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% A Unl<i# of Mutlc and Art. A BltMic*! toad Ma her home Id a bolv, Oruakl fToalcl Crnakl „ BanoatLi a Krajgroc k ou a littln grwQ 1U1(>I'> Craak I Orouli ! Croak I Aa mildly maJleioiis as toad nature may be, The iieiKlibws all cried, "wbat an amiable ladv! ' The beetle, tlio anail unri the eethetic mole, Otoak: Oroak! Croak I The eethetic mole uia.lo a tragical stride, Crti^! Cr»ak.' CroakI " Iiike Ui< i'""" "' "''' ' "'" 'iigntloSB, ne cried, Cr„iik ! Croak ! Croak I " I've a b<«""'"' '""' *'"' " '"'n'' analytic ; These bI»-«"'"' ' "' '''''^' "" (""doming a critic," And h« cj mitod his goRglcs with infinite pride, creak I Croak I Croak I Ouur <ii< musical toad in a low minor key, ^^ Criak! Croak! Croak I On jow" svvcct Bommer marsh he is dreaniing Croak Croak I Croak I criod the mole, nil bis Boul in i|i)ivcr, «j«»n underground cantlo not far from the riv<r; n,»y, doareBt.Bay, that our wedding Bhall bo!" Croak! Croak! Croak! gtid the musical toad with a coijuettish start, Croak I Croak! Croak I "Shall I give you my hand when youva Btoltu my heart V" Croak! Croak! Croak) The wodiiinK created a social sensation ; The beetle and all of thu knoll poi)Ulation Were bid to tho union of Music and Art- Croak! Croak I Croak! SHIRLEY ROSS ; A Storv of Woman's Faithfulness. " Why are you shaking your bead ?" Vadgu asked, imperatively. " There's not the least use in tryin({to re Mt me. You're not strong enough for anytbiugâ€" you mast rest for ten daya or a fortnight. I have taken possession of you to pet and to nurse; when you are quite yourself you shall hear our plans (or yoa." " Have you made plans for me ?" Shirley said, smiling down sadly at the sweet, bright face. " That is very good of you. Hay I hear them. Madgo hesitated a little ; the plans which she had talked over bo eagerly with her mother on the previous evening seemed difiicult to unfold to this grave, stately woman, stately even in her shabby black dress, aa she sat on thu window-scat, rest- ing her head against the wall. " Won't you tell me ?" Shirley said, â- oftly. " Whatever thoy are, I shall be only too grateful for the kind thought which prompted them." " And you will not be offended?" " Offended â€" with you, ray child .'" Shirley smiled slightly aa she spoke, and, lifting her band, parted Madge's hair on ber brow with tender caressing fingers ; then, bending forward, she put ber lips to ibe pure white forehead. At the touch Madge Uliphant'a face col- ored, and she trembled slightly. She had l«k«n a sudden, warm, girlish fancy to this l>eautiful fagcinatine woman who had come â- 0 strangely into her life. " Mamma tbongbt, aud I hoped, that yon would come and live with us as my friend and companion," said Madge, look- ing up with entreating eyes. "Butâ€" )ou know nolhiug of me," re- turned Sliirloy, unsteadily. â- â-  I can give jron no referenoes aa to " " Mamuju said she would trust yon," Madge said eagerly, coloring hotly at tho icmembraucu of the earnest entreaties she had employed to induce Lady Oliphant to disponse with reforcMu ob iti case this beau- tiful and interesting stranger had none. " Bho said she would trust me !" Shirley echoed, with a bright light of admiration on her face as she thought of these strangers' faith in her. " How good of her I Heaven bless her for it I" *' And you will come? Oh, please come 1" pleaded Madge. " We shall have such pleasant times, you and I together. Mamma is nut very strong, you know, and yoa would help me to take care of ber, and we should be so happy I You will come ?" Shirley hesitated ; then, looking down at the eager entreating face, she shook her head. She knew she could take no posi- tion, however humble, in such a household â- 8 Sir Frederic Uliphant's ; there would al- ways be constant risk of detection. Even if they had not known (luy they might have other visitors who would recogni/.o her ; even among the servants there might be some one. " Yon will not come ?" Madge said, in a disappointed tone. " But surely " " I)o not urge me," Shirley begged, faintly. " I cannot boar to refuse you ; but indeed I must do so. I must not come into jour home, my child. Believe me, it hurts me greatly to refuse you." " Then I will not urge you. Will you let mo tell you the other plan 7 I think perhaps you will like it bettor. Y'ou will not be offended, will you ?" added Madge, •hyly. " Nothing you could do or say would of- fend me," Shirley assured her. " BIy child, but for your kindness, I should be homeless and ahelterlesB now â€" but for your charity I should have starved to death by the road- side. Oh, there ia no work I will not do to sarn my bread, since," she added, with ir- repressible bitternessâ€"" since I oannot die." She dropped her head upon her hands aa she spoke, and c^overed her face, and there was a short pause in the little attic room where thoy were ; then Shirley looked up again, and said softly â€" •â-  What is it, Misa Oliphant 7 Tell me what yoa have found for me. Ah, forgive me â€" I have pained you t But indeed I will not diBtreas you again." " I am so sorry for yon I" Madge said, pitifully. " You are ao young and so pretty to be unhappy. Bhall I tell you what we were thinking of, mamma and I ? We want a teacher for tho village sohoola, and we thought you might be that teacher." Shirley's face brightened. " Tho schools here ?" " Yes. That red-briuk building on the hill is the girls' school, and that little cot- tage beside it is where tho teacher Uvea. Do yon think you would like that V Mamma told me to tell you," the girl went on, color- ing a little, "that theâ€" the salary would be quite Buflioient, and that the cottage was a comfortable little place. Tho last teacher was a lady," continued Madge, earnestly. " We were very fond of her, and she loft us only to be married to a gentleman who had been a carate here, bat who is now the Vicar of Addinbroko. Tho work is not very hard." Madge resumed in a minute. " There are two pupil toaobers, and yoa I would soon get into the ways here. You know, mamma has a bnbby, and her hobby ia the education of the children, and she likes them to be taught useful things, plain sewing and all that." Shirley's thoughts went back to the sow- ing classes that ah* had attended at the convent at Bruges ; she could teach plain sewing, great lady as she had been ; her proficiency in needle-work had often astoniehed her maid. " It would be a quiet home for you," Miss Oliphant continued in her earnest- ness. " I think you would not be unhappy, and we would try to make you comfortable. Will you stay with ua there, at the cottage 7" I can not," Shirley answered piteously I and brokenly ; and Madge uttered a quick exclamation of disappointment as she rose from hor knees by Shirley's side and turned sway keenly hurt. With a sorrowful tenderness and regret and yearning Shirley's eyes followed her aa she moved away. Ah, what a bavea of rest and peace the little red-brick cottage seemed to her I ^nd yet she had to turn away from it. IIow could she accept a post which might bring her into contact with Guy > For, of course, if he was "courting" Miss Oliphant, be would be constantly at Krindale, and they could not fail to meet at some time or other. No ; she must refuse it ; she must go away, and let him be happy with this sweet young girl who waa so eminently worthy of hia love, who would make him forget the past and his misery. She must go away and let Madge think of her as ungrateful for all her kindness. She must go away â€" but whither- whither oould she go ? With a great tearless eob her head sunk forward on her breast. Ah, how hard it all waa, how cruel life waa to her 7 Was she never to liad rest ? Must she go out once more into the cold, cruel world which had treated her so hardly 7 Must she face the long nights without shelter again ? Mnat she know the misery and suffering of hunger and thirst and fatigue and depression? Must she go through them all once more ? Ab, Heaven, why did they save her â€" why did they not let her die ?" Madge came back slowly, and stood be- side her for a moment in silence. "Won't you stay 7" she said, gently. " We will try to make you happy." "Heaven help me 1" Shirley answered, brokenly. " I cannot 1 " Ah, don't let me trouble you, Misa Oliphant ! I bring misery and suffering wherever I go, and you must not let the thought of me cloud your young life. Ah, if it ia as bright and cloudless as I wish and hope it may be, it will bo a happy life !" " But why will you not stay ?" the young girl persisted, gently. " I think you would not be unhappy ; and mamma would l>c so pleased, and I â€" " Shirley caught the gentle hands which were held out so kindly toward her, and drew them both close to her heart. " Heaven bless you for all your good- ness !'' she said, tearfully. " I shall never forget itâ€" never. But I cannot stay â€" do not ask mo â€" for your own sake, do not ask me 1" The intensity of her carneBtness struck Madge Oliphant painfully, and she forbore from her entreaty, wondering a great deal and grieving for the misery on Shirley's (aoe, which seemed to deepen every mo- ment. " I will not urge you any longer," she said, gently. " Perhaps you will think it over for a day or two, and give mamma an answer. It will make us very happy if you accept. And now I must not talk any longer," she added, " for I have tired you out. Will yon come down with mo ?" Shirley rose at once ; above all things, she feared to excite suspicion in the young girl's mind, and, moreover, it waa a very great pleasure to ber to be with Madge â€" the girl waa so sweet and bright, so spark- ling and tender ; besides, ahe wanted to know her better, thia happy girl, thia happy fortunate girl who was to live with Quy in the future and baak in the aunshine of his love and neatle into hia heart, healing the old wound and making him happy once more. Sweet blue-eyed Madge â€" heaven bless her and him ! Mrs. Ford was waiting for them in the little sitting-room, and Madge tried to chat with her usual gayety ; but it was difficult for her to overcome ber disap pointment, and Shirley's sad eyes became sadder still aa she watched the shadow which darkened the fair young face. " You don't seem so bright to-night, Miss Madgo," Mrs. Ferd said, looking at her anxiously. " Are you quite well 7" " Oh, yea, nurae, I am quite well I But things will go wrong sometimes you know I" " What is going wrong with you. Miss Madge dear 7 You were born to live in the aunshine." " Ah, but it is not always sunshine for any of us !" Madge said, sighing. "I sup- pose we have to put up with clouds some- times. It is all sunshine which makes the desert, nursie." " Lor, is it now 7" said Mrs. Ford, in amazement. " Well, I should like a little more sunshine, Misa Madgo. But what has vexed you lately, my dear 7" " Two or three things, nurse. One is that Major Stuart ia going away to-morrow morning." Shirley started and glanced up cjuickly. The girl's face was full of the most un- feigned regret! but she spoke without a shade of embarrassment or constraint. " Ooing away. Miss Madgoâ€" so soon 7" exclaimed Mrs. Ford. " Yeaâ€" going abroad for six moutha â€" for the whole winter. You know ho waa very ill last winter, nursie ; nnd the doctors say now he must not risk aponding this winter at home." " But he does not look i(l, Miss Madge," said Mrs. Ford consolingly, for the girl's eyes were full of tears. " Not very ill ; but papa says ho is dread- fully altered, and I think ao too. But I hope this winter abroad will do him good." " And he will come back with the spring, Miss Madgo, my dear ?" said Mrs. Ford. " Yea, with the spring," echoed Madge sorrowfully. " Do you find the air too cold, Mrs. Urant ? I am sure you shivered." "Oh, no â€" oh, no!" Shirley said nerv- ously, as she shrunk back from the win- dow, thankful for the semi-darknesa in the little room which prevented her changing color and trembling hands from being noticed. " And Major Stuart leaves to-morrow. Miss Madge 7" said Mrs. Ford, harking baok to the subject which interested her most. " Yea, by the early express ; bo yoa must say good-bye to him, nursie, when becomes presently to fetch me. He will be here very soon now, I should think. Mamma waa tired," she added, turning toward Shir- ley as she sat in her comer, " or she would have como in to see you, Mrs. Grant." Mrs. Ford hurried away to get her lamp ready for lighting ; and, as soon as they were alone, Shirley said hastily and trem- ulously â€" " Miss Oliphant, will you allow me to change my mmd ? If I can perform the duties Lady Oliphant requires from me, I I will stay." " Oh, you dear, good girl I" Madge cried ! delightedly. " I am so glad 1 Perform tho duties ? Of course you can. I'll coach you up. Ob, you have made mo so glad 1" " I am afraid there ia not much cause for gladness," remarked, Shirley ; but be- fore Madge could answer, a firm, rather heavy step sounded on the graveled path without, and Guy Stuart's well remembered tones fell upon Shirley's ear. He waa standing outside, and spoke through the open window. " Madge, are you there, dear 7" he said ; and Shirley shrimk back, trembling and powerless to move in her terror and agitation. " Yea, I am here," Madge answered. "I am coming. I won't keep you, Guy ; but nuraie wants to say good-bye to you." " Does she 7 We must not linger, Madge. Your mother ia anxious about you, and I have brought you a shawl." " A shawl on this lovely night. I really do not need it. Nursie," she added, "here is Major Stuart. Come and speak to him. Take care of your tall head, Guy. Major Stuart entered, stooping a little as he passed under the doorway. Mrs. Ford camo in hastily from the kitchen, but without a lamp, for she had not had time to light it. Oh, how thankful Shirley felt ! And yet it seemed as if the terror and anxiety of that moment must kill her. " I am sorry to hear you are going away, air," aaid Mrs. Ford,courtesying to the tall figure which stood on the threshold of ber littlo sitting-room. " Thank you," Guy's grave deep voice aaid. " I am sorry to go ; but it can't be helped, you know. I hope to find you look- ing as well when I see you again in the spring," he added, shaking hands with her cordially. " I must take Miss Oliphant away now. It is getting late. Here is your shawl, Madgie." Ho placed it round her carefully, the,' white fiuecy shawl which made such a' pretty frame to tho bright piijnant face. Mrs. Ford had lighted a candle, but itsraya did not penetrate to Shirley's corner, although they lighted up Guy's dark grave face and Madgie'a sparkling eyes and golden hair with its soft covering. " Good night," Madgie said, goiugtoward Shirley and taking her hand kindly. "How cold you are, Mrs. Grant ! Y'ou have stayed up too long. Take care uf hor, nursie." " Trust me, Misa Madgie," said Mrs. Ford, smiling. " She'll do nicely n6w." " 1 hope so. Good ;. (iht, nursie. Come, Guy." She slipped her hand within his arm, with a gesture which had been very common with Shirley herself during the time of her enaagement to Guy, and they went out iogeffor, Mra. Ford going to the door to watch thrm walk down the drive, while Shirley put her hands to her eyes to shut out, if aho could, the sight of the grave changed face. Ah, when she saw it again, what wonderful things had come to pasa ? " They make a fine couple," Mra. Ford aaid complacently, coming back into the room. " Don't you think ao, Mra. Grant ? pleasant and homelike when it was lighted by lamp and fire ; for the winter began early that year. October was a cold month, and at the first of Noremboi there was snow, which mado MadM's visits not quite so frequent, although die still came aa often aa possible, for her enthusiastic admiration of Shirley had settled down in- to deep, steadfast affeotion, aa sincere aa any Shirley had ever received. And it proved the depth and unselfish- ness of Shirley's love for Guy Btaart that she loved this young girl with a warm aud true affection, which was all the deeper be- cause she thought her Guy's chosen wife. There waa a sad, sweet pleasure for Shir- ley in her study of Madge Oliphant's char- acter, in her little timid attempts to teach her something that she fancied it would please Guy for her to know. She coaxed Madge into taking some music-lessons from her, and into practicing at home. The yotmg girl was but an indi£forent per- fermer ; and Shirley knew what a lover of music Major Stuart was ; and Madge's steady progress under her tuition pleased her greatly. Few as the yeara between them were â€" the one was eighteen, the other flve-and-twenty â€" Shirley's seniority gave her an excuse for petting and scolding and remonstrating with Madge in a pretty and motherly way which the girl enjoyed and laughed at, but which bad its effect nevertheless. Not that there was much to alter or improve in sweet, blue-eyed Midge Oliphant ; for Shirley owned to herself frankly and sincerely that Quy could not have made a wiser choice. She was just the bright, sweet girl who would steal into his heart and neatle there and make him happy, and help him to forget all the paat bitterness and sorrow. And, when such thoughts aa these crossed his mind, Shirley would thank Heaven that strength had been given her to go away, to resist Guy's entreaties, and to leave him free. With her, deeply as he had loved her, and pas- sionately aa she had retarned that love, he would never have been able to forget the past ; and Madge had no connection with it ; it was not she who had made him suf- fer such an agony of pain and misery, and she would brighten his life, aa ahe â€" Shirley â€" could never have done. It became one of the school-mistress' greatest pleasures in the long lonely winter covering the hills and the valley with a soft, white, spotless mantle, ao that many who: came from a distance were deterred from attending Divine service, for the snow had drifted in places, and made the crossing of. fields and by-paths rather a dangerous undertaking. Still the pretty decorated church was well filled, and there was no brighter, fairer' face among the worshippers than Madge Oliphant's, as she sat in the Hall pew in her soft furs and velvet dress, against which the white skin and golden hair shone so delicately fair. Shirley, from her place in the side-aiale, let her sad eyes rest upon her with a wist- ful pleasure. She was very lovely, this young girl who was to teach Guy to forget her, very lovely and bright and good ; she would make him happy â€" thank Heaven for that ; and she bowed her head upon her hand and tried to forgot the one happy Christmas- tide she bad spent in England, that imme- diately following her engagement to Guy, . which thia season brought so clearly and freshly to her mind. Well, it was some- thing to have had even those few days of happiness to look back upon ; some poor women had not even those. She had known the pleasure of requited love for a season ; some women went from the cradle to the grave without feeling ita sweetness, without poBsessing its joy. Madge stopped her, when coming out of church, to whisper a warm wish of happi- ness and welfare, and Shirley answered it mutely, but with an expression in her eyes which more than satisfied Madge ; and then, escaping from the parents of her pupils, who offered her no less sincere good wishes, Shirley climbed the hill on the top of which stood ber cottage - a rather solitary home certainly, for there were no houses near the school-house and the cottage ad- joining. It was a little lonely, Shirley thought, as sho entered, closing tho door carefully after her and fastening it, for though tramps and marauders were few and far between, she was not very cour- ageous, aud she felt safer with the door- secured. A little terrierâ€" a present from Madge, and a great favorite of Shirley's â€" greeted her with joyful and shrill barking, and prevented the loneliness and solitude from being too oppressive, and the fire waa burning cheerily, aa if it meant to do ita evenings, when she sat alone in the little I best to make Shirley's solitary Christmas aitting-room, too weary after the day's day a little brighter, while the school lie is too old for her, I fancy ; but I dare say he will make her very happy." CHAPTEH XLI. Major Stuart left Krindale the next morning, never dreaming that the woman whom he had caught a glimpse of in the littlo, dimly lighted room was the woman whom he had loved and lost and sorrowed for with such an intense sorrow. Just the trivial circumstance that Mrs. Ford's lamp had been a little refractory had saved Shir- ley from detection, for she had been too startled and unnerved to attempt fiight, even if she had had tho opportunity of es- cape. So Guy went away, taking with him that heavy heartache which was alwaya present with him now, and which would cease, he thought sometimes, only when life's trooblea wore over altogether for him ; and Shirley Glynn, or Mrs. Grant, as she was called in the village, became the village sohool-mistress, and took up her residence in the littlo, red brick cottage built beside tho school-house â€" a quaint, comfortablolit- tle dwelling, with a wide, low-ceiled sitting- room, and a little kitchen and a bedroom at one aide, and above two little attio bed- rooms, one of which was devoted to lumber, while in tho other slept the teacher's youth- ful handmaiden, a trim little damsel of fif- teen. It was a humble home truly, but to Shir- ley it seemed a haven of rest. After the stuffy London lodgings, her aitting-room, with ita polished woodwork and bright win- dows, and cleanly, comfortable, old-fash- ioned furniture, was very pleoaant, while Madge herself had superintended all the arrangements for the comfort of the new teacher, for whom she bad conceived so deep a lovo. A littlo cottage pianoâ€" Madge'a own property â€" had been sent down from the Hall, and a little bookcase with some volumes of the girl's own sel- ection â€" Dickens and Thackeray chiefly fill- ing tho shelves. Shirley's duties were not very onerous. The children were well taught and well drillodi and after a time her duties became Bufiiclilltly familiar not to be very weary- ing. Certainly thoy were irksome at times â€" and such dutioa can hardly fail to bo so ; but as she grew stronger she felt it loss, and the disinclination to exertion ceased. Her life, although necessarily monoton- ous, waa not a lonely one. Almost daily Madge Oliphant paid her a visit at the cot- tage. Sometimes the girl was walking alone, hor only attendant being a groat black retriever called Rovor, a present from Guy Stuart ; at others sho waa riding, and she would leave her horae with tho groom and come in smiling and radiant, looking so bright and pretty in her close-fitting habit and coquettish riding-hat that Shirley always felt a pang of regret at tho thought that Guy was not there to see her. Sometimes too she would walk down in the afternoon and have tea with Shirley in work to employ herself or to do anything but lie back in the comfortably cushioned American chair which Madge'a care bad provided for her, to picture Guy's future with Madge. Her love waa great enough and intense enough to be perfectly tmselfish ; there was no touch of jealousy in ber heart against Madge ; she did not envy her the love she had won or the position sho was to t^Ul. Perhaps she envied her a little the power to make Guy happy ; but she wished that happiness with too sincere a wish to mind tho means by which it was procured. And such a wife as Madge would make him happy ; there waa no doubt of that. They would bo as ba^py a couple aa Kuby and Oswald, ahe thought sometimes â€" aa happy as only a married couple who hail perfect love for and faith in each other can bo. She recollected sometimes that, once or twice after she bad known Lucie Groy, she had wished that Guy might be made happy with such a wife; but Madge would suit him better ; her brightness would relieve the gravity of his character and give him buck the youth which had been so cruely marred. Sometimes sho wondered a little why Madge, who was so frank and candid, and who showed such perfect confidonce in hor, should never mention Guy : but she never did ; and Shirley darod not pronounce hia name. She felt that oven now she could not speak it without betraying herself, and, if she showed tho slightest emotion, Madge might have hor suspicions aroused, aud she might be discovered. And then she would think wearily of the time when she would have to leave the little home and go out on her wanderings again. In the spring, when Guy came back, she must go away andhido herself onco more, and find a new home. Perhaps, when Guy waa married, and happily settled with hia young wife, she might write to Oswald and Uuby and the Greys; they would not betray her to him then ; and perhaps Kaby would take herin, and let her look after little Bertie and the baby-girl who had fluttered down into Oswald's home-nest the autumn before. How sho thought of them all during those long lonely vigils, of all her dear ones, whsm ahe might never see again 1 Had thoy forgotten her? she wondered. Did they think of her sometimes, and feel a littlo sorry for her ? Perhaps thoy thought hor dead ; and the fact that she had never apphod for the annuity which Sir Hugh had left hor would have given strong grounds for such a belief. What would they have said, she wondered some- times, if they had known that sho had been in want, that she had been without shelter for days, that she had almost died of star- vation? She was growing stronger now, although Madgo Oliphant often feltdisaatiafied about her health, i'erhaps she would never ba really strong again ; but she was much better, and she was looking almost like the Shirley of old, in the black dress she alwaya wore, and the white mob-cap, with its larRo black Alaatian bow, which Lady Oliphant liked tho achool-miatresa to wear. And the autumn passed, and the winter followed, and Christmas came â€" a regular old fashioned Christmas, people called it, with a hard frost and snow upon the ijround and a blue sky and aunshine ovtrhoad. And Christmas was to be greeted varmly at Krindale. The church waa to bo deco- rated and joyful anthems were to be sung ; and in the Hall at tho Rectory, at Mrs. Ford'a lodge, and in every cottage thero were to be feasting and merry makingâ€" every- where, save in that little red-brick xittage where the school-teacher lived, and where she was to spend the Christmas- tidi alone, for even hor little handmaiden hal gone home. It waa Shirley's own wish that shaahould apend it in hor little cottage hone â€" the home which had grown dear to hoi from ita rest and peace ; for there were many who would have welcomed the ichool- mistress' fair face at their tables but Shirley had declined every invitation. She preferred to spend Christmas alone she aaid gently, but decidedly ; and they for- bore to press her, for the sweet n\i month could be firm at times, and she waa evi- dently sincere in her desire. children had put up some holly and mis- tletoe upon the wallsâ€" and Shirley smiled sadly at the homely attempts at decoration. (To ba continued.) KreaU From Vanity Fair. Pink is the favored color for evening wear. Black jet with colors appears in both costumes nod millinery. Showy tennis gowns are of white serge, braided with gilt or silver. Dainty tea gowns ate made of Henrietta in light shades, with surah fronts. A dainty matinee was of esprit net, with perpendicular trucks enclosing ribbon. White cloth jackets braided with metallic cords are in high favor for dressy wear. The open-mesh point d'esprit net is more fashionable just now for a bride'a veil than illusion. Gilt, ailver, steel, white or red braids are used to trim boating dresses, usually in graduated widths. In many of the latest imported costumeB there is a tendency to combine several shades of ono color. A single spray of flowers ia seen upon some of the newest lace parasols, aa if blown there by the wind. A novel color combination is reseda with, terra cotta, and both these colors are com- bined with black. Gold, silver and other fancy embroiderie» are used to trim summer costumes of pongee and oaahmorette. Poppy-red, ecru, old- rose, reseda and goblin- blue are popular colors for the foundation of a drossy black lace toilete. Green-grass hats have had a curious and humorous boom. The desire to wear some- thing unique and exclusive to herself is strong in tho circle of fashionable women, who are conspicuous and independent enough to make their own styles in a measure. There is an attempt to introduce the out- landish Tosoa, or Directoire, parasol han- dles. These consist of very long crooks, and are intended to be walked with, after the manner of tho ladies of Louia XVI. 's court with their canes. Although there are no decided deviations in the main linos upon which fashion is moving, there is an endless series of inno- vations in minor characteristics. Taking, the single item of corsage, the styles are legion. Veiy often they are most effec- tively made of fragments put together with Buch picturescjue effect that they outvie many a richer style made of a single material. When two or three fabrics com- bine to form a single corsage, tho lining of the waistcoat ia cut to begin with. Thia buttons snugly up the back, and upon the front of this is mounted, for instance, a plain velvet piece that points like a girdle in the immediate front. At each side of thia piece are set silk- lined rovers, or lapels of material of which the corsage is com- posed. Next to those come two more rever» of plain silk or velvet again. All these revers narrow to an inch and a halt as they reach the neck. ' the low-ceiled sitting-room which looked so On Christmas-day the snow fell heavily DIarovery of Ancient Altars. .1 '^''"^ ^»vo recently been discovered in n .3. T,'^'^*' °^^' "^8 summit of the Great St. Bernard, five largo granite altars and a number of other relioa of the stone age, such as axes, knives, etc., used in the pagan epochs for sacrifices. Swiss writers- emphasize the historioal importance of this discovery, in that it ia a proof that St. isernard was a place of sacrifice in pagan times, and also as far baok as the age of stone the Canton Valais was inhabited by human beiuga, ' Makes a, Dia'erence. •nr'iv ''" }? ^^^ '°""''b ''""e I've called yon. William," aaid hia wife. " You told me that you wanted to get up in good seaaon this, morning." •â-  Yea," replied William, sleepily, biit It waa last night when I told that." ' yoa Surprlalng Corroboration, itl^li. n i '!''*. P^"^''° ' ^'» ^""8 are Bjnioel Belle (with enthusiasm): "Aren't tej pa* „.,,„" amiU tents. of the season ara like- N ... / ,..b