THE STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N.Z., JANUARY 13, 1883

SELECTED POETRY.

EVENING SOLACE.

i ho human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silcnoo scaled; The thoughts, tlio hopes, tho dreams, tho pica- Whose'cliarms were broken if revealed. And days may l'llS3 in Bay confusion, And nights in rosy riot fly. Whi'e lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion, The memory of tho past may die.

But there are hours of lonely musing, Such as in evening silence come, When soft as birds their pinions closing. The heart's best feelings gather homo. Then in our souls tlio.-c seems to languish A tcnilor grief that ia not woo: And thoughts that onco wrung groans of Now causo but some mild tours to flow.

And fcolings, once as strong as passions, Float softly back-a faded" dream ; nnr own sharp griefs and wild sensations Tho—lootothers' suffering seem. Oh I when tho heart is freshly bleeding, How long it is for tho time to bo, When through tlio mist of yoara receding, Its woes but live in rovery I

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmor, On bvenlng shado and loneliness; And while the sky grows dim and dimmor, Fe'cl no untold and strange distress- Only a dcopor impulsogiven By lonely hour and diirkoned room, To solemn thoughts that soar to Heaven, Sooking a lif o aud world to come.

THE BRIDE'S TOILET.

"Darnel how tho raomonts go, And tho brido is not ready! Call all hor tiring-maida— Paul, Jean, and Thodlo. Is this your robo, my doar? Faith, but she's steady 1 Tho bridegroom is blessed who gots Such a brave lady.

•'Paretic I that throat is fair; How ho will kiss it I Horo is your kerohief, girl; Did you not miss It? Quiok I don theso llttlo shoos, White as your foot is. Ho, Jean, Saint Gulllotino Loves thoso lino beautios 1

" Now theso long locks must go- Monsiour is waiting. Short is tho hour ho gives To wooing and mating. Thodlo, you fool, tho ahearal— Timo this was ended. Down falls tho golden hair, Onco lovingly tended.

So. from hor prison doors Forth wont tho lady; Silent tho bridegroom stood, Not a sound made ho. Oh, but ho clasped hor oloso !— Twas a bravo lovor. "Danoo.danco La Carmagnole I - ■ -■• ■••■ The bridal is ovor 1" -Ellen Mackay Hutchinson, in Harper's,

MOONRISE.

I saw tho moon rise dim, Over the lonely soa; So softly from tho rim Of vague immensity She stole, I thought her glow A phantom, flickering light; But for:h sho crept, and lo? Dark day was turned to silver night,

And thon, as if sho felt This earth less pure than space. With folds of fllmy veil She masked her shining faco; Could sho havo seen somo woo Upon tbo rocky coast- Some desolating tears Shed ovor faith and honour lost 1

Could sho havo heard a sob, Within tbo twilight vale— A sob that ran along Tho fleeting summer gale ? Or children's cry for broad, Sad voices for tho night? Or oathß of men who dread To look upon to-morrow's light ?

Or, sound and sight far worse Than grief from lips unfed— The drunkard's muttered curso Abovo his victim dead? Beforo tho Bin, tho crime, Tho pain sho glancod upon, Beforo our evil time, That ruddy moon from grief grew wan,

Compassionate, amid Dark clouds, liko a ponsivo nun, Her sorrowing faco sho hid From deeds that man had done. Soft, trooping mists came on, Dissolving into rain, And fast, like pitying tears. Dropped on a planet pierced with pain. —Christian Register.

HALF WAY.

Slow is tho painful ascent up to famo. And few aro the feet that clamber to tho height; Ambitions throngs press at tho mountain's base, Filled with tbo love of glory; and the path That shines above them in tho morning light Soems boautif ul, nor difficult te scale.

But further on, a little hlghor up. Tho easy slope grows broken, and so steep That oaroless foot slip back and losa thoir hold And dizzy brnlnß rool downward and aro lost; And those who press on to tho pausing placo, A little higher, stand with woary limbs ' And aching hearts, just near enough to hear The sneers and hisses of tho crowd below— Tho angry crowd that cannot climb at all, Or, having olimbod, has fallen back again.

Half way they stand upon tbat mountain-side. Whore cold winds blow and looso rooks crumble

down, ' ' ''.'*.. And strango birds beat them with their wide wild wings, i ■•!'...• No longer of the hurrying throng beneath, Not yet of that Immortal few above, How lonely and how all alone are they I

Be not afraid, 0 toilers Up tho height I ..* The gods are very near, though out of sight: 'v?They roach out holpful hands and say "Come higher. All earnest souls must climb if thoy aspire. — Ella Wlieeler, in Boston Transcript.

TWO SUNSETS.

Two sunsb's in the Belf-same year;

Around the self-same sight— The rich ripo earth, the great blue soa, All bathed in lustrous light. The ships wero sailing outand home, A white-winged fairy fleet.: The wavelets danced ashore in glee To kiss my darling's feet. A

Tho sun ia shining now, I know, The soa and earth are bright; But out of earth and sea and light, Is faded all tho light. The sails hang listless on the mast; The soa makes endless moan ; Tho sun seta on a grasslesa grave, , And I walk hero alone. • »

Stenography Superseded.

AH invention is reported from Germany aa being very much talked of, which Is in tended to abolish the art ot short-hand. A machine, called a " glossograph," consists of six levers, forming a sort of csgo, each communicating with [v, tracing pencil, A speaker puts his tongue into the cage. Tbe levers, following fvery movement of the organ of speech, ect the pencils in motion, and theso convey to tho paper an easily legible character corresponding to tbe pro duced sound. Ii is not, however, suggested that the orator or lecturer himself should endeavour to speak with his tongue in a cage-a process which throws the feats of Demnsthoues with pebbles into tho shade. The reporter is to sit in tlris uncomfortable position, and is to repeat the words 'of the speaker as neaily coincidently as he can. Thus the quickest conversation should be taken down with ea«" off-hand. Whether the reporters are to follow the speaker In an audible chorus, wc have not been able to gather : but, presumably, it will be enough if they take due care to wag their tongues in unison.

A Joke That Cost Thousands.

A joke turned out to be a serious tbing a few days ago, costing several thousand dollars. Messrs Jirkins and Brinks, at Popular Hera, in this county, have been runniug a very prosperous steam cotton gin. On Paturday one of the boys came out of jhe lint-room covered with the liut, and, in order to frighten him, another boy struck a match and touched it off. The wind blew the fire into the lint-room, the cotton igni «d, and soon the whole building was in names, Twenty bales of cotton, a large quantity of cofton seed, the engine, gin, and all the machinery were destroyed.— Montgomery " Advertiser and Mail," I

Boys Try to Blow Up a Theatre.

A short time ago several boys, who were foiled in seeing " Unknown," met together in the arcade. One of the boys had in his possession a large bottle of gunpowder, and oji his making known to the rest his inten tion of blowing up the theatre, they agreed 'to try their hand. Tbe powder wastheD strewn on the floor of the arcade and touched off by one of the boys. The pow der not being confined it made no report, {Jut the smoke attracted attention, and the wys wero all arrested. They wero tried before the Recorder, and tho lender fined 'en dollars, or twenty days' imprisonment, —, Augusta (Go.) Chronicle.'' -

THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

By B. L. FARJBON.

AUTHOR OF

" Blades -o' - Grass," "Joshua Marvel," " Bread and Cheese and Kisses,"

" Grif," "London's Heart,"

it-ft, Ac, ibe,

Continued.

" Yhs, my lady. I could say nothing else."

"Give it to mo," she said; " I know she wauta it posted immediately. It doea not matter who posts a letter !" "She said this alittlo impatiently, and very haughtily, for I think I was hesitating. However I could do nothing else but give her tho letter, and as I did not suspect anything wroug, I said nothing of tho ud- ! venture r.« Mdllc. Beatrice, especially as she did not speak of the letter to me. Had she done so I might have explained that her mother had taken it from mc to post, . and quite likely—though I hope I am mis- j taken—the strango and dreadful events that occurred before threo years passed by, might have been avoided. " Tho old lady was very civil to mo after , this, and continually questioned mo about my master. " Ho is very rich, Douise ?" , "Yes, Madamo." " And comes Irom an old family J" " Yes, Madamo." " It. is a pity ha writes books ; but ho is highly respected, is he not, Denise ?" "No gontloman stands higher, Ma dame." " His nature, llenlso—though it Is ex ceedingly wrong in me to ask, for I have had oxperler_c; .f it—his nature is very kind!" ': '". Very kind, Madame, and very noble," '. A hundred questions of this kind wero put to me, sometimes when tho young lady was present, sometimes when tho mother and I wero alone. White this was going on I noticed that Mdllu. Beatrice often came from her mother's room in a state of great agitation, and as if she had boen cry ing, From a man these signs cau be hidden ; from a woman no; a man is too often blind to tho ways of women. lam sure Mr Bilcombo knew nothing of what was passing between mother and daughter; but even if he had known ha would not baveunderstood tho meaning of it; I did not at the time "Well, all at once tho old lady made her appearance amougst u>, with a face in which tbe greatest delight was expressed. Sho talked to the servants quite graciously, and nodded aud smiled, ami did not know what to do to show how amiable she was. ' What a change in the weather 1' we all said. Tbe reason was soon forthcoming. Our master and her daughter were engaged to be married, "We were nono of us sorry; we all liked Mdllc. Beatrico, and it was sad to think that a good old race would die out if Mr , Balcomba remained single all the days of his life. Yes, wo talked over the approach ing marriage, .is did everybody in tho vil lage, with real pleasure, and if food feeling ; aud sincere wishe* could bring happiness, Mr Balcombo and his young and beautiful wife that was to bo could not havo failed to enjoy it. "It is true, Mademoiselle, is it not ?" I asked of her. "I may congratulate you ?" " I am engaged to be married to Mr Bal combe," she said, " if that is what you mean." "Yon will have a good man for your husband, Mademoiselle," I s«d: ''you will be very happy." " But there was something m her manner tbatmado me hope tho approaching change in her condition would not make her proud. It waa cold aud distant, different from the way she had hitherto behaved to me. " So tho old house was gay again ; im provements and alterations woro made ; your boudoir, my lady, was added to tbo villa; where the new ebalot stands, which ha» been built in honour of your visit, a larger summer house was erected, which was afterwards burnt down by Mr Bal combe's own hands. It had a number of rooms in it, and was in itself a most beauti ful residence. Very soon wo were throDgod with visitors, who camo and went, and laughed aud danced, as though lifo wero a perpetual holiday. But Mdlle, Beatrice waa not as light-hearted as before; she moved about slowly, and with a certain sad ness. It was noticed by many. I thought, perhaps,that the contemplation of thcohaogn in h»r life made her more serious, or that she had not yot recovered from the shock of her lather's death. The old lady w.ts in ber glory ; ordering horo and ordering there, and giving herself such airs that one might havejsupposed it wai hcr,and not her daughter, who was ,going to get married. Mc Balcombe gave Mdlle. Beatrice ni cause for disquiet; he was entirely and most completely devbtrd to her, and I am sure that no woman In tho world ever had a more faithful lover. Ho watched her every step, and followed her about with his eyes in a way that would have filled any ordinary woman's heart with delight..... As, for, pre sents, he did not know how to do enough for the beautiful girl who was soon te be his wile j I never saw such beautiful jewel lery as ho had made for her, and ho seemed to be continually, studying what to do to give her pleasuro. If ever a woman ought to have been proud of a man, sho ought t« have been of him. ■■: ". "Well, they were.married, and the day will "never bo forgotten in tho village. Mi Balcombe made : everybody happy—the children, the gtown-up people, tha poor and the well-to-do. New dresses ribbon-, ilaga, flowers, music, and feasting from morning to nl<jht—there was never scan anything like it. Thebrido looked like an angel, and Mr Balcombe's face had a. light in it such asl had never seen before—it shone with joy and full-heartci happiness. In the afternoon they departed; on their honey moon tour, aud tho old lady was left mis tress of tho villa during tho absence of tho newly-married pair. She exercised ber authority in a way that was not pleasing to ns; a disagreeable change was suddenly observable in her, and she domineered over the servants in a most objectionable man her. It was as though she determined to show how superior sho was to those who would have been happy to reive her if she had behaved with reasonable kindness No wondei, therefore, that we looked upon her with dislike, and spoke of it as an evil day when she came among us j but that did not lessen our horror at an accident which be fil her, which led to her deatb. Mr and Mrs Ba'combo had been absent barely three weeks when the old lady going into a dis tant part of the grounds whore workmen were employed building up some rocks to serve as an artificial waterfall.fell into a pit, and was so frightfully bruised and shaken that when sho was taken up,the doctors de clared she could not live another twenty four hours. Letters were immediately sent off to Mr Balcombe, but there was no chance of his receiving them before tbe unfortunate old lady breathed her hist. We did every thing wc could for her, and she took into her head that she would have no one attend to her but me. "'My daughter is fond of you, shesaid -on her death-bed, ' and if I am to die, I must.ask you something first.' ?„" But it was many hours before she could be made to believe that there was no hope for her, and when conviction' was forced upon her, she ciied, in a tone of great bitterness, :'•■! " This is a fa'al house ! First my hus band—now me ! '. Will Beatrice be the next?' ' " And then she bemoaned ber hard tate that she should b»vo to «'io just at the time 1 that a life of pleasure wan spread before l>er. Yes, sic spoke like that, like a youug.S'rl, ! instead of an'old woman with white hair. I A life ot pleasure IDo some people never I think of anolher life—a life of rewards and , punishments, according to their actions in this world? The old lady was one of these,

lam afraid. Three or four hours before she died she said she must speak to me quite alone, aud the doctors accordingly left the room, "' I want you to tell mo the truth, Deniso,' sho said, " I had to place my ear quite closo to her lips to ho:ir her. '■ ' I will toll it you," I said. " ' It would be a terrible sin to dcoeivo a dying woman,' she said. " 1 answered,' I kuow it was, and I would not deceive hor.' " ' Beatrice ought to be hap..y,' sho said ; ' I have done my best to make her so— against her own wishes ; but is it likely sho should know better than her mother ? You believe she will be happy, do you not, Deuisa ?' "I replied tint I could not doubt it; that she had married a good man, against whom no person could breathe a word-« man who commanded respect,aa<l who was lookod upon by the poor us a benefactor, as indoed ho was. "■That Is what I thought,' said tho dying woman ; 'that is what I told hor over and over again. A good man, a kind man, a rich man—a very rich mm. And then we woro under obligation, to bun; there was no other way to repay him.' "I could not help siying to her then tbat when Mr Balcombo rendered a servico to anyone bo did not look for ropaymont "'Ab,' sho said, impatiently, 'but wc arc of noble descent, and wo novor receive favour without returning it All I thought of was my daughter's happiness. And there was tho futuro—hers a* well as mine -it was dreadful to look forward to. Tell mo truly, Deniso -did my daughter ever complain to you ?' " ' *'evor," I answ.rcd. " ' Did sho over say I was a hard mother to her, that I wan hailing her wrong, tbat I was selfish, and thought only of myself I Did she ? Answer me truly,' "' Never, I said, and I woodorod very much to hoar hor speak iv' that way. • She nevor spoko a single word against you. If ska had any such thoughts it would not hnvo been proper for hor to open thorn to me. lam only a servant,' "' That Is truo,' she muttered. ' Boatrlco has prido—yes, thank God, she has pride, and if she suffers can suffer in silenco But why should alio suffer ? sho has everything —everything I I tormont myeolf without cause.' "I was much disquieted by what she said ; myihouahts took a strange direction, and I seemed to see many things in a now light. "A You remomber, Donise,' she snld, presently, 'the letter my daughter gavo you to post—the letter to M. Sabriel? , " ■ Ye», madame ; you took It from mo on the toad, I hope I did not do wrong.' "'You did right,' sho said. 'It does not matter who posts a letter. You did not tell my daughter I took it from you I' " 'No, madame,' "'You are faithful aud judicious,'she said, but her praise gavo mo no pleasure ' If l had lived I would have rewarded you. You must not repeat to my daughter or Mr Balcombo what 1 havo been saying to you. Promise me.' " I gave hor the promise, and then she sdd perhaps she would give mo a mossatre to dodver to her daughter, her last mo? ---8 ige; but she must think of it first, and if she forgot it I was to usk her for it a little wbilo before sho died. After that sho was quiet, and spoke to no one. A couple of hours passed, and 1 asked tho doctors whether sho had long to live. They said she could not live another hour, I thon told them that sho had asked mo to remind her of a message sho wished me to give to hor daughter, and whether it was right I should diiturb hor. They said that the wishes r.f the dyiug should bn respected, and that I should try to mako her under stand that death was very near. 1 put my face again vory close to hers. " ' Can you bear me ?' I asked. " ' Who are you?' sho >aid. " Her words were but a breath, and I ciuld only understand them by watching tho movements of her lip<. "'I am Denise.' " 'Ah, yes,' »ho replied, 'Deniso, that my daughter is fond of.' " 'You wisbed to give me a moisago to your daughter.' "'I don't know what it was. I have dono everything for tho best. Beatrice said I might live to repent it, but Bee how wrong she was.' Aud prcsoally sho said, ' Deniso, whon my daughter comes home ask ber to forgive mo.' "Tint is nil sue said; alio did not live to are the sun rise. " Mr and Mrs Balcombo arrived at the villa before she was buried. It waa a •hocking interruption to thoir honeymoon, and their appearance showed how much they suffered It was as if tho whole bourse ot their lives had boen turned; tears took the place of niniles, sorrow of joy, aud how dili-rent was tho appearance of the vidage I No feasting, no music and dancing; everybody was serious and sad. And all wilhin one nhort month I "I gavo Mrs B*lcombo her mother's dying message. Who*i she heard the words, such a smile camo upon her lips as I hoped nevor again to see upon a human face, it was so bitterly scornful and des pairing. '"It is too late for forgiveness,' sho said, and not ano:her word passed between us on the Subject. "For many days after the funeral the house was very quiet. Mrß Balcombe djd not wear mourning for her motbor, nor did her husband wi.-h hor to do so. I remember his saying to hor, ' with some races white is the emblem of mourning, not lor tbat reason, Beatrice, but becauso it so well be comes you, I like you best in white." "Now, as timo went on, we all. thought thitt the sadness which weighed upon Mrs Balcombe's heart, and which Seemed to pnt lead into hor feet, would naturally pass away, but weeks and months elapsed and she remained tho same. There used to be' a colour In hor cheek*; it wa« all gone now —her face w_b as white as milk. Her eyes used to sparkle and brighten, but now there was never to be seen any gladness in them; and »he vrbo used to emile t>o o ten now smiled no more, She mo^ed about like one who was walking slowly to hor grave Mr Balcombe, more thai rvcr dovotod to her, made great efforts to arouse her, but she methim with coldness, nnd when ho spike to har she simply answered ' Yes,' or 'No;' of her own prompting sho never ad drc'sed him, and she did nothing whatever to make his home cheerful or happy. This weighed upou his spirits, as it would upon the spirits of any man, and during those times I often saw him gazing u;nm her from a distanco, when sho was walking in tho grounds, with a look in his face which de noted how troubled he was. Then as if some good thought had suddenly occurred to him. ho would join her ana endeavour to entice her into convorsati >n; but sho answer* d blm only when she was compelled, and ho becamo so chilled by hor manner that soon he himself would grow silent, and they would paca lho garden round and round for on hour together in the most complete silence. It hurt oun to see it. Tlioy were nevor heaid to quarrel, and be cause the little thoy said to each othor was said in a gentle way. mado things moie oppressive. A storm now and then is natural and good ; it clears the air, aud the sun always shines when it is over; but here a silent siorm was brooding which never burst, and the only signs of it were seen ia the sad faces of those who were suffering, and who did not deserve to sutler. But it could not last for ever, and though I trembled to think of it, I felt it would be a relief if something violent would occur. "Gradually his wife's strange conduct caused Mr Balcombe to withdraw himself from her society, and he took re'uge in hia study again. There, as in times gone by, he lived for days and woeks, reading, writing, and walking up and down in deep thought. His wife never intruded herself upon him ; she never approached him. It was a long while before he entirely gave up his endea vours to win her back to cbeei fulness and happiness, but you cannot soften stone with kind words.and he could not melt her heart with them. '' Imagine what the house was, my lady, and how we all felt, who loved our master, aud would have loved our lady too it the had allowed us. Cold as she wits to us, we could not help pitying her. For my own part I used to think I would rather live iv a hut with a quarrelsome husband who would . beat and starve me than lead such'a life aa my master and mistress were leading.

" Once more, after many, many months had passed in this dreadful way, my master suddenly resolved to make another attempt to alter things for tho better. He locked up his study, and courted his wife with the persevcrauco and tho love oi a lover. It was really so,my lady. He gathered posies for her, and placed them on hor desk and dressing table, Ho spoko cheerfully to her, taking uo apparent notice of her silence and reserve, I.lc strove in a thousand delicate little ways to bring pleasure into hor lifo. ' Wo will ride out to-day,' ho would say, 1 Very well,' site would answer. Ho would assist her into the saddle, and they would ride away, they two alono, he animated by but one desire to make hor happy—and tiny would return after soma hours, the mnstor with an expression of suffering in his face, which ho would sttivo in vain to hide, and she, sad, reigned, and uncom plaining. But that silence of hers 1 that voice so seldom heard, and, when beard, so gontlo, and soft, and pathetic I I would rather havo been beaten with an oak stick every day of my lifo than havo been com piillod to endure it, as ho was compelled. For thero was no relief or escape for him exept in the doing of what it was not in his naturo to do—to bo downright cruel to her, and to find another woman to love him. He would have had no difficulty in this, had ho been so minded. Still ho did not relax his efforts to alter things for tho bettor, no bought beautiful books, and dogs, and pet animals for her, he forgot nothing a man could possibly think of. Ho had often spoken to hor of inviting frionds to the villa, but sho never encouraged him. Now, howovor, ho made up hia mind without consulting her, and in a short time wo were again overrun with company. She was tho mistress of the houso, and It would have been sinful In her to have neglected her duties as Mr Bal combe's wife. It was chiefly youog people who came to the villa, and among them one day appeared M. Gabriel, the artist who painted that picture

CHAPTER XVI. MOTHER DENISE CONCLUDES HKR STOBY. "At about this time It was generally known that Mr Balcombo oxpectcd to be come a father within the next three or four mouths, and somo people considered it atrange that he should have selected the eve of an event so important for the cole biation of social festivities. Othors ex plained it by saying it was natural that Mr Balcombo should desire that his wife should bo in an atmosphere of happiness on such au occasion. I was of that opinion myself. Innooont langhter, musio, uhocr ful society—what better kind of medicino is there in tbe world ? But it did not ap. pear to do my lady good, hho moved ab.ut listlessly, without heart and without spirit, as it scorned, and not until M. Gabriel appeared ww any change observ ablo in her. l'he manner in which she re ceived him was sufficiently remarkable, I was present at tho lime, aud my lady waa giving mo some in.tructioni. Mr Bal combo and a strango gentleman camo towards us; they wero conversing with animation, "Beatrice," said Mr Ba'combo, "lot me introduce M. Gabriel to you, a friend whom I havo not met for years." " Sho looked at them and bowed, and whou she raised her head I saw that her face and neck were crimson; her eyes, too, hud an angry light in thorn. M. Gabriel uls'i, whoso natural complexion was florid, turned deathly wbito bs his eyes felt upon her. vvhoiher Mr *a'combo observod those t-igns I canuotsay ; they were plain enough to mo, and Jl said to myself, |'Theso two havo met before to-day.' "My lady turned from her husband and thoir ucw guest without a word, and taking my arm walked into a retired part of the grounds, and when wo were alono sho s #ooned dead nws.y It was fortunate that I was with her, otherwise thoro might have been a sc«ne. 'lho impression I had ulrcady recoived of ._, Gabriel and my lady being known to each other was confirmed, and 1 deemed it piudont and an act of faith ful servico to my lady not to call or run for as'LUnce. Sue recovered in my arms, and looking round with a frightened air, aaked if any person but 1 had seen her taint. I answered ' No.' For a moment I thought she had an intention of confiding in mo, but she said nothing more than ' Thank you, Daiißc Let no ono know I havo beon ill; it is nothing.' And thou Bho went into the house. "After that, tho«o was no perceptible difference in hor mnunor towards M, Gabriel than towards her other guests, but I, whose eyos were in a certain way opened, could not belp seolng how M, Gabriel watched her every movement aud overy ex pression on hor faco. The summor-houso which I have mentioned to you, my lady, »s, burnt | down by '.Mr Balcombe's own hands, was gtvan over to M. Gabiiol; it contained five rooma, one a fine lofty apart ment, which M. Gabriel turned into a studio, in which ho painted and spent a good deal of time. There Mr Balcombo would join him, and if appearances went fur anything, passed many happy hours. About tbreo weeks after M, Gabriel came to the villa, I saw Mr Balcombe and my lady enter this summer houso to.ether; they remained there for a coupla of hours, and it was spoken of that M. Gabriol was painting my lady's portrait. From that time my lady's visits to the summer houae were frequent, at first alwaya in her husband's company, but after wards occasionally alone. One day she said to me: "' Denise, I wish you to toll mo some thing ?' "«Whatever is in my power, madame,' I replied. " • And not to speak of it,' sho said. "'Certainly not,'l answered, 'if you say it Is not to be spokon of.' I "'loan trust yon,' she said altera pause. ' One morning, shortly after my poor fattier diod, I gave you a letter to post for me in Geneva.' : " 'Yes, madame,' I said, and it flashed upon me liko a stroke of lightning that the letter Bhe referred te was addressed to M. Gabriel, Noror till that moment had I thought of it, I " • Did you post tho letter for me Deniic, as I desired you J' ;", Her voice was calm, but I know that she was inwardly muoh agitated. " ' Madame,' I said trembling, 'I will toll you the truth.' "*lt is what I wish to hear, Deniso. Do not tremble ; mistakes happen without our being able to help it—even fatal mistakes sometimes. I saw you drive away with the letter, Denise. You did not lose it ?' " 'No, madame. I bad not gone far on the road to Geneva beforo your good mother overtook mo.' " 'Ah,' she said, 'I remembor—l remem ber.' " 'Tho letter,' I continued, 'was in my hand, and madame your mother spoke of it as a letter you had givon mo to post in Genova ; she said sho anew you wished it posted immediately, and that, as sho would be in Geneva a full hour beforo me—which was true —she would put it in the post her self,' "And you gave ber the letter, Denise ? " 'Yes madame.' "'Did sho desire you not to mention to mc that she had taken the letter from you?' j "'No, madame; but on hor death bed ' " . " I hesitated, and my mistress said, 'Do not fear, Denise, you did no wrong. How should you know that a mother would con spire against her daughter? t'n her deathbed my mother spoke of that letter." " Yes, madame; and asked me if I told you she had taken the letter {from me. I answered no, and she said I had done right Madame, in telling you this I am breakiug thep!omisel gave her. I hopo to bo for given." "It is right that you should tell tbe truth, when I ask you for it, about an affair I entrusted to you. Had you'told me ef your own accord it would have been a sin." "lean see, Madame, that I should not have patted with the letter; 1 am iraly sorry." " The fault was not yours, Denise, tbe wrong-doing was not yours. We will say nothiug more outlie suoject." ".-* ud it was never mentioned again by either of us, although we both thought of it often enough. It waa cosy for uio to arrive at an understanding of it. M. Gabriel and my mistress had been lovers j and had been patted and kept apart by my

lady's mother. The old lady had played a false and treacherous part towards her daughter, and by so doing had destreyed the liappinesa of her life. Whether my lady thought that Mr Balcombe himself bad joined in tho plot against her I cannot say; but I was sure that he was as inno cent of the mattejr, as much a victim to the arts and wiles of a schemiog old woman, as the unfortunate lady ho had married. Tho motive of the treachery was plain. M. Gabriel was poor, a struggling artist, with his place to make in the world; my master waa rich—money and estates were his, aud tho old woman believed she would livo to enjoy them if she could bring about a marriage between bitn and her daughter. Sue succeoded—teo well did sho succcod, and she mot with her punishment. Though she,was dead in her grave, I had no pity foi'iher; and her daughter, also, thought of her with bitterness, What raiseiy is brought about by tho mad worship of money, which fills some persons' souls I As though hearts count for nothing I

"I did not open my mouth to n single living being; I kept tho secret which only three persons knew—l, my lady, and M. Gabriel. For after tho conversation be tween my lady and myself, which I have just related, the behaviour of my mistress towards M, Gabriel underwent a change, she was gracious and familiar with him; ihoy walked ent frequently together ; she was moro often in his studio than before Following in my thoughts tho course of ovents I felt sure that explanations had passed betvvoen them, and that thoy were satisfied tbat noither had been intentionally falso to the other But what good could come of this better understanding ? Misohiof was in the air, and no ono saw it but myself, My mistress rocovored hor cheorfulnoss: the colour camo back to her face; her eyea wore brighter; life onco more appeared pleasant to her. Mr Balcombe waa delighted ;he was the one most truly deserving of pity, he was so filled with love for his beautiful wlto. But I seemed to hear the thunder behind the fair clouds, aad I dreaded the moment when suspicion' would enter his mind. As my lady's time to become a motbor drew near many of the guests took their departure ; but M. Gabriel remained, I Nothing could be clearer than that ho and Mr Balcombo wero close friends and that my matter had a great otteem tor the artist. He was very clever, and I often heard it said that he would rise to distinc tion. It us-d to surprise ni the rapidity with which he would paint; hia sketches very beautiful they were—were bung every where about the house, and everybody saog his praises. Be was the very reverse of Mr Balcombo. He sang, ho danced, he waa a fine musician ; there was not a sub ject ho was not ready to couverso upon. If it camo to deep learning and scholarship I havo no doubt Mr Balcombe held the first place, but my master was 'never eagor, as M. Gabriol was, to display his gifts. M. Gabriel wai a moat brilliant gentleman in society; Mr Balcombe was grave and re served, and could not win his way to a lady's heart as quiokly as his friend. In deed, lv did not care to try. Theso things are In the nature of a mas, and one plays for the mere pleasure of winning while another docs not think it worth his while. M. Gabriel, as I havo said, was a quick painter, but my lady's portrait hung upon his hands He did not seem able to sathfy himself, ond when Master Arthur was born his mother's picture was still unfinished in M. Gabriel's studio.

" Of cou'se tho birth of the hoir was now tho most important event; ev-rything gavo way to it. Mr Kalcombe'a happiness was writton on hia face, and mine would hn.ve beeu complete had M. Gabriel left the villa But he remained, and while ho was near my hrly I kuow that sterni-clouds were not far off lv a few w-eks my lady got about again : sho was so delicate and weak that tbo doctors woulJ not allow hor to nurse h«r baby, I r.gretted this; had her child drawn lifo frem hir breast it might have made a difference in her own life. It is hard to bclievo thnt so joyful on event as the birth of their first child should not have drawn my lady' and her husband closer to gethor; it is, however, tho truth; tbey were no nearer to each other than thoy had hcoubiforo. Not Mr Balcombe's fault; he did everything in. his power to win tho heart of bis wi'c.but he might as sou have hoped to melt a rock with kind words as to gain a lovo that was (iven to another. Tho obild throve, and whm he was.a year old, the portrait of his mother was completed—tbe picture that is hanging on tho wall before us. M. Gabriol wont away. I thanked God for it; but he returned after an absouce of a few wecks.und took up his old quarters In tho summer house. While he was absent my lady felt Into htr former habits of list- IrssncßS; when ho returned she revived and becamo animated and gay; he was liko tho sun to a floww. Now,it may have boen this chango iv her, which was so sud den and marked as to force ittolf upon the attention of a leg*, keen observer than Mr Balcambe, or It may have beon the wicked, Inconsiderate remarks of one of our lady visitors-a lady who spoko ill-naturedly aud spitefully of every poison she knew— but certain it is, from somo causo or other, Mr Balcombe's suspicions becamo excited, The moment I dreaded had come ; Mr Bal combe was in doubt whether his wife was faithful to him,

A more cruel thought never entered the mind c. man; nnd as false as it was cruel. Mrs Balcombe was a pure woman, who believed herself to have been basely wronged; but deep as was her unhappiness, sho was a vlrtuons wife. As I hope for salvation this is my firm belief. But how dan I blame my master J Smarting with a grief which had sucked all tbe light out of his days, which bad poisoned his life and his hopes, trusting as he had trusted, de ceived as he had been deceived, with every offer of love refused and despised—a man may well bo pardoned for the doubt which now took possession of him. He planned out his course, and steadily followod it without betraying his leellngs ; he watched his wife and his mend; ho gave them evenr. opportunity of being together; he notUwi every look that passed between them; |0 he could not fail to see that tho feelings tbey entertained for each other wore s'rongor than the ordinary foelings of friend- ] ship between a man and a woman. I know, ilso, that ho discovered tint Mra Balcombo before she married him had accepted M. Gabriel as her lover. This in itself,was sufficient for him. Under such circum stances, it was, in bis npiuiou, a sin for my 1 -dy to plight her faith to him ; the words uaod a', thn altar were, ti such a man some thing more thau words, the meaning they conveyed was most sacred, and solemn, and binding. To utter them, with the image of another man in her heart, was a fearful and unpardonablo crima Those perjurier. arc common enough, I have heard, in the great world which moves outsido quiet spots liko this, but that they are common doea not excuse th«m. Mr Balcombe had strict and storn views oi the duties of life, nnd roused as he was roused, h« ca ricd them out with cruel stei nni'fs, Ho got rid of all his guests but M. Gabriel; and then, one fatal morn ning he surprised thorn as tbey sattogether in tho summer-house. Thoro was no guilt between them; thoy were conversing innocently enough, but my lady was crying and M. Ga'riel was consoling her. r«one of us knew what passed, or what words were spoken. Something terrible must have been uttered, for my lady, wi n a face like the face of death, tottered from the Biiramer-bousa to this very room, where sbe l*y in a fainting condition for hours, In the meantime Mr Balcombe gave orders that every sketch and painting made by M. Gabriel, should be taken from tbe walls of the villa and conveyed to thesummer-house. and I myself heard him say to the man who had been his wife's lover,

"' M. Gabriel, to-morrow, at noon, this summer-house and all it contains will be destroyed; only to-night remains to you to remove what property of yours is now within its walls.1

"He then gave orders that 'carriages should be ready to carry out M. Gabriel's wishes with respect to his paintings, but tho artist took not one away with him; on that night he disappeared, and no person in the village has ever heard what became of him.

"True to" his word, Mr Balcombe, at noon ou tho following day, with his own hands set fire to tho summer-house, and did not quit the surrounding grounds till it was burnt to ashes. He would allow no one to inteifere with him, and he accom plished hia purpose. While the pretty

place was blazing my lady sat at the window of this room gazing at tho flames. Never, never, shall I forget the anguish on hor face; it was as though her own heart and her own good name were there being consumed by fire. Her eyes were dry, and sho did not speak a word, nor did she look upon her husband who was mak ing the sacrifice. There are actions, my lady, which can never be atoned for. This was one, When night came my mistress sent for mo.

"'Go to your master,' she said, 'and tell him I desire to set* him.'

"I gavo him the message, and he ac companied mo to his wife^i room, where she was standing to receive him, as though he was a guest sbo had invited to visit her. "' You can go, Denise,' he said to me.' " ' You will stay, Doniso,' said my lady. " Their voices wero stern, but there was more decision in hers than in his, I hesi tated, not knowing which to obey. " * Stay,' said Mr Balcombe,' if your mis tress wishes it.'

" I retreated to a comer of the room, as far away trom thorn as I could get. 1 was afraid of what was coming. I saw that the storm was about to burst.

"' I have sent for you,' sdd my lady in a firm tone, 'to know whether you have any thing to say to me.' «'' But one thing,' he replied, ' whioh I prefer should be said to you alone, without witnossos.' '.'' Denise will remain as I bade her, and what you have to say must bo spoken in hor presonee. Aftor to-night I will never open my lips to you, nor, willingly, will I ever again listen to your voioe. You can choose, then, either to speak or be silent. I swear to you that lam in earnest —as solemnly in oarncst as if I were on my death-bed.' "I shuddered: her voioe, her manner, were entirely altered; she assumed a superiority over him with a spirit I did not think her ospable of summoning to her aid. He turned to me saying, '"Deniso, what you hear must never pass your lips while your mistress and I are alive.' "'lt nevor shall,' I said shaking like a leaf,' I promise it solemnly.' "Whsn wo are dead," he said, "you cau ploaso yoursolf, A time may come when it may be necessary for you to speak.' He stood face to face with his wifo. 'Madame, when I spoke to your dead mother on the subject of my love for you, [ Was frank nnd open with her. There was nothing in my life which I ooncealed from her. 1 had grave doubts as to the suitabi lity of a marriage with you—doubts in which I occupy the disadvantageous posi tion. I hod not tbe grace of youth tore commend me; there was a serious difference in our ages ; I was not a polished lady's man jmy habits of life were staid and serious. You wero fit to be the wife of a princo ; your youth your boautv, your accomplishments, your birth, entitled you to mora than I could offer—whioh was simply a lifo of easo and the homage of a faithful heart, Had I not been encouraged by your mother, I think I should not havo had tho temerity to give expression to my hopes. But I spoke, and there was no re treating. I bogged your lady mother not to deceive me, but to be as frank with me as I was with her. My desire was to Bpare you pain, and to do whatever lay in my power to contribute to your happiness. Of • all tho doubts that disturbed mc ono was poramonnt. You had moved in the world—you must have been idolised in socioty, and it scarcely seemed possiblo that your heart coald bo disengagod. Iv that case I informod your mother that no earthly consideration could induce mo to" step between you and your affections; nay, with all the force which earnest words could convey, I offered to do all in my power—if it wore possiblo my services could avail—to aid in bringing your lifo to Its happiest pass. At such a moment oa this, t solemn ono, madame, which shall never oe forgotten by yon or by me, I may throw aside all false delicacy, and may explain the meaning of these last words to your lady mother. Having had in my hands tbo settlement of your father's affairs I knew that yon wero poor, and what I meant was that if any money of mine could assist in bringing about a union between you and the object of your affections, it was ready, obeerf ally offered and cheerfully given for such a purpose. Pardon me, madame, for mentioning the matter to you, but la this intorview, which you boy shall bo our last, it seoms to me unavoid able.' " Ho paused, expecting his wifo to speak, and she said coldly, " 'You are doubtless stating tho truth.' " 'Tho simple trutb,' he said, 'neither more nor less. Your lady mother listened to me with singular impatience ; sbo would have interrupted me moro than onco, but I bogged hor to bear me to tbe end before she spoko. I had carefully thought over what I had to say to her, and I would not rnn the risk of losing sight of tho most trifling detail in the discussion of a subject so important as your ■ happiness ; which Was uppermost in ray mlad. Your lady mother answered me. She a*sared me that before you came to this villa your heart was entirely free,- but that since you honoured me by becoming my guest, you bad fixed your affections upon me. My astonishment was great—l will employ no rhapsodies in describing my Joy, I oould scarcely believe the evidence of my senses ; I entreated your • lady mother not to mis lead mo by false hopes, and she proved to me—to me, to whom i the workings of a woman's heart were aa a sealed book—in a hundred different ways, which she said I m'gb.t have discovered myself if I had had the wit, that you loved me. She said she was honoured by my "proposal, which sho acoepted for you, and whloh you yourself would joyfully accept. But she told mo that It would be difficult for you to express your' satisfaction—that your joy would be more deeply felt than displayed—and tbat l, as a wise man, must pat a right and sen sible construction on tbe natural maidenly reserve of a young and modest girl. The rait yon know. The wise man, madame, hasbeen sadly at fault, it has been fatally proved to him that he knows little of tho workings of tho hunjan heart.' "She held up her hand as a sign that she wished to speak, and ho paused. A little thing struck me at the timo, which I have never forgotten. Sho held up her hand in front of the lamp, and the light [shone through the thin, delicate Augers, Scarcely ever have I thought of my lady without seeing that slight beautiful hand with the light shining through it, " 'My mother,' she said, 'did not speak the trutb. M. Gabriel and I wero affianced before I became your guest.' "'Your information comes too late, said Mr Balcombo ; you should havo told me so much when I offered you my name. It would have beon sufficient. Shame and sin would then have been avoided.' " *Thero has been'no sin,' Bald my lady. *Itis I who havo been wronged, beyond tho hope of reparation in this life. I wroto to M, Gabriel from this villa before you spoke to mo on the subject of marriage. My letters wero intercepted; false infor mation concerning M. Gabriel was supplied to me. My mother deceived me.' " And you,' added my master, ' deceived me.' "How was I to know," sbo asked, ' after explanations had passod between me and M. Gabriel, that you had not shared in the plot against, mo ? Ho warn I to know it now?" "'By my denial. I see In your face your doubt of my avowal; you believe lam speaking an untruth; you believe I tricked to obtain you. Believe it. Not by another word shall I endeavour to undeceive you. No good purpose would he served by a suc cessful attempt to soften your feelings to wards me—for no thought of love can ever unite us. It never did, and never can; and lam not a man to live upon shams. I have learnt my lesson, the fruits of which will never pass out of my life. You loved M. Gabriel before you knew me; you were made to believe he was false to you ; con cealing this knowledge you accepted me and I, unversed in woman's ways, believed that no woman could marry a man without loving him. Your faith, your honour, your life, ;yore pledged to mo, as mine were pledged to you. M. Gabriel was my friend; I was a man when he was a boy, aud I gavo him my friendship. We had not met for years when I invited him to my house. He knew that I was married '— " 'But he did not know,' interrupted my lady. ' that you had married me.' VJ Granted. What was his duty, what

was yours, when you and he met In my pre sence, when I introduced him to yon, and you received him asa stranger ? From that moment—without reference to my previous sufferings, which madame, wero great-in what position did I, the husband, stand in relation to my wife and my friend, who, after explanations had passed between tbem, met and conversed a» lovers ? Their guijt was tbe more heinous becauso of their secrecy—and utterly unpardonable because of their treachery to him who trusted, who believed in them both. But at length the husband's eyes wero opened, and the shameful, truth was revealed, Then came retribution, and a black chapter iv the lives of three human beings was closed.' He paused,to. long time as it seemed to me, be fore ho spoke again. The silenco was awful, and in the faces of the husband and wife there were no sign of relenting.' They Btood facing each other as two persons might have done who bad inflicted on each other a mortal wrong which could never, never be forgiven. From my heart I pitied thorn both.' You sent for me, madame,' he said, ' to know whether I had anything to say to you. It was not my purpose to say what I have said, but it is tho truth, and it is per. haps as well that you should have heard it You inform mo that after this night you wUI never open your lips to me, nor ever again listen to my voice. Be it so. Rest assured, madame, that I shall never force myself upon you j my experiences of you are sufficient to last my lifetime. But you bear my name, and my honour ia in your keeping. So far as that is concerned,' I intend to exercise control over you ;.no farther. Your son, also, is mine I ask you how it is you pro pose to act ?' "'Do you wish to drive me away from your house ?' sho asked. "'No,'he replied; 'Ihave no such de-

sire.' "«Am I free to go if I wish ?' "' You are not free to go. With my con sent you shall not leave mc, Only one thing shaß separate us—death.' "' And my child ?' "' Remains here. To love me or hate me —to love you or hate yon—according to his own prompting. From my lips he shall never hear a disparaging word of his mother. In this respect you will act by mo as I act by you.' " ' I shall do so,' said my laiy. (To be continued.)

ELECTRICITIES.

PBOSFBOTBS of a Company (Limited) for Realisation of the Value of the Electric Light

The future belongs to the electric light. This explains all. Betides tho electric lighting of towns and dwellings, the Com pany proposes the following points ; —

1. The electric lighting of the interior of Africa and of the Polar Continents.— -Then the explorers of Africa will be ablo to explore by night as well as by day; and tho explorers of the Polar lands wiU be able to continue their explorations even in the long nights of those regions, without running every moment against a rook, an iceberg, or a similar impediment 2. It proposes the rearing of vegetables, fruit, and wine by the help ofelechic light, —For years the wine crop has failed be causo the summers were bad; but our winters are good, only they are wanting light and warmth. By the means of electrically lighting the vineyards, con nected with a subterranean heating of the same, we hopo to bo ablo to grow the noblest kinds of wines all the winter through. Likewise pineapples and rock melons

3. Electric light for tltc principal high roads of the sea, -This will be effected by trained whales, which will carry the electric apparatus on their backs. Purpose and result: Security of navigation. 4. Wholesale manufacture of electric stomach lamps- These will be let down Into the stomachs of tho patients, and will spread there the light of day. By a telescope, set up on a suitable place, the pbyslcian will be enabled to observe the action of tho diseased stomach minutely and to give a correct diagnosis. 5. An improved lighting of the milky ■may. Capital, £75,000,000 in shares of £8 7 5-17 ths. All those desirous to avail themselves of this opportunity of making a fortune, should apply for shares, boforo it is too late, to the directors of the *' Elootricitas— Berlin Klattoradatsch."

Hints For Mothers.

When your daughter performs a task in an ill-fashioned manner, always say " Thero I I might aa well bavo done it my self in the first place," and then tako tbe work Out of her hands and do it yousolf. This will encourage the girl not to try to do the thing next'time she ib set aboot it. Never permit your sou to have auy amuse ment at home. This will induce him to seek it in places where you will not be annoyed by his noise. There is uo place like home. Impress this truth upon your chileren by making home aa disagreeable and unlike any other placo as possiblo. Nevor permit your children to contradict, Let them know that that is your peculiar prerogative. Iv ohiding your children's faults, never forget to mention how much better the Jones's ohildren behave. This will cause your little ones everlastingly to love the Jones's ohildren. Tako frequent occasions to tell your chil dren how much more favoured their lot is than When yon were a girl." It is always pleasant to children to bo constantly re minded of their obligations. Don't let your sou indulge in any kind of oat-door games. Keep him to his books. It will make him a great man some day if he should happen to Uve, Your girls should never be permitted to rernp. Let them grow into interesting in-; valida, by all means, Be gentle and courteous before company; but if yon have a temper, let your children have a taste of It as often as convenient, j A mother should never practice deception upon her family. Talk slightingly of your husband to your i boys and girls "this will make them re spect their father. Tell your child he shall not d-i a thing, and then lot him tease you iuto giviug your consent. This will teach him what to do on subsequent occasions.— "Boston Tran script. •

A Lesson in Financing.

A youhg man with a nose like a razor and an eye which would have raised a blister on sheet hon on a hot day, halted a pedestrian on Gratiot Avenue, and stated that he was trying to raise money to reach tho bedside of h's dying aunt in Chicago. He was too proud to beg, but if the citizen would give him a quarter be would Bhow him a trick worth five dollars. " Vhas ish dat drick J" queried tho citizen. "It is to make ten cents go farther than a dollar. Yon can play it on the boys, and mako ten dollars a day." "My friendt, I nefer Ways mit der poys." " Yes, but you can have lots of fun, you know." " I vhas no handt for fun. Jf I ever git off some shokes I never laff." "Yes, but this is something new. When you come down to tho grocery of an evening —" "I doan" come down. [ vhas home on der shotps all der eafnings." "Bat you could have a little fun with your neighbours." " I told you I vhaa not a fuony man. I like 3to schmoke und read der morning bapers." " Well, I don't want to beg, and 1 am offer ing you the trick very low in order to get home and see my sister die. • Have you a dying sisteir?" "I doan' expect I have. Vhat ish dat dricks?" "To make ten cents go farther than 1 dol," "Und vhillshe do it?" "She will." "Und five cents goes petter ash a dime?" "That's the ratio." " Und notings at all goes petter ash 5 cents." "I-I-I think it does." "Vhell, you shust consider you haf all der notings efer was, und you vhill be in Chicago to morrow 1 Gif my love te dat dying Bister, una tell her dat you saw me well. You'a petter git ;somo express wagons to draw dose nlckelß down to der railroad, nnd you look a leedle oudt for some Dutchmans who has peen eating grass and vhas green !"— Detroit Free Press. ■

Feminine Brevities.

She admitted to her mother that the ' young man had made a very strong impres sion on her. '' Yes," remarked the old lady " I can see where the impression mashed the lace flat as a napkin. Don't let it hap pen again." A Georgia man, who has been married seven times, says he has had awful hard luck. He'd scarcely get a wife before she'd die and he'd havo to go to the expense of courting and marrying auother. The thing got to bo ruinous. hpinks went home the other night affict ed with doublo vision. He slept for some time with his sleepy gaze riveted on Mra S. and then complacently remarked : " Well, I declare, 'f you two gals don't look 'nough like to be twins."

What a providential thing it is that, as a general rule, by the time the eldest girl gets old enough to have a beau tbe youngest child ia old enough to sleep quietly. A cross baby yelling np-staira would be a fearful dampener on courtship.

An Angry Duchess.

Such a scene as that which happened in the "Birdcage " at Newmarket, previous to the commencement of racing on Thursday, was never before witnesied on a race-course. Martini and Narcissa were telegraphed as starters for the Subscription Stakes, and Wood, tho jockey, was, in his scarlet jacket and cap, ready for orders. Bat he came in for a "wigging" instead from the Dowager Duchess of Montrose, who followed him across the enclosure, ejaculating in a loud voice: "How dare you weigh contrary to my orders ? Yon knew that we had decided not to run any horses to-day! We will not endure such abuse as we have been subjected to in the papers I" Turning upon Sherrard, her trainer, who came up nt the moment, the Duchess " read the riot act" to him in similar terms, and bursting iuto a paroxysm of' tears, fairly broke down. Leaning forward on the rail which provides a passage for the jockeys and trainers to the weighing room, ber Grace cried piteously; whereupon Sir George Chetwynd came to the rereue, and conducted the Duchess into one of the open saddling stalls, away from the public gaze, Oa recovering composure, the lady insisted upon Martini's number being taken down ; out, on being informed by one of the stewards that such a stop would necessitate their fining Mr Crawford £60, the horse was allowed to start. His success added fuel to the flame, as did the subsequent defeat of other Bedford. Lodge favourites that day.—London " Woild,"

A. Roman Catholic view of Mixed Marriages.

The " Western Watchman," the Catholic organ of the diocese of St. Louis, describes a rocont mixed marriage in that neighbour hood as "a convenant with hell." Dr. Tesson, a surgeon in the United States Army, a member of the Catholic Chnrch, whose family were among the original French oolonists in St. Louis, married on September 14 Miss Maggie Duncan, a member of the Presbyterian Church, There were two marriage ceremonies.. On the morning of the wedding day Father Brady went through the Catholic ceremony at the residence of the groom's mother. In the evening Dr Niccols, of the Second Presby terian Churcb, gave his blessing -to the anion. This is the way in which the " Wes tern Watchman " comments on the case:— "A marriage in high life took place last week the particulars of which, as published in the daily papers, made every Catholic in the city blush. A young Catholic, a sciou of ono of tho proudest French Catholic families of the city, wedded a Pro testant lody " boforo a Presbyterian minister. Why did the young man commit a mortal sin on his wedding day? Why did the young man trample on his religion, on his baptismal record, and on his con science, upon his wedding day V Why did the young man spit upon the cross and sell his manhood upon his wedding day? It was for love. The lady demanded tbe sacrifice, and it was not in his power to refuse. The devil supplied the argument in this process of apostacy. He said that i the girl nad as much right to her religion as he had to his. That was not trae ; but, even granting it, it was not against her religion to be married by a priest, while it was a violation of his religion and conscience to be married by a minister. The moment he did the sacrilegious deed he was. barred from tho sacraments and excommunicated from tho chnrch pale, Ho did it for love, A ccursed jbe tho man who loves a woman I that he'would sell his soul for hor, deny his God for her, sacrifice home and Heaven for her. Such a wedding is a covenant with hell and a league with the devil." Had a bombshell been exploded ia Catho lic circles'in St. Louis, a greater sensation could not have been created than was caused by this fuimination. Everybody is talking about it, and everybody agrees tbat Dr, Tesson is not the man to sit down quietly under such a broadside.

Cricket for the Ladies.

L" Ankle before wicket" to be substituted for the valgar term used by the gentlemen. 'Girls with money of their own to be S faced in the most conspicuous part of the eld, for they are the best "catches;" .Pretty «' round arm" bowlers to'be en couraged to become members. ['l'he " popping crease " is not to be con fused with matrimonial proposals. 'No lady to be allowed to wink at the urn : pfre, or to get angry with him, although he' should happen to " put her out." . No offence to be taken at the timidest member being " bowled " on the field, as long as she dees not mind. The highest adorer to be called the "Belle of the Ball." Maternal relatives to have no hand in arranging "first class matches," The best bats to be played upon are young bachelors. ."Snort leg," and "long leg," and "squireleg," not to be considered in ah anatomical sense, The position of " long off " is to be given to the maid over forty-two. Our club will do plenty of " stonewall ing," for all of us, know how to "do the block." Any one " cutting " a poor gentleman for a rich cad to be applauded. Always go in for the highest score, girls 1 Play in high-heeled boots, short dresses, and tho most "utter of utter hats." No tlang beats dazzling the opposition. Try and made your adversaries, when of the male persuasion, "lose their hearts;" then the little game is your own. " When you are tired of hitting," go in for "driving." Many of the members will no doubt be described by the newspapers as very "pretty "players. We regret to state that the wicket-keep er's gloves most not be more than "six and a-quarter." *- : Some of U8 know tho utility of " pads, even out of the cricketing arena. Slow bowlers are permitted to do under hand work. Let us hut stick together, and we feel certain that a time will shortly arrive when we shaU see the cricket ground crowded to witness the great event of the year in the cricketing world of the " Women against the World."

Turkish Proverbs.

Do good and throw it into the sea; if the fish know it not, the Lord will. Who fears God need not fear man. If a man would live in/jwace, ho should be blind, deaf and dumb. A small stone often makes a great noise. A foolish friend Is at times a greater annoyance than a wise enemy. If thy foe be as small as a gnat, fancy him aa large as an elephant. A friend is worth more than a kinsman. If my beard is burnt, others try to light their pipes at it. The "dogs bark, but the caravan passes. "You'll not Bweeten your mouth by say ing "Honey." Those who know moat are ottenest cheated. More is learned from conversation than trom books, He rides seldom who never rides any but a borrowed horse, ! Trust not to the whiteness of his turban; I It bought the soap on credit. ,



a W<w& w j __Iff * jf—-?—* W____Jt «& a*cs&%(&&~ mm TTITCBENS'S BLOOD RESTORER. FOR CLEANSING, PURIFYING, AND INVIGORATING THE BLOOD. Seven Years' Test in Auckland. ■ .a, _—j -• THIS Medicine differa Lfrom ordinary pro prietary preparations, inasmuch as It was the. product of years of '• study and investigation by an eminent physician'of the Army Medical Staff, with1 whom __r Hltchens served during the New' Zealand War, as • Assistant Dispenser to the Im- ■ perial Forces. ; ;;• ■'. • 'I "■[ ; On its introduction to the public as a specific for the cure of Rheumatism, Rheumatic i*out, Scrofula. Skin Diseases, Blood Impurities, and General Debility; iV quickly attained great celebrity,: "and soon was sought after from every^ part of New Zealand, •.' • „ '■■.-■•■ ijl '• I>t Its curative and depurative properties have been fully testified by- the numerous testimonials received by the proprietor from patients who had long Suffered 'from' the above distressing maladies, who had ap«. plied in vain to physicians for relief, and in whoso cases, Turkish Baths',' Hot Springs,: aud other popular remedies''had"'been re ported to without effect. •A- ■ ie'-' ..< ■ ■'" '*'• i "This celebrated medicine is compounded from products of the vegetable kingdom, is' palatable and easily taken, mild, but effec tual, in its action upon the animal econ omy., It is, in sooth, a veritable Blood Restorer, cleansing it, and thereby restore ing diminished vitality..' It presents, Am-. questionably, a : puror, safer, better,' ahd more reliable alterative medicine than any that has hitherto been available to the people. . .■- '■• '■ .1 ■ ' ;i* -i."' :, - -i _ ■ ';' MORE TESTIMONY! ..:■;. - Nota ■■■ SURPRISING CURE' y: To those who know what a-; HITCHENS' SIOOB I&ESXOBER HAS, DONE. " :• In the Auckland Bvaonara Stab of the 27th April last, appeared the following local,, which explains itself :— v The brig Bella Mary, from Melbourne in > ballast, bound for Kalpara, put into hnr bour yesterday morning' to obtain medical l aid for Captain Owens, master of the vesseiy who has been very unwell dating the latter part of the voyage..-. Captain Owens, who has followed the seafaring profession for * many years, and had never until leaving': Melbourne on April 10th last, suffered from illness of. any severe nature, was suddenly seized on that date' with'•,violent pains in the "back. Since then 'he A baa been swung up in a hammock - in the cabin quite helpless. -The vessel was off Kdpara at noon on Thursday last A bat the weather being thick and foggy, it was deemed advisable to come onto Auck-'t land for medical assistance. The barque t-: arrived early yesterday morning, and Dr " Moore having been sent for, visited Capt ■'■ Owens, and gave instructions to the mate • of the vessel regarding treatment The invalid is Buffering from a species of rheumatism of'a severe nature, rand the doctor considers,lt advisable to:effect a partial recovery before attempting, tha re- '■. 'moval of his patient to more suitable quarters ion shore. j. Captr Owens is weU- ■ ■ known in Auckland, and many residents will be sorry to, learn of his affliction/* ;• •Referring to above, Captain-Owen has this day:(lst December), stated: "After being treated for about five weeks'by two' medical men successively, with very little •' alteration in my condition, except that the" . pain in my hands and back was made ! somewhat easier through the effect of the !ii galvanic battery, I felt a gradual sinking that told me the dread end was not far 0$ '; . ahd one of my visiting friends suggested that I should try what Hitohen's Blood Restorer would do, as it-was'being so 7 talked about far and wide, Without much faith in it, I consented to try it,"buß did"'" not notice any good effect until I had taken; '"' about the third or fourth bottle, when my appetite decidedly quickened, and I felt - that my strength was coming back to' met "' I then ceased to take the medicine, and > allowed nature to take its course, but 7 finding my appetite going, I stimulated it 7 by small doses of the Restorer,'"1 using no"A other medicine, but applying the ointment freely. By degrees my whole system' A seemed to be invigorated; < and now, after a treatment of six months, I am able to re- : sumo charge of my vessel, and am only. , waiting her arrival in port to!do bo. ,1 can' >. easily walk four mUes a day without the :rl slightest inconvenience". I consider my friend's suggestion saved my life, v 'ahd that -: it is a duty that I should publicly testify to v the extraordinary power of Hitchens's Blood " Restorer over the severest cases of rheumat- • '"' ism," ; ■ -.'•; '-<'- '•""-' "; ■'"■- '>'!" -y ■,-.;•--.•' -^--.-V^W.'-M.-9WEN.y''J The' agents, will bo> hajppy td shew . original manuscripts of the. several pub lished testimonials aneut the Remedy^wit scores of others'not vet published, ". AAA l. d.; Nathan &cp. 7.; ■■-... 7 "y Ay yt'E HAVE THIS CELEBRATED AND FAVOURITE BRAND , OF-' i'.ff: BAJ3S,*S ALE & GUINNESS'S STOUT Always in Stock, . L. D. NATHAN & CO. 18gg-3 _~fl~ B 71583-S We havo recolvod our SECOND SHIPMENT.? the Rltiß-rooma, from Sydney, transhipped ex Ganges. " .314- PACKAGES. Consisting 0' EXTRA CHOICE ' KAISOWS & CHOICE & MEDIUM ... CONGOU& j Of neat twisted even lest' ond very strong ; and rioh flavour, ■• % Also, l 125 BOXES CHOICEST MANDARIN , SCENTED ORANGE PEKOE.' above,with about 2000 PACKAGES OF FINEST: : QUALITIES l.'Ay (Balance ot First Parcel), l "•ad 300 PACKAGES OF ASSAM. AND ' DARJEELINGS, , . ; t Enable us to offer a very Rare Suleotion : ■:■}. bnjeis. ■: ;■"] ■ Otir Foachow otirrespocdfinte ihtorih xis tta seven-tenths of last shipment was „cured a ' A EXCE-TIONALLY CHEAP EATJSB, .-...,,; And we are deterniined to give onr ellente th FULL BENEFIT OF THISi