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Pages ffofi) Parson PadetfsOiaff I found the farmer very iuik of a dysentery, and after turryiog aame time witii himâ€" I would fain hope to his comforting'â€" I turned me hoine- wardi, telling the lad that I could fare right well alone. Kor the youth was heavy-eyed by reasioiD of the lateness oJ the hour. I wa(i gutteo as far as a great oak, ' which I had not-ed in coiuing, when I »at me down on a bank to rest, for 'twas a tiring walk and I bo not a Iro- bnst man. And 1 betboutfht me that â- urety must be hereoibout a shorter way home than the road, which did aeem to bear away from the direction I would go. So musijig, mine eye lit oc an old stile, partly blocked hy braiulbes in the hedge, and peering through I did deaory the iw.th making straight for luy haveo, or so it did ap- PMT. And, In tiu dim light (for the moon was rising, but not yet free of the uisis), a nighiingale burst into bis •(mtf in the underwood. This did de- cide Die 60 1 did puaii me a way over the atile, through the briars, and bo along the path with a light step and heart. Uut aAun the traik did grow less dis- tinct and did seem to fork out in dif- ferent directions, to my great puzzle- ment, so that I did lose me in the wood. 1 was bethinklns me how Dorothy would be aJanued at my delay, when sumeihing did olo^e on tcty right foot, above the ankle, with a cruel grip. The pain wuu suuh as I could scarce endure. At first I thought 'twaa some vviid animal had bit me^ but 'twas a â- leei trap that did close with a spring- Do what X would I could not rid me of the hellish thing, though I made shift to undo my buckle for the easing of my foot And it canie as a fla^ to me, that here wuii Sir Ralph's wood and I caug'ht in one of his traps! â€" a sorry plight truly for a parson of a parinh; and my silk stockings too all rent and bloody, for I hiul nut changed into my woollen, because of the haste to start. b'os a ii]jace mine anger was hot against the man who had devised such deviltries. ilut, 1 bethought me, the engine was nut there of set purpose to catch me of all men, and that in sooth X was where no iHiiiness called me. What would the bishop say should It ooDie to his ears! liy this the late muon was risen, and hiid I bcrn o( her wise placed, I had en- joyed the gentle beauiiy of the night. And, dt:»|'it« my disorder of mind and body, I could not but mark the delicate tracery wrought by the shadows of the juung fuluige. Moreover, the song ot Philomel lh;Lt bad lured me thitbeii wua now grown into a chorus. One thine I was plain set on, and tiiat to keep off, an 'twere possible, the faint ness which did begin to creep on me. For X knew that, if haplv I were to fail in a swound, 'twould ba the breaking of my leg. tio 1 did cbunt me the I..itany, what I (xjuld remember (and was ashamed bow little 1 could without lHX>k), and dill sing wuue hjymns to beguile, my mind. I was drawing me a breath at the end of a versa when a voice, mighty deep and stern, spaku out uf the bushes hard by. "Thou iisnIm-suiginK, crop-eared curl I'll teach thee sing another tune " There wiinn |>au.se as of one amazed, an<l a tall men did forth of the covert. "God save my witsi" tiuoth he, "whotn have we neief" I esHaveil to draw nie up with some- wh)i.t 0/ dignity, though it did sore hurt my foot to do so, and made answer to the ranker, as 1 thuught him. Gal two Diary of I'ar.'«m X'arlel.t " 'Tia I, Tim«><hy Parlett, Master of Arts, ch/irg[ed with the spiritual cure of thi« iNin.sb, and am coiught in a snare, tbiuking to luvve reached home the noonerr-" Ihit he bad already stooped to re- lease me. "tJait, sir," said he, "}"o(u adorn the poeitionl Were X ia your caHe, small â- tomai-n, troth, were mine for sing- ing" And t did perceive, by tJie qiuikinR! of his broad shoulders that be was deeply moved by pity of my plight. Anon be bn<l got tb« iron fuuKS upon and i Won free. Hut. hereupon Nature did seize her opportunity of requital lor the |Kiin and Ums of blood, and 1 bad falU-n bad bH nut caught me in his arms. Ami 1 felt myself being, swiftly carried bumctvard.'j. The nuition did so tooth me as 1 fell on a kiwi of trance, wberefraui 1 did awoke to finil me la mijie own bed, but very weak And 1 did be..i,r tt« in a dream my dear daughter's voice, saying, in hushed limes:â€" "I feiu' ine the limb be sorely In- jured." An<l the deep voice of him that did rescue me made gent le an.swer :â€" "Nay, young mistress, comfort tbee. Twill soon he;U. Tliora be no injury ♦o the bone of any uionieut " Algain uiy Daroliij; spake, and bnr Breat love fur me did tremble in the wojxis :â€" "\Vu.>) Ha HaviiKo dog, think you, sir, that dill set on nim/" '"Tis no dog's bite'" "What tbfrn, k<h>iI sirf" A s|i,'ic« did f<>llo\v uf sili>.nce Ho deep M I (lid bear plain the faint natter of the ivy tin the lattice. And I did lie Idly wuiling fur the answer os tboiigb 'twere a lliiiig 1 liad beard long ago. '"Twas one uf Sir Halph llrant's man-t ruiis " And I saw the bhadow of my IJor- othy on thi! w.ill a« she did rise to her feat in a blaze of wrath ' Were the coiwanl here," cried my girl, "1 would box him his ears'" "(Joward or no," quoth the other. "here be be, and subuiibtelh him to thy juat punislhuient." And X could see his shadow kneeling! at her feet But for all am^weir DorotJhy did sink on her cbair in a storm of weeping, and "Cruell crueJt" she did murmur, 'mid her tears Whereupon mjr weakness did again overcome me, and I knew no more tUl tjie sun was high in heaven Neither my daiugbter nor I said aught to other living crea.ture of the eventa of the night, and made some ex- cuse fox my keeping my bed, even to (lur old servinK-woiiian, De.b. who bad. been long abed when I was brought houie The next Iiord's Day, my kind neigh- bor. Doctor Shelton, of Threllick, did undertake uiy duties at the church, having by good hap a visitor in his house to wit Mr. Ford, of Camlbridge, who did undertake his Xkictor SbeKon be an excellent, worthy man, but an indifferent preacher (Mr. Xtullamy says the drowsiest, save Parson Thorp, he did ever know), so that X mar- velled the more that Sir Ralph should go to hoax him. Yet so it was â€" the first time for many months, in brave attire. Dame X\>wlett tells me, and did look like a prince of the blood. Now Dorothy had told me naught of this, nor could I gather that she had observed it. However, the second Tx>rd'8 Day after my accident I got to church by help of a stick and Dor- othy's arm, and did note that the cob- webs were bru&hed out of Sir Ilalph s pew and new cushions, and anon him- si'li did arrive mighty fine, and hath a very distinguisJied a>r. Ab I was robirif; me for the service, Mr. Bullamy came to me "A wonder bath happened," quoth he, his face red and eyes round: " 'tis come to my knuwledgt thu.t last even- ing he" (there was but one "he" in Stemox) "hath took up all his man- traps and buried them in a big hole in Thorlop Bottom, and the paths through his woo<l8 be now free for the villa(;ers to use as they listl" X did mark how Sir Italph did attend closely tu tiie sermon, and did join in the singing bravely and with much skill of music. But my Dorothy, that was ever wont to sing like a lark, was to-day mum as any mouse, which did a little vex me. And in sooth my girt be grown very silent these days, and her old spright li- ness doth seem to have left her. X pray she have nut taken my hurt over- much to heart. That were folly seeing I l>«, save for a limp, well-nigh healed, though a scar there will always be. I had thought to thank Sir Ilalpb privily after One service, but he was gone. 'Tis almost as though he did avoid ns of set purixise. Pe'rchauce he may have took offence at Dorothy s words of that night. But I have said nought of this to her, nor knoweth she that X did ohance to hear them. We were wending us bomewardii slowlv (for my lameness) when we heajxi the sound of horsemen riding towards us, and anon two mounted gal- lants came to view We hud withdrawn into a grassy nook at one side of the road to (give them the freer passage by a duck-pond on the other, when they did check their horses, anil much to my disquiet 1 did perceive tiiat 1 hey purposed some rude- ness. (For the times be unruly from' the license of the court, which settetb a pestilent example, 'rhia I say that be a loyal king's man to th« core, and ever have been.) I'bey were both bravely dressed young bloods, and did ride very good cattle. "How no, FatJier Winterf" quoth one; "how comest thou in company of SpringI" "Mount up, hither, fair maid," quoth the other, "an<l ride with us. 'Twill be the merrier." "Cientlenien," said I earnestly, "will it please ynu go your way and let ua take ourst" "Softly, sir," cries the elder and more evil-looking of the two (to avy mind), I would fain first taste that lady's lips. For, Uod, sir, they tempt a man dev- ilishly." And he disiiv^Jnted, and tossing his bridle to bis friend came towards us. My daughter Hrreoiiied, and I did pub myself in front of her with sore mis- giving, for he was a strong man and taller ttian X. XJut just as he was lay- ing bis band on my clo.-uk X did b«ir IXorothy say very softly, "Thank (ioill" and who should step out of a gip in the h«<lge behind us, but Sir ItiUphi Brunt. In two strides he hatt got one htind on the collar and the othe.r on the belt of bijn who wa.s mole.sling us, and had swung him off his feet into the deepest i)ajt of the du(-k-])und. The other gallant waitml nut to see mure, but spurred away like the wind, taking! bis coni|>;inion's horse witJi him. Sir Kalpb took a pistol from bis Sirdle anil was for aiming; at him, buti ou'ut by i>ut her h<tnil on bis arm. Ii« turned bis head towards hor, and I saw a marvellous tender luok soften the stern ffu-e as tiie'tr eyes did meet. "Ho be it.," quotji he. lowerintr the weapon, "yet did he rioMy deserve it, were it but for deserting tiis friend yon<ler." And he pointed to the further side ot the pond, wTjere our fine gentleman was now crawling out covered wiljj; slime anil duckts'<«ed, wigln.ss, and h\n gay feathers drenched and bedraggled witJi tbii muddy water like to a wet gamecock. "iSkiis a sight none of ua could forbear to laugh at, so sorry a. : figure did he cut j We did leave t.he fellow to find him his trusty friend, and so on to my house, where I did jmrsuade Sir Ilalph to dine with us, and were right merry over good but simple fare, to wit. lK>ileil chicken and gammon of bacon, with bretid and fruit; and our guest did much praise lX)rothy'H con- serves After dinner Sir Italph and I sat on a bench in the garden under a fine spreading beech-tree. 'Twaji,.. sweet summer weather, and we had oiir wine on a small table, Duroitby being' seated on a low stool at my feot sewing. And I, knowing Hir Hatph to bo a mivn bettor travelled than most, did draw from him aomo M'count of his journey inm. Bo be did fall tu talk of t.hemâ€" mighty good discourse, and 'tis plain to see he be a. man af great umlerstand- fng and oliservalion And I did note, when be was tcllin(J of a most terrible storm that did burst oji the sbtp he was in off the African co:ist, and ot his danger and l>cing like to 1)6 lout., how niy Dorothy's cheeks did i>ale as she did bend nven hev work. But what followed did mightily di- vert roe, more than they gtio.s.iea It befell thus. Sir Ilalph was discoursing of a cer- tain sTave-morchant in Algiern, and bow be did ill-trooit bis slaves and did lash oneâ€" a young girl naked to the waistâ€" with a knotted cord. And I saw Dorothy's work fall out of her hands, and Ler eyes did flash and her bosom heave, and anuu up she springs, and did knock b«r stool over in the act, "The evil brute!" cried she, "I couldâ€"" "Box him bis eoj-!*?" asked Sir Balpb demurely, whereupon they did both burst into hearty laughter, Dorothy with a heightened color which did vastly become bar. '"Twas the very thing I did," said he. "and did relish the doing, though it did well-nigh get me in trouble with bis countrymen. But you did promise. Mistress iJorotby, to show me your garden. "Will it plea«e yxM to do so nowf" They were soon lost to my sight be- hind the yew-tree hedges, and being a thought drowsy after the labors of the day, I did fall into a light slumber. The next I remember was Dorothy's arms round my ne<;k and her soft Ups on my cheek. X did rouse me, and saw her sweet face full of a great happi- ness, so that her eyes did shine like stars. "I have told your daughter, Mr. Par- lett." said Sir Ralph, "the story of my life. 'Twas a wotmin that clouded it, and a woman may restore its sunshine. Will you give Dca-othy to me, if she be willing to try, as I think she l)ef" And for the great love I bare her I could not say him nay. Tbe Kna. THE VALUE OF A DOLLAB- Wbal 11 ('â- â-  D« ,0 K«iieve a Vmmtly !â-  DlNlrciitf, "It you can diimonstrate to me that you can actually relieve distress with one dojlar, I will giwe you what you want." A rinh cynic thus answ«red a wo- nian who had com« to him for aid to b«--Ip the poor of their city. He hoped to siliMice her and send her away. "Will you ooniie witih me t" said the wvuum. (jiulleoged in thm novel man- ner. T5iB DMun con<)ent«d. in a few minutes the two entered an unsightly t.nemient. The Udy, who know her grmind, led the man up two flights of Btairs into a cbeerl«es TOfjtn. Tlbe floor and walls were abso- lutely lurren. 'lTb« only piece of fur- niture besides tJhie bed, a chair and a dilapidated table, was a small stove, in which a .scant fire was Inirning. Tliere was a middle-aged man in tbe room with two children, each poorly and tlhinjy clad. T^ few diishee were empty. DastitutidMj could hardly be moire complete. Tlhe woman acouv tomed to 8uab |j<ithetic si^bts. soon learned wtat wa« must needed, and from lung experience, slhe knew just wlhat to purohase. "i'lease wait," sihe satd to tbe rich man, "wthiile I run around to the store." Full of comtiassion for ttus mute suf- fering, the gentleman waited. In a quarter of an hour a large groeer's basket, filled to thie brim, was brought into the room, isoou the lidtle .stove t'hrcw out comforting' beat, and the odor of food gave gialcfui cbieer. "Do you think thw charity well be- .stowedH" aMked the wuuuau. as they left. "Indeed, 1 do," came the answer, with a suwpiiums tmuur in the voice. "Well, here is th« list." He took it and read. We quoie it word tor word : 25 jiounds ojuil , .20 2 liuiiiUe.s kindling . . .06 H.iJf pouud iva . , .!& 'Z loovc^ bread . . .08 2 iiounds oatmeal , ,.14 lloJf pound sugnr . . .05 Galluu kerosene oil. , .10 Measure potatoeo . .Od .1 t(uari milk . . .04 Small bag salt . . .02 1 lioix miiiohes . . , .01 Tii>lal . Jl.OU Without hesit.iLium the man of money took a dollar bill and handed it tu tbe g<H)d wuiuan, and tihB next day slie received his check for a thousand like it. Tibu kncwleil^e of wliat one dollar can actually aciH:tn;dishi to relieve dis- tress and bring hanpineas to the jHx)r may restrain our hands from foolish ex t ravage tu^e. in iJwse days, when honest poverty is crouiling alxiut us. it Is nothing le<4s tliaii iruel to throw too many of our dollars away for purely selfiKh luxuries. Fxtravagant ex(«'nditures h>i(ld tlK> germti of dis- anier. In their full fruitage. tb«y (rive birth to effeminacy, lower moral stan- dards, stimulate envy, and incite social and political revolution. HF.y, HOI WlNl'FH WILL GO I A robin sings un the leafless spray, Hey bo. winter will go I Sunlight shiiu'M i>u the desolate way, And under my feet I feel the beat Of the world'.s heart tbat never is still. Never is still Whatever may stay. I.,ife outi of death. a.s do.v out ot night. Hey h'>. w'inler will got In the dark shall glimmer a light. A delicate sheen Of l)iiili<'ii(; uiecn. Then, silent, the dawn of animmer 'bre.iks. As ui«i'nini; breaks, O'er valley and height'. The tide ebbs out. and tbe tide flows lb ick ; U«y ho, winter will go ! Xbough heaven be screen'd by a stormy rack, It raSuB. and the bUie Cdimee- laughing through; And climid-liko, winter goes from tbe ejirth. That flUNvers in his track. Sing, robin, sing on your leafless spray. Hey bo, winter will go I Slunlight and soiug shall shorten thei ♦way. And undeir my feet X feej the beat Of the world's heart that never ia still, Never \!i still Whatever may stay. RICH AND UU LACES. BLEW A SAFE OPEN FOR SIX YARDS OF LACE. The Habll ot Wcarlujf Kleli and Costly iMe â- as or Late Been Oylus Vulâ€" What the Luxury has Cent tiome or the Favored Oae». Once In a vbile a bit d informa- tion leaks out in unusual channels which caJl attention to a fact that is generally forgotten or ignored. The other day fanrgiars blew open the safe of an Uptown modiste in New York, and stolle something. There was no- thing remarkable about that, for it is a habit burglars have. But it happen- that they igot into the safe for the I)articuJar purpose of stealing 6 yards of lace. Now, why burglars should go to ail tbat tronble and run all that risk for the sake of 6 yards of lace seems on the surface a deep mystery. When the theft was repcH-ted at police headquarters the reason was plain. Tbe little bit of lace was worth mare than fifty timee its weight in gold. 'l"Kve«uty years ago it cost ex- actly 91000 a yard, cr 96000 for the piece. To-day its vaiue is between 18000 and (9000. For some yeans the fashion of wear- ing ooeUy laces has been allowed to die o(rt« i>exhape because so few wo- men could afford to indulge in it, no matter haw great the riches of their husbands or fathers. The wife of the ordinary one-time millionaire can no more afford to accumulate costly laces than a mfuch poorer woman, for the simple reason that it wc^uld consume her husband's entire fortune in a very short time. Xt has been a fad of roy- alty for numberless years, but the kings and queens spend other peo- ple's money, so they can afford to be luxurious. An effort is making now to rehabi- litate the laoe-wearing fashion, and if it be successful it will draw a very sharp distinguishing line tietween millionaire and multi-millionaires. The women members of families who have been rich for many generations will have an advantage over others, as in the duys ot our grandmothers and great-granilmothers the ownership of fine lace was a social necessity. Tbe Astor collection ot laces, for in- stance, is very fine and ranks with any of the private collections abroad. At the time tbe laces of iiknpress flu- gene were suAd at auction the Astors wiere heavy buyers. They pooled with the Vanderbilts and tbe Rothschilds BO as to avoid bidding against one an- other. These three greet families se- lected an agent to do the buying, and at the termination of the sale tbe pur- chases were divided into thirds. Eu- genie, ot course, was not a gainer by this, but she could well afford the loss. The 6 yards above mentioned were port of (the "pool" purchiise at this sale, and were subsequently sold by Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt to Mrs. Corning, the present owner. 'X'here are many pretty legends of the origin ot lactv-moking, and one of the lu-ettiest is tbe story of tbe Vene- tian suilur who, on the eve of a. sea voyage, gave to tha woman be loved a piece uf beautiful sea-weed, to keep while he was absent, in memory of him. Ho suited away, and the girl cared fur hiii gift with constant devotion, sup- ersiitiously fancying that upon its pres- ervation depended tbe safety of her lover or the endurance of his love for her. Tlierefore wben she discovered that the seaweed was slowly drying up and falling to pieces, she caught the fins leaves and branches with thread against a piece of linen, and thus invented lace. IVh) much vonfiilence must not be placed in this pretty legend, however, lOlr some fine examples of the lace- makers' art have been traced tiack to the periorl of about IIXK) years before Christ'.. While the art is an ancient one, the finer qjuajities did not ap- â- f>eux until after the fifteenth century, the most ceJebrated lace coUectioiia are those of the South KenHingtou Museum, in London, and the Xiruges Mmseum. although the Cluny Mus- eum, in H.aris, cuntains inestimable specimens oit anti<vue lace. French women are notably fond of lack's, and a valuable piece is handed duiNvn from one generation to another with ahnoet religiaas care. The fam- o»j8 Honilon set of Queen Victoria is of s\ich incaleuable value that her Ma- jesty h.is wwn it ottly four timesâ€" at hex lAvo and other royal weddings. No greater evidence of the favoritism of the tiucon for 'I'rincesa Beatrice cauld be given than her immense cuu- iHi.sHiim in allowing these remarkable fliiiiinci>s. veil and bodice tTiituu'.nKs to at 9600,000, but since then they have been scattered far and wide. Mrs. Jcibn Jacob Astor has a Vene- tian rose point lace fan purchased last fall at tbe sale of a famous collection! for 91300. It may not be the most ex- penrive fan in the world, but there ara a few which cost more. The sticks -a of mother of pearl, n ith a delicate trac- ery in gold. Xt is needless to say that this tan is seldotn used, tor in the crushes which ebaj:<vi>terize the aver- age society function it would probably be smashed to flinders and the guazy lace torn into shreds. The eccentric Queeji of Belgium baa a lace gown which cost a fabulona sum. It is said to contain 60 yards cf laca of various widths. Some wildly im^ aginative people, in writing ot tbia gown, have pdaced its cost at 91.000,000. When tbe valiile of lace is being con- sidered there is a vAde field for erro» at hand. At the utmost the lace tovnt of Belgium's Queen could hardly hava cost more than 9'75,000. and one-hall of that ti:m might coven* the totail. The collection of Mrs. Hicks-Lord ia said to contain the famot^is point da Brussels shawl once owned by Eugenia. Mrs. Hicks-Ijord keeps all of her treaa- irres locked up in the vaults of a sa/a deposit company, and as she never eoea into society nowadays it is ditfioult td mxme her pcssessions with any degree of accuracy. This phawl has neen valued (it 930,000. Eighty experta worked on it for a year, and the Bin- press !E)ugenie wore it three timea^ Since then it has never been worn. Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt owna som efine bits of point d'AJencon, ona of the costliest laces in the world. The reason of the great cost is due, of course, to the amount of intricate labo» required. First, tha de-^ign is drawn by an artist and then engraved on a co[V- per plate, from which it is printed oa long strips of parchment. I'ieces of linen are attached to the parchment, and the pattern is traced with threads Tbe ground netting of the lace is then worked out. More than twenty ex- perienced hands are required to do their severai kinds of work before tha tiniest bit of point d'Alencon can ba produced. Some ot this lace baa brrfli^ht as much as 81600 a yard, but this IS an exceptionally high price. It can be seen by this that tbe fad ol lace collecting is a mobt costly ona, and poesible only to those who have tf limitless income. PROMINENT.PEOPLE. Notes Aboat Some of the Great rolK* af the World. Dr. NauMen has asked petmussion to name the Siberian peninf«lla discovered by him after Kiing 0»xur of Swedea. Tbe king and the Russian authoritiea have given tbeir ount>ent. Dr. De Ikiesy, of Havre, who haa just died at the ag» ot 103, was tha doyen of French doctors. Up to tha einU of Janutuiy bie gave consultationa and attended patients reguiarly. As a compiimant to the Empeirox William wihen be vi&its Russia, tha Czar will make all his (sublic speeohe* in Uerman. following th<e example of Ailexomder 11. of ilMstaia on a similay occasion,. Fmperor Francis Jop^pih of Austri* is having bia iiortrait painted by tbe Viennese artist, Kduard Horowitz. Ha ails fu,r the artist in the Ui.stuirioal Art Mtiiseum, wbftre tbe directors' office baa be*n fitted up far the purpose. One hUndried iien and ink drawings by ine lauj (Jeoige Ilia Miaurier, wihuiBl belong to bin ftaie. have just arrived in Ne>v YoTk from London. The.y ara the urigiuala of bis fouivvus satirical single illustrations weld known in "FniQch." I The oldeet uutor in the world ia Henry IXiel. He wiill be 93 on his next birihluy, and was an acnor lor sixtyw five years. jVs a child he was rowed oui tu Flymouth S«)U'a»l and saw Nap- o'.eixn walking the' qiuarter duck oC tibe Belltniuvhon. - . .Mother Uouzuga KeuneUy, who ia sail! to have been the oldest uiun in Ireland, difd reuently at the Ursulina convent, Blockrock, County Cork. Tha re>ereut mother bad spent aixty-thxee yeiiris at the convent, and was 88 years old wheli tithe died. ; L.-uty Ilegixy Boniierset is about to |)lace in ilu- centre of her " tenijier- anoe villages'' Uuxjiurst. in Surray, a her«ic-size<l figlure of C'hrisL. The Riatue, ni«ulde<l by Fercy Wood, re- prei>en;s the Saviour wit'h hands out- stretched, U4id is niit altogether un- like the beautiful statue by Tbiant'ald- s^eui. it b,is <je4-u det'ided thiat tbe mnnio- meiiit to Lord Lci;nlUon tdutll take tbe form of a re?.»uml)efUt sepulobral figure of t he late I^reaident ot the Uoyol Ao- ademy, to l)e. jteed in. tbe nave of Sr. FauJ'.s calhe-lral. To Mr. Brock, U.A., bus lieen inlrus.ed the execution of the work, wliioh wiiLl be o£ an orn- ate character, atid in bronze. Sylvia Du Waurier, one at Ihl Maurier's loveliest daughters, apprem- lice I herKelf to Mrs. Nectleship, a fa- iiujU!* Loudon dressmaker, for a year, and wen: bravely tihruagh all the ilrujlgery uf dre«mi.akins. from the licKiiiiiing to the fiui.sb. Now, as she has ui.inied a l)rilliant l>ut struggling vni!,ng Ixirri.v. er, she designs andiuakes her own coNtumea. Jenny IJiid's diw.ighter, Mrs. Ray- iiii iii.i Maude, of Luuiloii, haa much of her mother's brilliaaicy of voice, but has always JeTUBcd tu cultivate it for the si age. "1 BupiH)8ti ihere was too much iiuuiic at home,"' shie, explained to a tiini I'unfista of slunrfb pieces of Mal- tese lac<i, some ot it said to be iiiiOO years o*ld. Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt, (Mrs William .\stor and Mrs. Hicks-Lord are UkUj<ie(vl. The youiig liueen uf Holland objeefa to being re+<aril(wl ius a child anv more., Re.viutly Nhe entered tbe t'liliinet- j>erlmps the o^vners oC the finest l.ice.s toiuu during h >e.-wn>n ot ih« Council. '"-'•-â-  • •â-  â-  and lu a iliKiufieil iimnner a.sked the Friuie -MinLsiter why the |;«i.st;i.ge .stamps continue I to l>e<ir her imago :i.s a little (tirl. Then her Majiwiy requeaieil that the object iimahle .sLiiiip be discoiv- titiued as sniin as pus-sible. King Owcir of f^wcilcn lia« tu»t ion>, I>lcie«l a iio\el in whiiih hi.s grand- inwiher, the wife of Mar.shiil Derna- m Neiw York. Mrs. Astor is credited with owning a lac© gown which cost somewhere between 9-5,lHH) and 830,000. Sh« b.iis never been Rcen to wear it, but it she did theje would probably be some bro.'ul but polite snulcs in tbe fashionable Rsspnil>laffe. In the first plac«, the gottvn would be sadly out ot date, and. notwithstanding her riches, she wiyuld jiot be so extravagant as | dotte, i» the heroine. Her niai.ilon name "a,s Deeireo Clliiry. Im hftr .v<iaith she w«u4 as-sociated witli Nai«»l*on and fcis brother, Joewph Bonaparte. Her sis- ter ,Julie Clary, mtirried Ju>4eph, and site herself wa.H atfianctvl to Napoleoni dor a time, Inir ilismis^tvl him beciaiise oi his attentions to womem oC greatejc note in PariR. FimiUy Desiree mar- ried BerinaiKitte, a yiiuhg officn.r « ho r««e from llie ranks of the French army to Ueoome a marehol. Prince of Funte- cervo, and Kvug ot !^-eden. to have the laces clit U|> in au effort to fit them to the prevuijin^ mode. Mrs. A. T. Sitewart wii-s, in her life- time, the 0|wner ot the finest laces in the laud. 'As the wife ot the great merchant prince .she h.ul unusual op- portunities for picking up odd but valu- able bits in all parts of the world, as her husband's ouyer.s lUways had a stiinding ojiler to hu^ when they were certain of the quality. Ac tbe time of her death these laocs were valued >« ^V