she could not effect the sale of her dia monds, she may be trying to make mo pay forfeit for them. Twenty - five thousand pounds! It is shocking, it is terrible." "But there is Matthew," urged Amy pitifully: " what has become of Matthew? Oh, Mr Signet, if you could but have seen bis wife's face this morning I" . "To be sure, that is terrible toy. But Lady Pargiter can't have murdered him. She would stop short of that, I believe. Then, again, her people are not so fond of her that they wmld risk getting into serious trouble for her sake."

- '♦What do you mean, Mr Signet? That her sorvants would not have helped her to put Matthew out of the way?" "Yes, ju-t that; to kidnap him—a monstroussuppostion, of course; but then, is not everything in this matter mon strous ?"

"That is true, Mr Signet. There is only one thing which we are absolutely certain can never have happened." 111 am with you there, Miss Thurlow. You allude to Mr Helston's innocence. On that I will lay my life." He held out his hand, and Amy took it in her own and grasped it eagerly. "God bless you for saying that, Mr Signet. My brother-in-law is incapable of wronging a fellow-creature. Everyone who knows him knows that: and it is a comfort to me to find that you — his employer—have the same opinion of him."

"I shall stand, by him, my dear Miss Thurlow, never fear."

This time ho took her hand in both his fi)\rn and pressed it respectfully. She had never thought she could have liked Mr Signet one-half so much as she did at that •Moment. Whatever happened, she felt that - would always have a grateful romem ice of his behaviour in that hour of .1.

"And now. my dear young lady," ho continued, " can you give me tiny informa tion about your brother-in-law's mode of life—the least hint, however insignificant, may bo of value—which may afford some clue to his wharcabouts ? I need not say that we are speiking together in the strictest contidence."

" Indeed, Mr Signet, I have nothing to tell. As you have seen Matthew at our home, so he always is : domestic, simple, somewhat reticent and self-centred, he has not, do believe, a friend in the wide world —baside yourself—out of his own family Oirclo."

"Self-centred, you say," mused Mr Signet; "then it is possible that he may have some engrossing thought — some secret trouble weighing on his mind." " No, think not; at least, not now. There was a time, it is true, when his mind was greatly occupied with a certain scienti fic invention—an application of the at mosphere to purposes of locomotion." "Ah, an aeronaut—a visionary ?"

"Not at all;.the notion, so far as it went, was eminently practical; the loco motive was a road engine. He certainly entertained hopes cf its turning out suc cessfully, but of late months he has lost all confidence in it, and made up his mind to the disappointment." Mr Signet shook his head. "No inven tor ever gives up his idea, far less accepts failure with resignation " " Matthew is quite unlike other people, Mr Signet," The jeweller shook his head still more. " No doubt, my dear young lady, this in invention has cost your brother-in-law some money ?" " I am sorry to say it has." " And his notion probably was, "continued Mr Si"net, " that if he had more to spend a good deal more—the invention would have been perfected." "I don't kuo-v about that," said Amy. " Mr Durham would, I know, have been willing to risk something more " "Then Mr Helston has borrowed money of his uncle ?" Amy's face Hushed 'o. the forehead ; she felt that she was indiscreet in thus reveal ing family matters; and she did not see how her doing so could solve the mystery of Matthew's disappearance. " I believe Mr Durham lost some money through my brother-in-law's invention ; but it was°givcn, and without solicitation: It was not lent." " ' " I understand," said Mr Signet. Then, after a pause : " Though to your knowledge Mr Helston had no intimate friends in town, is it not possible that he might have been introduced, through this invention, to cer tain acquaintances—less scientific people than himself, but with more knowledge of the world ? Have you ever heard him speak of such ? ii« " No. As a mechanician he was seii taught, and he did not care for the com panionship even of those who had tastes similar to his own. He restricted himself, more than other man I know, to the society ot his own family ; but, oh, Mr Signet, to them he was so dear, so dear! To my sis ter, of course, he was all in all. And it so terrible to have lost him.' "No doubt, no doubt, my dear young lady • but he is not lost yet, nor the dia monds either -only missing. Let us hope forth«best George, isthatyou? Some one had just come into the house, and was passing with heavy tread the par lour door. At the sound of Mr Signets voice he knocked and entered; a tail, middle-aged man, very clean-shaven, with a grave but by no means a harsh look. «This is a gentleman from Scotland Yard; Mr Brail, Miss Thurlow. Well, George, have you any clue ? " Nay, sir, how should we ? We have not got hold of the string at all yet. "True I can give you something, how ever. Here is the cabman's address who took Mr Helston to Moor Street last night; and, according to his own account, left him at Sir Charles Pargiter's house. A most Yard gave a pitying smile. "Well, we shall want him. at all events," he said. "Do you know anything against tno """"John Rutherford," mused the detec tive; "no, not against the name; but of course that's nothing," ; „ "Hi* wife is a most excellent woman, put in Amy earnestly, " and 1 believe her Lsbandtobean honest man.. I hope ,jm are not going to put him in prison without Pl"°My dear Miss Thurlow," said the jew eller "the wrest of this man is obviously the very first step to be taken. Think ot Mr Helston."

It rwas this very reason—that she was thinkin" of Matthew—that had moved Amy to speaf. Would it not distress him, i he were yet alive, that one in whom lie had such confidence should bo tints disgraced, without due cause, and upon his acco nit. And if he were dead was it not her duty to sec that Mskeen sense of right was rented " Cannot some watch be Kept, mr Signet over John ltutherford, ao that i -ulltvhe cannot escape, while on tho othe EaSif innocent, bis good name may not looked inquiry Mr Brail, who nodded assent. ft ' can »c 10"N^lndeed, Mr Signet—" pleaded

A But he shopped her with a wave of his hand "That part of the affair is a more

bagatelle." ho said, and not worth speaking about—Mr Brail and I are now about to confer on the main matter. At a future time, probaMy very soon, we shall he glad of your advice and assistance ; but just at iirst—my friend George here is very out spoken, Miss Thnrlow—and not knowing Mr Helston as we do, h« might say things to wound you. It is his professional duty to look at what has happened from every point of view."

" I understand," said Amy, with an in> voluntary sigh, and rising from her seat. " I thank you very much, Mr Signet, for your kindness and consideration. There is nothing^ for_ me to do but to go home— though it will not seem like home now.'1

The thought of what must needs bo happening there, if Matthew had hot re turned, and now that Mr Barlow had gono back with such ill tidings, made her heart sink within her. ''You will let us know directly — immediately — that you have any certain news ; oven if it is bad news—which God forbid—you will let us know ?"

" I shall communicate with you. Miss Thurlow. in any case,' said Mr Signet, pressing her hand, and leading her to the door, where the cub was waiting ; " I shall do my best in this matter, you m:iy be very sure, and not only for my own sake. Keep a good heart, and hope for the best." Two] advico was good, and Amy did her best to follow it, but it was very difli cult. Her whole soul was by this time darkened by the shadow of a great fear ; and vet it was so important that her eyes should he tearless and lier voice firm when she came face to face, with her no news, to Sabey.

(To be continued.)

FOR THE LADIES.

FASHION NOTES.

Raw silk underwear is much in use,

Rich chenille fringes, mixed with tinted beads of every description, are in the height of favour for dress trimmings.

Some of tho latest gloves of Danish kid are decorated with tiny butterflies made of gold or silver tinsel and chenille in raised work.

The screw earring of solitaire diamonds, and the hoop camngmarleof pearlsorfiligree work in tine gold, are the only bouclcs d'orcillc just now in vogue. A favourite costume of high ceremony this winter for the stately dowagers is a velvet court-trained princesse dress, over a petticoat of white satin, trimmed white lace, or/pearl and crystal fringes.

A last year's princesse dress or polonaise may be made to look new and stylish by adding a tablicr or plastron and collar and cull's of Oriental surah or Turkish cash mere in subdued colours. Children's dresses can be freshened in like manner, substituting, if desired, a tunic or scarf for the plastron. Rough, shaggy materials in deep colours of brown, green and royal blue, snot with gold, are made into "very stylish and distingue looking Camisurd or French refugee cloaks, now so popular with ladies given to unique style in dress. These cloaks are lined with plush and trimmed with eight-inch bands of ziblinette. Coiffures are extremely simple and are worn quite low in the neck in coils or plaits, while the brow is covered with waves of high rings of hair. A semi-wreath of flowers is worn upon the left side of the head, while the corsage bouquet is placed low upon the left side of the bodice, in clining toward the shoulder. A hardened wretch.-" Does our talk disturb you ?" said one of a company of talkative) ladies to an old gentleman sit ting in a railroad station the other after noon. " JXo ma'am," was the naive reply, "I've been married nigh on to 40 years." A piece of music is called "Polonaise Brilliante," a solo. A queer notion, to write a piece of music about an article of feminine wearing apparel — a brilliant polonaise. Next we'll have a marcii called " Overskirfc Gorgeouse," or a duet entitled " Punier Magnificcnte," or something that way, A new invention as a preventive of neu ralgia or rheumatism Is a pine-wnol vest which fits, the body closely. In addition to their being made of this fabric, whoso heat ing properties are well known, they are lined with chamois leather, which is per forated so as not to check or retard the natural action of the skin.

Chenille fringes, flowers and foliage are exceedingly fashionable. Some very beau tiful branches of hawthorn, golden rod, geranium blossoms, marguerites, golden hearted pansies and roses in exquisite shadings of colour, mingled with gold and silver tinsel, are worn upon reception or opera bonnets of white or tinted plush. A dainty walking-dress for a little girl of 12 is made of peacock-blue cashmere, the skirt trimmed with two deep kilting' of the cashmere, and double-sashes andbalayeuse of Oriental striped satin. The graceful little Breton bodice has a shirred plastron of the narrow striped material, and the Hun garian coat, to wear outs;de, has a Stuart collar, deep cuffs, and pockets of the same bright go"ds. . The French are still " running the mother-in-law jokes. "Le Figaro ' says : "Atraveller tnrning to his neighbour, said : I think sir, it would be prudent to shut the window on your side; it admits a current of air really dangerous to your mother-in-law." To which the other re plied with a cruel smile : " I know it. When an ultrafashionable lady can't sud denly mm a street corner without the brim of theaggresation on her head, called a hat for short, rasping the eyes of a man on the opposite side of the street, it is time tor the great public educator called the press to enter an emphatic protest against tne fashion. Young lady—Why are men so slow to offer ladies scats in the 'buses? We will tell you. It doesn't make a man anyriclier or better off in the world to have •■ thank you " said to him, but it makes him feel happier, and the neglect your sweet sex has shown of that little point lms obtained for many of you a chance to stand up in a horse car.

Tll» CONNECTION BETWEEN LUXUBY AND Suicide.-Korae an<i Athens saw suicide come into fashion when effeminacy, ambi tion and the denre of riches prevailed amoWst them ; and modern Europe, having rod in the same steps as the pagan world, and the Romans of Augustus. A CAMEL'S Kick -The camel s kick is a -tndv As it stands demurely chewing the rndand gazing abstractedly at some totally Kin away object, up goes.a hind lU drawn close in to the body, with the ho aiumal's proper senses. I have seen a Kman fired several yards into^a dense crowd by the kick of a camel, and picked up insensible,

A WIFE'S SUSPENSE.

Matties story was simple enough. The orphan girl of a former servant in a wealthy family, Mattie had shared the lessous and the play of the younger daughter of the bouse, until a time came when it was con venient to turn the humble companion adrift to work for herself, It may have been a piece of ill-luck his neighbours ascribed to Drew, that it should have been to his farm the girl came as help to his sister, or it may have been a piece of good nature that made him agree to take undct his roof this pretty lass, untrained for ser vice and educated far above her station.

Drew's widowed sister, Mrs Bankcs, who lived with him, and whose child it was Mattie had come to nurse, amongst other duties too numerous to mention—for there was not one servant kept—Drew's sister ex claimed in despair when the farmer brought home the young lady-like, delicate-looking girl : " We want a strong, hard-working lass ! This one doesn't know her right hand from her left. She is as good as a lady, or as bad, and has never milked a cow in her life 1 What were you thinking of to bring her here ?"

"Ah! that's just my luck; well, we must do the best we can witli her. If the steward had never nicntionei her to me now—but then lie did mention her, and here she is."

There she was, and there she stayed, apt to learn, willing to be taught, grateful for the real kinducss she met with. Mattie was soon the best hand for milking for milos around, and soon devoted to the bnby. Three years passed quietly, and then came the romance of Mattio's life.

Shu was 20 tl at summon. Adam Armit age, a grave man, was fully ten years her senior. A great traveller, a member of the world-renowned scieutltie society', a student and a discoverer —ho was between scientific expeditions refreshing heart and brain by a walkh.g tour through the home countries. Adum's walking tour ended at the farm Drew had taken only a year before, and the dwelling-house it had been found more con venient to inhabit than the smaller build ing on the old laud close lo the road. Mr Armitage found the pure air of the Downs good for him. lie made friends with all the family. To Mattie^it was delightful to meet once more some oue with all trie tricks and manner of the more refined society among which her youth had been passed. Little Hany followed his now friend where ever he went; Harry's mother called him a right-down pleasant gentleman; the farmer callod him a good man.

They all missed him when he went away, Mattie most of all; but the following summer saw him there again, a welcome old friend this time, and no stranger.

Drew, a keen observer of all that went on around him, was not so much tnken by surprise as his sister was when one day to ward the end of this second visit Adam and Mattie were both mysteriously missing. A strong-armed country lass made her ap pearance before night. She was the bearer of a note from Mattie, con fessing that she and Mr Armitage were married, and hoping the servant sent might supply her place.so that no one would bo inconvenienced. Drew might shake his head and look thoughtful, but Mr Armitage Avas his own master, and it was not the hrst time a j>en tleman had married a country lass. Besides, the deed was done and past recall, They had gone quietly to one of the churches in the town, whence the sound of bells lloated up to the farm, and had been married by special licensi). Adam had taken a lodging for his bride, and they had passed one brief, bright week of happiness, then oue morning tiny walked quietly back together, Mattie'blushing and smiling and looking so lovely and ladylike in a simple dress that she used to wear before she came to the farm that they hardly knew her. A.dam explaiued that he meant to leave his wife for two days—no more—iv the care of her old friend, at the end of that time hi! would return and fetch her. There were arrangements to make with regard to the scientific expedition about to start im mediately, it would sail without him now, but it behoved him to do his best that his place should be as well filled as might be. There was also his mother to sec, and prepare for receiving Mattie. Mattie walked a little|\vay wifc.'j her hus band and the farmer along the breezy up lands, and then Adam sent her back, and hastened his own steps in the direction of the little station at the foot of the Downs, When he came again, he said, laughing, that it would be from B station, and that he would drive iv a fly through the Stonedene gate and along the track, the only approach to a carriage road leading to the farm.

Mattie went away smiling, as he meant she should do, and only pana d now and then to look after the two men as long as they remained in sight. It was natural that she should feel a little afraid of this unknown lady, Adam's mother, but that fear was the only shadow of Matties path. It was an idyl, a poem, as true m a love story as the world has seen, that had written itself there in this out-of-the-way spot on the lonely Sussex downs. On the third day they might look for Adam to return, but that day passed, and many another, until the days were weeks, and the weeks months, and lie neither came nor wrote. Mattie remembered now when she had turned to luok back for tbe last time upon that homeward walk she had seen his figure distinct against the sky for an instant, and in the next lost it entirely as he passed out of sight over the swelling lines of hills. Just so she seemed to have lost Mm in one in3tant out of her life. And yet she never lost faith and trust in him ; never ceased to watch for his coming again. Drew, after a time, either goaded to the step by his sister's loud-voiced arguments, or prompted to ii by his own sen^e of what was due to Mattie, not only took pains to ascertain that the marriage was real enough but further pains of searching for and find ing the address of Adam Armitage in Lon don. It was strange how this girl and her former mas cr both trusted Adam in the face of his inexplicable silence ; and in the face of even a more ominous discovery made by Drew when in town—the discovery that he'had never mentioned Matties name to his mother or alluded to Mattie at all. As for Adam, Mrs Armitage had declared he was not with her then, that she could not n-ive an address that would find him, an assertion that conlinned Mattie in the idea that he had so often spoken to hey. As autmn pa°sed and thu evenings grew chill with the breath of the coming winter. Matties health seemed to fail r lne deep melancholy that oppressed her threatened to break the springs of life. In order to escape Mrs Banks the girl took to lonely wanderings over the Downs, wanderings that ended always atStonedene, until, with, the instinct of a wounded ammul that seeks, to bear its pain alone, or from the ever-pre sent recollection of the last words of Adam, when he said that it was by way of Stone dene that he|would return, she besought the farmer to send away the woman in charge of the house and allow her to take her yielded to the wish of the wife whose heart was breaking with the pain of absence and the mystery of silence, and

Maggie on this foggy day had already lived months at Stonedene, on the watch always for the coming of Adam.

The fog increased instead of diminished with the approach of evening. Drew conld not see his own house until lie was close to it; as he remarked, the myatcry of Matties affairs was not more impenetrable than the vo'l hiding all natural objects just then. When he had put up the horse and gone in to tea, Mrs Bankes, as she bustled about preparing the meal which Matties deft little fingers had been wont to set with so much quietness as well as celerity, did not fail to greet him with the question : " Well, how is she?"

"She" had come to mean Mattic in the vocabulary of the farmer and Ins sister.

"About as Hsual in health," Drew re plied, lifting the now five-year-old Harry to his knee, "but troubled in mind though, to be sure, that is as usual, too." "islie is out of mind," exclaimed Mrs Bankes, irritably. " Everyone but your self knows that; and if you do not know it, it is only because you are as mad as she is—or any one might think so from the way you go on." "Nay, nay," said Drew, gently, as the butter dish was set upon the table with n vehemence that made the teacups rattle. "There are no sigs of madness about Miittio— unless you call her trust in her husband by so harsh a name."

" Husband ! A pretty husband, indeed ! I have no patience with him, nor you either. As if it were not a common tale enough ! It would bo Letter to persuade the girl to come home and got to work again than to encourage her in her fancies, while you pay another servant here—and times so hard as they are." . "I was thinking to-day," the fanner went on, floftly passing his broad palm over the blonde head of the child on his knee, "I was thinking as I came along of how it stands written : ' He that lovcth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen ?' "

At that moment the shadowy form of some one going to the front door passed the window, against which the fog pressed closely. Drew sot little Harry on his feet, and rose slowly, listening with intsutness and a surprised look that made his sister ask what ailed him. "Rover!— the dog does not bark, who—by the mercy of heaven, it is the man himself I" cried Diow, as the door opened with a suddenness that caused Mrs liankes to drop the plates upon the brick floor. For Adam Armitage stood upon the threshold. Adam, pale and worn, a shadow of liis form self, but hiself un mistakably. Adam looked around the room as though seeking some one, smiled in his old fashion at Harry, gave a half-curious, half-indif ferent glance to Eliza Bankes, as he turned to the fanner.

"Drew," he said simply, "where is my wite ?"

•'Mrs Armilngo is waiting for you at Stonedene, sir. There was some talk of your coming back that way." " Waiting ?" Adam threw up his hands with a passionate gesture. "What can she have thought ?" " She has thought you were gone, after all, upon that voyage, and that your letters miscarried. Sometimes slio has thought you were dead, Mr Armitogc, but never -'' Drew broke off and held out his hand. " We knew you could explain what hap pened, sir," he concluded. Adam tlrow his hand across his eyes in the way a man might do who has lately been roused from a bad dream md has some trouble to collect his thoughts.

"That has happened," lie said, "which if it had not befallen me myself, and be come a part of my own experience, I should iind it difficult to believe possible. A strange thing has happened"—here the old smile they remembered so well broke the light over his face—"and yet a thing not more strange, as the world goes, than that you —I say nothing of Mattie—but that you should have trusted me throughout. I detected no distrust in your voice, no doubt in your eyes—not even when they first met mine just now. They called mine a rare case, friend; they might say the same of your belief in me. But—Stoncdene, did you say? Walk with me there and hear my talc as we go." "This evening, and in this mist, and you, sir, looking far from well," began Eliza ISankes. " Mattie has waited so long already that one night more will make but little difference."

" One night, ono hour more than I can help, will make all the difference hetwcen wilful wrong, and a mis'ortunc that bas fallen on all alike,"' said Adam. He would not be dissuaded from setting out at once, and in another miaute the two men were pursuing their way through the driving mist, Adam talking as they went. After parting from Mattie he had taken a train to London, where, arriving in due course, he drove in a cab to his mother's house in Grosvenor-strcet, wi'hin a few yards of which his cab overturned, and Adam was thrown out, falling heavily on his head. After a long interval, however, he opened his C3res and recovered con sciousness, and as ho did so-slowly at lirst, but after a time more fully—the astounding discovery was made that hia memory was entirely gone. However, this state was ono from which so said his friends, science could at will recall him, and the operation necessary to restore Adam to himself was deferred only until his health permitted of its being attended by a minimum risk. It was while Adam was in the state above described that Drew had seen Mrs Armitage. A woman, she will ill pleased to hear that he had married a farm servant; for that was the one fact that, stripped of Drew's panegyrics upon Matties superior education and refined manners, alone stared her in the face.

Hastily resolving that there was no need to embitter her own life by an attempt to recall to her son this ill-fated marriage, she did not hesitate to deceive the unwelcome visitor. Change of scene had been ordered for the patient, and before Drew called at the house in Grosvenor-street tor the second time, Adam and his mother were gone. It was in Paris, months after that, that the operation was finally successfully performed, and the first word of Adam was Matties name, The first offort of his newly recovered powers was to relate to his mother the history of hfa mairiage and to write to his wife.

"God grant the suspence han neither killed nor driven her mad !" he^exebimed. It was to his mother'sbblind' lin d tho letter was confided, and with^at exclamation ringing in her ears J^ a Arm ltllgc stoo() beside the brazier, ivied with charcoal and burning in the/ all tcroorn of their apartment, in the Champa Elysecs. She was not a bad woman, buifthe temptation was too strong tjv^aio^Vthis affair to unravel it elf and what, would turn uh. If the girl were dead, why no harm has been done, and this terrible mistake of her son was icctified at once. If the ot»>er alternatives were to prove true and Mattio had lost her senses, Adam would be equally freo from her or measures could be taken to insure so desirable a result. Mrs Armitago tore the letter into pieces, and waited by the brazier until the fragments were charred. Adam asked no awkward rjuestion.and was not even surprised at receiving no answer

to his epistle, since in it he announced his coming. The first day his health admitted of it he set out alone for England. Such was the Btory. "When Drew had told of his ellbrts to seek Adam, and had mentioned that no letter had reached Mattie, Adam was at no loss to understand the part his mother had played. But he never spoke of it then or at any future time.

The house-door at Stonedeno stood ajar ; evening had closed in now, and the chilly fog was still abroad, but the iigure at the gate was dimly di-ccinible. Adam hastened his stops. "Fur heaven's sake, sit, be careful; the suddenness of it miuht turn her brain," cried Drew, laying a detaining hand upon the arm of his companion. Adam gently shook him off. "Suddenness," he repeated. "Aye.it ia sudden to you—and to Mrs Banker, but for me and for Mattie, who«e thoughts are day and night, night and day, full of each other, how can it bo sudden ?"

Drew stood still and Adam went on alone until his footsteps became audible and Mattie turned her head to see him standing »t her side.

Adam had been right, no fear was there for Matties brain. All excitement and surprise came afterward". At the first sup reme moment and with a satislied sigh, as of a child who has got oil it wants, Mattie held out her arms to him with one word—

" Husband !"

As dam drew her to him it was not only the mist of the darkening evening that blinded Drew, so that for a moment or two he saw neither of them.

People say Drew's luck lias turned from that (by Stondono found a tenant. It is newly done up and prettily furnished now; Mr and .Mrs Armitago come down here onco or twice a year with their children* for a breath of fresh and to visit old friends.

Interesting Reading for Ambi tious Young Men.

Exceptionalta" long beards have always attracted v good deal of al tention, and liis. toryrecordi many iustancoa of tho kind. Haulier Yon Tolborg, a German knight and counsellor of Maximilian li (il. 1575), re joiced in ii beard which reached t ■ his feet, and from there again to his waist. John Mayo, tho celebrated painter of the six teenth century who accompanied Charles V. in his campaign, had a beard so long, that, although he was a tall man, it would hang upon the ground when he stood upright; he wore it, therefore, fastened to his girdle. George Killingworth, Bent by Queen Mury ns one oljhcr agents in 1055 to Czar Ivan the Terrible, is said to have had a beard five feet two inches long. In the olden time, when every part of the body had its price, tlie beard was valued at twenty shillings, a large sum for the time—while the loss of n leg was valued at twelve shillings. We can easily imagine at periods when tho beard and whiskers were looked upon as ornamental, falso beards were substituted for tho genuine article. Pedro IV. of Aragon (135) found himself compelled to prohibit his Catalonian subjects from wearing false beards. Hut the most singular substitute is the golden beard, which Ghryscstemus says was worn by the Kinvs of Persia. Sue tonius says the same of Caligula, the Itoman Emperor. According to Andreas Fnyn the Kings of France of the lir.st dynasty woro benrds entwined with gold threads. Duke Kenatus if Lorraine woro at the funeral of Charles of Burgundy, who died at Nancy in 1547, aboard of gold thrend hanging down to his girdle. As Jupiter was .sometimes adorned with a golden beard, the phrase anrcam barbam lathers was equivalent to saying Dcum ease. Thus we read in Notes and Queries that the Sheriff of Canterbury paid three shillings and fourpence for wear ing a beard. In the first year of Elizabeth cvTry beard of above a fortnight's growth was taxed three shillings and sixpence ; but the law was too absurd to be enforced. The duty imposed on beards of Peter the Great was a rouble (about three shillings) ; this tax met with a fate similar to that of Elizabeth's and was soon cancelled. The development of the beard as well as the hairi ness of the body, differs not merely in different races, but also in families of the same race. In Europe and a portion of Asia beards prevail, until we co beyond India, when gradually beards disappear, as in the case of Siamese, Ch'ue?e and Japa nese.—"Harper's Weekly."

How it Feels to be Hanged.

Yesterday several gentlemen -were speak ing of capital punishment, when J. M. MeNeely, one of the most prosperous tanners in Pulaski County, remarked: "Gentlemen, so far as the punishment is concerned, hanging docs not amount to anything. I was hung once till I was in sensible, and the feeling could (scarcely be called pain." The bystanders thought he was joking. "lam in earnest," he con tinued. "In 1805, just at the close of the war, robbers camo to my house in search of money. As a precaution against such visitors I had given two watches and CeOdols to a trusty colored woman to keep for me until times improved. I was lying in bed, crippled. Several men entered the room, and, without saying anything, put a rope round my neck and began to pull. I told them that if they were going to huDg me to wait until I could get my crutch, so that I could walk to the hanging place. They took me out On the gallery, and throwing the rope over a cross-beam, asked me for my money. I told them I had none. They drew me up. For a moment I experienced a slight choking sensation and then 1 became insensible. When I became conscious, after being taken down, I was sitting on the steps. The sensations while regaining consciousness were very much lilce those experienced during a nightmare."—Little Rock Gazette.

The Density oe the Earth.—Efforts Live been made, at all time in which the spirit of investigation can bo said to have existed, to ascertain the condition of the interior'of the earth. There has been no lack of unfounded assumptions on the sub ject, and fanciful hypotheses were held even down to a period in which correct conclu sions had been reached upon it -to the bediming of the nineteenth century. Alex ander yon Huinboldt relate* that he and Sir Humphrey Davy were several times in vited by Captain Symmcs to join an expe dition into the interior of the onrth, which was represented as a hollow sphere having a large opening at the eighty-second paral lel ofnorth latitude. The idea of the exis tence of a hollow space within the earth was sot at rest by the measurement of the average density of the planet, and the con trary view was advanced that the globe is a mass of great specific gravity. The consti tuency of this nnss, wheth'T it is lluidor solid, with only local bubl)le-li!<e spaces, filled with fluid matter, has not been deter mined ; but the calculations that have bnen made contradict the. theory of a wholly iluid interior. Several methods have been adopted for ascertaining the mean density of the earth, to the older of which a more accurate method has been added within a few years.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 25, 1882.

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