THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 1887.

ISWPLJMEST;..,

Ruby's Reward.

BY MRS GEOIiGIE SHELDON,

Author of "The Forsaken Bride,

"Brownie's Triumph," "That

Dowdy," etc.

CHAPTER VI.

A NEW REVELATION,

i Edmusd Carpenter had met Ruby Gordon ; at a brilliant reception given by a mutual friend during the previous winter. It was the young girl's first season in ; society, and she was as fresh, beautiful :• and charming as it was possible for a •-'debutante to be. . : Of course she at once attracted a great . deal of attention. She was not one of your regulation society belles, whose one ambi .-• tion has always been to "come out," at a • certain time, and whose education has been conducted solely with reference to that object. She was natural, sweet, and • piquant,with a mind of her own, and.plenty of spirit to speak »pu* her honest opinions, i and to show her approval or disapproval of ■■■' the modes, and customs of society, and the many admirers who crowded round her. Edmund Carpenter had been fascinated from* the first moment of their meeting. ••Ho had" frequented fashionable circles for.a number of years,, and showered atten tions upon many belles without ever , having been captured by one; but he thought he had never seen anyone so lovely as Ruby Gordon. She was not yet eighteen, and was like a sweet, wild rose ; i her spirits were light a* air, every movement ; . was full of unstudied grace, and she was : quick and keen as a brier in conversation and repartee. Besides all this, it was a well-known fact that she was qirito an heiress, independently of being the sister ■~ of the wealthy Robert Gordon, Esq., who occupied an enviable position in Phila delphia. Young Carpenter was what might be • called a handsome man. He possessed a tino form—tall, strong, and symmetrical-a well-shaped head, surmounted by rich dark ■ hair, regular feature--, and line, intclli -1 gent black eyes. He was well educated, polished and affable in manner, and possess ing largo wealth, was deemed a "great , catch" in society. But no one, as yet, : seemed to possess power to secure more than friendly attention from • him; for notwithstanding the fact that he was ■ twenty-six years of age he had never been engaged, and no one had thought him " likely to be, until Ruby Gordon, appeared upon the scene. He was attentive to all the belles alike - rode, danced, flirted with and sent flowers to the many, but no one in ; particular. " But from the moment of Ruby Gordon's ' entrance into society, a change seemed to come over' him. He- hovered about her 1 continually; he had no eyes or ears for •anyone else, and devoted himself to her. exclusively, while he appeared to regard the •' attention of others as an infringement -' upon his rights. . \- People began to talk about it—to say that 'Edmund Carpenter, the "male ■ 'coquette and flirt," had been captured at ' last, and so it seemed. '- Robert Gordon was not displeased with this state of things; indeed, he viewed them with comp'acpney: ' ■ | ■ He had lpn^ known and respected Ralph ■ GarpSitStVj fi's Svery Qiie else Karl clone, and • . though he had not met Edmund until quite | ■ recently, he believed he must be a worthy f son to have had so noble a father. r , He was, as we have already seen, extremely fond of his young sister, who: was fifteen . year,s his junior ; indeed, she wag more like : a daughter to him,and he had humoured her \ every wish ever since his widowed mother's 1 • death, which had occurred ten ye.irsprevioug, \ when she had commended the delicate child ;to his dare, and begged him to guard her faithfully from the evils and storms of life. '■-',: He had been true, to; his trust—so true that he had almost made an idol of her ; and now he could not repress a thrill of pleasure as he became conscious. that the wealthy young millionaire seemed likely to choose his treasure from .the galaxy of 'beauties in their circle, and thus secure to her a position second to none in the city It was not Edmund Carpenter's wealth and position alone that influenced him, for ■ ;Ruby would have those if she never married ;. sit all; but he had been pleased with the j young man, and although he knew there [was considerable difference in their ages, yet he argued that he was all the better calculated to take care of her from that very fact, t': He had always- said he would never dic tate to her in a matter bo important to her interests; she should be free to choose for herself—to decide regarding her,pwn hap piness, and he would" liave sanctioned her of any worthy and honourable man, ! without regard to possessions or station. Once or twice he attempted to sound Ruby regarding her sentiments'toward, her suitor. ' "It seems to me that young Carpenter is f. getting quite friendly in this neighbour : hood," he remarked, wjth significant em .phasis, one evening after the gentleman had made a protracted call. " Oh, he only dropped in to bring me a book that we were talking about the other day," Ruby responded, but with a little extra colour in her cheeks. " Isn't it a trifle strange, petite, that you should prefer Aw society, .to that of others nearer your own age? asked Mr Gordon, tending a searching glanco upon the tair face that was so dear to him. "Hike people who talk misibly to me, Robert," she returned, with an expressive shrug of her pretty shoulders. " Sensibly ?" he echoed, in surprise. ' "Yes, most of the young men j whom 1 meet in society talk such nonsense. " Sv.ch as what, for instance ?" "Oil, about my hair, my eyes, my 'pretty feet,'and 'lovely dancing,, com paring them with somebody else_s imper fections, and all manner of absurd chattel. Idespise flattery and compliments "Oh, Ruby! when you always come to ■ \ me to be told how pretty you look, beiore. § you go anywhere, and seem to hke.it, too . 1 fetortud her brother, roguishly. _ m . ".Well, of course," she answered, taugft pgand blushing, " you Iqye me, anil you |t«waysmeajj what you say." . v , "True," replied 'Mr Robert Gordon, with »' amused smile, while he was sure thac the same could not be said of many ot iiei admirers; " but how does Mr Carpentei s conversation differ ?" , T . "He talks to me as if he thought 1 pos- Bp some brains; as if he »"aSine n d nf i »nW think of something besides; dross, ana toeing,- and gayety. He is fond of music ; so ami He can'tell you the name and something of the history of almost any m composer. He knows a.gooddeal I »bont arts and artists. Then it is.real y IWe like a review lesson to hear hm talk ?P°n history, both modern and- ; j*a«.the standard authors are like house ™ja names to him." ' ~ ~«■ You enjoy his society then . 'Y-eg; I enjoy talking with him. xcis gig after listening to the small talk of praise, Mr Gp. mMm not at all vhtftV young gB Hg bestow upon the man yhmg Miff to love. But he was not wtteted ' *^op the subject; jusfc yet.- " '■:\ < .

. Mr Carpenter stands well, Ruby. He W rich, handsome;, and well educated, and I suspect Dhab you are very much favoured by Ins attentions. 1 feel rather proud of his preference for you." --~._--. Ruby blushed at this, but looked grave. yes, he v well educated and rather good-looking and he is pleasant company," she-3aid, musingly ;" bub—" "Well, but what?" questioned her m-other, watching her expression closely. 1 am not quite sure that he is a very goofi man, was the rather startling reply." VV Juifc do you mean by that, petite ? 1 nave never heard a word against Mr Car penter's character."

'"Of course nob; neither have I. But somehow, when he gets to talking upon some subjects lie oxp'ressess himself in a way that Ido not like. He is hard and cynical. He is not sympathetic and charit able, as I think every good man should be, and he is sometimes overbearing and—and and just kind toward people in humble circumstances."

|| You must not be too critical, Ruby." " 1 hope I am not, Robert," replied the young girl, lifting her earnest face to her brother, " bub I believe in high ideals. I could never really like or respect anyone who was nob noble and good at heart." I might enjoy a man's society because of his intellectual ability, but I could not admit such a one to my conn.ience and friendship, if he were nob possessed of honour, integrity and kindness of heart."

" And do you consider that Mr Carpenter is devoid of those attributes ?"

"I should not like to say just that, Robert, and yet he says and' does a good many things that jar upon me."' Robert Gordon was surprised. His sister was showing him a new phase of character today. He .had no idea that slic possessed so much penetration ; that she was in the habit of thinking and reasoning so pro foundly, or of weigh:ng the character and motives of people so nicely. He knew that she was good and kind and gracious toward everyone; but he had always believed that it was natural to her, rather than she had been actuated by any special regard for principle. She was invariably bright andjiappy, so care-free that he had never imagined her pretty head could ever be seriously troubled by the more serious questions of duty and obligation. It was like a solemn revelation to him, and made him feel as if he had been guiltily neglectful not to have sought to know before more of her inner life. Ho feared that he had treated her too much as a child, a pet,a plaything, and thus starved her, when he should have fed her with strong me.t suit able for a more fully developed nature'! But it was a new bond between them, and drew them nearer than ever to each other.

He reached out his hand, and laid it gently on her shoulder.

"It is well to set your standard high, dear," he said, but we must not forgeb that everybody i.« human, and we have need to exercise toward others that charity which ' covereth a multitude of sins.' I will con fess that I have been pleased with Mr Car penter's preference for you, for I have con sidered, him ji worthy young man ; and if • mind, my pet, I would not influence you a feather's weight - if he should find favour in your eyes, it would give me great satis faction. He is,wealthy. He owns a beauti ful estate not far from the city; and it would be a great comfort to me to have you so pleasantly settled,, wliile thus, Ruby, I could always have you near me." "Robert,!'" cried the young girl, with a startled crimson face, "I have never thought of anything like that. I a;n.not yeb eighteen years old, and—and " " I know, dear, that you are very young, and under any other circumstances I would not have spoken so plainly. But I have eyes. I can see that Mr Carpenter will not be content to remain long in a state of single blessedness, if he can gain the prize that he covets, and so, Ruby, I have said this tiiafc you may riot fie taken un awares. ( , . - . . ■ There was another and stronger reason why Robert Gordon had tried to sound his sister's feelings, i From time •to time he had warnings that all was not as well with him as he could wish, or as it should be with a man of his years. . - -

Severe gains in his left side,' certain sen sations as if his heart suddenly turned over and then -ceased its action entirely, made him fear that, he might nob remain long in the world to care for his beautiful, orphaned sister, and he experienced a strong desire to have her happily settled in life be fore any ill should overtake him and thus leave her without a protector and at the mercy of unprincipled fortune-hunters. He had been correct in his suspicions. Edmund Carpenter had resolved to win lovely Ruby Gordon for his wife, if pos sible. She was not only beautiful in form and feature, charming in manner, winning every heart by her sweetness, piquancy, and orace, but nobility itself in character and principle. He had been astonished, as his acquaintance with her progressed, at the depth of thought which she manifested, the intellectual ability that she displayed and the lofty sentiments which pervaded her conversation and shone forth in all her deeds and bearing. He. had never met anyone like her, and he had set his whole heart upon making her his wife and the mistress of his elegant home. ... With this object in view, it is nob sbrange that he sought to mask the baser elements ■of his own nature, carefully governing his laneuao-e. and deportment when in her presence, and exerting every art and fas cination of which he was master to achieve his cherished purpose.

CHAPTER VII. A FEAST AND AN UNBIDDEN GUESTS. In October, a leading paper of the city an nounced that "one of our noted poets— whom, as. this incident is a true one, we shall call Mr Whitfield - was to be in town shortly, and that Mr Robert Gordon and lady would extend'to him their hospitality in the form of a grand reception to be given on the 20th." This announcement created quite a flutter among certain people, for Mr and Mrs Gordon were literary in their tastes, moving in the most select circles, and were deemed a great acquisition to society ; therefore it was considered quite an honour to be bidden to a reception given by them upon any occasion, and doubly so under the present circumstances. . . . The important evening arrived, and the Gordon mansion was all ablaze with light from attic to basement. Rare and frag rant flowers and plants were arranged with taste and profusion in every room and hall, and loaded the air with their perfume. A Stall but select orchestra had been en- S£ed to discourse choice music for the SUwisure of-the guests, and everything had been done to make the.evening an enjoyable as well as a memorable one.. ■ Mrs Gordon, a beautiful woman of stately m-esence, but possessing ■ a rather cold, Soudface, was elegantly clad in lavender sX richly trimmeel with white duchesse Hce and wearing costly diamonds, stood at one end of her tasteful drawing-room, with nol husband by her side, to receive her gUßuby was lovely in Avhite silk and tulle •Tl Kmino-s of bright red berries and d"S^wa^n green leaves, and flitted gaily daik waxui of joy that she was, St" -ake PevWbodyhappy and at CaAt nine o'clock a brilliant company of them . «<Heirs ■

"Heirs • t Of truth and pure delight fey heavenly lays.

The poet stood at the right of his host and hdstess,-- and was, of course, the cyno sure of all eyes. He was a venerable-looking man, having an intellectual head, which was surmounted by hair of snowy whiteness : ; keen yet kindly grey eyes, and somewhat sharpened features, which, however, wore a pleasant and genial expression, while his manner was most affable and courteous toward all. A little later there came a violent noisy ring of the door-bell. The polite usher of sable face, who was clad in shinin^•broad cloth, with a vast; expanse of polished shirt iron t, and who rejoiced in the distinguished cognomen of Thomas Jefferson Coffee, shrugged his broad shoulders disapprov ingly at this very unaristocratic ring, but hastened to admit the impatient guest, whoever he might be. ° He swung the door wide open, with his best bow, only to find, standing without, a small, rural-looking man, clad in a rough though respectable suit of mixed good's, leather boots whose soles were at least half an inch hi thickness, cotton gloves, a low crowned hat, and a bright scarf or muffler wound about his throat, while he carried a huge cotton umbrella in one hand.

His face was ruddy with health, and remarkable for its benevolent, good-natured expression, and he smiled affably as the shining African suavely appeared to invite him to enter.

_" Is Mister Whitfield, the poet, here to night?" questioned the stranger, nimbly stepping into the vestibule before the as tonished usher could take breath.

" i'es, sah ; Mr Gorden receives for him to-night, .sah,'1 responded Mr Coffee, draw ing ■himself-up with imposing dignity, and dexterously .planting himself in the door way leading into the hall, as if to bar the intruder from trespassing further. "I know ib— I saw it in the paper more'n a week ago —that lie was going to give him a big time, and I've come fco have a look ab him," and without more ado the man stepped boldly through the inner door, pushing resolutely past the astonished usher deposited his umbrella in a beautifully painted receiver,removed his hat and gloves, unwound his gay-coloured scarf from his throat, and began to look about him with curious interest.

"Excuse me, sah" said the perplexed darkey, approaching him, "but did you have cards for dis reception, sah ?"

" Card*! you don't mean to tell me that they sell tickets for the show, do you ?"' demanded the new-comer, looking nonplussed at this unexpected question. "Y\ ell," he added, "I am beat; but if that's the game, I guess I can settle," and plunging his hand into one of his capacious pockets he drew forth a handful of silver and held it out to the man.

"There; help yourself," ho said; "I sha'n'b be particular aboiit the amounts, for, you see, I've come three hundred miles to geb a squint at the chap that makes the best, verses that ever was writ, and I can't be disappointed, no how."

Thomas Jefferson Cofl'ce eyed that hand ful of gleaming silver wistfully, but shook his head with an air of grave rejection.

"I'm afraid it won't do," he replied, dubiously: " you see, dis am a private reception, and nobody can be admitted un less he lias a particular invitation."

" Jell','1 called a sweet voice just at that instant, "come here a moment," and, looking up, the two men saw Ruby stand ing not far from them. She had been passing through the hall just as the stranger entered, and she had caught something of what he had said. Jeff obeyed her call, and in a low tone explained what had occurred, while the young girl's face dimpled with amusement, and her eyes gleamed with merriment over his account.

" Of course we must manage someyr&y to let him see Mr Whitfield, if he has come Such a long distance," she said, after think ing a moment. 'Til go and speak with him, then you can show hifn to the library, while I ask Mr Gordon to arrange an interview for him."

Miss. Ruby's word was law in the house, and the man bowed assent to her command, though with a broad grin on his face, which disclosed two rows of huge white teeth, as he began to scent the fun of the affair. Ruby, her kind heart all aglow with sympathy for this rough but appreciative stianger, who had come three hundred miles to see the poet whom he loved, approached and addressed him.

"Good-evening, sir," she said. "Jeff tells me that you are anxious to see Mr Whitfield, -who is our guest to-night."

The man looked her over, an expression of admiration and delight, mingled with something of roverence for her exceeding loveliness, sweeping over his goodnatured countenance.

" Yes, miss," he answered. " I read in the paper—we take the " Weekly Press," you see—that Mister Gordon was going to give him a big reception, and I thought 'twould be tho best chance I'd ever have to see him, so I've come. The coloured gentleman," with a wave of his hand toward Jeff, which, together with the considerate title bestowed upon him, won that individual's heart for all time, "asked me if I'd got cards. I didn't know 'twas a regular ticketed show. I went to Washington once to see the Presi dent, and nothing was said about tickets, but I'm willing to pay what's right if I can only see the man that's walked right into my old heart with his sweet way of saying things." Ruby had hard work to restrain her smiles at the man's simplicity, and the idea of her brother having a "ticketed show" under any circumstances; while she wondered what her aristocratic sister-in-law would say to this novel name bestowed upon her o-orgeous reception for her noted guest. a But she was deeply touched by the strano-er's evident reverence for the poet, and she resolved that he should not be dis appointed, if she could help it. " I think my brother will be very glad to manage it for you," she replied, kindly; " and 1 am sure that Mr Whittield will ap preciate the trouble that you have taken to see him. Jeff .will show you to the library while I go to find him." But the bell rang again just then for some late-comer, and Jeff had to attend the door, so Ruby, anxious to get the unpolished visitor away from his conspicuous position in the hall, added: tl Come this way, please, and I will show

you." "Are you Mr Robert Gordon's sister?" he asked, as he turned-to accompany-her. " Yes ; my name is Ruby Gordon." " They'd better have called you a pearl; you look more like one," he returned, his round, grey eyes expressing his delight in her beauty. "We used to think our Anna was'wonderful good-looking," he added, with a sorrowful curve of his lips and a quaver in his voice, as he spoke the name, " but she couldn't hold a candle to you."

Ruby smiled and flushed; but she knew the compliment was sincere, if it was roughly expressed, and she could not resent

'" Then you have a daughter ?" she re marked, as she quickened her steps toward the library. '■•,.', , " No, not now. Anna died more n a year ago; but she was a sweet, good girl, and we pub one of Ida verses on her tombstone," replied her companion, with a significant o-esture toward the drawing-room, whence came the sound of many voices. " Was she your only one ?" Ruby asked, gently, while her fair face was full of sympathy for his loss. "Yes; we haven't a chick nor a child left, and mother and I are considerably put about to know what we shall do with the property when we get through with it," he replied, with a sigh. " There," said Ruby, wheeling forward a comfortable chair, but feeling a trifle embarassed ab the confidential turn the conversation was taking ; " sit here, please, for a'few minutes. And now, if you will

kindly give me your name, I will bring my brother and introduce Him to you.'- ;

"Ruggles, miss — Owen ' Ruggles, of Redville ; and I'm sure you're very kind." Ruby glided from the room, closing the door after her, for she knew that her proud sister would be greatly mortified and dis turbed if it should become general^ known thab bins uncouth stranger had intruded himself ab her reception ; while she also knew that if a reporter should get hold of it, the incident would be a dainty morsel to be served up, for the delectation of the hungry multitude, in the morning papers. She found her brother engaged in a quiet conversation with the poet himself. With her face all aglow, and her eyes gleaming, she glided to1 his side, slipped her hand within his arm, and whispered :

" Robert, I have something rich to bell you and Mr Whitfield."

"Ah! is that so? Then let us have it at once, by all means," he. returned, glanc ing fondly down into her face. She told her story then, in such a charm-

ing, animated way, and with such keen ap preciation of both its drollery and pathos, that both gentlemen were greatly delighted. " Bless the man !" exclaimed Mr Whiti field, heartily, when she had concluded, while there was a suspicious moisture in his eyes ; "of course I Avill see him ! I do not know when I have felt so honoured ! And he has come three hundred miles to see a brother man, simply because he happened to touch a poefcic chord in his own nature and make it vibrate !"

He turned as if to leave the room imme diately, bub somebody claimed his attention and he was detained, though, in a whispered aside, he told Ruby to ask- Mr Ruggles to wait, and he would come to him just as soon as he could find an opportunity todoso.

(To be Continued.)

FIRESIDE SCRAPS.

Imitation Ebony. — Ebony can be i:ni tated on wood by first painting with a one per cent, solution of sulphate of copper. When perfectly dry the wood is painted over with a liquid consisting of equal weights of aniline, hydro-chloride and spirits of wine. The blue vitriol acts on the aniline and forms nigrosin, a black which cannot be affected by acids or ; alka lies. A lustre can be added by coating with simple c'ipal varnish. To Bknukr Clotii Waterproof. —Dis- solve in six- gallons of soft water half a pound of alum and the same of sugar of lead ; stir it well, and let it stand for two days, then draw off the clear liquid and put the cloth into this letting it stay-there for twenty-four hours. Another way, which docs not randor ib impervious to air, but does to water, is to make a solution ot isinglass, alum, and soap, and apply it to the wrong side of the cloth with a brush ; when dry, bru-h it again on the wrong side, against the grain. When this i.s dry, brush it again with cold water.

Wise Words to tub Gikls.---It is not enough to bo smart, energetic, and indus trious, though these qua ities form a most desirable part of the qualifications of either the head or hand labourers Smartness, however, will not take tho place of skill, and it is pre-eminently skilled work that wins the babtle in these days. You may even possess genius, but unless you put that genius in training, harness it, as it were, you will come out behind, the plodder who has learned his lessons from the experience of others, and carefully applies thorn. There is too much iiot competition in tho world in every department of labour. You must strive to pass mediocrity and become superior working women, whether you' are cooks, laundresses, dressmakers, poets, or painters, otherwise you will soon find your selves crowded to the wall, and unless some happy accident comes to your rescue, you will bo likely to know what real want is. Prevention or Adulteration. — Adul teration seems to be.the order of the day. It enters into almosb everythingl weruso; Our clothing is adulterated ; woollen,-linen, and silk goods are tilled with cheap cotton. Almost every "article of food is adulterated ; flour, sugar, "butter, milk, lard, candy, drugs, spices, wines, tea, coffee, &c, &c. In preventing adulteration several things are ueces.-ary. One is, efficient laws; another, greater watchfulness on the part of those who have tho execution of the laws. They are of no use so long as they remain a diiad letter on our statute books. There seems to be a blind belief among too many of our people that laws will execute them selves, or that if enacted by our legislative bodies they will be obeyed without anyone to watch after offenders. Then we need more intelligence, and all should demand unadulterated foods. If everyone would educate himself as to what adulterations are and how to detect them, it would be worth more than all the laws thabconldbe passed. If boys ad girls and men and women every where could be taught practical ethics for a gonerauon or two, it would do more to prevent adulteration than anything else. We could almost afford to give up geo graphy and most of mathematics to make room for ethics

Utilizing Sunheat.—lnvestigations are still going on, particularly in France, with a view to utilizing the heat of the sun as a sourco of power and warmth. One of the most interesting and practicable methods in this line is that devised some- time ago by Professor Morse, of Salem, Mass. This devise consists simply of a shallow box, the bottom of which.is of corrugated iron, and the top of glass. Thi* is placed outside the building in such a position that the sun shines directly -jpon it, the heat raya of the sun pass through the glass, and are absorbed by the iron, heating it to quite a high tem perature, and, by a system of ventilation, a current of air is passed through the ap paratus and into the room to be heated. By this means the air was heated on pleasant days to about ninety degrees in passing over the iron. It is admitted, how ever, that the chief difficulty in all these methods of solar heating, as a substitute for the ordinary or artificial means, is yet to be overcome, being available only in fair weather, though, in connection with-the customary system, a solar apparatus may effect a saving in the quantity of fuel usually consumed. • Piietty Hands.—Various causes combine to make the hands very coarse and rough. Curiously enough, less attention is given to the hands than to the face, although they really require more care on account of the hard work they are call ed upon to do. Even a cook may have less coarse hands, if she will, by using glycerine or honey-after washing her hands, and never using coarse yellow soap, but a. little bran or oatmeal, which will clean the hands quite as well as soap and keep them soft at the same time, whatever may be the amount of work she may have to do, and to whatever exposure to heat and cold the hands may be sub jected. These same precautions may be adopted by women who. occupy themselves with auy rough work in the house, and, morever, they should always wear gloves, which will, more than .anything, keep the hands soft and. clean, and thus, dispense with the necessity of too frequent washing. College Education. —As our institutions are growing more and more practical each year, the patent who does not, encourage '• and open the way for a child to obtain an education, has deprived him of a heritage which fortune can . never buy. One does not have to be rich to complete a valuable course of study. Less money is required for dress than if the young lady or gentle man entered society. Our strongest men and women come from the country. Their robust health fits them- for doing much mental work, and rural women as._ a rule give their children, good moral training and sensible aspirations. If upon this founda tion is based a broad, thorough education, the edifice erected will be one useful, durable, and beautiful. The men and women who.rule the future will be ;i those who think ; and may many farmers' sons arid daughters be largely represented. ; .

SWEET KISSES.

Poetic anfi Practical Ideas About

Osculation.

"I thi*n tk," said a clever society lady, " that the kisses which one woman bestows on another at meeting or parting are the most insipid, cold, comfortless, stupid, nonsensical, forced, frozen, false and foolish kisses imaginable. That is, when they are not between, relatives. It's an abuse of the lips." " A waste of sweets," suggested the scribe. •-. "Not sweets—oftentimes anything but that—but a waste of patience, and a de mand on courtesy that is excessively try ing," and with this explosion of momen tary wrath, which lady readers have tall occasionally felt, the lady settled herself, in an easy chair and listened to a few remarks on kissing and the art thereotf. Sam Slick said a kiss was like creation : it was made out of nothing, and was yory good. That applies to kisses thatare kisses -not to ,kissiiigs between women or be tAveen men. Among our English ancestors it was customary for msn to kiss each other,'but the vile habit was finally turned over entirely to pur French and German friends. Great bearded men among theiMi kiss each other, and it is not pleasant 'to see. Nor does Mr Slick's definition apply to those kisses of ceremony or state symbol where the subject kisses the hand or fche foot of his sovereign or the ground before him: as has been customary in one ago or another of the world. When Gladstone surrendered the seals of oiliee tlie oi;her clay, and Salisbury received them, they both knelt down and kissed the Queen's hand. The Roman emperors demanded to be kissed on the feet, and later to have the ground before them kissed. \ There have also been religions kisses, duly enjoined in the writings of tbo Apostles. The Bible has many tender and some terrible passages concerning kissing, the extremes of which arc those of Mary Magdalen, so full of love and pathos/kissing the feet of the Saviour, and that of Judas betraying him. • But these are not the kisses one thinks of when the word is spoken, but rather of the kind Sydney Smith speaks of : " We are in favour of a certain amount of shyness when a kiss is proposed, but it should not "be too long, and when the fair one gives it let it be administered with warmth and energy ; let there be soul in it. She should be csaeful not to slobber a kiss, but to give it as a humming-bird runs his bill into a honey suckle—deep but delicate. We have the memory of one received in our youth which ] lasted us forty years, and. we believe it will J be one of the last things we shall think of \ when we die. ' So for the witty divine, and 1 tliere are a good many of us who have I similar recollections. f To kiss one's sister is not particularly | unpleasant, but it is only a bread-and butter aii'air. Good, but not sweot. To kiss one's cousin is somewhat different, find gives a jam taste to the operation, particularly if she comes under the de nomination dangerous. But to kiss some body else's sister or cousin, that surpasses the other as far as ice cream and cake sur pass: bread; and jam. Eclipse first and the rest nowhere. Sterne called it " flesh and.' blood with an angel on the inside." Shakespeare has many epithets for kisses and innumerable allusions to them, but he nowhere uudortakes to give a full descrip tion of a kiss. Possibly even he could not do the subject justice. In the " Midsummer Night's Dream " he calls lips " those kissing treasures." Titania '' kisses the fair, large ears of her gentle joy,": and seems to take much pleasure in ib; while further on come the quaint kiss ings of Pyrauus and Thisbe through the chinks of Tinker Snout's fingers. There is the kiss of Petruchio : Ho took the bride about tlie neck And kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack . . . : That, ai the parting, all tho church did echo. Then,there is Romeo's kiss in the vault>, so tender and sad, and Othello's farewell j kisses that almost did persuade Justice t» break her sword, and Antonio's dying kiss :'.-., . i •■•.. Of so many thousand kisses, the poor last ". ■~[ I lay upon thy lips. And the grand kiss of Coriolanus : • j-; Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge. And Bassanio and Portia's kiss, full of such wealth of loyalty and love. . ■ Byron's wish That womanhood had but ono rosy mouth, To kiss them all at once from North to South, does not particularly commend itself to the connoisseur in kissing. It is rather too vast a concent/ration. One at a time would be more practical and more pleasant. Leigli Hunt says: Stolen, sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much complete!l. \ But there is room for argument on that proposition. For real enjoyment it is a trifle too humid,but it may bo classed under the same head as kissing your cousin. Of such kisses one must never kiss and tell. Sweet and lovely is; the maiden's kiss in "Paradise and the Peri," "the last long kiss which she expires in giving." Tom Moor wrote some most excellent verses on the kiss. One of the most famous kisses in history is that of Georgiana,Duchess of Devonshire, when she was canvassing for Fox's election. A butcher said he would vote for Fox if the lady would kiss him, which she thereupon did, thereby making the kiss, the butcher and herself immortal in history. The Duchess of Gordon, in Scotland, recruited a Highland regiment in the same why. Gilbert Stuart, the great painter, was once met by a lady on the streets of Boston who: said to him that she had just seen his likeness; and kissed it because it was so much like him. :: " And did it kiss you in return ?" ' "Why, no." ;':,".:■ ."Then it1 was not like me," replied the gallant painter. . . ; _ ; ; . " Tom Hood once wondered in his " Oddi ties" if Hannah More, that prim''and re spectable lady we all remember, was ever kissed by a man! Probably not, but the humorists of " The' Rejected Addresses," in one of their famous verses, say : Sydney Morgan -was playing the organ, While behind the vestry door '-, ! Horace Twiss was snatching a kiss "> ' j From the lips of Hannah More. : i But the testimony is not fairly credible^ and we must conclude that she went, to her grave unkissed. ; Our Puritan forefathers were not at all in favour-of kissing. It was not permitted to young people, and even a man could not kiss his wife on Sunday. Winwood Reade, in his book of travel in equatorial Africa, says the negroes do hot know how to kiss, and he admits that he frightened one or two maidens by attempting it. In New Zealand lovers do not kiss, but simply touch noses, but the South Sea Islanders imder stand kissing to perfection, according to some voyagers. They may have learned it at. an early day from the first voyagei's,: and, finding that, it was good, kept up the custom. ■ r,fi.(;d v ' ■ :' '■ • P ■ In the Dictionary of Osculation, which has never yet been completed, are found some definitions: ■ ; Buss—A'kiss;' ' ■ ■.■.'■;, Rebus-To kiss again. ••:■', , - Pmribus-To kiss all round. • Syllabus-To kiss the hand instead of the lips. Blunderbuss—To kiss the wrong person, sometimes unexpectedly pleasant. , Obnibus—To kiss promiscuously, >. ... Erebus—To kiss in the dark. Incubus—To kiss someone you don't like; ' Harquebus—To kiss with a loud- smack; Petruchio's was a hark! we buss.. ... Kissing plays and kissing dances were greatly in • vogue some , years , since ; arid doubtless the:young;people.?of to-day are!

not awhit behind their fathers and mothers in the romping plays of King William, Copenhagen and Poor Sinner.,. * i What fool would dance .> ,' If that, when dance is done, He may not have at lady's lips ' j, • That which in dance he won ? "-» Henry VIII. says to Anne Boleyn: \ ti I " , Sweetheart, I were unmannerly to take you out And not to kiss you. i To kiss a lady against her will is an 'assault, punishable under our law by ■■ fine and impi'isonment. So gallants must have a care now they yield to rosy temptation. Rare Ben Jonson, who said He was wishing He might die a kissing, ; wrote also the immortal lines to Celia : Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. ■■.-■<. And Dodsley's verse is almost as familiar : One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, .my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.

The "Sleeping Man" Awake.

M. Chauffat is at last wide awake. Jnsb three weeks ago he fell asleep at M. Bougeret's hotel in Greek-street, Soho, Lon don, and since then ho has been visited by numbers of medical men, and various accounts of his state have been daily re corded in the newspapers. He woke up on' Friday in last week. On Saturday, upon entering M. Chauffat's apartment, which is the top front room of the hotel, ho was found busily engaged writing letters. He is a fine, strong-looking man. He has a round and expressive face, a brown mous tache, short beard, and closely-cut hair. He has broad shoulders, and certainly could not, judging by his appearance, have lost much flesh during his Illness. His left arm has been amputated close to the shoulder. To look at him as he lay upon his bed writing his letters on a small table by his side, one would think he was a man in the full enjoyment of perfect health instead of a person whose life during the past fort night has: been a perfect blank. His eyes, however, were greatly bloodshot. His bed was covered with French newspapers, and he has been reading with interest the numerous accounts of his sleep. He seemed to thoroughly understand every question put to him, and those lie could not answer by signs he replied to in wxiting. He stated tihat he could not speak English at i all. Upon asking him if he had any dream dur ing the time ; he replied that he did not know, for he could not remember anything that took place during the sleep. He said that under the circumstances he felt very well. After such a long fast and equally long sleep, he thought he ought to feel very much worse. Where ho suffered most was in the head, especially ' on the right side. He noticed on Saturday morn ing that his right eye was still greatly blood shot.and it almost made him fear a relapse. He stated, that he ate a little too much on Friday, and consequently his digestion was very laborievse, and towards the evening he was feverish. The excessive excitement which followed his awakening has, he says, disappeared, and on Saturday he felt very weary. He also said he had a'great long ing to sleep : but that was what he ought to vigorously: fight against. Some of the accounts published about him were not altogether correct, but he: hoped to rectify them and give a true account of himself. Dv-- Keset;'asked his patient when he awoke if he would like to be sent t6 the French Hospitf ,1, and he intimated that he would, but afterwards he altered his mind, owing to a \etter from his sister Louise. The letter.-was written to Mi—Bougeret,-" thank ing xor his kindness to her brother. 'She expressed a... wish 1 that he would remain w\th M. Bougeret rather than go "to fne ! hospital. She said she • would defer .making any definite arrangements till her I brother had sufficiently recovered to com municate .with her. A friend would be visiting England in a few days,'and would call on. M. Bougeret. Dr. Keser gives the following account of Chauffat's waking-: — " Friday morning. -r-Yesterday morning and during the night patient was as usual.: This morning, at ten o'clock when spoken toby M. Bougeret, he opened his eyes at once, looked round him, and gave his hand to Bougeret. He was then quite awake, and he is able now to answer any questions in writing. ,He asked for his pocket-book,' and said that he _ was thirsty, but not hungry." He then wrote that he had really slept for thirteen days —from Saturday, March 26th, to Friday, April Sth. On the 24th and ,25th March he was very drowsy, but remembered what was going on. Ghauffat may now be said to be on the road to recovery after one of the longest.sleeps he has experienced. Replying toa few questions, Chauffab wrote down in French the follow ing : " Here is what passed near to a cafe". I was accosted by two women, who followed me for several minutes. Becoming tired of their annoyance, I offered them something in the shop. I had no English money left, and the waiter could not change a louis ; upon which I said that I could not pay him; I left him my address here (Greek-street), and told him that he could come and. claim a shilling. One of the women offered to find someone to change the money. I went with her to a house, but no one would do so. At last, having been out long enough, I took.a cab to return home. One of • the. women acted as trucheman (interpreter)-between me and the cabman, who said ■■ that his master would change the money. The girl | offered to accompany me there, out of kindness. We spoke some minutes. I went to sleep, and woke up when the cab stopped. ,Then I found no one there. In stinctively I felt in my pockets, and, looked to see the time, but rhy money and watch had gone. I spoke to the cabman, who had remounted the box, and he said, 'The lady ; the lady.' I callecVhim a robber, and asked him to take me to a police-station. -.He did so. There they asked me if I could speak English,, and., on •my < ansAvering in the negative,' they: bowed me out politely. Thecabman.drove off, making a face at mo; and without his fare. I can repeat four numbers of his badge." " : ■

M. Chauffat has not again relapsed into sleep. His head is still heavy, .and. some what painful on the right side. In, his left leg there are indications of continued paralysis for some time to come. ~Alto: getheiy'' taking into - consideration^ his lengthened sleep, his condition is better than could have been expected. : The ner vous excitement of Friday week has dimin ished, and; there remain lassitude and a little lethargy," besides, of course, the dumbness' and paralysis. Chauffat' states that he could go to sleep again very easily if he'hac] not the strength of will to resist the inclination. The senses of taste and smell are still inactive, and Chauffat states in writing that, so, far as taste was con cerned, he could not distinguish1 between a piece of soap and a piece Gf: sugar. He amuses himself, with writing letters and reading French newspapers. He is in terested in what is going on ( around him, and when desirous of expressing his opinion writes what he has to state and draws at tention to it. Mention being made of the Socialists, Chauffat wrote that~the' Socialists only knew how to make a noise. They were not capable of changing anything in existing circumstances or affairs ; all their theories were pure rubbish, quite unsuitable for the present century and perhaps even for the next. Chauffat declares himself to be a Republican. He will probably go oh increasing in strength, \ and the paralysis aridi dumbness will in time leave him, al though it- is impossible to say when, as he has been ■ known 'to remain dumb" for. six months after:one of'his sleeps.-^English paper." ' '%;:.•■-;;;>/ a'HIJ- yaH oiU lag

Some Facts About Rats.

It is still a moot question whether the black and the brown .rats are really distinct' species, or whether they are not' irierely races of one and the same form.: ..The latter is the larger and the stronger animal, : it is true, and, in this country, at all events, hat almost exterminated. its weaker relatives ■But, on the:otherhand, it is stated by com petent authorities that this ■ has 'been! brought about, not in the course of aotual; warfare, but by the gradual verging of the; feebler varieties into the more robust," the1 brown rats having persistently robbed" the. black of their, mates—a theory the more. probaHe inasmuch as male rats ( 'out-' number the female in the proportion j of about two to one," and thusi would find some difficulty in providing. themselves with spouses of their^'own' kind. Now, pairing .upon so extensive ai scale never takes place in nature between! distinct species, and thus, if this statement be true, there are good grounds for holding< that the black rat is merely a variety or; form of the-brown, or vice versa. However this may be, the fact remains that the' darker animal is now a great rarity in Ureabj Britain, having gradually given way to its; more powerful relation, just as the savage) has retreated before the advance of civilised! man. It is a fact not generally known thati barn rats are barn rats only for apportion of • the year, migrating into the fields in spring, ■ and leading an outdoor life' until .the, approach of- autumn. A ; certainl proportion generally, find, their. ; -way to the nearest stream,', and -take up their abode on the 'banks thereof, wreaking sad .havoc upon the fish-thalj': come wandering by. It is during, this period of the year that the rat' turns; its i attention to family • matters,. the _ females i constructing a comfortable nest in some, sheltered retreat, and there bringing!' up their .offspring. As these animals- begin to : breed at four months of age, produce, from ; eight to fourteen young at a birth, and. seldom content themselves with less than : three broods in the year, their great abun- ', dance is easily accounted- for, and -the marvel is" that they do not, t overrun i the entire land. , That they fail * to. do so is the more remarkable mas- j much as they! can 'be trapped only with considerable difficulty. Wariest' of ' animals, they will scent out the; touch.; of the human hand, iand avoid the mosb cunningly conceived snares unless -the •'. setter thereof takes the precaution"' to j wear "gloves rubbed; with aniseed, tor j with some equally odorous preparation, i And, even if the utmost care be taken, few excepting professional ratcatchers i ever meet with any real success. Areceht writer strongly recommends the following plan; if : rats are present in any great numbers:—: Geb .i an oldtub.or two, take out the :tops, and i supply their place' with parchmenbj or stout brown paper. , On this; for'two" j or three successive nights, ;'leave :a i few fragments of cheese, '• bacon, or! other J odoriferous dainty dear to the rat palate, i Lean a piece of board against the side-of j the tub, to serve as a ladder, and allow I the, rats to become thoroughly accustomed ! to the future trap. After; the lapse of a j few days, I place a, brick: upright jin the j bottom.! of .the tub, fill with water to a.j depth of six inches,, iso that the top of/the; brick is justihigh and dryland,.cut;the■'. parchment in slips, in such a manner'as*'to j give !way! at >the slighest' pressure, o The ■] first, rat who ventures thereon falls;; of 1 course, into the water, and quickly makes j his way.to the brick,- which allows him > standing room .and no- more.' Before'long j he is joined by a second; who also makestfor J the; brick.; : . arid then ensues a battle; royal,-j accompanied by ■ much> squeaking.' Now ,■ the- cry r of; a rat" in? "^distress invafiaDly , attracts every other rat within' '■> hearing, j wifch • a view - to"^ a ' possible rttik&l"%rnponi :their ■ iihfoctunate relation.»<" So Cfche'-*Hn* \ prisoned; rats* are quickly joined by others, \ and those-by others again ; and "the cry is ; still 'they come.'" In this manner; itf ia' saidj no less than 2,700 rats were caughfc j in a single warehouse in '&.< single!highti- ? Ib | is necessary, howevfci, .to ' state tb'at' this '; result-was attained only by a: ruinous'6x- ; periditureiii the matter of tubs;r but, on a small scale, the trap:-is well wortbyfof, trial.—''Household Words." ; ■[ n:i;'l:

SHE HAD THEM.

How a Union Woman Captured a Squad a \

of Confederate Stragglers.

Dxtrisg the retreat of Lee's army fromrrtha j field,of Gettysburg to ■ the Potomac a greab • effort was made by the officers to«preyentoi straggling, but it would have requjire'dj aa,i ofiicer to a man to have carried? out the j programme successfully. We i had ■ beeal beaten and felt discouraged and" reckless. .■ We were on short rations, theweatner was ■ dismal and the rank and file were in no mood ■■ to be nagged by strict'discipline. ~ lvri i

The command' to which I .belonged' left Gettysburg about710. p^m.", and for the firsij"; three or four hours the'nieh!were kept well', in hand under the imp'fessiori that to were j only changing position'sto secure an advain-,' tage over the Federals. * As daylight broke; and we realised we were on .the wiy home i squads and individuals broke away at every opportunity to forage for a- breakfast.1 lln company with two private soldiers belonging to my-company I'slipped away from'the' column about sunrise, arid, while 'a black-^ looking thunderstorm seemed close afrhMd,' we bolted into a piece of wood by the road- • side and then struck for a highway runnineji at right > angles,1 and-ons which we'^pbula'J make out; three or four farmhouses.^:*Wq ' selected the. first or-nearest, and>:;as'~wa ' entered the gate a woman' opened {the" door \ and stood waiting for us to approach:' !)Sha : knew we were Confederates, and asked many questions concerning'theibattle arid'did-nob attempt to conceal the fact that she was a thoroug-h Uiiionist -and an ardent -hater of Jeff Davis. ■">'' '"7-.".'-'':u:. •-:.;• ■• !'.!; .hayrij .

" Nevertheless," she added, as she-turned togo in, ■ "you men-are not altogether %j blame; and you shall have a bite to;eafc:as soon as I can get it." ' : ;' <J nrnn , > We went around to the backdoor, laid aside ■ our guns and accoutrements, "arid * had a good wash up in a rain barrel. • ' Then we sat down on the grass to wait for brealk- ■ fast, the odour of AVhich cameoufc t'b life. ! But for the suggestion'of one of my^cdih- ' rades -everything would have gone well. ' Not far from usl was a- stone smokehousp, ' and through the partly open door we could • see pieces of; meat hanging from the rafters. ■> He suggested that >we further investigate,."; with: a ; view or" gobbling" sonic ofI'the meat as we left, and'we got up and wStifc straight to the' houses and' entered^ it. There were two hams and two side rjieces hanging up, and at the back 'end of 'the building, which was about<l2ix 12, was :a ' barrel hlled withhold carpet, oii^the'tpp'of-, .which was a setting hen.: As we> came'near she began to exhibit the usual characterls- : tics, and wer were having considerable .^fuh at her expense," when the: door-was "closed witha bang, and w6"heard the" rattle of^a chain and,padlock. It:was'a clbse,; dark : place, and it AVas-a minute or«two before we reached: the !dooi- and understood7 the situation.:! We :began to' kick 'and' j shout, and presently the woman?s voice replied :' •' i " It's no use trying .to get out !> Youare my • prisoners, "and kicking ..won't doj any ■< good!" ' .'•-■-. ?„ , How nice and soft we talked to her; but' it was no go. «Thei^ we swore and blus- ' tered, but she only laughed at us.*" ■ After a ' while she passed us some bread aiid/biitter ' through one of the yeritilators,' followed by • a cupful of water, andi tlierei.we remained all day;iaU-highb andiuptoreigljteo'dook i next: day, • when wenw'ere: turned oVer1 ta'tHe < UnioncaYalry.-,<i:Detr6iiiiFr6ei^^;» ds;|■