"HAND AND RING,"

By Anna Katiierine Gueen, Author of "The Leavenworth Murder," "The Sword oilDamodeß," "The Defence • of tho Prude," eto.

♦ CHAPTER XIX. MR FfiEKIS. WTUoh of yon ha'vo dono this? —Hamlet, What have wo hero? —Tempest. Mr Ferris sat in his ofiico in a somewhat gloomy frame of mind. There had been bad news from tho gaol that morning. Mr Hildreth had attempted suicide tho night before, and was now lying in a critioal con dition at the hospital.

Mr Ferris himself had never doubted this man's guilt. From Hildreth's first appear ance at the inquest, the District Attorney had fixed upon him aB the murderer of Mrs Clemmens, and up to this time he had seen no good and substantial reason for altering his opinion.

Even the doubts expressed by Mr Byrd had moved him but little. Mr Byrd was an enthusiast, and naturally enough, shrank from believing' a gentleman capable of such a crime. But the other detective's judg ment was unswayed, and he considered Hil dreth guilty. It was not astonishing, then, that the opinion of Mr Ferris should coin cide with that of the older and more experi enced man.

But the depth of despair or remorse which had led Mr Hildroth to this desperate at tempt upon hia own life had struck tho District Attorney with dismay. Though not over-sensitive by nature, he could not help feeling sympathy for the misery that , had prompted such a deed, and while secretly regarding this unsuccessful at tempt at suicide as an additional proof of guilt, he could not forbear satisfying him self by a reviow of the evidence elicited at the inquest, that the action of the author ities in arresting this man had been both warrantable and necessary. The result was satisfactory in all but one point. Whon he came to the widow's writ ten acousation against one by the name of Gouverneur Hildreth, he was impressed by a fact that had hitherto escaped his notice. This was the yellowness of the paper upon which the words wore written. If they had been transcribed a dozen years before, they would not have looked older, nor would the ink haTe presented a more faded appear anoa. Now, us the suspected man was under twenty-fiVe years of age, and must, therefore, have been a mere child when tho paper was drawn up, the probability was that the Gouverneur intended woo the prisoner's father, their names being identi cal.

But thia discovery, while it robbed the affair of iti most dramatic feature, could not affect in any serious way the extreme sig nificance of the remaining real and com promising facts which told so heavily Against this unfortunate man. Indeed, the Well-known baseness of the father made it easier to distrust the son, and Mr Ferris had just come to the conclusion that his duty compelled him to draw up an indictment of the would-be suicide, when the door opened and Mr Byrd and Mr Hickory came In.

To see these two men in conjunction was a surprise to the District Attorney. He, however, had no time to'express himßelf on the subject, for Mr Byrd, stepping forward, immediately remarked:

"Mr Hickory and I have boen in consul tation, sir; and we have a fow facts to give you that we think will alter your opinion at to the person who murdered Mrs Clem toons."

" Is this so J" cried Mr Ferris, looking at Hickory with a glance indicative of doubt. "Yes, sir," exclaimed that not easily abashed Individual, with an emphasis de cided enough to show the stats of his feel ings on the subject. " After I last saw you a woman came in my way and put into my bands so fresh and promising a clue that I dropped the old scent at once and made in siunter for the new game. But I soon found I was not the only sportsman on this trail. Before I had taken a dozen steps I ran upon this gentleman, and, finding him true grit, struck up a partnership with him that has led to our bringing down the quarry together." "Hump!" quoth the District Attorney. "Some very remarkable discoveries must have come to light to influence the judg ment of two such men as yourselves." " You are right," rejoined Mv Byrd. "In fact, I should not be surprised if this cose proved to be one of the most remarkable on record. It is not often that equally con vincing evidence of guilt is found againit two men having no apparent connection." ■ " And have you collected such evidence?"

"We have."

"And who is the rjerson you consider equally open to suspioion with Mr Hil dreth?"

" Graik Mansell, Mrs Clemmens's nephew." The surprise of the District-Attorney was, as Mr Hickory in later days remarked, nuts to him. The solemn nature of the business he was engaged upon never disturbed this hardy detective's sense of the ludicrous, and he indulged in one of his deepest chuckles as he met the eye of Mr Ferris. " One never knows what' they are going to run upon in a chase of this kind, do they, sir t" he remarked, with the greatest cheer fulness. "Mr Mansell is no more of a gentleman than Mr Hildreth ; yet, because ho is the second one of his caste who has at tracted our attention, you are naturally very much surprised. But wait till you hear what ws have to tell you. lam con fident you will be satisfied with our reasons for suspecting this new party." And he glanced at Mr Byrd, who, seeing no cause for 'delay, proceeded to unfold Defore the District Attorney the evidence they had oolleoted against Mr Maasell. It was strong, telling, and seemingly con clusive, as we'already know j und awoke in the mind of Mr Ferris the greatest perplex ity of his life. It was not simply that the fact* urged against Mr Mansell were of ; the same circumstantial character and of almost the same significance as those already urged •gainst Mr Hildreth, but that the associa- : tion of Miss Dare's name with this new theory of suspicion presented difficulties, if it did not involve consequences oaloulated to Make any friend of Mr Orcutt quail. And Mr Ferris was such a friend, and knew very well the violent nature of the shock which this eminent lawyer would experience at discovering the relations held by this fruited woman toward a man suspected of °rThen Miss Dare herself! Was this beauti ful and cherished woman, hitherto believed by all who knew her to besot high above the reach of reproach, to be dragged down from her pedestal and submitted to the ouriosity of the rabble, if not to its insinua tions and reproach ? It seemed hard ; even to this stern, dry searcher among dead men's bones, it seemed both hard and bitter. And yet, because he was an honest man, lie had no thought of paltering with his duty. He could only take time to make sure what that duty was. He accordingly refrained from expressing any opinion in regard to Mr Mansell's culpability to the two detectives, and finally dismissed them without any 8PB Cut ala°day ror two after this he sent for ■^S^avesSyoulhaveconsidered, with due carefulness, the-variousi facts pre sented me in support of your belief that Cralk Mansell is the man who assailedthe Widow Clemmens, and have weighed them agaStheequallysignificantfact.pointing toward Mr Hildreth as the guilty party, ™d findbut one link lacking in the former chain of evidence which is not lacking in the latter-and that is this : Mrs Clemmens, in the one or two lucid moments which Te- Srned to her after the assault, gave utter, ancetoan exclamation which many think * aTmeant to serve as a guide in determm enough, and led to my making an expert £™fvesterdav. which haß for over set the own mind. J took my Sat the huge clock in her house, just inthe attitude she was supposed to occupy when struck, and, while in this posrtion, ordered my clerk to advance upon me from corner °f T my| ye re J vioUß i y pushed upon his HtiTnler iKverestLtlcouf that • iiJnt was all of the man which I could distinctly see w thoutturningmy headcom exmew Purpose of connecting a man with thfs murßuet necessarily:remain incom plete and -consequently- useless. J. But imontrst the -, suspicious circumßtances

cern no-token of a connection between him and dny such article, while we all know that Mr Hildreth not only wore a ring on the day of the murder, but considered the circumstance bo much in his own disfavour, that he slipped it off his finger when he be gan to see the shadow of suspicion falling upon him." "You have, then, forgotten the diamond I picked up from the floor of Mrs Clemmons's dining-room on the morning of the murder?" suggested Mr Byrd with great reluctance. "No," answered the District Attorney, shortly. " But Miss Dare distinctly avowed that ring to be hers, and you have brought me no evidence as yet to prove her state ment false. If you can supply such proof, or if you can show that Mr Mansell had that ring on his hand when he entered Mrs Clemmens's house on the fatal morning—an other fact, which, by-the-way, rests as yet on inference only—l shall consider the case against him as strong as that against Mr Hildreth ; otherwise, not."

Mr Byrd, with the vivid remembrance be fore him of Miss Dare's looks and actions in the scene he had witnessed between her and tho supposed Mansell in the hut, smiled with secret bitterness over this attempt of the District Attorney to shut his eyes to the evident guiltiness of this man. Mr Ferris saw this smile, and instantly be came irritated.

"I do not doubt any more than your self," he resumed, in a changed voice, "that tbis young man allowed his mind to dwell upon the possible advantages which might accrue to himself if his aunt should die. He may even have gone so far as to medi tate the commission of a crime to insure these advantages. But whether the crime which did indeed take place the next day in his aunt's house was the result of his meditations, or whether he fonnd his own purpose forestalled by an attack made by another person possessing no less interest than himself in seeing this woman dead, is not determined by the evidence you bring," " Then you do not favour his arrest," in quired Mr Byrd. "No. Tho vigorous measures which were taken in Mr Hildreth's case, and the unfortunate event to which they have led, are terrible enough to satisfy the public craving after excitement fo» a week at least. I am not fond of driving men to madness myself, and unless I can be made to see that my duty demands a complete transferal of my suspicions from Hildreth to Mansell, I can advise nothing more than a close but secret surveillance of the letter's movements until the action of the Grand Jury determines whether the evidence against Mr Hildreth is sufficient to hold him for trial.

Mr Byrd, who had such solid, if private and uncommunicable, reasons for believing in the guilt of Craik Mansell, was some what taken aback at this unlooked-for de cision of Mr Ferris, and, remembering the temptation which a man like Hiokory must feel to make his cause good at all hazards, cast a sharp look toward that blunt-spoken detective, In some doubt as whether he could be relied upon to keep his promise in the face of this manifest disappointment. But Hickory had given his word, and Hickory remained firm; and Mr Byrd, somewhat relieved in his own mind, was about to utter his acquietcence in the Dis trict Attorney's views, when a momentary interruption occurred, which gave him an opportunity to exchange a few words aside with his colleague. "Hickory," ho whispered, "what do you think of this objection which Mr Ferris makes ?"

"I?" was the hurried reply. "Oh, I think there is something in it."

" Something in it ?"

"Yes. Mr Mansoll is the last man to woar armg1, I must acknowledge. Indeed. I took some pains while in Buffalo to find out if he over indulged in any such vanity, and wan told decidedly No. As to the diamond you mentioned, that is certainly entirely too rich a jowel for a man like him to possess. I—l am afraid the absence of this link in our chain of evidence is fatal. I shouldn't wonder if the old scent was the best after oil."

"But Miss Dare—her feelings and her convictions, as manifested by the words she made use of in the hut?" objected Mr Byrd. " Oh I she thinks he is guilty, of course 1"

She thinks ! Mr Byrd stared at his com panion for a minute in silence. She thinks ! Then there was a possibility, it seems, that it was only her thought, and that Mr Man sell wag not really the culpable man he had been brought to consider him. But here an exclamation, uttered by Mr Ferris, called their attention back to that gentleman. Ho was reading a letter which Bad evidently been jurt brought in, and his expression was one 01 amazement mixed with doubt. As they looked toward him they met his eyo, that had a troubled ami somewhat abashed expression, which con vinced thorn that the communication he held in his hand was in some way connected with the matter under consideration.

Surprised themselves, they unconsciously started forward, when, in a dry and not al together pleased tone, the District Attorney obsorved t

" This affair seems to be full of coincid ences. You talk of a raising link, and it is immediately thrust under your nose. Read that I"

And he pushed toward them the follow ing epistle, roughly scrawled on a sheet of common writing-paper:

" If Mr Ferris is anxioui for justice, and can believe that suspicion does not always attach itself to the guilty, let him, or some one whose business it ie, inquire of Miss Imogene Dare, of this town, how she came to claim as her own the ring that was picked up on the floor of Mrs Clemmens's house."

"Well!" cried Mr■ Byrd, glancing at Hickory, " what are we to think of this ?" " Looks like the work of old Sally Per kins," observed the other, pointing out the lack of date and signature. " So it does," acquiesced Mr Byrd, in a relieved tone. " The miserable old wretch is growing impatient." But Mr Ferris, with a gloomy frown, shortly said: "The language i« not that of an ignorant old creature like Sally Perkins, whatever the writing may bo. Besides, how could she have known about the ring ? The per sons who were present at thetlme it was picked up are not »f the gossiping order." "Who, then, do you think wrote this?" ; inquired Mr Byrd; . "That is what-.I wish you to.find out, ; declared the District Attorney. Mr Hickory at once took it in his hand. "Wait," said he, "I have an idea." ! And he carried the letter to one side, where he stood examining it for several minutes. When he came back ho looked tolerably ex cited and somewhat pleased. _"I believe I can tell you who wrote it," said he. " Who J" inquired the District Attorney. For reply the detective placed his finger upon a name that was written in the letter. "Imogene Dare?" exclaimed Mr Ferris, astonishod. ~ "She herself," proclaimed the self satisfied detective. " What makes you think that?" the Dis trict Attorney slowly asked, i. " Because I have seen her writing, and studied her signature, and, ably as she has disguised her hand in the rest of the letter, it betrays itself in her name. See here." And Hickory took from his pocket-book a, small slip of paper containing her autograph and submitted it to tho test of comparison. The similarity between the two signa tures was evident, and both Mr Byrd and Mr Ferris were obliged to allow the detec tive might be right, though the admission .opened up suggestions of the most formid able character. "It is a turn for .which I am not pre pared,1' declared the District Attorney. "It is a turn for whicn we are not pro pared," repeated Mr Byrd,' with a control ling look at Hickory. " Let us, then, defer further consideration of the matter till I have had an opportunity to see Miss Dare," suggested Mr Ferris. And the two detectives were very glad to acquiesce in this, for they were as much astonished as he at this action of Miss Dare, though, with their better knowledge ot her feelings, they found it comparatively easy td understand how her remorse and the great anxiety she doubtless felt for.Mr Hildreth had sufficed to drive her to such an extreme and desperate measure. CHAPTER XX. A CRISIS. ottiten Alas, how is it with you? QUEEN. oudobend y oure jreonvacanoy. And with the incorporeal air do hold discourse 1 Your bedded hair, like life in excre ments, , , Starts up and stands on end. Whereon do you look i Hamlet.On him! On him! Look you how His?Srm ha enuSe conjoined, proach- Woull ttiem .capable. Do not . Le^wiffis^ous action, youcon- My stern eflbcts! then whatlhaveto WUl°want true colour; tears, per ., chance, for blood. _ HaMLmv That my readers may understand even bet \ ter than By*d and Hickory how it w^s that Imogene came to write this letter^;! mu|t M^r |ieg r to-consi<i«f certain »CKfW» <W*i

lad occurred in a quarter far removed from the eye of the detectives. Mr Orcutt's mind had never been at rest concerning the peculiar attitude assumed by Imogene Dare at the time of Mrs Clem inens's murder. Time and thought had not made it any more possible for him to believe now than then that she knew anything of the matter beyond what appeared to the general eye; but he oould not forget the ring. It haunted him. Fifty times a day he asked himself what she had meant by claiming as her own a jewel which had been picked up from the floor of a strange house at a time so dreadful, and which, in despite of her explanations to him, he found it im possible to believe was hsn or ever could have been hers ? He was even tempted to ask her; but he never did. The words would not come. Though they faltered again and again upon his lips, he could not give utterance to them ; no, though with every passing day he felt that the bond uniting her to him was growing weaker and weaker, and that if something did not soon intervene to establish confidence between them, he would presently lose all hope of the treasure for the possession of which he wai now ready to barter away half tho remaining years of his life. Her increasing reticence, and the almost stony look of misery that now confronted him without let or hindrance from her wide (rrey eyes, were not calculated to reassure him or make his future prospects look any brighter. Her pain, if pain it were, or re morse, if remorse it could be, was not of akind to feel tho influence of time ; and, struck with dis- may, alarmed in spite of himself, if not for her reason at least for his own, he watched her from day to day, feeling that now he ' would give his life not merely to possess her, but to understand her and the secret that was gnawing at her heart.

At last there came a day when he could no longer restrain himself. She had been seated in his presence, and had been handed a letter which for the moment seemed to thoroughly overwhelm her. Wo know what that letter was. It was the note which had been sent as a decoy by the detective Hickory, but which she had no reason to doubt was a real communication from Craik Mansoll, despite tho strange handwriting on the envelope. It prayedhor for an, inter view. It set tho time and mentioned the place of meeting, and created for the in stant such a turmoil in her usually steady brain that she could not hide it from the searching oven that watcked her. "What Is it, Imegone?" inquired Mr Of cutt, drawing near her with a gesture of such uncontrollable anxiety, it looked as if he were about to snatch the letter from her hand.

For reply she rose, walked to the grato, in which a low wood fire was burning, and plunged the papery in among the coals. When it was all consumed she turned and faced Mr Oroutt.

" You must excuse me," she murmured j " but the letter yrna one whioh I absolutely desired no one to see."

But he did not seem to bear her apology. Ha stood with his gaze fixed on the fire, and his hand clenched against his heart, as if something in ths fate of that wretched sheet of paper reminded him of the love and'hope that were shrivell ing up before his eyes. She law his look, and dropped her head with a sudden low moan of mingled shame and suffering. "Am I killing you?" she faintly cried. "Are my strange, wild ways driving you to despair ? I had not thought of that. lam so wolfish, I had not thought of that I" Thia evidenco of fading, tho first sbo had ever shown him, moved Mr Orcutt deeply. Advancing toward her, with sudden passion, he took her by the hand. " Killing me ?" ho repeated. " Yes, you are killing mo. Don't you see how fast I am growing old? Don't you see how the dust lies thick upon tho books that used to be my tolace and delight ? Ido not under stand you, Imogene. I love you and I do not understand your grief, or what it is that is affecting you in this terriblo way. Tell me. Lot mo know the nature of the forces with which I have to contend, and I can bear all the r«st."

This appeal, forced at it were from lips unused to prayer, seemed to strike her, ab sorbed though sho was in her own suffering. Looking at him with real concern, .she tried to speak, but tho words faltered on her tongue. They came at last, however, and he hoard hor say : "I wish I could weep, if only to show you I am not utterly devoid of womanly sympathy for an anguish I cannot cure. But the fountain of my tears is dried at its source. I do not think I can ever weep again. lam condemned to tread a path of misery and despair, and must traverse it to the end without weakness and without help. Do not ask me why, for I can never tell you. And do not detain mo now, or try to make me talk, for I must go where I can be alone and silent."

Bhe was slipping away, but he caught her by the wrist and drew her back. His pain and perplexity had reached their climax.

"You must speak," he cried. " I have paltered long enough with this matter. You must tell me what it is that is destroy ing your happiness and mine." But her eyes, turning toward him, seemed to echo that must iv a look of disdain eloquent enough to scorn all help from words, and in the indomitable determina tion of her whole aspect he saw that he might slay her, but that he could never make her speak. Loosing hor with a gesture of despair, ho turned away. When he glanced back again she was gone. The result of this interview was naturally an increased doubt and anxioty on his part. He could not attend to bis duties with any degree of precision, he was bo haunted by uneasy surmises as to what might have been the contents of the letter which he had thus seen her destroy before his eyes. As for her words, they were like her conduct, an in solvable mystery, for whioh he hod no key. Sis failure to find- tor at home when he returned that night added to his alarm, especially as' he remembered the vivid thunder-storm that had deluged the town in the afternoon. Nor, though she c»me in very eoen and offered both excuses and ex planations for her absence, did he experience any appreciable relief, or feel at all satisfied that he was not threatened with some secret and terrible catastrophe. Indeed, the air of vivid and feverish excitement which per vaded every look of hers from this time, making each morning and evening distinc tive in his memory as a season of fresh fear arid renewed suspense, was enough of itself to arouse this sense of an unknown but surely approaching danger. He saw she was on the look-out for some event, he knew not what, and studied the papers m sedulously as she, in the hope of coming up on some revelation that should lay bare the secret of this new condition of hers. At last he thought he had found it. Coming home one day from the court, he called her into his presonce, and, without pause or preamble, exclaimed, with almost cruel abruptness: " An event of possible interest to you has just taken place. The murderer of Mrs Clemmens has just cut hie throat." He saw before he had finished the first clause that he had struck at the very citadel of her terrors and her woe. At the end of the second sentence he knew beyond all doubt now what it was ehe had been fearing, if not expeoting. Yet she said not a word, and by no movement betrayed that the steel had gone through and through her heart. A demon—tno maddening demon_ of jealousy—gripped him for the first time with relentless force. '

"Ah, you have been looking for it?" he cried in a choked voioe. " You know this man, then—knew him, perhaps, before the murder of Mrs Clemmens; knew him, and -—and, perhaps, loved him ?" / She did not reply. He struck his forehead with his hand, as if the moment was perfectly intolerable to him. "Answer," he cried. "Did you know Gouverneur Hildreth?" " Gouverneur Hildreth .?" Oh, the sharp surprise, the waiting anguish of her tone! Mr Orcutt stood amazed. "It is not he who has made this attempt upon his life !— not he !" she shrieked like one appalled.

Perhaps because all other expression or emotion failed him, Mr Oroutt broke forth into a loud and harrowing laugh. "And who elee should it be ?" he oried. " What other man stands accused of having mur dered Widow Clemmens? You are mad, Imogene; you don't know what you say or what you do." "Yes, I am mad," she repeated—"mad! and leaned her forehead forward on the back of a high chair beside which she had been standing, and hid her fact and struggled with herself for a moment, while the clock went on ticking, and the wretohed surveyor of her sorrow stood looking at her bended head like a man who does not know whether it te he or she who is in most danger of losing his reason. At last a word,Btruggjed forth from be tween her clasped hands.' "When did it happen?" she gasped, without lifting her head. "Tell me all about it. I think I can understand." The noted lawyer smiled a bitter amils, and spoke for the first time, without pity and without mercy: .-> , " Ho has been trying for some days to effect hia death. I His arrest and the .little prospect there of bi^rß^.^l^ ;'- i' ''.:- •■ '■' S- t -''': \ ''' "• ■ "'" ■ .'.'."'

to have maddened his gentlemanly brain. Fire-arms were not procurable, neither was poison nor a rope, but a pewter plate is enough in the hands of a desperate man. He broke one in two last night, and " He paused, sick and horror-stricken. Her face had risen from the back of the chair, and was staring upon him like that of a Medusa. Before that gaze the flesh crept on his bones and the breath of life refused to pass his lips. Gazing at her with rising horror, he saw her stony lips slowly part. " Don't go on," she whispered. " I can see it all without the help of wordß." Then in a tone that seemed to come from some far-off world of nightmare, she pain fully gasped, " Is he dead ?" Mr Orcutt was a man who, up to the last year, had never known what it was to experience a real and controlling emotion. Life with him bad meant success in public affairs, and a certain social pre-eminence that made his presence in any place the signal of admiring looks and respectful at tentions. But let no man think because his-' doom delays it will never come. Passions such as he had deprecated in others, and desires such as he had believed impossible to himself, had seized upon him with un governable power, and in this moment especially he felt himself yielding to their sway with no more power of resistance than a puppet experiences in the grasp of a whirl wind. Meeting that terrible eye of hers, burning with an anxiety for a man he despised, and hearing that agonised ques tion from lips whoso touch he had never known, he experienced a sudden wild and almost demoniac temptation to hurl back the implacable "Yes that he felt certain would strike her like a doad woman to the ground. But the horrid impulse passed, and, with a quick remembrance of the claims of honour upon one bearing his name and owning his history, ho controlled him self with a giant resolution, and merely dropping Ms eyes from an anguish he dared no longer confront, answered, quietly : " No ; ho has hurt hitnsolt severely and has disfigured his good looks for life, but he will not die ; or so tho physicians think." A long, deep, shuddering sigh swept through the room. " Thank God I" came from her lips, and then all was quiet again. He looked up in haste; ho could not bear the silonoo.

"Iraogene "he began, but instantly paused in surprise at the change which had taken place in her expression, " What do you intend to do ?" was his quiok demand. " You look as I have "never seen you look before."

"Do not ask me I" she returned. "I have no words for what I am going to do. What you must do is to boo that Gouvemeur Hildroth is released from prison. He is not guilty, mind you ; ho nevor committed this crime of which ho is suspected, and in the shame of which suspicion he has this day attempted his life. If he fa kept in the restraint which is so humiliating to him, and if he die<) there, it will be murder—do you hsar ? murder 1 And ho will die there if he is not released ; I know his feelings only too well." " But, Imogens—•—" "Hush! don't argue. Ti» a matter of life and death, I toll you. He must bo »• leased I I know," she went on, hurriedly, "what is it you want to say t You think you cannot do this : that tho evidence is all against him ; that he went to prison of his own froo will, and cannot hope for release till his guilt or innocence has been properly inquired into. But I know you can effect his enlargement if you will. You are a law yer, and understand all the crooks and turns by which a man can sometimes be made to erode the grasp of justice. Use your knowledge. Avail yourself efyour is fluenc* with tho authorities, aad I— " she paused and gavo him a l«nc, long look. He was at hor side in an initaut.

"You would—what!" he cried, taking her hand in hii and pressing it impulsively. " I wauld grant you whatever you ask," sho murmured, in a wearifal tone. "Weuld you boniy wifo?" ho passion ately inquired. " Yes/1 was tho choked reply; "if I did not die first."

He caught hor to his breast in rapture. He knelt at hor side and threw bis arras about her waist. "Yon shall not die," ho cried. "You shall lire and bo happy. Only marry mo "Not till Oouvorneur Hlldreth bo re leased," she interposed, gently. Ho started as if touched by a galvanic buttery, and Blowly rose up and coldly looked at her. "Do youlovo him so madly you would sell yourself for his sake ?" ho sternly de manded. , j , With a quick gesture she throw back her head as though tho indignant "No" that sprang to her lips would flash out whother she would or not. Bat she restrained hor- Belf in time.

" I oannot answer," she returned. But ho was master now—master of this dominating spirit that had held him in check for so long a time, and he was not to be put off. "You must answer, he sternly com manded. "I have the right to know the extent of your feeling for this man, and I will. Do you love him, Imogene Dare? Tell me, or I here swear that 1 will do no thing for him, either now or at a time when ha may need my assistance more than you know." This threat, uttered as ho uttered it, could have but one effect. Turning aside, go that he should not see the shuddering re volt in her eyea, Bhemeohanically whispered: "And what if I did ? Would it be bo very strange ? Youth admires youth, Mr Orcutt, and Mr Hildreth is very handsome and so very unfortunate. Do net oblige me to say more." Mr Orcutt, across who«e face a dozen different emotion! had flitted during the utterance of these few words, drew back till half the distance of the room lay be< tween them. " Nor d» I wish to hear any more," he re joined, ilowly. "You hare said enough, quite enough. I understand now all the post—all your terrors and all your secret doubta and unaccountable behaviour. The man you loved was in danger, and you did nod know how to manage his release. Well, well, lam sorry for you, Imogene. I wish I could help you. I lore you passionately, and .would make you my wife in face of 'your affection for this man if I could do for yon what you request. But it is im possible Never during the whole course of my career has a blot rested upon my Utegrity as a lawyer. lam known as an honest man, and honest will I remain known to the lost. Besides, I could do nothing to effect his enlargement if I tried. Nothing but the plainest proof that he is innocent, or that another man is guilty, would avail now to release him from the suspicion which his own admissions have aroused."

"Then there is no hope?" was her slow and despairing reply. "•None at present, Imogene, was his stern, almost as despairing, answer. * As Mr Orcutt sat over nis lonely hearth that evening, a servant brought to him the fallowing letter:

"DeabFribnd,—lt is not lit that I should remain any longer under your roof. I have a duty before me which separates me for ever from the friendship and protection of honourable men and women. No home but Buch as I can provide for myself by the -work of my own hands shall henceforth shelter the disgraced head of Imogene Dare. Her fate, whatever it may prove to be, she bears alone, and you, who have been se kind, shall never suffer from any association with one whose name must henceforth become the sport of the crowd, if not the execra tion of the virtuous. If your generous heart rebels at this, choke it relentlessly down. I shall be already gone when you read these lines, and nothing you could do or say would make me come back. Good by, and may Heaven grant you forgetful ness of one whose only return t« your bene factions has been to make you suffer almost as much as she suffers herself."

As Mr Orcutt read these last lines, Dis trict Attorney Ferris was unsealing the anonymous missive which hai already been laid before my readers.

CHAPTER XXI. A heart's martyrdom. Oh that a man might know The end of this day's business are it come; Bnt it snfflceth that the day will end. And then the end is known. —Julius Cjbs ah. Mr Fbrris's first impulse upon dismissing the detectives had been to carry the note he had received to Mr Orcutt. But a night's careful consideration of the subject con vinced him that the wisest course would be to follow the suggestions conveyed in the letter, and seek a diroot interview with Imogene Dare. It was not an agreeable task for him to undertake. Miss Dare was a young lady whom* he had always held in the highest esteem. He had hoped to see her the wife of his friend, and would have given much from his own private stock of hope and hap piness to have kept her name free from the contumely which any association with this dreadful crime must necessarily bring upon it. But his position as prosecuting attorney of the county would not allow him to consult his feelings any further in a. case of such serious import. The condition, of Mr Hildreth was, to say the least, such as de manded the most impartial aotion on the

part of the public officials, and if through any explanation of Miss Dare the one missing link in the chain of evidence against an other could be supplied, it was certainly his duty to do all he could to insure it. Accordingly at a favourable hour the next day, he made his appearance at Mr Orcutt's house, and learning that Miss Dare had gone to Professor Darling's house for a few deys, followed her to her new homo and requested an interview. She at once responded to his call. Little did he think as she came into the parlour where he sat, and with even more than her usual calm self possession glided down the length of that elegant apartment to his side, that she had just come from a small room on the top floor, where, in the position of o hired seamstress, she had been en gaged in cutting out the wedding garments of one of the daughters of the house. Her greeting was that of a person at tempting to feign a surprise she did not feel.

"Ah," said she, "Mr Ferris this is an unexpected pleasure." But Mr Ferris had no heart for courtesies. "Miss Dare," he began, without any of the preliminaries which might be oxpected of him, " I have come upon a disagreeable errand. I have a favour to ask. You are in possession of a piece of information which it is highly necessary for me to share." "IF

The surprise betrayed in this single word was no more than was to be expected from a lady thus addressed, neither did the face she turned toward him alter under his searcning gaze. "If I can tell you anything you wish to know," she quietly declared, "I am cer tainly ready to do so, sir." Deceived by the steadiness of her tone and the straightforward look of her eyes,'ho proceeded, with a sudden releasement from his embarrassment, to say: " I shall have to recall to your mind a most painful incident. You remember, on the morning when we met at Mrs Clem mens's house claiming as your own a dia mond ring which was picked up from the floor at your feet?" " I do."

"Miss Dare, was this ring really yours, or were you misled by its appearance into merely thinking it your property ? My ex cuse for asking this is that the ring, it not yours, is likely to become an important factor in the case to which the murder of the unfortunate woman has led."

"Sir " The pause which followed the utteranca of thus one word was but momentary, but in it what faint and final hopo may have gene down into the depths of everlasting darkness God only knows,

" Sir, since you ask me the question, I will say that in one sense of tho term it was mm«, and in another it was not. The ring was mine, because it had boon offered to me as a gift the day before. The ring was not mine, beoause I had refused to take it when it was offered." ■

At these words, spoken with such quiet ness that? tftey seemed like the mechanical utterances of a woman in a trance, Mr Ferris started to his feet. He oould no longer doubt that Bvidonca of an important nature lay before him. "And may I ask," he inquired, without any idea of the martyrdom bo caused, "what was the name of the person who offered you this ring, and from whom you refused to take it ?"

"The name?" Sho quavored for a mo ment, and her eyes flashed up toward heaven with a look of wild appeal, as if the require ment of this moment was more than even she had strength to moot. Then a certain terrible calm settled upon her, blotting the last hint of feeling from hor face, and, rising up in her turn, she met Mr Ferris's inquiring eye, and slowly and distinctly ro pliod: '■It was Craik Mansell, sir. He is a nephew of Mrs Clemmens." It was the name Mr Ferris had come there to hear, yet it gave him a slight shock when it foil from her lips—perhaps because his mind was still running upon her sup posed relations with Mr Orcutt. But he did not show his feoliiigg, however, and calmly asked: "And was Mr Mansell in this, town tke day bafare the assault upon his aunt?" "He was."

" And you had a conversation with him ?" " I had."

"May I ask where?" For the first timo she Bushed ; womanly shame had not yet vanished entirely from her stricken breast; but Bhe responded e» steadily as before: " In the woodß, sir, back of Mrs Clemmons'g house. There were reasons"—sho paused

—" there wore good reasons, which Ido not feel obliged to state, why a meeting in such a place was not discreditable to us." Mr Ferris>"who had received from other sources a full version of the interview to which sho thus alluded, experienced a sud den revulsion of feeling against one he could not but consider as a detected coquette ; and, drawing quickly back, mode a gesture inch as wa« not often witnessed In those elegant apartments. " You mean," said ho, with a sharp edge to his tone that passed over her dreary soul unheeded, "that you were lovers?" "I mean," said she, like the automaton she surely was at that moment, " that he had paid me honourable addressee, and that I had ne reason to doubt his motives or my own in seeking such a meeting." "Miss Dare," —all the District Attorney spoke in the manner of Mr Ferris now,— "if you'refused Mr Maneoll his ring, you must have returned it to him ?" She looked at him with an anguish that bespoke her full appreciation of this quaa fci»n implied, but unequivocally bowed her head. "It was in hie possession, then," he continued, " when you left him on that day and returned to your home ?" "Yes," her lips seemed to say, though nt distinct utterance came from them. " And you did not see it again till yeu found it on the floor ef Mr« Clemmens's dining-room the morning of the murder?." "No." " Miss Dare," said ho, with greater mild ness, after a short pause, "you have answered my somewhat painful Inquiries with a straight!orwardnMa I cannot suffi ciently commend. If you will now add to my gratitude by telling mo whether you have informed amyono else •* tho important facts yon have just given me, I will distress you by n« further questions." " Sir," said she, and her attitude shewed that she could endure but little more, t " I have taken no one else into my confidence. Such knowledge as I had to Impart was not matter for idle gossip." And Mr Ferns, being thus assured that his own surmises and that ef Hickory were correct, bowed with the respect her pale face and rigid attitude geemcidto demand, and considerately left the house.

{To be Continued.)

Swiss Commissioner's Speech.

Extract from ft speeth dellvarpd it the Ainnhlffitfttrre af the Primary College at I*- Chnuxde-Fondß, Tuesday, tha UCn dny of JfOTßmbor, 1576, by M. Ed«iiard FaTre-Porrol, ' Swiss Commissioner and furor to tho PhUa delphiaKxhlbiti-.n:- On tho Waltham "Riverido" Watch. .... "The Waltham Company mako tho i-ntire watch — from tho first scrow to tho caao and dial. It' Would oven be difficult for ihiin to use our produots, bo groat is the regularity, bo minute tho precision, with whfoh thdr machines work. They arrive • at ii retaliation of the watoh—so to say— without having eoen it When the watoh is irt'on to the adjuster, the foremlin delivers to filth tho corresponding hair-spring, and the wnteh is regulated. (Sensation among the nuilience.) H«ro is what I have Been, gentlo tn<>n! I asked from tho dircetorof the Waltham Company a watch of tho fifth grade. A larffe safo was opened before me; at random I took a watch out of it and fastened it to my chain. Thti director having asked mo to let him have tho watch for two or throe days no as to observe tbe motion. I answered,' On the contrary, I per sist in wearing H Just as it is, to obtain an exact idea of your manufacture.1 At Paris I set my watch by a regulator on tho Boulevard, and on tho sixth day I observed that it had varied 32 seconds. And this watch is of the fifth Aim-riean grade; it oost 75 francs (movement without case). At my arrival at Locks Ishowed tha watoh to one of our first adjusters, who nskod permission to 'take it down '—in other words, to take it to piecos. I, however, wished first to observe it, and hero is tho result which I notod: hanging, daily variation li seconds; variation in different positions, from 4 to 8 seconds, In the 'heated room' the variation was but rory slight. Having thUa observed it, I handed the watch to the adjuster, who toolkit down. After the lapse of a few days he came tome and said, word for word: lam com pletely overwhelmed.; the result is incredible; oni would not find one such watch among 50 0 0 of our manufacture.' " This watch, gentlemen, I repeat to you, I took at hazard- out of a heap, as we say. You understand, from this example, that the Waltham wtch may bo preferred. I have finished, gentlemen, and I have told you of tilngs auch aa'lhave aeon th/m. It remains for us to profit from this ei-d experience, andto im prove our manufacture. Competent men are not wanting among us; they mußt go to work a [A round of appjatisc, followed tho speaker v hetiescended thi!tribune.MADVT,

The traditions of the Ist of April are evi dently not, yet dead.' Some ingenious person has taken advantage of the date to start the report that Madame Patti, "tired of being beaten and ill-treated by Signor Nicolini," has requested to be reinstated in the conjugal domicile. The tourjours sernil lant Marquis de Caux, questioned on the matter, replied that he had heard nething of the request, that for seven years Madame Patti had not written to him, and that she had become a total stranger, to whose pro ceedings be wttS'indJfferent.-r*' World,"

NOTES FOR THE LADIES.

[Selected by our London Corb6spondent.]

The new combination of plain and broch<s woollens is not much used for children, although very fashionable for girls over fourteen.

Large jetted collars, standing up well round the neck, and falling in points round, with long pendant ends in front, made up on wire and bendable to any form, are quite new, and form in themselves a stylish trim ming to a toilette.

Most of tho bonnets are small, and have square crowns, cut out at the back to show the hair. Hats remain rather large, but the high crowns of last season are not visible at present. A long feather is a very fashionable trimming for a hat turned up at one side. As to mantles, many of them havo long ends in front, something like, I believe, what our mothers used to call pelerines.

Lace for mantles is employed in all widths, so it rests with the wearer's choice and purse which to select.

Richness of material and a graceful and elegant style are the necessary qualiflations of a dinner toilette.

Quite new is a tulle foundation with beads and embroidery. Steel and jet beads intermixed on black tulle is a novelty suited to the present general mourning; coloured tulle, with beads to match, are a novelty of the season.

A novelty in trimming is a chenille guipure of leaves, with here and there an artificial picoteo or other flower interwoven with the material, the petals standing up as they would had they been simply tacked on,

Bed tulle is still most fashionable. Tho novelty is the front breadth of the riohest cut velvet of the same shade —an uncommon combination with tulle. Large sprays of red geranium, with variegated leaves, com plete this dress.

The new materials for spring dzesses are more remarkable for their beautiful colours than for great novelty of texture; the colouring of the ehot and figured fabrics is, however, so fascinating that one is easily persuaded to accept well-known fabrics under their new guise, and to leave the quest for absolute novelty until a later period.

As a rule, only two materials are usod for one dress, but exceptions are made when ono material is a brochd, especially if this is a broobe1 velvet on a satin or ottoman ground. In this casa plain velvet match ing the design, or plain satin or ottoman correspondlngwith the ground of thebroohd, aro frequently combined with the cashmere and brochd. Toilettes, in which the skirt is of brochd, have all the remaining portions made of velvet and satin, or ottoman, both fabrics matching the broch6 in colour.

' Nearly all the new materials are shot, silks, surahs, woollen, and even cotton fabrics; this mixture of colour does not preclude design, for tho nhot material takes the place of that generally occupied by a plain coloured fabric, and is accompanied by a similar shot material with a pattern, sometimes a stripe, but more often a' detached figure, or round or oval spot, raised or embroidered on ths surface.

A groat deal of camalau brocade on a light ottoman ground is also employed for dinner toilettes, and is very simple and effective.

Shot silks no longer depend upon colour only, but are enriched with embroidery or designs of some kind; the simplest have small spots or flowers in one of the colours of the silk only. Many of these combina tions are novel and interesting, as a shot silk in slato grey and copper colour with scattered flowers in copper-coloured velvet, and a sapphire blue and nut-brown silk with sapphire blue embroidery ; still more strange is a shot surah in moss green and old gold, with a closo pattern of coffee berries in deep-piled, coffee-coloured, and old-gold bourre de soie. Other shot surahs have patterns of crossed bars arranged in group, and forming a design of lozenges all over the ground, or they are made in white stripes upwards of two inohes wide. Very bright colours are introduced into these striped silks. One specimen has alternate stripes of flame-coloured silk and dark blue satin, with brochd velvet flowers. This fabric is used for a redingote, to be worn with a skirt oh flame-coloured silk, and forms a very rich costume by no means easy to wear.

Large collars are likely to be worn by children as the season advances. The Claudian Is ef plain white linen, bordered with Madeira work; thick silk cord, either blue or red, is introduced in and out of the highest row of eyelets in the embroidery, and thus forms an outline to the collar, which is in two shapes, square and pointed at the sides. The cord ; which is finished off with gilt oiguilettes, is tied in front. .

Very few walking or'visiting costumes are composed of woollen material only; brightness and richness of effect is given by combining silk or velvet with the woollen fabric. Cashmere, in all its many varieties, is still, and will be for some time, the material chiefly employed for these cos tnmee, and it is almost invariably trimmed with .velvet bands, although- sometimes combined with faille or satin. The plain velvet skirt under a draped tunic and cor sage of cashmere still continues in vogue, and the costume can be rendered more ele gant by trimming the tunic and corsage with chenille.

Full draperies, whether paniers or tunics, will become more fashionable as heavy winter fabrics give place to those of lighter texture that are worn in the spring and summer; there is no doubt that the time 1b come when we shall have to reconcile our selves to this great ohange in the modes ; in nearly all tho new toilettes, made of materials that are not too stiff and heavy for this arrangement, the .corsage is short, that is, it has very moderate points in front, and the basques are very much curved over the hips, and the full-puffed drapery springs immediately from under the cor sage at the sides, and covers the point at the back. . This brings -the fulness within an inch or two of the waist, and, although adding to the size of the figure areund the hips, it has the advantage of making the waist appear smaller.

'.'A.H.,"in the "Queen," enumerates a few items of the newest fashion :—Bright red parasols, or rather en-tout-cas, with carved brown bone handles, long and flat. Shaded velvet tulips of several tones, with leaves, carried down the side of a ball gown. Ostrich feather fans in tho form of an arch, with a plume of ostrich and ospreyatthe side. Bridesmaids' fans in the shape of a half-open one, with handle, and covered with flowers. Palm-shaped fans covered with lace, intermixed with flowers, to match those on the dress. Handkerchiefs with narrow borders, each side of alternate colours, grey and blue, brown and pink. Tho Muscovite shoe, with one strap, buckled and buttoned over the instep, lined with Suede kid, sewn in white, having holes punctured round the foot. A most service able glove, the Castor Suede, muoh Btronger than, ordinary Suede, and made with many buttons. Silk stockings, with real lace insertion in three rows covering the front of the foot.

One of the most successful women in society is the woman who absolutely knows nothing—that is, in the ordinary accept ance of the term—but whose nature is so nicely adapted to the needs and require ments of this life that she makes no blunders and hurts the tender feelings of no one. It is a matter for us to reflect upon, and it should incite us to help our children to cultivate that spirit of kindli ness which would just as readily speak well of people as ill, if not to prefer to do so. We might teach our daughters that to listen patiently to the praise of others will not detract in the least from their charms.: Those happy women who are capable of honest and hearty admiration for persons.of their own sex are, and always have been, admired and loved, though without accom plishments or graces save this one of inborn charity and goodwill.. ..-••..

For evening and reception toilettes flowered crSpe de Chine and shot silk take precedence of all other fabrics, but a great many ball dresses for young ladies arce made of chenille gauze; this is, However, less new than canvas gauze on a chenille ground. Some of these are very beautiful, notably one in which the pattern is a copper-coloured gauze oval spot on a ground of tobacco coloured chenille. This material drapes in very graceful .folds, and is combined with satin or rich silk. - "•_ •: *■ Another variety of gauze is in stripes' two inches wide vthe alternate stripes areoftbe. the slightest surah and of soft,.silky gauze, half wool and ball Bilk, A dinner dress

made of this material has the skirt of _the striped gauze on a white silk foundation, trimmed at the edge with flounces of white lace embroidered with gold. The tunic is also of gauze, and the waistcoat of white sicilienne.

Eibbon velvet bands, secured by clasps more or less ornate, are suitably worn when the neck is too long or too thin for beauty, a defect that the present method of hair dressing renders more pronounced. A lace scarf, tied immediately round the neck, with short bow, and ends a little to the left or right, as the wearer shall decide, is also a useful adjunct to the toilet. By .the exercise of a little taste and invention, even unbecoming fashions maybe made to reverse arbitrary rule, and even prove absolutely complimentary.

Talking of the fashionable way of arrang ing the hair reminds me that I hear many of my readers find it not altogether easy to dispose of their tresses securely or becom ingly according to rule. It is easiest, first, to arrange the fringe, and then to comb the hair from the neck and, lowering the head, draw it upwards and over the forehead, then to divide it in to separate strands, and twist loosely or plait, afterwards forming a coil on the top, more or less forward, as the shape of the head and cast of features shall dictate. It is an error of judgment to strain the hair from the roots. A certain looseness of arrangement, combined with absolute neatness, is what is most desir able.—" Penelope,"

Ribbons for chapeaux are made in the same style, with raised velvet designs, of which the originals are to be found in the poultry yard; flowers, fruits, butterflies, and birds are all imitated with equal fidelity to nature, aad are certainly prettier than liens and chickens. The ribbons are bright and gay, and just what is required in colouring for spring chapeaux, which always seem desirous of emulating the increasing brightness of the sun.

Besides all these light silks and surahs, ahot, striped, and figured, there are plain and broohe voiles that are either made up alone or, as is generally the case, combined with some equally light silken fabric. The colours are as varied as those of silks, and som« of the newest are figured with little loops of chenille j these are exceedingly pretty, and are likely to be in great favour.

Ginghams, being thoroughly dyed and prepared with less dressing than sateens, really will stand cleaning, or even washing by the laundress.

Those gingham dresses that I have seen made up nave been all made with a spotted top and a plain underskirt of a tint to match either the ground or the sputa of the bodice and tunic. The underskirts are made mostly in large box pleats, the tops of whioh are covered with the upper drapery. The bodices in these materials are mostly made rather plainly, as, indeed, a washing dress must be to be a reality. In one a waistcoat was put in of the plain material. In some others the bodice was quite plain in itself, but had a plastron of lace put on down it from the neck to below the waist. A third style was a polonaise, plain in the front to near the knee, and then looped up very high to the left hip, but allowed to droop to the right; this was almost like the old-fashioned Princess dresses. The backs of all upper skirts are draped, but the drapings are loose and long—not caught up into a multitude of little folds, but with one, or, perhaps, at most, two largo pleats at tho seams. Under these crinolettes will be worn, bo as to make them quite boitffanle.

Dressmaker* are anxiously striving to introduce novel ways of arranging the dpapery of skirts; kilts and box pleatings have been repeated, they think, ad nauseam, but I do not particularly admire some of ihoimbstittitos held up for our favourable judgment and adoption. I will describe a dress I was shown at a fashionable costumier's a few days ago, and_ reserving my own opinion, leave the fashion to the criticism of my readers: —Dress of stone coloured cashmere, and pink and blue and dove-coloured shot silk; ths upper part of the gown was mode with a polonaise, draped window-curtain fashion and much bunched behind. The edges of the bodice and over skirt were bordered with thick ruches of shot eilk pinked at the edges. The under skirt or petticoat was arranged as follows : Deep flounce, correspondingly edged with silk ruche, headed by three narrow tucks placed at equal distances, then a space of 12 or more inches, and for a heading three cords nearly as thick as one's little finger run in about an inch apart; thick silk ruche above on the foundation skirt; the neck of the dress had a similar ruche. The bodice of a dress of this character should be of cashmere, never of the shot material. On the contrary, a dress of smoke blue or grey cashmere should properly be made with bodice of silk brocade of one fixed colour. A pretty gown I much admired had a plain apron front of Pekin—that Ib, silk and velvet in wide stripes; the colour was brown, and the overdress was of unpatterned brown silk. Cashmere, as being more serviceable, might be substi tuted for silk if found desirable.

The "Queen " has the following notes on new millinery:-—A black straw bonnet, covered all over with gold net, ,80 trans parent that you can see the straw beneath.' On the top a cream net handkerchief, lace edged, and wrought in gold, caught toge ther with very long gold-headed pins. There is one prevailing, shape in bonnets, small and close, giving ample room for the hair to be dressed high, the brim coming flat on the head, and generally bordered j with beads or loops of gold braid, but with' rery large upstanding tufts or bouquets on the top, and two small-headed gold pins, with gold or onyx heads. The Marie Stuart ■hape is now made with the point to come slightly on one side. Straws are worn. A Tuscan was composed, not of plaited straw, but fine straw cords, radiating from the centre of the crown, and trimmed with dark; green velvet; a spray of green-bearded wheat on the top—bearded wheat is one of the best worn garnitures. Muslin bon nets are embroidered in gold. A trans parent black lace bonnet was an exception to the prevailing shape; It had a square crown, lined with gold cloth, a huge cluster of daffodils outside. A soft red straw was so supple that'the straw itself wae caught up into plaits at the baok and sides. It was lined with brown, and had a bouquet ef large Marguerites, marigolds, and yellow heath. These mixed bouquets are much worn. Both hats and bonnets are covered, with silk embroidered crape.

Bridal toilettes are chiefly made of satin combined with velvet brocade, which is ussdfor the corsage and train, and-these are undoubtedly the most handsome and, in many cases, more becoming than plain white satin, Still, this fabric has somany admirers that numbers o! bridal toilettes are made of it, either trimmed with lace or* untrimmed, save for the wreaths and Bpraye of orange blossom. A pretty model, grace ful but ver»y simple, has a skirt consisting of one long bouillonne', edged with a fine pleating, a small wreath of orange blossom forming a heading to the pleating. The tunic is put on full at the waist, and forms a Sraped tablier and small panier on the left side, with a bouquet of orange blossom between the toblier and panier. The train is very long and full, with a rich coquilW drapery on the left side, and large bouquet on the end of the train. The plaifl-pointed corsage is bordered with white chenille ball fringe, but the point at the back is con cealed by the draping of the panier and train. Chenille ball fringe is used to trim the collar band, and plain parements. The dress for a bride's mother is a half-mourning toilette of brochd, with a black velvet design and a dark grey satin ground. The underskirt is of plain grey satin, bordered with flounces. The brochi tunic is a plain skirt draped with a few pleats at the side; the upper part of the back breadths forms a large puff, the lower part falls in wide pleats to the ground. The corsage is plain and pointed, with handsome lace ruffles to the elbow sleeves, and a lace jabot to match in front, . • . -i '

Remember This.

II you die sick, Hop Bitters will surely aid .Nature in maJdag you well when all else tails. It you are costive or dyspeptic, or are suffer* ing from any other of the numerous diseases ol &I stomach or bowels, it isyonrown fault.if you remain ill, tor Hop Bitters is a sovereign remedy in all suoh oomplaints. ; .;; II you are wasting away with any form ot Kidney disease, stop tempting Deatii this mo ment, and turn tor a cure to Hop Bitters. If you are sick with that terrible sickness Nervousness, you will find a " Balm in Gilead in the use Of HOP Bitters. : , If you are a frequenter or a resident of a miasmatic district, barricade your system "against the scourge ot all countries—malarial, i epidemic bilious, and intermittent tevers-by the use of Hop Bitters.. I M yon have rough, pimply, or sallow skin, | bad breath, pains andaches, and feel miserable generally. Hop Bittera will give you fair skin, rich blood, and sweetest breath, health, and comfort ■ In short, they oure all diseases of the Stomach, Bowels. Blood, Liver, Nerves, Kidneys, BrWs Disease, *S»ifa*».u*lJ%£ *25" they will not oure or help. Druggists and Chemists keep. ' li., ■ ',_. That poor, bedridden, invalid wife, slßtor mother, or daughter, can be made the picture of health bya few bottles of Hop Bitters, costing butairiie. Will you let them »ufflB»« .„;,• L ,

CLIPTOMANIA.

Extracts from Society Papers and all the moat interesting sources.

[Selected by. oub London Cobeespondent.]

Mb Monotjre D. Conway, it is said, is about to return to America, and will take up his residence at Washington..

When will Continental reporters learn to write English titles properly 1 The follow ing are a few names registered in a pannes newspaper as fashionable arrivals in that town. I wonder who will recognise them .— " Sir Arthur Bart, Corn well-Stepney, Son. Hon. Dundas, Son. Hon, Knatchubull Huguesen, and Sir Henry Bart Vavasour." "Sir Heary Bart' Vavasour" is good. -"Truth." , . • '

Madame Sarah Bernhardt has recently again been offered an engagement for the United States. But her terms were too high, and no business was done. At the Porte St. Martin she gets £60 per night and half the profits, ana the takings exceed £300 per night.

A biography of Madame Patti, telling the story of the early years of her professional life.is said to be in course of preparation. The author is said to be a lady who travelled some sixteen years with the prima donna. The work will first be, published in Vienna, and it is proposed to translate it into several languages. , ■-■/

Following her husband's essay upon jam, Mrs Gladstone is about to publish a little manual entitled " Healthy Bed-rooms and Nurseries." A short essay on the feeding bottle, its use and. abuse, would make a capital seriee complete.

Mr Hunt, " the "Michigan millionaire," who died recently, bequeathed legacies of £1,000 each to Josh Billings and to the mother of Artemus Ward. Hia : widow has taken proceedingsjto contest,the payment of these sums, as she considers that he must have been insane to make such bequests. —"World."

It is very proper that the French papers should take an interest in English affairs, but would they not do well to steer clear of the boat-race ? The readers of the Gaulois, for instance, will gather rather a false im pression of the business from being told that one of the features of the load-race is the coachman who diroota the manoeuvres. ''

During th« last week all the papers have announced that Gounod has just composed an air to Byron's "Maid of Athens " for the benefit of the heroine of those verses, who is described as living In London in great poverty. Mrs Black, the Maid of Athem, died nearly ten years age; and it is thirteen years since Gounod'composed the air in question, whioh produoed about £20 towards the fund for the relief of tho old lady. —"Truth." ■ / ' . ;-]v

Reckoning the performers and others' engaged both before and behind the.cur tain, the new Empire Theatre gives employ ment to nearly five hundred persons. The proportion of these who actually take part in the performances of'" Ohilperic " is, we believe, unprecedeptly large, a. circum stance due to the pains bestowed upon the spectacular portion of the entertainment.

With all hi» simplicity and naivete, Charles Iteade was a poseur, and from an early period of his public career posed as an eccentric. Ho greatly surprised and out raged the old fogies of the original Garrick Club by parading that august establish ment in a pair, of worn slippers, for which he exchanged bis boots in tho little never used card-room at,the top of the heuee. All his wild explosions of printed rage against the critics, or those' who accused him of plagiarism, or those who stole his plays,- were really merely business adver tisements, for, by nature as by practice, hs was a most kindly man.—"World." V -

"Noon boet dhe'most rensofisteketed in literari enterpriiiz wil rckwair tv bi told dhat dhis periodical v not a komershali profitabli. undertektng. On dhe kontrari, it haz enteld on its. proj<sktar and ebndce'k ter diuring dhe pist yir an cunretnWnerativ expenditiur ov sertenli mor dhan wcenforth, ov hiz veri moderet inkcein, in adishon tn mental and mekanical labor." This Is to be the Queen's English of the future, as recommended by "The Spelling Experi menter"; but we cannot help hoping that the proje'kter arid coridce'kter will soon think better of his oenremiunerativ venture as soon as convenient.—" Globe." . ' A

One blue dress-coat, mix loulons dor, has been seen in London this season, and the young exquisite for whom it was built is very sorry by this time that he ever showed himself in suoh a ; ." get-up." Not even the, example of the bold and daring Due de Morny, pins our own Oscars, can induce English gentlemen to go to evening parties in coate suggestive.of (the masquerade. Having dealt to characteristically with " Tha Poets' Birds" arid " The Poets' Beasts," Mr Phil Robinson is now engaged in collecting and commenting on, in his most humorous manner, the allusions made by our poets, from Chaucer downwards, to fishes and reptiles. The.resulting volume ought to bo the -'funniest of the three. —"Figaro/ 1 - '•"> ':' j ':- '•■ '•'■ "^ ': »>

It is recorded of Prince Bismarck that on his birthday a week,or two ago, as he stood before a table on "which were heaped the masses of flowers that had been, sent to him, he exclaimed, "Now I -feel like MadamePattL**;.' The feeling was not sfrong" enough, however, to find vent, in song. Prince Bismarck's friends were spared that trial.,- .'' ■;;, '::■";'' ";. '".:'■ ; '■*■

Mrs Ann Stump, of Columbus, Ohio, has fallen a victim toiherlovefor a pet dog., i She could not bear the thought of dying Borne day, and leaving her dumb friend to the persecution of an ungrateful world. So sha poisoned the dog with strychnine. Afterwards repenting, she poisoned herself. English actors are said to bei • occasionally chilled by the imperturbability of the stalls.' Bostonians are said to prida themselves oh emulatiq^ £he (British. sang frqid.,, -When Henry Irymg Jyas playing at!1 Boston, a lady, who was .seated next to two highly cultivated young ladies, who were witness ing with icy'lndifference the'great actor's performance, exclaimed, half to herself, ",Is he not superb ?",,. The elder of the two damsels fixed lier with a chilly stare, arid replied calmly,""Pardon me, but I do not yet experience.'any thrill." •'

':' It appears that a;dynamite gun* has been constructed:' It may be seen at some iron works at New York, aid is expected to sink, on occasion, the largest man-of-war afloat. Of course, it is.also expected to annihilate the crew. The projectile of the gun weighs- about' lOOlbs., and is ah ordinary dynamite cartridge encased with Uather. It would appear, from the descrip tion, that the gunis likely to be much more dangerous to those, who use it than to those against wh^m it is used.—"Echo.";. !,','.'

Mr Ruskin.haa written of the pro-, jected new railway through Derbyshire :— '' Though I should be driven out of Brant wood by the trippers dancing on my lawn,1 and the smokers sauntering in my garden, I could still set up' my rest where I could see the lamb leap, and hear the windhover cry.'1 By which it must be.understood that Mr Ruskin does not object*to Birmingham excursionists coming to Brantwood, as long as he can get out of the way. ' Whether the tripper danee s or the dancers trip; whether the smokers saunter, or the saunterers smoke; so long as lambs leap—that is to say, until the end of June—Mr Buskin would let the' the railway do. its worst. —"Globe." ' , :,'; i •

A young lady recently addressed a letter^ to Ruskin on the subject of art training. Desirous of becoming an artist, and wishing good advice, she. thought she could do no Better than apply to so high an authority. The reply was characteristic and rather dis appointing. The great critic, without giving her any hint as to the right course to pursue, told her 'fit would be better to write less and cultivate a good and beautiful hand writing. No one who writes as you do could, make a good artist.!! It took five people to decipher the hieroglyphics in which Ruskin clothed these few words. The young lady framed this curious production and hung it in her studio. ;. ■■■■■•■■, • ■- •■•■■ ? .>, ~::

The newest of New World newspapers is the "BadLanda Cowboy." lntheßadLanda its titje will be by no means against it» suc cess; and it promises, bo says the "New York Herald," to be the leading cattle paper of the North-Wesfc. At present it is •• not pub lished forftin, vbut'.fortwo dollars ayear;'.' but, from all that we hare heard of him, the typical " Bad Lands Cowboy" would be dearatthepricet ' ■. The oldest inhabitant of Detroit ia aged 105 years.. He took on active part in tho Irish rebellion of 1798, is stout and healthy, and attribates. his prosperous longevity to the " persistent and judicious use of whisky and tobacco." "KrßJstent",b gop(i. For the sake of his health, thi^ devoted-person could never be .deterred from tobjaceo and alcohol. Nqfile man! deserving, at least, of an obituary notice when he should happen to i die in the "Alliance News," Sir W. Lavr ■ son's organ, '"■'■■' • - ■ - ■■- -^

- There ate a good.»many, enphesdteM for homicide. The Irish-Amencan eongplra tor " reaioves" his man;? the average Eng lish ro»gh threatens, t0.,'.'.d0 for .aim, One of the latter olass, who was .brOngh* ,arj at Hampstead ttie other day, may lay claim to some originality in-the language Ot menace. Hfe threat to tha policeman who charged him with violence was that ,he would get the offioer. "ready for the under taker." Here is a story told by Longfellow in'the " Critic " :—Hearing a domestio talking at the front door with a person who seemed very rau«h in earnest, bs went into the hall and fouad an Englishman and his wife. I<-She," said the poet, "was a thorough specimen of an English matron, etout, toll and substantial. He was—well, one of the real terrier Bort—irJboks—and carried a siiK umbrella, neatly covered, evidently intent on ' doing' this country in the shortest possible space "of time. On seeing me he said (and the way in which the poet repeated whatfollowed was inimitable): " AwrMr Longfellow, aw I I-we—supposed you had no ruins in this country, and aw! we thougnß, we would, aw I—like to see aw! yon. . A short time ago, Madam Sarah Bern hardt endeavoured to inflict personal vchas tisement on a fellow-actress, Mdlle. Mane Colombier, for the circulation of calumnious reports concerning her by the latter. Mdlle. Colombier recently published a volume entitled "Sarah Barnum." A "reply ap peared entitled " Marie Pigeonnier, 1' by an anonymous writer. Both-books have given | rise to criminal proceedings, and the legal authorities have decided on prosecuting Mdlle. Colombier, as the author of the one and the publisher and printer, m default; of the author, of the other. It does not seem as yet clear on what ground the prosecutions, are to take place. .■ . • .- ; _; Albeit aged and wealthy, Barnum^. it appears, is still open, through his agents, to "trade"—as his countrymen say *or >l any good thins in the shape of- ? e a draw-.,, -A1:, Paris correspondent tells how that one pf hi 3 (Barnum's) emissaries there offered ata engagement to, an Arab , girl ; named; Kadondja, who sings in a Parisian caje chantant, to travel with one of the :oia man's shows, but they could not com<r to; terms. If they had, the agent told the coM-eapondent, " it was Barnum's intention to have advertised her as one of the wives of Arabi Pasha, who, owing to the ill-tr<»* ment of her {amouß master by the Bntash ; Government, had been forced to gd # on-the* Btage in order to earn an honest Uvmg;| -./. " What do ypu drjnk;? 1' wa» recently, so we learn from an advertisement; aiked of Miss Ellen Terry by an Amenoan. inter viewer. "Tea—with melt ia tea or death, | she promptly replied, apparently soiour that the phrase, "What do you, drink?" isln America »ninvltation to take something, rather than ah inquiry as to your special '' wanity." On second thoughts, however, it is possible that Miss Terry was aware that her alternative of "tea ordeath by no means overtaxed the iresources Of an American bar, 'for the interviewer might have suitably replied by ordering a "Sudden Death " for the lady and a " Corpse Kaviver to bring her rounß again.

A New Dynamite Gun.

We take the following from the . " Dynam ite Monthly," a newspaper published by the New York Fenians :—" A'machine, that looked Ike a 40-foot brass pipe, mounted on a steel girder, such as lie on the elevated railroad pillers, rested in the oentre of the machine shop of the Delamater Iron Works, New York. The machine is the ;barrel ; ands oarriage of tho new four-inch .dynamite pneumatic quo, whioh, when completed, is expected'to sink, on occasion, the .largest man-of-war afloat and annihilate its crew. The gun is constructed of brass and steel,; fitted in the most»accu»ate manner, at the joints, and capable of sustaining a pressure: of 1,000 pounds to the square inch. It weighs but a ton, and may be carried by a small gunboat The projectile is nothing ■more or less than a dynamite cartridge en-, cased in soft metal within a shell of l>rassi' and fitted with a wooden tail. It weighs about .100 pounds. The: soft metal filling, protects the dynamite from ordinary' "acci dents. But when'the projectile, flyihg.at Speeds-strikes, head on, against a resisting surface, a hard metal pirif embedded1 in the soft metal, and not touching .the dynamite, ; is forced into the fulminate at the head Of of the cartridge and discharges the . dynam ite." : In order that wind-currents may not interfere in the precision of the firing, ths centre of gravity is near.the forward"end of the projeotile. Kie wooden Ml acta. as;a rudder, the wind -veering-the tail "around andthrowinst fhs head ifeto the windiiipro portion to the strength of the current/ thus maintaining an .absolutely straight 'course. The gun is constructed with a powerful air chamber, capable l of. storing ::an immense force of compressed air.:; The gunner sights with telesoopo sights with air lines, and with the pressure of a finger'dischargee the1 compressed air into the Barrel, ! and1 starts; -the; projectile on its flight; i The great length of the tube is required to economise all the force of the air, which is less rapid in'ltd actioriitliariigunp6^rdßr/ 'This gun/ said Mr Hin/Jsdale,' who is; superintending the construction, ' will throw the cartridge three miles Vith "a •precision never "attained' with gunpowder. An "ordinary' projectile loses power with' each yard il ■ttavels'sfronV the gun. This cartridge arrives ready for business, no matter how far it goes.' ' Sup pose a cartridge landed oh the deck of the rThunderer ten English man-of-warahip). what would: happen V ' The vessel would be shattered and stink:.by the explbsidri, and every living being upon the dack '\fould be blown to atomt. Wnether '■■ any one below the deck would HVe to" drowirlnths sinking vessel I cannot state. 1 a shot fMri'the ddemy struck; lih« vessel "carrying the dynamite oartsiagel ?' "/VE«il;-the boat } might bo sunk bythe shot, Hot unless a cartridge was struck" ad*as to; explode th<§ fulminate th'a dymamite would-not ej(?lode.' The Goverrimarit hi ekperinieiiting at Fort Hamilto* (Longlsland}..with a 2-inch gun, and some w.ondsrful, execution hag bean done/ ': The:guns njajr be manufacitufed in any well-equipped machine shop, and cob< but a song in •omparison with the enormoui guns turned" by: Krupp; and atf Weolwiohi The game prlneipls ti applicabls to field gunsib1' be''used tijIlihd J;engagetnerits. '■■■_£ Few dynamite cartridgeseipfeded-in;a bri gade'wouldiavetheefiectofap6\?d« mill explosion upon the troops*" •;■'. A!'■■;}

THE AOCKI^AI^ 21, 1884.

3



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