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 •«â- Â« W' «, T. TKTil AND UN LIKE. By M. B. BRADDON, Adihob of " Ladt Aitdlby's Sickkt," " Wtllabd's Wded," Bra, Eia CHAPTER XVI.â€" In the Wildkbnkss. IChis ionrney to » strange city was not so wUd an act upon Madge'i part as it nught ieem on the surface of things. She had thought long and deeply before launching ker frail bark upon that tempestuous sea, the was a girl of strong character, a resolute, •nergetic nature which codld scarce go on •Kisting without an object to live for. Life, the mere sluggish, monotonous eating and drinking and sleeping and waking, the empty toeohanism of life, was not enough for her. She must have someone to love, she must have something to do. Her fellow-servanta at the Abbey hsd wondered at the impetus with which this hovice in the art of housecleaning had set ftbont her work, the vehement industry with which she had cleaned brasses and BoUshed looking glasses, and swept and dusted. That strong frame needed move- Bent, that tumultuous heart could only be •oothed by sonstant occupation. She had loved Valentine Belfield with all her might. She had been tempted many a time to fliog herself into his arms, to throw herself in the dust at his feet, to surrender to him as a beaten foe surrenders, slavishly, knowinj? not what her future was to be, what the cost of that self-abandonment. But she had battled with that weaker half of her natureâ€" the woman's passionate heart and the strong brain, which had some- thing masculine in its power, had come to her rescue. She had sworn to herself with •lenched hands and set teeth that she would not go that easy, fatal road by which so many girls have travelled, girls whose stories â- he knew, girls who bad been shining lights in the parish school, model students in the Scripture classes, white-veiled young saints ftt confirmation. She would not do as they had done, yield to the first tempter. If her mother had gone wrong, there was lo much the more reason that she should •leave to the right. She fought that hard fight between love and honour, but the agony of the strife was Miter, and it aged and hardened her. She hwdened still more when she satv her lover j respite, transfer! ing his liking to another woman, j "" " She was keen to note the progress of that treacherous love. Helen had found her the handiest and cleverest of house-maids, and had preferred her services to those of any one else. And while she assisted at Beauty's toilet, Madge had ample leisi^re and oppor- tunity to note the phases of Beauty's mind, and to discover the kind of intellect that worked behind that classic forehead, and the iuality of the heart that beat under that lelicately moulded bust. She found Colonel Deverill's daughter â- hallow and fickle and false. She discovered her treason â€" had seen her with Valentine Just often enough to be sure of their treaohery against Adrian. And by this time she had discovered Adrian's infinite â- uperiority to his brother in all the higher attributes of manhood. She knew this, yet the had not wavered. Her nature was too intense for the possibility of fickleness crin- eonstancy. She loved with purpose and â- inoerity, as well as with passion. There was no wavering in her affections, yet she admired Adrian with a power of apprecia tion which was far in advance of her educa- tion. Passing to and fro in the c jrridor Bear the library, she had stopped from time to time to listen to the organ or the piano, under those sympathetic fingers. Music WEB a passion with her, aud till this time she had heard scarcely any music except the ahurch organ, indifF=rently played by a feeeble old organist. This music of Adrian's was a revelation in its infinite variety, its lightness, its solemnity, its unspeakable depths of feelinc. Once in the winter twilight she heard him playing Gounod's "Faust," gliding from number to number, improvising in the dark- ness of the old sombre! room, where there no light 'jut the glow of the fire. The those long, dow hours of dim, gray ram or sunUt dust that strange vague tune to which the days roUed into the nights, with- out difference or distinction, and in which faces mixed themselves somehow, no one face being more distinct than another. There was no memory of a mother's face, bending over her in day time and night- time, nearer and more familiar than all the rest. Despite this void in her memory, she had yearned after the mere idea of motherly love. She had seen other girls with their mothers, scolded and caressed, kissed and slapped by turns, and in spite t)f the slaps and hard words, she had seen that a mother's love was a good thingâ€" strong, tender and inexhaustible. And then, as she progressed from the knowedge of good to the knowledge of evil, she brooded over the mystery of that lite which she had been told was full of sbaroe, and began to meditate how she was to help and save that erring mother. She had heard her grandmother prophesy evil for her ungratefui daughter, the evil days that were to come with faded beauty and broken health, the natural end of a wicked, reckless life. At the Abbey, Madge's knowledge of the world grew daily. Her fellow-servants were older than herself, quick-witted, ex- perienced in that seamy side of life which is seen from the butler's pantry and the ser- vants' hall. The old Abbey servants were rural and narrow enough but there were those who had served in many households before they came to the Abbey, and these knew the world in many phases. One to whom Madge took most kindly was a woman of thirty, who had taken to do- mestic service only five years before, after losing a widowed mother, with whom and for whom she had toiled in a factory from fifteen to five and twenty years. It was a cartridge factory in the Gray's Inn road at which Jare White and her mother had worked, the mother off and on as her health permitted, the daughter fronr year's end to year's end, without rest or I was amp had not yet been! lighted in the cor Trey had occupied a couple of attics in a side street not far from the fac- tory they had their own poor sticks of furniture and had lived in their two little rooms under the tiles, happy enough till death came to part them and then Jsme White sickened of her loneliness and her independence, and she, who had once sworn that she would never eat the bread of servi- tude, never call any one master or mistress, changed ker mind all at once and went into service for company's sake. She was an energetic, hard-working girl, and made a good servant, so good that, a^ter emigrating to Devonshire with a middle- class family, who; e service she left after a year or so in a huff, the rumour of her good qualities reached Mrs. Manable through the butcher's foreman, and she was engaged as second housemaid at the Abbey. Here Madge took to her, as the kindliest of all her fellow servants, and from her Madge learned all she knew of London, and the possibility of an industrious girl main- taining herself by ttie labour of her hands. SVas cartridge making hard to learn, Madge asked. No, it was learned by easy stages. There were hands taken on that knew nothing about it before they went there. Jane White gave Madge a little pencil note ad- dressed to a man who was an authority in the factory, who engaged the hands and dismissed them at his pleasure. " We used to walk out together on Sun- day evening," said Jane, " and I think he'd do a good turn to any friend of mine. He might want to walk out with you, perhaps, if you took his fancy, but it would be for you to settle that. He's a well-conducted young man." Madge smiled a smile of exceeding bitter- ness, but was mute. And now in the mild spring night she tramped from May Fair to Gray's Inn-road, ridor the other servants were all at their inquiring her way very often, and plodding V i tea; Madge crouched in the embrasure of the door, and drank in those sounds to her heart's content. When he played the " Dies Irae "she fell on her knees, and had to wrestle with her- self lest she should burst into sobs. In another of those solitary twilight hours, fielen and Valentine oiit hunting, he played " Don Giovanni," and again Madge crouched in his doorway and drank in the sweet sounds. The lighter music moved her dif- ferently, yet in this there were airs that thrilled her. There was an awfulness some- times in the midst of the lightness. When the spring came and the afternoons were light she could no longer lurk in the corri- dor but her attic was in a gable above the library, and when Sir Adrian's windows Were open she could hear every note in the still April air. The soufad of that music seemed a kind of link between them, for apart as they were I in all other things, and over and above her jealousy on her own account, she was angry and jealous for Adrian's sake. She could have wept over him as the victim of a wo- man's feebleness, a man's treachery. And now she told herself that she had nothing to love or care for upon this earth. He who had wooed her with such passionate persistence a few months ago had teansferred his love to another. She stood alone in the world and in her loneliness her heart yearned for that erring mother, of whose face she had no memory. She tried to penetrate the mists of van- ished years, to grope back to those early infantine years before her irandfather had found her squatting beside his hearth in the autumn twilight. He had told her that she was old enough to talk a little, and to toddle about at his heels. Surely she ought to be able to remember. Yes, she had a kind of memoty, so faint and dim, that she could scarcely distinguish realities from dreams in that long-ago ufe. Yes, she remembered movement, constant movement, rolling wheels, summer boughs, summer dust, clouds of dust, white dust that choked her as she lay asleep in that rolling home, amidst odours of hay and straw. She remembered rain, endless days of rain and grayness, dull, dreary days, when she squatted on the loose straw at the bottom of a gypsy's van, staring ont at the ^ull, dim world. Tioere waa » dog, which slie was fond oL The anisstioii rf a dog's warm, Mendly r fao^ alwaiya recaUM ^%ai';%*: --'â-  'â-  i' "•"•.' " â- ----.â-  iS5k:S..- V^ /.-^ • '., â- -- r v-;^;*---^ ;.:..;;. --^^ --â- â- -â-  .-â-  wmmmmmm fr.' â-  'â- ; i^ ' Vsfltj- â- ^â- ^ â- X'^-^ Mrs. Midgenr took h«r np thesteap, nnoar- petod tttm to tho attio, with its one dormer ^ow. looking ont a fwest *!**""•? pots towards the glories of Kmg'e Cross and its triple stations. There was nothing to be seen from the window to-night bnt thedis tant whiteness of the eleotaiclight, shining between the smoEe and the elonds. It was a small, shabby room, with an an oientironbedstead,two msh-bottomed chairs, a ricketty chest of drawers, and a still more ricketty table. Everything in the room was one-sided and uneven, beginnmg with the floor, which was obviously downhill from the door towards the window. However, the room looked clean, and had a whole- some odour of yellow soap, as of boards that had been lately icmbbed. " It's an old house," said Mrs. Miogery, with deprecating air, "and an old house never pays anybody for their work, but there's no one can say I don't slave over it." Madge took out her shabby little purse a cast-off purse of Mrs. Marrable's, which that good soul had bestowed upon her one morning with o.her unconsidered trifles that had been eliminated in the piocess of tidy- ing a bureau. She gave Mrs. Midgery one of her last half-crowns, a week's rent in advance and at this unasked-f or payment she rose considerably in the good Midgery's estimation. " I believe we shall get on very well to- gether," she said. " I hope your mother is like you." Madge was silent, looking round the little room in a reverie, comparing it with the luxurions litter, the velvet and lace curtains and heaped-up cushions, and easy chairs of the room at May fair. Cjuld she hope that any woman with her mother's experience would endure li'e in such a garret as this. But if there were only the choice between the garret and suicide, and if the e arret ineant rescue from a scoundrel's alternate tyranny and neglect CHAPTER XVII.â€" Bbeaking the Spell. For Valentine rnd Helen the summer and autumn of that eventful year drifted away unawares in one long honeymoon. They lived' for each other, in a fond and foolish dream of love that was to be immortal, con- tentment that was to know no change. They scarcely knew the days of the week, never the days of the month in that blissful dream should like this sweet time. They wrote no letters, thev scarcely ever." looked at a newspaper, they held no inter- " ' course with the outside world. For a time oome to an end somehow. Valentine gave np otter hanting without a ngh he let the twelfth slip by, though he had an invitation for Sootiand; and another for Yorkshire- moors that were to cost his friends three or fonr huadred pounds for the seasoii, and which were well worth shooting oyer. He gave np the beginning of the partridge sea son, and disappointed a particular chum whose estate in Norfolk was famous for its partridges. But he told Helen one day that he most be back at the Abbey in time for ibe pheasants. " We can be in London for the last week in September," he said, "and we can in- spect this flit which my mother has furnish- ed for US in the wilds of South Kensington. T should have preferred Mayfair or S^. James's, but I am told our income would not stretch to Mayfair." "Oar income," sighed Helen. "How eood of you to say ' ours,' when I did not bring vou a sixpence." "What did Helen bring to Paris? Not much, I fancy, dearest, and yet even the old fogies of Troy though she was worth fighting for. You brought me beauty and youth and love. What more could Ijdesire V He kissed the fair face bending over him, as he lay on a sofa by an open window, with the moths droning in an out from the dewy garden, and with the mists of night rising slowly between lawn aud lake. " Yes, dear, we had better go back about the twentieth, I take it." " And this is the fourth So soon And then our honeymoon will be over," said Hel en, sorrowfully. " Shall we ever be as-hap- py again as we have been a^nong the moim- tains and by the lakes " "Why not? We shall be just as happy upxt summer, I hope â€" somewhere else. We would not. come here ag«in, of course." "Oh. Val, does that mean you are tired of Mapfforiâ€" tired of our honeymoou?" " No, love, but I think we have had quite enough of Switzerland and the Italian lakes â€" ^at least for the next ten years." " Oh, Val, there is a tone in your voice as if you had been bored." He yawned before he answered. " I have been intensely happy, child â€" bnt, well, I think we have been idle long enoneh, don't you " " No, no, no pot half long enough. I life to go on for Dame, and riie knew fl^ " You promised to ir?Mii..^»*^ ^â€" " If on promised rfra. been such a long di«m.i*?»« *S^ "WbytheSutSiJ*^^- and make it shorter ^!^?'" Hi in accents that wera' .^ his ordinary speech ^??*'*»t. any sooner. D9 Mm. **'*^l (tobbcos Woman (to tramp) -V,,^ a good dinner, can't von h"' it. '"""•(Urt Tramo--Well,I dunno i what's right, Ifvou'« ' *»»t 1 maill'uLp'emlntotlt^fe^ I'm a square man, m»d»o. ^^Ii r«*l to Country Giris. â- A ^.^ In the country and do il* ' *.me good honest toil l^^riTno rfwon why you «• **^in Uttle niceties of »ite, ^°S^«r bands and teeth. i*^Sl not be able to keep the ' aJoU as it you used ihcm »» '*„;.iBry. but a lew min- Vi.A» ""J » Vw, eradicated tl resolutely onward with her face to the east, caring nothing for the strangeness of those everlasting streets, or the lateness of the hour. She had such a dogged air, seemed BO absorbed in the business she was bent upon, that no one addressed her, or tried to hinder her progress. But last as she walk- ed it was nearly eleven o'clock when she arrived in the dingy, little street at the back of Gray's Inn road, so far behind the road as to be in the rear of the prison, which she passed shudderingly, for the idea of captive criminals was new and thrilling to her. Jane had told her that the woman with whom she had lodged was a seamstress, and always up at her sewing machine till after midnight so though the clocks were strik- ing seven as she passed the prison, Madge had no fear of finding the door shut in her face. The only question was as to whether the landlady would,,have an unoccupied room to give her. She found the number. The street was squalid, but the house looked tidier than its neighbours, and the door- step was clean. Thtre was a parafin lamp burning brightly in the little parlor next the door, and the lean elderly female who answered the door had an air of decent pov- erty. She looked at Madge suspiciously, bus on hearing Jane White's name, she sof- tened, and at once became friendly, and acknowledged that she had room for a lod- ger. "It's the bedroom where Jane and her mother used to sleep," she said. "I fur- nished it after they left. It's a clean, airy room, with a nice look out towards King's Gross. It'll be half-a-crown a week, and you'll have to pay for the linen, and beyond boiling your kettie for you in summer time, yon mustn't expect any attendance from me. Fm too busy to wait upon lodgers, and I only charge the bare rent of the room. " That will suit me very well," answered Madge. "It will be for my mother and me." "Oh," sud the woman, "you've got a mother, have you What does she do for a living f Madge reddened at the qoestion. "Nothing, just at piresent," die said: " she's out of health." " But I suppose you are working at some- thing," asked the woman, waxing suspi- cious." You're sot living on your fartaae," with a BBeer. Madge ezplained ha •nmn abont tte oartridge fsdmty, and, rwasiuud liy On^ â- '.i'-ij«nfi.'r;-ijja^- i- love was enough, love and luxurious idleness of the lake or the mountain side, the lanciuid bliss of the long moonlight evening in the balcony or veramdah, or on terraced walks, looking down upon a lake. The mountains and lakes were with them everywhere, a beautiful and everlasting background to the mutability of honeymoon lovers. Ttiey were happy in being at least six weeks in advance of the common herd. They had the great, white hotels almost to themselves. There was a reposeful silence in the empty corridors and broad staircases. They could lounge in gardens and summer houses without fear of interruption from cockney or colonial, Yankee misses, or Ger- man professors. In this happy summer time, Valentine gave full scope to the counter- balancing characteristic of his nature. He, who as a sportsman or an athlete was inde- fatigable â€" a creature of inexhaustible energies and perpetual motion â€" now show- ed a fine capacity for laziness. No languid »3thete, fanning himself with a penny palm leaf, and sniffing at a sunflower, ever sprawl- ed and dawdled with more entire self -abamd- onment than this thrower of hammers and jumper of long jumps. He would lie on his back in the sun and let Helen read to him from breakfast to luncheon. He would lie in the stern of a boat all the afternoon. He would find it too great a burden to dress for dinner, and would take the meal Uteu-tete in an arbour, sprawling in a velvet shooting jacket. He would allow his honeymoon bride to run upstairs for his handkerohief, his cigar case, his favorite pipe, or tobacco pouch, a doeen times a day. " I like running your errands, love," the fair young slave declared. " It does me good." " I really think it does, sweet, for you always look prettier after one of those scampers. But you needn't rush all the way, pet. I am not in such a desperate hurry," added ihe Saltan, graciously." " But I am, VaL I want to be back with you. I count every moment wasted that parts us." They stayed at Inter laken. till the first week in July, and then went up to Murren for a week. It seemed further away from the herd, which was beginning to pour into Switzerland. Aud then they wandered on to the Riffel, and anon into Italy, and dawdled away another month or six weeks beside the Italian lakes, always in the same utter idleness, reading only the very whipped cream of the book world, the lightest sylla- bubs and trifles in the shape of literature knotring no more of the progress of the great busy bustiing world than they could learn from Punch or the lociety papers, Helen reading the sporting articles aloud to her Sultan, and pouring over the fashion articles for her own gratification. She would clap her hands in a rapture 3ver one of these enthralling essays. "Isn't this too lovely, VaL Madge says that there is to be nothing but olive green worn next winter, and 1 have three olive-green gowns in my trousseau." " What a pity," said Valentine. "Hike you in nothing so well as in white, like that gown you have on to day, for example, soft white muslin rippling over with lace." "But â€" one can't walk about in white muslin in January, Val. I think you'll manage to like me a littie in my olive-green tailor gown, with Astrachan collar and cuffs." " I've no doubt you look adorable in it â€" but my taste inclines me to all that is most feminine in woman's dress. The stem sim- plicity of a tailor gown always suggests a strong minded young woman with stand- offish manners the kind of person who talks politics and puts down young men with a masterful superiorily I" " You need not be aifraJd of my talking politics," said Helen,, proud of her ignor- ance. "No, love, that pretty little head has no room in it for Ing questions." The longest honeymoon must oome to an DhtiptaotOMAi, replied Amanda, demurely/ Is that the name of your And you are not longing to see your sister, and the shops " "Not a bit." "Well, I confess to a hankering after my tailor, and an inclination for my favorite club." "Oh, Val, do you belong to a club " she exclaimed, ruefully " Not being a naked savage I certainly do belong to more than one club, my pet or rather I have three or four clubs belonging to me by right of election." " And your favorite club, which is that V " It is rather aâ€" wellâ€" a rapid club. It is a temple whose name is rarely spoken in the broad light ef day. It only beGrins to have any positive existence toward midnight, and its pulse beats strongest on the brink of -Jawn." "Is it one of those dreadful clubs where they play cards " " Yes, it shares that privilege in common with a good many other clubs, from the Carl- ton downwards." " But now you are married, Val, you will give up most of your clubs, I hope." " My dearest child, that shows how little you know of the London world. London to a man in my position means club-land. It is nothing else. A man lives in London be- cause his clubs are there, not because his houe is there. The club in modem life is the Forum, the Agora, the rendezvous of all that is best and wisest and brightest in the town." "But a club that only begins to exist at night " " Is the necessary finish to a man's day. I shall not go there so often, of course, now I am married but you will have your eve- ning engagements, and while you are listen- ing to classical music, which I abhor, or dancing, which I was always a duffer at, I can slip round to the Pentheus for an hour or so, and be back in time to hand you into your carriage." "The Pentheus. favorite club " " Yes that is the name." Helen had an unhappy feeling from the moment the date of their return was fixed. She had delighted with a childish jcy in her honeymoon. She had been proud of, Its length. " So long, and we are not the l^ast lit' le bit tired of each other, are we, Val " she had said twenty times, in her enthusi- asm, and had been assured with kisses that there was no shadow of weariness on her adoring husband's part. "|Leo declared we should be sick of each other before the end of June," she said, " and we shall have been away three months. But I can't help feeling somehow as if going back to England will be like the breaking of a spell." Her prophecy seemed to her to realise it- self rather painfully on the homeward jour- ney. It was a longish journey, and Valen- tine was in a hurry to be in London. They travelled by long stages, and the heat of the railway carriage was intolerable, such heat and such dust as Helen 'had never experi- enced before. The stuffiness of the carriage, the slowness of the train, the frequent stop pages, the crowded buffets, the selfish crowd, were all trying to a man of difficult and im perious temper. Valentine's temper, after the first three hours of that ordeal, became absolutely diabolical. He ignored Helen he thonsrht of nothing but his own discom- fort. He angrily rejected all her little at- tentions, her jfannings and dabbings of eau de cologne, her offers of grapes and peaches, her careful adjustment of blind or window. "I wish you'd stop that d d worry- ing," he rxclaimed. "The heat is bad enough without your abominable fidgetting to make it worse. " Yes, the spell was broken. The honey- moon was oyer. Th^ stopped in Paris for a couple of nights, at the Hotel dn Louvre, and here life was pleasant again, and Helen was liappy witii her Sultan, sittint; about under the great glaw roof, reading the news papers and sipping cool drinks. Bnt on the second evening of their stay, Valentine went Not a flyprccite. A man of shambling gait a-j pearance forced his way behbHtk"'" deBk of one of the prominenfTil can tile es- abluhmentB lately iTA ing the proprietor, who looked m,i isnment, said ' ' " I want 50 cents." " Don't owe you anythins " "Ikr.owthat,butineed'ti,e»«, poser '^^'"""'"'^S'°«^^l ' No, sir, I don't want any Oh, I see you want to buy ,7„^ pair of shoes." "1 "No, I don't." " Ah, you want to bny an mdo " No, I don't." " Then why do you want 50 oeoti'l " Want to get drunk." I " By George " exclaimed th«L man, " you are further from bebg il crite than any fellow I have lees tial Here's a dollar for you." 3ust His Kind. She â€" ' I confeEs, William, thttj proposal gives me pleasure. It foolish to pretend that it does not, j Heâ€" "Yet what? What pombltJ tion can you have to beeomiog ml You know that I love you, th»tl a| to provide for youâ€"" " Yes, but I fear I would be but ij housewife." " Why so " " Because I have never been toi a schooL" " All the better, dearest all the b " All the better " "Yes. You will stay at home urfd to the cooking instead of wanting to; and lecture oK the culinary art Yd just the wife I want." no sense ci satiety in that soUtode ol two, Oat unbroken duologue in wUdi the mb- ject, was always tiie same, love's yoong dreun. Hdeai was pretty enough and swe^ enongh in hat booadless fiwidnnss and sab- jecAm to keep tiiia aeU-wiUad and at/MA natnre in a pandise of oonttnt SlfflLtlM dntm-libataaBgWEWMid end aVbTrX !I^«L V 1 "' w" off directly after dinner to hunt np a bache- endatlast. Long as it wa^ Valentmo knew ]„ friend in the Fanbourge StT Honore. promising to be back early. He kept his word in one sense, for It was •arly in the morning whra he returned. Helen had been lying awake in tiie spaoions â- eeegMUfloor ohamber, witii Its window* US' ii« «M Rm d« BItoIL The night wm vwy WMn, and botii whadowi wen oftn. She bad bHvd •mry ilroke of tt* bdb of Notre W.E.1 whUe he «»« '^^"A thing to fill in '"""Whenlsaylhave"';^^ he8aid."iti8B0tanem^^^y, have never touched t** "1^^^ b^ i....«f:fn1 faceano w the beautiful face «« Is this true, George hushed breath. ITrge as^Ae'toten^^ ,,, ^,ii "It trae he The look of wow glance of icy »"" ILj bin" leightand oonfront^rV* j- "Then, for heav*i !!.»*• Baid, "gosomftWW^*^ getareoeM." :.-.;" -t^^^ v, A Hard Case M Bonid. Young Jinks â€" " There i« a snit of that I've had only four monthi. Iwi think I had worn it a year. I'm 1 hard on clothes." Old Jinksâ€"" Is it paid for, myioi!] "Nno, not yet." " Then you are not only hard*! clothes, but hard on your tailor yw4| Tie Ei?ht Eorise. " Of'shur," said a tired citizeo^ the mmning, "I'm (hie) lookin'f^j three-fifty-one, an' 'm blamed (hic)i| find it." ., " No. 351, 1 think, is five doonw â€"the house with a woman looking 1 the seoond-story window." " Yesh (hie) that's housh. Mis^Tiided Enthusiasm. French admirer, to actre" I'"" larity is growing every day. M^ you think so?" "ThmkBorl I've been travelling through to and in every town where yoa««ffl appear, your Ph"**/ »«»,r..ii„i What do you thmk I did i" " Wherever I saw y°« HL " J^ I went in and bought it J«^?i allup!" "Oh, you wretched ^â-  to have those photos put mthe^; and now I shall have to W r* Well, you are the biggest dolt tiai two legs I" Should Be WeU Weight^' I Wife-" Now, my d**^'!^! downthatpaFrforamomentl*^ to talk to you." „ Husband-" Fire away- " What kind of a tombstone get for dear mother's gr»ve.„ " The heaviest to be fonofl- Good for a^°"'P^t,i, She (of Centre ^^^f^^l^. tiful spring mawnm. f*!^ r*l^' He-«Yes,MissJohnnng^^^j,^ see yo' lookin' so ^fel^^.^.h.Inbly l*^' V riiat cannot be eradiw i«L^ji Shamed of. Thenailscaa 4»^,^^^mmed; they cannot be ^tfately 1^" Perhaps you caunot ;-^Cre«ti«»^* "manicure,' L buy '"^f ,, have a paw of small r, m."0«"'t: the file you must re- f^ "!^ iwy with the one in your P'^*^fSSJ«»'**^"' apiece of K«i •* "TTiid the chamois polisher, ,idp»P«f^' r* Bixty cents to two l-'y*" make youn»^«- Tak« a I y»" ^J^vJd thick, and three l«*«"^^°tivelong-large enough to I wide by ""L git of soft cloiu for '^^""io^r^hat a piece of the cham_ and over I r ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^f ^**P vo^Klv^an article that may !»' „ll but wiU answer every r '"^tenyour bands by washing in r i S some good toilet soap tor Iwaterwun" ^e^^jjg small scissors '»***?i. rounding them nicely, and •e nails. '""^^ ° low. With aoaie t*^^"^«ntVyo«h»venotafile) ^^r fliu fcom the bas3 of the •"^/trim away »ll the dead skiu. "iTurpVsher and brush vigor- -*! flTminutes. Do this once a "^eve^day sp^^d " *«* "'"V^'^*^^' '^orSpol«h«' and your hanas fc vou to their neat appearance for jpayyouiu solution of '-il^pri^ aCttle witK a glass ^^y^ !S.ov« aU Stains of ink oi truit, "'SorasmaU Btickdipped ia the "' na^ed uuder the nails wiit e- "°:lcolor*"on that does not come '^y S There is a pink povvUer S?d«1g^'" for polishin6,^but thU m.y ^^ ^with. If, however, you ge; •"f^^^^uo.*- vou set the best and not s ** "^Scte W'hould have a pair o T.Ks, or better still wash leather IWnyouare weeding m the gar ^£ve found out that no amount ^i^rdumakeupfor that early nej The Y/omanly Womaii. â- he sad thing about it that is the girl Period iTmaking a fo«l«f^«r" "f. â- ^M carried to its extreme becomes 1 ?» "is Hegel, and the girl b -m/ with the masculine costume go CpUase men and more by adopu. 'irsSnTandeven freedom of maun* "il does not sse that altiiough men LS bv it they are not made more S and courteous thereby. She or J, that she is a favorite wuh men, th lalmiys has partners and escorts and •itodOTerywhere. Men are at ease w Tj^'yl^g^sand Uttle fishes ther. dZy dUference between the girl fatnd smokes with and the girl one j "for a wife or a mother. The very U I that in moderation was charming, u dUagreeable. Ti.e slangy, lodi rawlinz men-hunters- and some girls fc neriwl are little more than that--h tiled the liberty which it was delij 1 to see women accepting in moderati is a liberty that makes us free, ar aeny that makes.us slaves, and the g to take liberties with modesty of sp. kd manner, and who cross well over Irder into masculme territory, are ire free but more slavish than before, 8 approbation of men which is the en IBW is loit by the means taken to There is one young woman who m a belle for two winters. One I remarked to the writsr that now I obliged to do the marketing tha " r had always done it, but '-at las â- cud." When the writer said to a 11 I that young woman that she would nc "â- inied for several years unless she cha r manners, he told her that she reo B notice than any girl in town. r«, ws that young woman has had t i sod U still disengaged. She 1 » «rf the short sightedness of E.ome w. She has men about her in plenty • ihe shall have music wherever she kot men are better than they eppsar. *im men love kindline s, gentl aty, purity in ast and thou. BBC VU »"""••" ., in'atmosphe'dogibyoa Toronto, Didn't Want to Marry aj^^^j Hehadmadehisdecl»^»J^^rfdâ-  it had been heard ^tb » » head. But he could not ^^ f^W 1 Gooldiiec Recipes. I^AMB AKD Peas Stew.â€" Cut the br ^b in pieces and place it in a stev IjWi water enoogh to cover it. St« â- *"Tity nunutes and take ofif the ssun â€" t of shelled or canned peas ^nfnl of salt and let stew for â€" Mix a quarter of a pound of Ifttablespoonful of fiour and sitr ii V let rimmer five mmutes, seasc « with dumplings. 8ttu Bbessing.â€" Beat two eggs |*5*«ipoMifulof butter, one-half a t ^^(pc (me-half teaspoon of mustai l^wsrm bowl with ^jepper.and salt fV it looks creamy. ^uuraa Pudding.â€" Put in the be l t M ding dish four oranges, peal 1 2*^ » â- **•*«» M^d pour over a syn iSS**" mSi^, two tablespoons '^^*" wet with a a little cold n f two ^;gs, beaten with one- t% boiled one minute make ' irtdtee two eggs and thre I ifTr* powdwred sugar brown ' Cake. â€" ^Yolks of six oj flour, a large teaspoonf u Y* nie cupful of nulk, a I three psrta of a cupful â- ' of citron finely shr© ii warm Ae sugar if the â- i tluKfc it wHl soften the bo "^^ r, tiien add the yolks ^ke cxeam sft in .^IditiRiate^with mi jpHfe in tlie dtion, wc ' "-sfa^ only enongl nn one hour. v'ivAs â- â-  -^m-iM »^