" Sebastian had retired, quite convinced that it was not Adrienne, but the morbid pride and vanity of her father, which had caused this contretemps. That- pride could not endure to live in the presence of the man who had placed him nnder an obligation. He had gone to hide himself, and Sebastian tried in vain to find any further trace of Adrian Blisset and his daughther. He had so much the less forgotten her. The feelings of warm admiration, chivalrous respect and tender affection which he had hitherto felt for her, suddenly leaped up in

a quicker flame—he loved her. From feel in" convinced that to have her as his wife would be a good and happy thing for him, he had become determined that one day she should be his wife; she, aud no other. From that time she had remained for him as a sort of standard, an ideal of woman hood ; gentle, spirited, true, and pure, wise and .rudent, sweet and modest. Ho had judged all other women by this staudard, and had never felt anything more than a certain admiration for on_ woman since his parting from Adrienne. Then had ensued his return home, his not very satisfactory relations with his mother, the distress amongst his people, the necessity for prompt action and hard work, his introduction to Helena Spenceley, his sudden, unexpected meeting with Ad rienne, and the eager conviction that now she soon must be his. Beside Helena's brilliant beauty, the delicate grace of Adrionnewas as the beauty of awhiteviolet compared with a crimson rose. Helena was dazzlingly beautiful, but she was the exact opposite of all which he had been for three years praising and exalting to himself as best,- and sweetest, and most desirable m woman. He thought a good deal of Helena. She was younger than Adrienne, Kvildcr, less educated, prejudiced, hot headed, violent, and bewitching. .-,.■_ , "Yes, she must be bewitching, argued Sebastian, with exquisite nawetc, within himself. "Look at Hmro. The lad was enraptured with her." That was to be ex pected. Hugo was young too; he had not loved Adrienne Blisset for three years. Sebastian had the steady purpose and inten tion of asking Adrienne to marry him, to honour him and make him happy by be coming his wife. When? As soon as he could find the opportunity, he said to him self. But it never did come. He could not understand how it was that, though he saw Adrienne repeatedly, and alone, though she was amiable, cordial, pleasant, yet he could never get the question asked. Adrienno's behaviour puzzled him. He could have sworn that once she loved him. When he was with her. Myles Heywood's handsome olive-hued face, with its scornful lips and defiant eyes, seemed always to be hovering there between her and him. And yet, on the one occasion on which he had seem them together, Myles had looked nnd behaved as if he were as far as possible from being any thing like a favoured lover, thought Sebas tian, with an odd sensation of jealousy and pain. No; it was only opportunity for which he waited, an opportunity which seemed as if it wonld never come. Cer tainly it had not been there that evening. He walked home lost in profound specu lations, thinking of Adrienne's lifted head and flashing eyes, ond of how Myles Hey wood had been " very stiff indeed " with poor old Wilson thatjmorning.

{To be continued.)

RUSSIAN VASTNESS.

A Long Jomtiey Across tlib Country.

It would hardly seem possible for a senti mental traveller —• supposing a person answering that description to exist in our days—to arrive for the first time at St, Petersburg at this moment without a mix ture of feelings in whleh sadness predomin ated. He is aware that he has orossed the frontier of a State, the largest of all compact States, and perhaps, only second to that of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, with all ita colonies and posses sions ; so big a State that from the frontier station at Vierzbolow, or Wirballen, to the St, Petersburg terminus there is a distance iof 560 milesf far exceeding that between London and Edinburgh, and yet this first journey of two nighte and two days only brings one to the capital, which lies in a corner of the empire. A glance at the map will satisfy us that the surface of the smallor half of this empire—European Russia—is considerably larger than that of all the other States of Eurorje put together; while the other half—Siberia, with the rest of the Asiatic provinces—is not far from covering one-third of the Asiatic continent; and that a recent traveller, the Rev Henry Lansdell, in his five-months' journey from London to the mouth of the Amoor, all across the C_ar's dominions, went over 2,000 miles by rai1.5,700 miles by steam and 3,000 miles by horses, or, altogether, 11,500 miles almost in a straight line. -JtCONVENIE-T- GREATNESS. So far, then, as a man may take pride in the mere bigness of his country, a Russian has ample reason to be proud. But a State, like a man, may be none the happier for all that. A lofty stature, to be sure, enables a man to look over the heads of a crowd, an unquestionable advantage, and mere height imparts an air of dignity and command which the undersized fully appreciate. But a six-foot-six giant, as I once saw, doubling himself up and drawing in his legs to get into a lady's brougham, is a ludicrous sight Very tall mea are seldom well pro portioned or robust, and in war they offer too easy a target to the wicked breach loaders of modern construction. In the same manner Russia is made unwieldy by her very bulk. She has to_ struggle with her prodigious lengsh and width, and to do it at a greater disadvantage than other large States. In the Western continent,.for in stance, in the United States, Brazil, and the republic of South America, man was powerfully aided by Nature in his fight against enormous distances by the length of navigable water-courses, the Mississippi and Missouri, the St. Lawrence, the Plate, Parana and Uruguay, the Amazon, the San Francisco, Sue, even before he conld help himself by his railways; whereas in Russia the northern streams, both of Europe and Asia, the Nieman, the Dwina, the Obi, the Yenisin, the Lena, See., empty themselves either in the White and Arctic seas, choked with ice for six or eight months in the year, or in the Baltic, also frozen in the winter, -months, and for a long time placed beyond reach of the Czar's sway, and the southern streams, the Volga, the Don, &c;. end either in the Caspian or the Sea of Azof and the Euxine, both closed for centuries against Russian enterprise and expansion. LOST GROUND FOR RUSSIA. With respect to railways, it was Russia's misfortune to go late to work about their construction,and even what she has achieved between the Crimean and Turkish wars— 1854-1876—scarcely amounts now to 14,000 miles, to which, after the peace of Berlin, she is barely adding 700 miles yearly—a striking contrast to other large countries— as to the United States of North America, for instance, which boasts of a net of railways of 95,000 miles, with an average annnal addition of 10,000 miles. This backwardness of Russia in her endeavours to annihilate space by rapid and easy modes of locomotion cannot be without grave con sequences for her commercial and social, as well as financial and political, interests. It is lost ground for her in her battle of life; in the incessant struggle against that geo graphical position which from the beginning doomed her to seclusion from the civilized world—ft struggle the evidence of which may be read in every page of the country'? history, and may be followed in every shift of its Government's policy.—"St. Peters burg Letter to London ' Times.'"

How John Brown Carried the Queen through the Tarff.

A bather curious adventure was experien ced while the royal party at Balmoral under took to pay a visit to the late Duke of Athol at his noble mansion of Blair Castle, in Perthshire. Tliey had driven all right past Castloton of Bracmar, where, by the way, the standard of Prince Charlie's father was first unfurled at the '15—tho Falls of Doe wore passed all right-the mountain ash, birch and other trcos in their autumnal tints looking truly enchanting. But at Crock clack the road toward Glentilt became changed to a mere track, not particularly safe even for ponies, as one false step would p ecipitate the rider into the chasm below. At or near this point the shores of Aberdeen, Perth and Inverness meet, and the scenery is of a very wild description, especially with lowering and frowning Ben-y-gloe in the foreground. The cavalcade had descended the Glentilt and were fast progressing in their romantic journey when au unexpected difficulty stared them in the face, which threatened to stop, or at all events, delay tiieir journey. The difficulty arose from a hill stream—one of the afflu ents of the Tilt—having, owing to a heavy rain in the morning, become uufordnblc for the ponies. The waters of Tarff fail over a precipice nnd into a pot or pool ere they take a leap into the larger stream, and as neither the Tilt can be crossed at this place nor the Tarfl' got at higher up, it must be crossed at the one point or not c.t all. Numerous acoidents have occurred at this spot, and only a couple of years ago a young English pedestrian in trying to cross when the stream was swollen lost his footing, and was carried into the rocky gorge below, from which his remains were not recovered from among the submerged rocks for several days. In commemoration of this sad event the young gentleman's relatives have erected a bridge, which will prevent such lamentable occurrences for the future, Well, the royal travellers were placed in a fix ; to return homeward would have been very awkward, as the carriages had been ordered back to Balmoral, and there was no open door for twenty miles at least, where shelter could be obtained. The Prince could have waded the ford, as the water would not have reached above his middle; hut then the Qneen—what was to be done with her? That was'the question. To ride across was attended with serious peril, as the pony might have been carried away with its rider or, what was no better, it might have stumbled on the bottom, which was covered with rolling boulders. In such a grave dilemma one of the royal gillies came forward and volunteered to carry Her Majesty on his back, and to preserve her garments from a wetting, if possible. The Queen eagerly caught at tho proposal, and, mounting a big stone prepared to unload herself on the back of her sturdy retainer, whose surname was Brown. This lad, who was engaged as a stable help, had just before been allowed to lead the ponies to the hill and to empty the bags of the gamekeepers in the panniers to be driven to the royal larder. The Prince did not seem to relish Brown's expedient, but as the Queen was decided, and as there was no other alternative, he felt obliged to yield his concurrence. Before undertaking such a precious burden as the Queen's person, John offered to carry across the ford one of his associates, and as he entered the stream he presented a rather grotesque appearance. So soon as he reached the deepening water his kilt began to bulge out somewhat like a large umbrella, and it floated on the surface like the queen of water lilies, Victoria regina. The voyage was accomplished, both going and returning, with complete success, and the Queen seemed greatly to relish the adventure as she mounted on the High lander's broad shoulders, her legs being firmly held in his powerful grip. _ The poor Piince did not, however, seem quite at case, and was rather dull all the rest of the evening. Whether this was the first occa sion Her Majesty and John Brown became familiar with each other deponent sayeth not, but she seemed quite pleased to be placed in the keeping of the bold hench man. When the opposite bank was reached in safety—Her Majesty's gown only being slightly wetted—a cheer was raised by all present, and as it reverberated from crag to crag the deer affrighted took their way up the hillside, and the curlew screamed his doleful cry- Prince Albert was then got over the Tarff by the improvised ferry-boat, as were also the young princes andprinces ses. The rest of the journey was accom plished without any particular incident. By and by they reached Forest Lodge where the noble duke and duchess were spending the day,'and as may be imagined, they were in no small way delighted and surprised at the arrival of their royal visitors. Her Majesty was quite eloquent in her account of her adventure at tho Tarff water, and took great delight in recounting her experiences in the middle of the stream. '' If only John Brown had lost his'footingwhat would have been tho result? Why His Knyal Highness Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, would have aicendcd the throne and been pro claimed king undertho title of Edward VII." Byron states that one morning he arose and found himself famous, and so with one Brown—he was made a hero at once, and has continued to the present time as the Queen's loyal'and devoted." personal atten dant," "whatever that designation may mean. When Her Majesty, some fifteen years ago, favoured the world with her inter esting book— "Our Life In the Highlands" —an account was given of the foregoing exciting incident, accompanied by a pen and-ink sketch of the adventure from Her Majesty's own portfolio. — Sketch in " Brooklyn Eagle.

Snakes that Die at Sundown.

In almost every country a curious belief exists, in some form or other, that a serpent will not die beforo sundown, however muti lated it may be. Perhaps the great tenacity of nervous vitality common to all the lower or so-called cold-blooded animals—as evinced by their vigorous contortions after decapitation, and even muscular quiverings of the dissevered portions when- cut in pieces—may account for this. A huge Python molufus has been known to snatch a torch out of a coolie's hands and shake it to pieces after its body was cut in two and the anterior half transfixed with a sword. And everywhere where poisonous snakes abound, it will be found that some parti cular tribe of Indians or religious sect or other people are reputed to have the [power, by means of inoculation or otherwise, to prepare their bodies so as to render them proof against the effects of the venom, and are thus enabled to handle dangerous ser pents with impunity. But alas! when we come to investigate these (on the face) by no means impossible or even very improbable tales, we soon meet with a tissue of nonsense which throws one back in disappointment and disgust Thus Mme. La Barca, in her book on Mexico, says that injections of the rattle-snake venom into tbe veins is prac tised there, the result being that the ino culated one is not only protected from the bite of all venomous animals, but has the power of inflicting a deadly wound him self ! Pliny attributes some such process with the scorpion's poison to his African psylli, or serpent charmers, instead of the far more probable one of blunting the insect's sting, or extracting the snake's fangs.—London " Field."

Misplaced Sympathy.

They were discussing some new neigh bours. "Just look at that poor, neglected child I" " Dreadful, isn't it! The family moved in a week ago, and I don't believe the little girl has had a clean dress on yet'" " Perhaps, her mother hasn't had time to attend to her," volunteered a young girl of the company ; " she looks tired out." " Oh, she has had time to attend to her own child; ho is sent on to school every morning spick and span clean, while the poor little stepdaughter plays in the dirt all day." " She seems happy enough," remarked the young girl before mentioned. "Well, she isn't," said a rinegar-focod woman who was one of the company invited to tea at the widow Brown's. "I heard her myself, the other day run into the house, crying in the most pitiful voice I ever heard, " Mamma 1 Mamma ! I want my mamma !'" "Droadful!" said Mrs Brown. "She ought to be talked with, and I, (for one, would like to give her a piece of my mind." " Why don't you go right over now, Mrs Brown, "suggested the vinegar-faced woman, who was always ready to set some one on. "There's no time like the present for doing a good deed." " I believe 1 will," answered the widow. "I'll make an excuse by taking a piece of honey cake; they ain't got settled yet." Mrs Brown stepped across with the plate of honey cake, aud wliilc Bhc was gone the ladies kept up a buzz in which " cruel step mother," "neglected duty," "rights of childhood," etc., were plainly discernible. Presently Mrs Brown was seen wending her way bnck, cake and all. "Been snubbed," suggested the young girl visitor, "Looks sot down upon about su'thin," urged another member. " She's done her dooty," said the vinegar faced. " What did she say ?" exclaimed all in a breath. Mrs Brown banged the honey cake plate on the melodcon; then she shook, off her sun hat and fanned her face with it, and looked vindictively at the company. "She said she'd be much obliged to us if , we'd mind our own business and let her do the same, aud the poor little injured; innocent was her own child, and the boy that goes to school is her husband's, and was there anything more we would like to know? Oh, dear ! She just made me sick with her airs, and I was that flustrated I never thought to offer her the cake." " Well, you've done your dooty," said the vinegar-faced as she trimmed down a seam in her husband's new shirt. _ "Her own child ! Sakes alive, what kind of a mother can the woman he, to treat a step child better than her own? It's clear against Nature, Mrs Brown, and don't you forget it."

A Romantic Incident in the Life of a Chicago Artist.

In IS6B Jt-lkins was an unknown, rtrug fling, and almost starving artist in Chicago, [c was deeply in love with the girl who afterwards became his wife, but was so poor that he could not think of marrying. Like all ambitious artists he had been to the Rocky Mountains, and had brought back a portfolio of studies. From one of these studies he made a picture called "Morning in the Valley." in the foreground was a pool with a dash of cataract, another larger body of water with trees to the left of the picture, rugged and almost perpendicular rocks to the right, with a camp ot tents at their base, and in the background' snow capped mountains. The picture was a strik ing one, yet, while it attracted much at tention in the window of a Chicago picture store, it remained there day after day and round no purchaser. One day Mr Colfax, who had been elected Vice-President of the United States but had not yet been inaugurated, was passing hurriedly by along the street and the picture caught his eye. It im pressed him with its familiarity. He ex amined it more carefully and became convinced that some artist hadbecn to some spot in the Rocky Mountains where, not so very long before, Mr Colfax and a certain lady, now his wife, had wandered to from a merry company of travellers across the continent and plighted their vows. He sought the artist and found that his sur mises were true. He asked Elkinstoput a price on the picture, and he ventured to say 500 dols. The price was paid, and it enabled Elkins to get married. Not only that, but the fact that the Vice-President of the United States had purchased a pic ture of Ellrius for 500 dols was soon flashed over the country, and Elkins found him self famous and with |more orders for pictures than he could fill. It was no thing for him to command l.OOOdols to 3,000 dols each for Ids larger paintings, and there are a few of them that to-day are valued at 10,000 dols each. The London "Art Journal" in 1870 pronounced his paintings to be the best at the Centennial, which was the highest compliment that could be paid an artist by the best authority in the world, for Europe and America's best painters were represented there. It was at at this time that Elkins's success seems to have turned his head. He was then but 30 years old, but in less than 3 months he became an habitual dmnkard and au income of 10,000 dols, to 20,000 dols a year soon dropped to to the price of the one or two pictures a year he might paint in his soberer moments.—"South Bend Tribune."

Palestine Exploration Fund.

The July number of the society's Quar terly Statement contains full^ particulars of the very remarkable discoveries which have been made in the last few months. First in interest, perhaps, comes Professor Sayce's commentary on the newiy found inscrip tion at the Pool of Siloam. A text which dates (if fhe learned profes-or be correct) from the time "of Solomon, is indeed a rare monument There is next a discovery made by Lieutenant Conder which may prove of even greater interest. He has found, close to the spot where he places the site of the Crucifixition, which is still called the Place of Stoning, a Jewish tomb of the Herodian period, standing alone, cut in the rock. " Can it be "he asks, " the ' new Sepnl chre in the Garden ?' " A drawing and plan of the tomb have been made. Another drawing has been made of the real mouth of Jacob's Well, recently uncovered by the Rev.C.L. Bardsley. The well mouth is much worn by the friction of ropes._ It was for merly covered over by a Christain church, and if, as is possible, this church dates back to the second or third century, the stone should be no other than the very stone on which our Lord conversed with the woman of Samaria. Another discovery, only indi rectly connected with the Bible is that of the ancient city of Kadesh, on the Orontes. Not the least surprising thing about this is the fact that Lieutenant Conder found it from an Egyptian record written 3,000 years ago, and that tho old name, though it has disappeared from history Bince the thirteenth century before Christ, is still attached to it.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 22, 1881

3



"TIEMOVAL NOTICE. MADAME BO_TENE_LI Has removed to VINCENT STREET (iO_r Cook-street), whero she will continue to taho orders lor Dresses, etc., as horotofore. MRS.' ROUNTREE, MILLINER AND STKAW WORKER, WELLESLEY STREET, AUCKLAND, Has just opened a ni^o Assortment of Hats, Flowers, Feathers, Trimmings, etc., etc., SUITABLE FOR, EIIE SEASON. Hats Cleaned, Dyed and Altored to any Shape required. Feathers Curled and Dyed. AH Orders for Millinery, etc., promptly attended to. With the aid of machinery for pressing Hate Mrs. It. is enabled to undertako any orders that may be entrusted to her oaro. H~~ RAFT ON, . Basket & Perambulator. Maker, Junction of Queen and Grey Streets. Laboe Stock ok Fancy Baskets always oh Hand. Discount to Wholeealo Dealers. RAPERY, MILLINERY, & LADIES AND CHILDREN'S UNDERCLOTHING. H. FOUNTAIN, Ponsonby Road, is now offering tho above ot lowest TOWH prices for OASii, und respectfully solicits a oontinuanoo of tho patronage of his numerous customers. H& J. B I N S T E AD, •WHOLESALE & RETAIL BUTCHERS Victoria Street West, Auckland. Families waited on for orders. Shipping sup? plied. Corned Beef in any Quantity. ANTED KNOW G. HAZELL, Fruiterer; . Upper Symonds Strocts, Has added to his Fruit Business that of Gr and Oilmen'!) Stores. His Teas will be found of tho choicest assort ments. Has also a largo assortment of Jams, Preserves, Spioos, etc., etc., AT HIE LOWEST TOWN PRIOES FOB CASH. DN. GARN IE R , Manukactuiung Jeweller, DEALER IN CURIOS Albert Street (near Star Hotel), Auckland All kinds of Curios—Ornamontal Kauri Gum Wholesale and Retail; Shells of every deecrfp tion mounted at moderate charges. An Early Trial is Respectfully So_icr_BD Repairs of every description. On Parle Franoais. W-S E R V I C • (Near Mr. Lambourn's) KARANGAHAPE ROAD, In thanking the Wholesale Houses, Manufac turers, and Dressmakers for the patronage he has rocclved in Frillings and Kiltings, wishes to inform them that he now makes Fancy Boxes, Orders for whicb will becpromptly attended to.



JOHN MAXWELL, SHIPPING & FAMILT BUTCHER, Drakk Stbeet, Freeman's Bay, Auokland. Poultry of all kinds dressed to order. Pickled Ox, ond Sheep Tongues. Home-ourod B_oo_ and Hams. Corned Beef on sale in kegs and tierces; quality guaranteed. Famllc. wotted on for orders in city and suburbs. 'Tho best quality only kept QtYMONDS STREET MEAT DEPOT. ENOCH WOOD, Family Butciikr. Moat delivered at Mount Albert, Epsom, Mount Eden, Carlton Grove-, Lower Syuio-ds Street, Newton, and Eden Terrace. First-class quality; reasonable prioee. Cash'customers liberally treotod. Insfection Invited. E~ McXI OW N~ . Baker, Confectioner, and Biscuit Baker, shipping grocer, etc Imperial Bakery, Queen Street Wharf. Town and Country Orders promptly attended to: LO 0 X H. E R il Corrugated Tanks, cheap, and always on hand. R TUDEHOPE, UPPER QUEEN STREET,'AUCKLAND, Gasfltter, Plumber, Bollhanger, Coppersmith, and Zinc Worker. Hot, Cold, and Shower Baths. Gas Fittings in every variety. Work Done in tho best style. rp H E STT_ Ii AXE RY. JAMES FERGUSON, Corner of Durham and Chapel Streets, Bkead and Small Goods Baker. __r Orders promptly attended to. "®_ ANTED KNOWN THAT H. WATT, general dealer, « Grey Street, Has always on hand a Large and Varied Stock of all kinds of Household Requisites at tho lowost Cash Prices. Now Selling Cheap, -70 Volumes of Assorted BOOKS. Good Salt Butter, 8d per lb. „ „ by the keg, 6d per lb.



JD A V E V, * TAILOR, •VULCAN LANE, AUCKLAND, Has Just received New Spring Goods, consist ing of tho Newest Patterns of best Mosgiel, Chipping Norton, Scotch Tweeds, Fancy Coat ings, and West of .England Broad Cloths, etc Inspection and Trial invited. THE AUCKLAND GAS COMPANY, Limited. PURVEYORS OF LIGHT, HEAT, & POWER. Gas fittings, Gas Apparatus, and Gas Engines in Stock. FORT-STREET. AUCKLAND. A TRUE STATEMENT. - By going to WALTER BAYN E, Kyber Pass General Furnishing Store You can have Furniture, Hardware, and a General Assortment of Useful Articles at and below Town Prices. Funerals con ducted on moderate charges. Caskets of aU sizes kept in Stock. Prompt attention given to all Orders. BCROC X E R , . BOOT AND SHOE MAKER, 61, Victoria- Street. All kinds of Ladies' and Gentlemen's Boots made to order of the best quality. Town and Country Orders promptly executed