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HomeMy WebLinkAboutLucknow Sentinel, 1892-08-26, Page 2• ' r • • • t1t : r • .. • • •• • 4. . • S • • ••• •• "Not for Joe." She met him in the gloaming, And kissed him once, twice. thrice : While Swath his breath the man he saith. ",011, isn't this just nicer affrighted; " What a mistake rve madet • -,latbought 'twee Joe that I kissed EOri,. ;„ Her cheeks with pink arrayed. , Then he on whom the kisses - Had just descended so Exclaimed, with a wink, " I am, I think, In better luck than Joe." Frogs at School,. Twenty froggies went to school Down beside a rushy.Pool ; Twenty coats of shining green, • Twenty vests all white and clean. "We must be in time," said they; "First we study4 then we play, That's the way to keep the rule When we froggiea go to schooL" . . Master Rallfrog, grave and stern, Celled the classes in their turn. Taught them how to leap and dive, Also how,tonobly strive To dodge the sticks that bad boys throw; From his seat upon the -leg Taught them how to say " Ker-ohog I" Twenty froggies grew up fast; Bullfrogs thdy became at last ; Polished to a high degree. .As each froggie ought to be. NeVone lesson they forgot. Nor. one dunce among the lob. No s, they sit on other loge Teaching other little frogs. Ode to the Clam. Oh:the clam, the succulentclan, King of all birds who in seas ever swam! Living so still in your soft ocean nest, While the end, salty billows roll over your 'breast. Type of repose, sweet contentment itself, Beautiful you're a cute little elf Oh, the dam, the fat, unctuous clam. Clam with a nature deliciously calm Minding your business your life ever through, Goodping not of what others may do. Living that you may us mortals refresh (Sweet sacrifice of succulent flesh 1) Clam, Pm your slave, and you know that I am, Clamor tho evening, beautiful clam I Oh, the clam, the elegant clam, I give you a humble andlovely salaam 1 Come to me, darling, all steaming and hot, Come to me bettered, richt out of the pot Shading and lussing and juicy and sweet, Salted and peppered and ready to eat I The man who can't love you is surely sham, Charming. Seductive andravishing clam —Boston News. God's Eyes. Little baby Marguerite, Only four years old, Pressed her nose 'against the window, Tossed her curls of gold; Looked far out into the distance. Through the fading light— " Mamma, do 'oo s'pese, 'she qttefstioned, "God can see at nighti" " Yes, my darling; God is ever Keeping tender care; Looking down on little children, Here and everywhere." Nose once more against the window, Frown upon the row;b. Little blue-eyed Marguerite Very thoughtful now. Soon a smile like golden sunshine Flits'across her face Doubt and inquiry and wonder, Vanished every trace; "Mamma, I can tell 'oe semen.— 'Way up in 'e skies All 'ose Ittle stars 'at Are.,'e dear Giotre..em:',.: This Thing is True. This thing is true—it makes ma glad, No man was e'er so wholly bad / But some high holy thoughts he had. Then& no soul however lost, Howe'er by storm or tempest tossed. BukOhrbst has paid its bitter cost. There is a spark of grace divine. Like hidden gold within amine, That in the darkest lives may shine. So;near the Christ is unto men, Some sinful, weeping Magdalen May kneel and touch his garment's hem. No life can be so dark, so lone; But what love there may make her throne, And golden -crowned, may reign alone. All.ihesOihings are, and so we know That man, the best of all below, •Thongh sinning oft, my better grow. • Some angel turns Life's golden sands, With upraised brow dear Mercy stands, And lifts to Heaven her pleading handn. —Jeannette La Flanthey. A Prize Boy. He wouldn't burst in with an Indian yell And shy his hat np at a peg— Oh, no ! He never came near tumbling intoo a well While tempting the brink, on one leg— That's so. The boy that I tell of is different quite; He couldn't your feelings annoy t _ He never does anything but whatis right— This wonderful, good little boy! He doesn't dram tatoos on table and pane, 'Nor squirm like an eel on a hook— Oh, no! He studies his lessons, again and again, No matter how hard is his book— That's so. The treasure I mention no faults ever'hid, He shines a perpetual joy ! But he doesn't live anywhere; if he did, Oh, wouldn't he he a prize boy! A GAMBLER'S WIFE. CHAPTER . —*Teens I.T&SLES. T was evening at Monte Carlo. The moonlight fell on the clear waters of the Mediterranean, turning its bosom to a rippling mass of gold; it topped s the mountains which ,kir ted the bay, and shone weirdly on thick olive groves. Conspicuous in the flood of light was the gilded, minaretted roof of the Casino. On the evening in queation it was crowded,. The mason was at its height. Every chair at the tables in the Balks de jeu was 'occupied, and behind them stood a motley crowd of onlookers, who eagerly watched the roulette wheel. Men of many nationalities were there. Dark Italians rubbed shoulders with portly, middle-class Englishmen, globe trotting Americans stood side by side with Germans or Russians ; and the women—they were of all types, of all ages. There was the languid society dame, ,who was " doing" Monte Carlo, and had looked in at the Casino and staked a few pieces just forthe ma of the thing ; there was the matronly wife of the British mer- chant with ber fresh -faced daughter at her side, and, lastly, there were the women who played for gain, to whom the Casino was no place in which to spend an idle curious hour. They threw their stakes with eager haste, and strove in vain to conceal the greed with which they clutched their winnings, the despair -with which they bore, their losses. Round a table near the centre of the hall a crowd had gathered 'to watch the play of two men. One was a boyiah-looking Eng- lishman with a fresh, fair skin and a blond moustache, which partly hid the irresolute mouth beneath. He was losing heavily. At last, with nervous haste, he cried, "A hun- dred napoleons on the black." and flung the golden heap defiantly, on the table. The onlookers were too much occupied with the game to note his wild eye and despairing face. The stake was bis leek though he alone knew it. Up from his heart rose a fierce hope which was almost a prayer, that his luck might change and ruin be averted. --- The -wheel went round, the blooilabot blue eyes of the Englishman followed it with agonizing intensity. At best it stopped, and the croupier announced that black had lost. With a unaltered exclamation, the Eng- lishman pushed back his chair and left the table. For a few momenta he walked rest- lesaly IT and down the parquet floor, gaz- ing longingly at the tables, as if desirous still,were not his pockets empty, of tempt- ing fortune. At last he crossed the vesti- bule into the music hall. The band was playing a dreamy waltz by Strauss. Its silvery melody followed him as he went out into the garditn and threw himself on a wooden bench under a plane tree. " It is all np with me," he muttered, and gave a last look at the fair scene before him, the dancing waters and starry, blue sky, the stately palms and richly flowering plants by which he was surrounded. A moment after, the Amok of a revolver startled the itammlsr Alcor and there in the scented garden a man lay dead. But the dreamy &rasa waltz went - on, and the roulette wheel kept twirling. ot one ear in the Casino had wakened to the death shot. The other manat the table was Englisb, too, but of a different type. His eyes were bold and dark. There was a little curious grace about his tall figure, and the silky black mustache scarcely veiled the cruel outline of his firm set mouth. All eyes were attracted to him. His luck was marvellous. He Won stake after atake; each success made him bolder, till at last the bank was compelled for its own safety to reduce the stakes he tried to hazard. Murmurs ran round the room. "He's a fool to keep on playing," said one. " He's made a regular pile. If were he I'd be content. "Pooh !" retained his friend, " the man is not a fool. He's got a run of luck and knows it. He'll break the bank before the evening is oven" The dark Englishman caught the words and smiled triumphantly. Again he threw, this time for so large a stake that the on- lookera held their breath. " Rouge," he cried. For a moment the bankers hesitated, then, as if imbued with the spirit of chalice, allowed the game to go on. " Noir," said the croupier in a moment, and impassively raked in the clinking, gilt - tering pile of gold. The Englishman rose from the table, with a little annoyed laugh. " I could afford to lose a stake, though that was a big one," he said, and strolled out Of the buildin. Be went in the direction of Monaco. He passed through the new town; with its spotless, red -roofed houses, till he, came to the archway, which is the entrance of the connecting footpath between old and new Monaco. He bent his atepg toward a small, rather shabby -looking hotel which stood at the top of a steep hill. He entered, and, going upstairs, opened the door of a room on the second" floor. It was a gay room, half sleeping place, hall boudoir. n a recess stood a bed, closely curtained with thick muslin; for the rest, it was quite unlike a; bedroom. There was a sofa, covered with bright blue stuff ; a ,writing table stood between the vvindows, and artificial this eveniug. They brought his bode back to the hotel only a few minutes ago. And that poor young wife is distracted. You ovefeirterap the Casino, Derrick. Did you hear " No," he said, slowly.," But I left ear ly raid- did not hurryshome - "By Jove 1" he went on, lightly shaking off his horror, "what a fool young Hanson was. His louses at the tables to -night did not finish him. He dropped a considerable aura to me at baccarat before going into Monte Carlo." The woman's face grew white. • "Then you," mho gasped, " you drove him to his death." "That is rather a severe way of putting "It is dreadful," she moaned. "Oh, Der- rick, why did we ever come to this terrible place ?" "Don't be dramatic," he said impatiently. "Look here !" He turned out his pockets on the table and exultingly pointed to the heap of gold and the criaphank notes. But hin wife shuddered. "Promise me, Derrick," she cried pall.. eionatels, "never to gamble again. Pay Mrs. Hanson the money you won from her husband and let US go back to England." He laughed contemptuonely. "You are Quixotic,Lydia. I shall cer- tainly not pay back lawful winnings, nor shall I leave the tables. My system is infallible. I mean to break the bank before turning my back on Monte Carlo." "Then, we Must part," she said firmly. "God alone knows the wretchedness that has been mine since this fatal passion has possessed you. Success cannot last. Some day you will be ruined. You will be brought home dead, as Mr. Hanson was to;night. The grief of his wife made me decide that I would not risk the chance of such a fate. Derrick, 'dear,for the sake of our love, of the happy days in England, come away. What you have 'Won to -night, added to the residue of my fortune, will keep us in com- fort." "In a suburban villa," he sneered. " That is not my idea of comfort." " Then you wish me to leave you. Be- lieve me, this is not a sudden resolve. I have thought deeply over the step, and can- not live with yon unlinie you will abandon that which will be your ruin." He turned and looked at the pale face of the woman he had once loved so much. He did not love her now, her tears and en- treaties had wearied him. She was not fitted,. this grave, proud English girl, to shine in the gay, dubious continental set in which he moved. " Yon may please yourself. And now, good -night. Larrone asked me to supper, and I may as well go. If it be too late to return to the hotel, he will pat me np. I shall see you in the morning.' " I shall be gone. This is our parting. Will you not kiss me, Derrick? Yon are breaking my heart by your coldness." • He lightly kissed her brow and left the room. To do himjustice, he did not believe she would really go. Could he have seen into the future, and known under whet circumstances they would next meet, he would have stayed hie steps je HAPTER IL THE WAGES OF SIN. There was a private view at the D Gallery. The usual artistic and fashionable crowd filled the rooms. Conspicuous among them was a tall, pale woman, dressed in some clinging gray stuff. She was consider- ably over 30, and streaks of gray mixed with her waving brown hair. Her face told of former lovelinese, it was still beautiful, despite the lines which furrowed the broad brow and curved round the firm mouth. A little whisper followed this woman as she went: " That is Mrs. Carl, the artist. Her work is much admired by a certain schooL" . She paused in the end room and stopped before a large canvas. It repreeented a gaming room. There was the Boone she had such bitter cause to remember—the crowd of eager onlookers, the intent faces • of the playing, the weary, impassive ex - expression the croupier wore, the little piles of gold and silver which lay on the tables. The picture brought back the past so vividly. For Mrs. Carl, the artist, was none other than Lydia Locke, who had parted from her husband at Monte Carlo, 15 years before. She stood transfixed, her gray eyes dilated; a warm, bright spot on each thin cheek. ,She was looking at • the figure on the canvas. It was that of a man who sat at a table in the foreground. He had evidently just lost a large sum of money. His face was despairing, and his hand was outstretched as though to stay the croupier, who was sweeping the golden pile into the bank. It was Derrick's face. She grasped the rail in, front of her and tried to keep from trembling. She had not known till now that her love had lived and grown through so many years. • "Well, Mrs. Carl, admiring my pticure ?" She turned and greeted a dapper little man, cheery of face and quick of gesture. "Yes,'she said, mechanically. " Mr. Denton, who is that man in the foreground? What a etriking face." " Is it not ? Poor fellow, I always feel rather sorry for him, though he is a hope- less neer-do-well. cenown at every gaming resort on the eontinent, lives by play and has a reputation 'of the ahadiest. Two Or three times he has won a small fortune, and flowers filled the jars and vases which lit- each time squandered it. I met him at tered the, tables. The floor was highly Baden, and we struck up a kind of friend - polished, and partly covered with skin ship," rugs; the ceiling was daubed with blue "At Baden, Is he still there, do yon He Missed ilis Chance. It'was cool in there when the waltz was done. All green, with the sunshine through it, Somehow I was tempted to steal—just one ; Don't know how I came to do it. ' She'took ithilcely—indeed her glance Had a certain expectancy to it ; Could it possibly mean Make the Most of your chance, Now, now is the time to do it." Her cheeks had the tiniest tinge of rose; he'd have answered ". Yes"—and I knew it But she seemed so ready to bear menropose That, someho.w, I didn't do it. WHAT THEY DO AT THE SPRINGS. Then with appetites keen as a knife. TheYbasten to breakfast or dine (The latter precisely at 3 The former from 7 till 9). Ye gods! What a rustle and rush , When the eloquent dinner bell rings! Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat—, And that's what they do at the springs! Now they stroll in the bean",ifal walks, Or loll in the shade of the trees, Where many a whisper is heard That never is told by the.breeze. And hands are commingled with hands, ',Regardless of conjugal rings. And they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt -And that's what they do at the springs i In short—as it goes the world— They eat, and they drink, and they sleep, • They talk, and they walk, and they woo; They sigh, and they laugh, and they weep ; They read and they ride, and they dance (With other unspeakable things); They pray, and they play, and they nay— And that's what they do at the springa, Tho only safe craft ie. which to take a nervous woman out rowing is a canal boat. Sho can stand ttip in that and yell without tipping it over. end of the•long straggling garden a studio had been built. All the evening the artist sat brooding over the fire, thinking of the past—of her youth, her love, her marriage, of her part - mg with Derrick, of the bitter uphill strug- gle whichlolkive.0_, of the mugs and fame she had won at last. Next day she put'on a quiet blaok dress and bonnet and went to China Crescent. It was a dreary place, situated in a moat depressing neighborhood. The houses were tall and gloomy, their ugly stucco faces grimmed with London soot. Each house had in front an untidy strig of garden, in which e. few hardy planta struggled for ex- istence. No. IS was even more dirty than its neighbors: in the window of the ground floor rpm was a bill signifying that apart- meritsiweie to he let within. Lydia climbed the flight of steps which led to the door and rang the bell. In a few moments a slatternly servant answered it. "Does Mr. Locke live here ? " asked Lydia. The girl eyed her curiously. "Yes , he does,' she said at bet. " Are you—. But there, wait a minute, while I go and ask Misses." Derrick's wife stood in the gloomy portico with a linking heart. Had he, indeed, fallen so low as thin The ugly house, the shabby, narrow hall, the untidy,. slipshod servant were evidences of a life so meagre that her artist soul revolted. She was roused from her reverie by the mistress of the house—a tall woman, with keen, restless eyes. " Yon are the nurse, I suppose," she said, with a swift glance at the stranger's plain black gown and bonnet. " Dr. Keating said he'd send one. Step in if you please." She led the way to the dining room. " Mr. Looke's very bad," she began volu- bly. "Yon must be prepared for the worst; though, of course, you nurses are too used to sickness to be shocked at anything. It is very hard. on me, a. person who lives by lodging letting, to have a dying man in the house. The fever's not so catching, so Dr. Keating gays; but all the same, my bill has been in the window three week° and not a sign of letting." Diiring this speech Lydia formed her plan' She had been taken for the nurse—as the nurse she would remain. She could not bare her heart to this loquacious, hard -featured woman ; she would trust to chance, and, if necessary, tell the doctor the truth. With this resolve she followed the land- lady up stairs to a room at the top of the house, the door of which that person flung open and then scuttled down stairs. Lydia gave • one comprehensive glance round the untidy room, and then creased to the bed. On it a man lay asleep. It was Derrick, indeed, but how, changed! His cheeks were bright and wasted with fever, his beard was ragged, and the matted hair, which was tossed back from his hot brow, wad thick with silver. She fell on her knees by the bed and burst into tears. At that moment he was her lover, the hus- band of her youth, and all else was for- gotten. A gentle tap at the door made her rise quickly. As she turned, a kind -looking, elderly man came into the room and glanced at her interrogatively. "They told me the nurse was here," he said, doubtfully, "but you—" " I am his wife' " she said, pointing toward the bed. "Can yen trust me to nurse him ?" • " You will be the best nurse he could have." Then accepting the situation with perfect tact, the doctor gave her a few directions and went to his patient's side. "Still sleeping. Well, that looks hope - fel. He may pull through yet, He has been delirious. Yon must not be frightened if he wakes up so." Left alone, the wife almost smiled at the ides of her being afraid of Derrick. He would not live, she could see that in the doctor's face, buts she prayed that he might know her and say one kind word before he died. Two days passed away. .All through the long hours he had slept fitfully, and when he awoke had been delirione. Ile babbled of other days—days at Monte Carlo before she left him ; days and months and- yearn since in which she had no part, of which k she new nothing. But the theme was always the same—the rage for play. • 44A hundred on the red 1" he cried wildly, sitting up in bed and throwingout his arms. " No, five hundred; it's worth risking." Then he fell back moaning. " I lose the stake. Of course I do. My luck has,gone, my system is- rotten rotten, rotten. Look at that man he wins. He gathers in the gold while I am ruined. Why don't they take warning by me? There they go. Whirling, twirling, spinning, and Isa beggar. " She told me so. •Lydia told me so. When young Hanson blew his brains out she said that I should come to it, too.' I'm not sure that, after all, it wouldn't be the heat thing. I'll end it all. Why did'she leave me ? I didn't treat her well. I served her cruelly. Lydia, little wife, come back." It was the third night, and Derrick had fallen into a restless sleep. Worn with watching, Lydia leaned back in the arm chair by the bed and closed her eyea. After a while a strange feeling, the feeling that other eyes were fixed on her, made her open them. • ller gaze met Derrick's. All the fever had faded from his face, leav- ing it ghastly. But his eyes were calm and the7 knew her. • lows and watched the dawn steal softlyover his wife'e face. Next day he died. Lydia went back to the worlde—that world which never dreamt of the tragedy folded away in her heart. And through the long, lonely years which followed she grew to think without regret, butswith-infinitepity,sf Derrick, the hull-. band whose filial passion -ha rune both - their lives. Table Manners in Rhyme. It is so hard for the little folks to be polite and orderly at meals, and they so often forget the rules with which papa and mamma try to help them to be gentle- manly and ladylike that it would perhaps' be a good thing for children who are troubled in this way to commit to memory these rhyming rules from the Philadelphia Inquirer. wash and studded with silver stars, and a huge gilt mirror reached from floor to ceil- ing at one end of the room. The effect, though, doubtless, by daylight garish enough, was not unpleasant in the soft candle light. On the sofa lay a woman clothed in black. She was asleep. The teare glistened undried on her cheeks, and now and then a little sobbing breath broke from her. The man turned away impatiently. • "Fretting again," he . muttered, angrily, crossing to the window. " By heavens, it's , stranger. Glad yon like my picture. Why enough to try the patience of an angel." did yon not exhibit this year? Good With a start she woke up and looked morning." with frightened gray eyea at the figure by He bustled off to greet a wealthy patron the window. • of art who had just entered, and Mrs. Carl "Is that you, Derrick 2" left the gallery. Her home was a tiny yeme house in an old suburb. It was a house In silence I must take my seat. \. And give Sod thanks before I eat , Must for my food in patience watt{ TRU am asked to band my plate ; I must not scold, nor whine nor pont, Nor move my chair nor plate about; With knife, or fork, or napkin ring I must not play—nor must I sing; I must not speak a useless word— For children must be seen—not heard; I must not talk about my food. Nor fret if I don't think it good ; My mouth with food I must not crowd, Nor while I'm eating speak aloud; Must turn my head to cough or sneeze, And when I ask, say, " It you please" ; The tablecloth I must not spoil, Nor with my food my fingers soil ; Must keep my seat when I have done, For round the table sport or run ; When told to rise, then I must put My chair away with noiseless foot, And lift my heart to God above In praise for all His wondrous love. Patti and Her Parrot. In her castle at at Craig-y-NosAsaya the World,, Mme. ,Patti has a $6,0Wparrot, which she cherishes and pets as if it was a ohild. One day there went to interview Patti a young man who had travelled long and far to view the beautiful Craig -y -Nos palace. " Mme. Patti will be here in moment," said the door attendant. Just then there was a rustle of skirts and Mme. Patti swept into the room adjoining. In a minute the most beautiful, birdlike notes rose upon the air, unmistakably from Patti's throat. " She is singing for me," said the delighted listener to himself, and she is too modest to come in here and sing directly before me. Sho wants me to hear her as she sings at home. Ob, what a joy to have this privilege !" At this moment the heavy draperies were palled aside and the attendant said : " You may wait upon Mme. Patti now. She has been giving a short lesson to her parrot. She teaches him every day. This way, sir, if you please." know ?" she asked in a voice that tried to be indifferent. "01*, ne ! I believe he is in London now. He wrote to me a short time ago and asked a hen. He's in low water again, I fear. The letter was dated from some place in the nei ghborhood oflelington,15China Crescent. I remember the address because of the alliteration, and the number because the letter came on the 15th of last month. However, I did not mean to? bore you by talking so much about a complete " I'm so glad yon have come. The moat which had stood for nearly 200 years, and Where Peanuts Come From. Norfolk has a crop which is worth mil- lions of dollen annually. Norfolk supplies the civilized world with peanuts. The street corner Italian who empties a pint in your overcoat pocket g* them from here, for this is the only peanut market in the world. Smyrna has its figs, Barbary its dates, Bordeaux its grapes end Norfolk its peanuts. The peanut magnates grow the edible tuber in Nansemond, Isle of Wight, Surry and Southampton Counties, but the common market ie in Norfolk. The news for the nuts are laid off three' feet apart. They are made fifteen inches deep, and phosphates ere largely used as an under - dressing. They are strewn along , in theee trenchea about tho middle of April. and mature after the same term that is required of potatoes. It is a crop which ismarketed like the Dutch drumhead and purple Savoy cabbage, running from November to March. The nuts, however, have to go through the factories before they are shipped north- ward, and these factories are with few ex- ceptions situated in Norfolk. Lyddy," he cried weakly, using the pet name of old days. " Come here." She went and sat by his side and fondled the wasted hand, and rested the poor tired head on ,her shoulder. The night light sent a sickly flicker over the shabby room ; the fire shot up a ruddy tongue of flame now and then ; thee house and street were very still during those hours .o1.,reconcilia.tion. Derrick spoke in a disconnected whispers of the long years which parted them, of the shipwreck he had made of his life—that life which was so surely ebbing away. Yet Lydia, now that they were so near each other, suffered herself to hope that he would recover, that the husband of her youth would be given back. Ho knew better. He knew his race was Every fifth boy in India ia at school, but run. He felt, too, that it were better so. only every fiftieth girl. They were not fitted, they never had been. Open canned fruit a couple of hours before She wan too pure and good for a sinful soul it is to be need The ox b be greatly improved chimney pieces rich with carving. At the r ught SS he lay back on the pH- es flaxen ahot himself in the NO Hope. Hartford girls are renowned for their •beauty, says the Times of that city. It must be admitted that there are a few plain women in town, but they were born else- where. One ofthe latter, who is Pain- fully homely, called on a physician who us as plain in his speech as his patient is in respect to her face. He tried to cheer her ; her ailment was a trifling matter, he said. " Oh, doctor," she groaned, " I feel worse than I look!" " Then, my dear young. lady, I fear there is no hope for you." The "Stair lire." Londoners are adoptingge "stair cure" as a remedy for indigestion; dyspepsia and' aU kindred Ma Of comae no city can offer superior advantages to New York, which has the elevated roads for this form of treat- ment. "Four flights to be taken before break- fast" will doubtless be the prea*ription for dyspeptic women inclined to obesity. If they 'subsequently descend rapidly, taking four steps at a time, or vary the treatment by eliding down the balustrade, they would be surprised at the appetite it would give them for breakfast, ' England's Gest Tennis -Player. Miss Charlotte Dod is the champion female tennis -player of Great Britain. Mins Dod was only 17 when she wrested the championship from Miss Maud Watson at Bath, and, judging , by the fact that she defeated Mre. Hillyard at Wimbledon the other day, she is likely to remain theholder for some time. She is tal and muscular and remarkably cool in play. Sho is an e ert at golf is pro cient m rowing and :feting, can sing well and is extremely musical. Had His Whh. When I sang the other night How I wish'd " I were a bird," One young lady dressed in whito Who my little song had heard, Sent to mo a little note My poor effort to repay, This's what the lady wrote— " 0—I—C—U—R—A—J 1" A Leap Tear Hint for Girls. " How do you account for woman's love of ribbons, Mies Pette ?" he asked. " I think it may be due to the fact that no woman who has ribbons need be without a bow." o e dreadful thing has hap'ed.. &bawl' its walla were panelled, its staircase and no hist stored to it, and it will ; • • as:sareasa?'-'essis, 1 F • . te, a