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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-5-10, Page 2COMMTHRO' THE RYE. BY XtELEN B. NATItiale, (CONTINITIaa, " There is iso one in Charte,ris," I say, • shaking my head; "no one ever comes here except to see the giels, or Miss Ty- burn, or arr. Russell." "And are yea oue or the girls?" "Of (verse." "The biggest of them?" "Oh, eel but there are inutile smaller ones than I. Do you think me aver little At home, at Silyerbribge, you know, they always thought me so leggy." "You will shoot up some day," he says, pa,sseig his hand, oyer his mustache, "per- haps be a giantess, who knows! And do • you really live at Silvorbriclge?" "Yes. I suppose you have heard a good deal about it from Nr. Prete?" "I was born there," he says. "But you have not been there lately?" "I lived there until fifteen years ago. Have you ever been to the Towers?" "Yes, I have been there," I say slowly, remembering certain stolen afternoons spent under the shadow of the oaks in the grand old park; " and that is yours?" "Yes, it is mine. My father died in Rome last year." "I delft think that Jack and I ever knew who it was that owned The Towers, not that we should ever have been any the wiser if we had heard the name." "No. I went away before you were born." "And yet you cannot be very old, "I say, lifting my eyes to the dark, proud, some- , what worn face, that is as fax removed from mere effeminate beauty as 11 18 from ordinary every -day looks. "Old enough!" he say, with something very much like a sigh; "I ani thirty years old 1" "More than double my age," I say, so- berly. "Oh! it seems a great deal; but then you must have seen so nauch,been all about the world; it must be nice to have had experience." "I woual give it all," he says, looking into my eager face, "to have your youth and freshness and belief." "Belief 1" I repeat, "what is that?" "I can hardly tell you," he says, "for you would not understand. Do you not look forwaxd to baying your life all your own way, meeting with the men and wo- men you think heroic, having your ups and dowus certainly, but also your reward and. pleasautness? I did. when I was your • "And why should I not?" I ask, puz- zled; "are all our hopes of future happi- ness illusions? I should hate to thine that." "Do not think it then," he says stand- ing up with a quick impatient shake of the shoulders; "let us go out into the garden. By the way, what am I to call you, little madam?" "Helen Adair," I say, laughing; "at home they call me Nell." "Then I shall call you Nell, too," he says promptly. "I wonder where my uncle is?" Ile goes to a small inner room, that ie, I think, Mr. Frere's study, but he is not there. "Sent for to some old woman who thinks she is dying, I suppose," says his nephew; "he is always being imposed nPon." We egot out into the kitchen -garden, which is not closely locked as ours at home, but open to all comers; and, since there are no little thieves here to make busy work among the fruit, there is plenty and to spare. "You are as good as a pair of steps," I say, watching him with much interest gathering the pears that grow on. the senny side of the wall; "how useful you would have been at Silverbridge I" He gives me a satin -smooth Marie Louise. How I wish Jack was here! "And of what use should I have been?" "You could have jumped the wall, and thrown the fruit over to us." "And suppose it was breakable?" "We should not have minded," I say, laughing. "Have you a first-rate kitchen - garden at The Towers?" "We used. to have. I don't know whether tdae raspberry and the gooseberry bushes have grown like me, aged." " I do love gooseberries," I say, looking fondly at the bare bushes we were passing; "grapes never came up to them in my es- timation." "Then when I am at The Towers will you come and help strip my bushes?" "That I will," I say beaatily ; "only I am afraidthat if you once let me into your garden, you would never get any des- sert." "I shall not want any for a longtime; I am not going there for three years, except for a day or two to arrange matters." "Three years 1" I say, blankly. "Oh, dear 1 I shall be past gooseberries by the time you come back!" "There will be the peaches?" "Yes but they will never taste the same, you know, after I am grovvn up. Are you going very far?" "To lndia, America, Siberia, Australia, China, and—I forget the names of the places almost." "It is a pity," I say, shaking my head, "a very great pity! You should, do •a little at a time. You cannot enjoy all that at once! Why, when we went to Periwinkle - by -the -Sea we were worn out with the novelties. We felt that they were almost too much" "But supposing," he says, with a queer look upon bis face "that you wanted to be worn out, wanted to tire yoursle what then ? " "I never kat like that ," I say, thought- fully, "so I cannot tell." "You have a blessedly blank memory, child," he say; "would to God I had!" "My master is expecting you," say Mrs. Pixa, appearing suddenly before us, so we go in and have dinner; a cool, quiet repast that is very unlike the one of which I partook at one o'clock to -day. I think Mr. Frere is fond, of this nephew; Paul, he calls him; his other name'I find, is Vasber. We are out in the garden again by seven o'clook—at so primitive an hour deka Mr. Frere dine ---and smelling at the bloomiag roses!, the earnations, and those sweet last gifts that Summer leaves behind when she weeps her bright skirts away to make room for Autumn, and I have gaga eted me a notegay nt Mr. lerere's request, and am tying it together with a evisp of dre grass. The Omuta of heavy hoofs staikes sharply upon my eats; looking up I see a horse woman approaching at a foot -pace; her head is bent the reins are hanging loosely from herr hands', her feat is alinost hidden. At my gide 1 feel a sudden leap, a stir, and a liciarse Voice, deep and shaken, say below lag breath: "My God!" Tatning Ise° Paul Vasber's fate convulsed by letre Mae, acorn, longing, Ioathing—Vehieh Is it Of all these feelings that possesses and Obitites lam? I look at the girl—she ie reliant elowly by; she has not lifted het head, or moved oue hair's breath, rattlita then hear the sigh of relief he giv (surely it is relief?) when she lifts her eyee, looks full in his 'ram, then, it is all in moment, the reins slip from her hands, she sways and falls headloxtg to the earth. She does not touch it, though, for Paul Vaeher has leaped the gateehas caught her in Ids arms and is looking down on her with a strange expression,while the groom }met ily dismounts and catches his mistress' horse. "Bring her in!" says Ma Frere, pale with team. (Are not old bachelors and old weeds easily daunted?) And Paul brings her in, and lays her down. in the big arm -chair, in which I found him sit- ting a few hours ago. I do not think she has heated, but her eyes are shut,. and she mitices wither sigh nor moan, nor does she stir hand yr foot. As I look at her, I hold my breath for wonder at her. Well might Shakespeare have said to her, "For the poor rude world hath not her tellow." She is all white and gold, like a pure lillyeind as tall ; for, though her little hands and feet might belong to a child, she is really of fair stature, and so softly, sensnously lovely tit all points, in every dimple and l,urve of cheat, lip, chin, and body, that it is a feast. ca the eye to look upon her. Orme I look at Mr. Vasher, then bach again at her, for the face fascinates me. I do not like it, but oh! I love to look at what is rare and unusual; and is not this such a picture as a man might dream of, and sigh after, all his life long arid never see? Mrs. Pim is trying to pour brandy down her throat, but the beautiful mouth dues not unelose, the fast -set teeth do not unlock; and yet, somehow, she does not give me the idea of being an insensible woman. 1 am thinking this, when she opens her eyes with a long drawn shudder- ing sigh and looks about her first at one and then another. She does not see Paul who is standing behind. her. "now you are better" says Mr. Frere advancing and looking at her very kindly. "We were afraid—" "I thought," she says glancing about with dilated sapphire blue eyes "that I saw—" Paul steps forward out of the shadow. "I am here," he says quietly. "1 hope you have received no hurt?" I had thought these were two lovers but they cannot be; his voice is as cold and. in- different as though he were speaking to Pim. She looks up at him and her lips quiver like a beautiful child that seeks love and is given a blow; under the look he winces and turns away. She is very young, not mare than eighteen I think; and somehow down in my heart, though why or wherefore I cannot tell, I am sorry for her. "My dear," says good. Mr. Frere, "are you sure that you are quite recovered?" "Quite!" she says standing up and giv- ing him such a bright winsome smile that the middle-aged man blushes up to his ears, pleased as any school -boy. "I must have been. very careless for Dandy never gave nee a fall before." "It is fortunate that we were at the gate," he says "and that my nephew was able to be of some assistance." "Your nephew!" she says, staring at him; "is Paul Vasher your nephew?" "You know hem ?" exclaims Mr. Frere. "My dear boy, why did you not tell me so?" "We have anet before," she says,looking at Paul; "that is all," "1 beg your pardon," says Paul, com- ing forward. "Allow me, Mise Fleming, to intsoduce my uncle, Mr. Frere, to you. This young lady, sir, is Miss Fleming." "Lady Flytton's niece?" asks eir.Frere, as the girl lays her lovely slim hand in his; "then we are near neighbors!" "I have heard my aunt speak of you," she says, gently; "and we are coining to hear you preach to -morrow." "And you know Paul?" continues Mr. Frere; "how very odd! I suppose you did not know he was in this part of the world." "I thought he was in Scotland." "You said you. were going to Scarbro'," says Paul; "you changed your mind?" "Yes like you. Itis not a difecult thing to do, to change one's mind, is it?" Their eyes meet; ay, these two were hot lovers once, but what are they now?" "You have laid me under a great obli- gatin, Mr.Vasher," she says, in her proud young voice. "Pray understand that I am grateful. Good -night Mr. Frere, and for- give me, if you can, for starting you. so much I" "Good -night!" he says, and so with a hand shake she goes, and the two men ac- company her to the gate. Now, if Mr.Frere had possessed the most rudimental idea of his duty on this occa- sion, he would have stopped behind with me. Clearly he has about as much notion of being a gooseberry as a cabba,ge ; but my instinct is active enough if Ms is not, and a long course of sympathy with Alice and Charles has made me very tender- hearted on the subject of lovers; so as Mr. Frere passes the window with the two young peoplef I utter a dismal groan and call out to him that I have tumbled down and hurt myself very much. Back he comes twinkling andands me nursing my leg on the floor, with a twisted ankle. "I t umbled over a footstool," I explain, "and will you assist me to the sofa?" He wants So call Mrs. Pim, and have it examined; but this I object to, giving it as my opin- ion that rest is all that is required. "So odd," says the poor gentleman, as he brings me a book and some papers, "that there should be two accidents in one evening!" On some pretext or another I keep him in the room for fully ten minutes; theri he gate! out into the garden after Paul. I wonder if, when I am grown up and quarreling with my lover, any good Sam- aritan will take as much trouble to serve me as I have taken ot serve those two who aro standing down by the gate yonder, looking into each other's faces with such a different iaaression on each? So much I see as1 bop reinbly to the window as soon as Mr. Froras back is turned. to me. CHAPTER XVI. "Como and pray! come and piety!" ring the sweet bells through the hushed P0000 of the Sabbath morning ; and abode ent to the call we rise up, and, aseentling to the higher regions, proceed to cloak and bonnet ourselves after our school -girl ligbts and. abilities. There must be a little fashion wandering about the world some- where, but it has not yet found its way to Charteris; only in me respect do we fol- low the mode, and that is by wearing spoon bonnets. Very fresh and fair look some of the faces inside thee° absurd Monstrosi- ties, but unlovely folk aro not improved by their shape, and of those hapless latter virgins I am ono. I would not mind if the tiresome thing would keep straight; but it will not, and 1 usually resell churoh looking as though. I had had. a fight on the weer and otone off sewed best. I am ixt short frocks still, so that from a distance I look all legs and bonnet—" like a wind- • mill," as one of my friends kindly re- • marked the other day, ?Ora, in the road now, win a a dingy ribbon, and, as •e, bte leathers tames ou dr, sod with a delicate Oda ek4t, altogether a, plate- afa,. alnoeg this regi- 'ee clothed yeang wo- eye ranks as carelessly as , s ,etiow of &meats or roses hose Meaty tiowexs be cate tleadelioes than 0,oux parterre) and ereatly my bon- fblu* e tt:thhog pass i -ph o I ant and re ment of ind mon. He s though we (uot that s any means— beauty-blossome does not discover net is as good a e% n entirely new body. He has 1 keeieheAge long, quick stop, long the clatreteyard, I wont, coat on any man's back W s net liftee sends such a twitter of excitement through O .girls' school? A few years hence and a hundred men would not cause the excite- ment that a single one does now in the breast of a school -girl. And now we are be chtirch ; anon Mr. Frere is in his place, and "Dearly beloved" is half through, when a prodigious clatter outside makes all eyes turn to the door. A hand and arm coated in gray and scarlet livery opens it, and a tall, fair, :majestic woinen sails in and rustles up the aisle, her bracelets cenking, her dress trailing behind her, looking uncommonly like a ship in full sail, Miss Fleming follows. She does not rustle, and she dares not clank; she sweeps noiselessly along in her cool white dress, and she is white from head to foot. The very church seems the brighter for her coining, as she kneels against the caxven oak; she looks as sinless, and fair'and adorable, as Marguerite may have looked before Faust came, and yet—and yete-I wonder why with this lovely bit of porce- lain I am always thinking of the outside, never of the nature and inner life? For the best of reasons; save for beauty her face is the merest blank; if she has a soul she keeps it mighty well hid, but in the teeth of such perfection who would ask anything more? No sensible woman or man. It is a pity to look at the mother and daughter side by side. Will the love- ly red and white of the girl's cheek strengthen into the fixed color that the other wears? Will the dainty contour of brow, lip, and chin in the daughters' face become thickened, even lost in time as in the mother's case? They are so unlike in features, coloring, and proportion, and the doubt is natural. Paul Vashor sits in the channel opposite me, the Flemings a little below in the body of the church; once he turns Ms head and their eyes meet, and are held fast and long. It is a difficult look to read, but, though no change passes over his face, Now the benedictiou is spoken, and we rise and go our ways, standing aside in the road. as Lady Flyt- ton's carriage goes by. The girls are buzz- ing in low tones of the stranger, of her beauty, her bonnet, her gown; she has even astonished them into forgetting Mr. Vasher. We have dinner, that liberal meal; at Charteris, that does not stand god- mother to resurrection pies, cold remains, and potato puddings, or any other abomi- nation. Our parents pay for us to be well fed, and we are; therefore the school pros- pers. We are in the first-olass room now, and—oh, wonder 1-1 am actually seated in the midst of the potent Bluffs; for so the six head girls of the school are called, who wield. an atthority in the school sec- ond only to that of Miss Tyburn. By no virtue of my own ana I here, but Kate Whew, the head of them, has been pleas- • ed to take some small notice of me; there- fore am I sitting cheek by jowl with my betters. . 4 " Girls, " says Kate, resting her charming dark -eyed mignonne face on her clasped hand, "I have some news; we are going to have a party." "Not really?" "How I hate them!" "A 101 0± trouble for nothing!" "We shall get some supper, though!" "And there will be at least one man!" "He won't be asked." These ejaculations burst oa all sides, I alone holding my tongue, for as yet a party at Charteris is a thing heard of but never seen by me. • "It is even so, my brethren," continues Kate, "and. the edict has gone forth that our quarterly low-necked, manless, part- nerless, full-dress ball is to take place on Thusrday week. But do not be down- hearted,my friends, about this impending festivity; there is an unusual and beautie ful halo of novelty, for it will probably be present a man! None of your miser- able old rectors, or half -penny hobblede- hoys, but a downright well-dressed, pre- sentable man. There is no knowing to whom he may throw his pocket -hanker - chief, therefore my advice to all and sun- dry is, curl up your hair, starch up your skirts, put on your most ravishing ogle, your finest languish, and—every man for himself and devil take the hindmost." "Only he cannot dance with anore than O quarter of us," says Laura Fielding, a languid beauty of the Lydia Languish type, who is ripe for flirtation, but doomed to bread-and-butter. "I have thought of that," says Kate; "we will have a lottery with fifteen prizes, and whoever draws one shall pin it to the front of her dress and walk up to Mr. • Vasher, and making a courtesy say, 'My dance, I think?' and then lead him away." "1• wonder what he would be doing all this time?" says Belle Linden. "He does not look like a man who would be made to do anything he does not choose." "So much the better," says Dora; "1 don't fancy the coup d' oeil of our as- sembled charms will have the same effect' upon him that they had on thae littlt man who came to our last with Mr. Russell, and who gave one look at our hungry and awaiting ranks, and ran." "Where did. he go?" 1 ask, speaking for the first time. "Nobody knaves. Of one thing only are we certain he never came back here." "Perhaps Mr. Vasher will not come," says Kate; "men like girls, you know, abut I fancy in moderation. He does not look like a universal lover of womankind —we want a diffusive man." "If he does not come," says Belle, "to view our forlorn and piteous gambols, then all spring and verve will depart therefrom, , and we shall be like apple -tart without the apples." "If he only knew," says Emma, "that every petticoat, skirt, and tucker, in this establishment, will be washed to his glory, he could not choose but come. He could not be a man born of woman with - eat feeling touched." "Helen Adair, you shrimp 1 you have spoken to hira,have you not?" ' asks Laura. "Is he made of gentle stuff, or likely to kick over the traces?" "I don't know," 1 say, laughing; "shall I ask him, when I see him ?" "Do," seas Kate, impressively, laying her heed on my head; "go down on your knees to him, and. refuse to get up again until he says he will come! There will be &ragged look on as all if he does not!" A bell ringing th the distance cails us together like a flock of sheep, to go out for e walk. 11; is 'Wednesday afternoon, and We are talf great and small, upstairs! Unearthing our evening dresses and fishing up beetle gloves, and other minor appendages. To me this party is a grand novelty. Never ,Jae I been to anything that bore the sohoolienl:se ghastly reseneblance to one; there - ore ti , garment is not, like that t of My less fortunate too short, too tight, or 100 narrqw.te 4-theiess it is not much tiobdo species of Phoenix re - es of one of mother's n ' a ails. It is rusty, it is ttell7ed e:Ylos':mously bare of ornament : my chest—a piece of good luck. me, but tt comes decently y heels, and does not refuge to on which 1 may congratulate myelf, see- ing that on all sides I hear the popping of hooks and Westing of buttons, as 'bodies' after undue pressure fly otr at a tangent, and gape widely when they should close; while petticoats that ought modestly to touch the ground, display ankles that re- fuse to blush unseen. Tho woes of one girl in paxtioular might draw tears from a stone. Poor Emma's existence is one long struggle to get into her frooks; for providence, who ever loves to serve mankind nasty tricks, has predis- posed her to fat, with an ever-increasing solidity that sets dressmakers at defiance. Not that this fact in itself oalls for pity; for are eat tbe fat ones of the earth the happiest, the cheertabaess, the best -tem- pered people living? The sting of it lies in this, that Emma has a stepmother who ob- jects to new dresses on principle, and will allow no more that a certain number a year, and has decreed that when she has had those lot out to find their extromest limits, if they will not accomodate them- selves to form, then her form must be brought down to the size of her gown. So when dear Emma shows signs of over- growing, she is put on Billeting, and made to eat the things that she hates, and leave untouched those that she loves, and, over and above, th skip for an hem' before breakfast every morning. The latter, in hot weather, is trying, but, nevertheless, she works her stepinothers' will; and though her life is a burden to her, by de- grees her fat diminishes, and she comes down to the size of her garments. If this is not a practical example of the triumph of mind over matter, then where shall one be found? Just now she is in the increas- ing stage, and efforts that would not dis- grace a blacksmith are being made to "fasten" her low blue -and -white silk frock; but, alas! until Emma has return- ed to Banting, the glories of that frock are not for her! Consultations, serious _land profound as those held with a court dressmaker over a London beauty's first drawing -room, are going on in all directions: beregesigrena- dines, and muslins being the axistocratic subjects under discussion. It seems a great waste of good starch and time, so much preparations, so little to gain by it. But though no strangers worth mention- ing will be present to appraise all this bravery at is true worth, will it not be something for. Rose Mary with her super- ior flounces to out out Anna Maria with her scanty ones; are not the merits of the beauties of the school, on these occasions of dress -parade, afterward discussed as fully and exhaustively as any new Alma,ck beauty, by any groupe of beaux and wits at Whites'? Hence these puokered brows and weighty discussions. To be continued. FIRE ISLAND'S GREAT LIGHT. Its Powerful Electric Deems Will Shine Fully 100 Miles. "The most powerful light 'in the world is now being set up on Fire Island, off New York city ," said an officer of the lighthouse board. "It will be ready for business by July 1 next. To ships it will be visible 100 miles out at sea. I do not mean thaathe light itself will be seen at that distance, for that would be impos- sible, owing to the curvature of the earth, but the flash on the clouds in the sky will be discerned. From the point of view of the watchful skipper so far from shore an intermittent glare will be observed as if lightning were to show in the same quarter of the heavens at regular intervals of five seconds. Passengers on transat- lantic steamers will thus receive a cheer- ing signal of their approach. to America. "The light will be electie, having a 50,- 000,000 candles without the lens. The lens, which was made in Paris, is of enor- mous size— about ten feet in diameter. It will increase the power to 250,000,000 candles. It is called a bivalve lens, being in two halves like the shells of an oyster. The convex halves are separated. by a dis- tance sufficient to admit the body of a man, so that the iarbons and other appar- atus between them may be got at. This double lens and the whole mechanical con- trivance supporting it rests in a circular trough filled with mercury. In fact, its entire weight rests upon the liquid quick- silver, so that it may be revolved almost without friction. Ordinarily brass wheels are used for revolving lights in lighthouses "The light is generated by enormously powerful dynamos. Of the latter there are two, so that in ease one breaks down the other may be used. It is a subject of re- gret that the lighthouse board is still ob- liged to maintain the electrical light in Liberty's torch in the harbor of New York. 11 is of no use worth mentioning to marin- ers, and it costs $6,000 a year. It used to cost $10'000 per annum, but we have out off the electric searchlighs, which former- ly were employed to throw a light upon the statue and illuminate it. Liberty might be of some value for lighthouse purpose if she had been placed on the Romer Shoals, which would have afforded O more suitable location. anyway. A it ou ted A r iNt oorat. The arrogance of capital was never more fully illustrated than by what happened not long ago in Dallas, Texas. One of the wealthiest merchants was much startled by arnan with a pallid face rushing into his store and Saying breath- lessly ; "One of your teams ran away." "Mother of Moses I Are any of the mules hurt ?" "No, none of them." The capitalist sighed and Said anxious- ly : • "I Suppose the wagon is wrecked. Let me know the worst. ' "The wagon ancl the mules are all safe, but the ("liver is killed." "Well, then, what de you scare a man out of his senses for From the way you talked I was afraid an aeoident had hap - petted. " ' Malcing Bread Makes Beautiful Hands. A cooking school teacher says that there Is no bettet manicure than kneading bread. It develops, whitens and strength- ens the hattds and goes far toward beenife- ing them. For neat job printing of every desalt!. tion call at this office. KISSING- OASES IN COIJR'r. The Subject, is Always Interesting. If •legal profession appear to derive inuoli Not Amusing.. 'rho grave and dignified members of the amusement from the subject of kisses, which collies before them most frequently in the form of a superabundant supply of mews in the letters of lovers, when these are being read—as they were never intend- ed to be --in coma in breach' of promise oases. The learnectgentleman who has at the moment the business in hand of read- ing aloud one of those wonderful proclue- tons generally pauses when he comes to thafirst stop in the gushing effusion, where the enamoured swain has failed words too weak to express his eentiments, supplying their place with a string of symbolic osou- aeons, and, -with a well -feigned look of innocence, says that there is here a gap in the letter, which the defendant hae filled in, with a lot of "a's," regarding the meaning of which some brother, , more leasned, in those weighty rnatters,may per- haps be able to enlighten him. This same "brother" never fails to do, saying that if he is rightly informed—he has, of course, no personal knowledge of the matter, (winks all round) these mystic signs signify kisses in the language well understood by the devotees of Cupid, Thereupon, this musty, time-honored joke is greeted with the usual chorus of cgeuffas,ws, and the interrupted reading pro- ed But kisses sometimes make their ap- pearance in law courts in other circum- stances, though they never fail to be made the subject of numerous legal witticisms. The judge may have been in jesting hu- mor—and yet who knows but he may have been laying down, with all due solemnity, some funclamentalprinciple of justice and equity—who once asked the plaintiff who was suing his former sweetheart for the re- turn of the value of certain articles of jewelry which he had presented to her in the happy days of the courtship, whether he had 'ever kissed the young lady?" "Certainly!" was the reply, as was to be expected. Whereupon the judge dismissed the action, declaring that kisses and car- esses wereaull legal payment for presents given in such circumstances. The obvious moral may be laid to heart without much difficulty by present -giving• young men. It happened one day that a pretty young widow traveling by train from Louisville to Nashville had taken her seat near a netelyenataied couple. The bridegroom left Ms wife for a moment, and when he returned the train was passing through a tunnel. He took advantage of the dark- ness to snatch a kiss from Ms wife, as he supposed, but unfortunately he had made a mistake and kissed the young widow in- stead. She was highly indignant, and, re- fusing to believe that it was an accident, sued the young husband for $1,000, as solatium to her wounded feelings and raffled dignity. There is given as an example of the leniency of New York judges the case of a man who was arrested for kissing another man's wife. The sentence passeon the culprit was that he should there and then kiss his own wife, who was present in the court room; which as may be supposed,he gladly did. , --- In British law courts it has been fre- quently brought home to offenders that it Is rather an expenive amusement to kiss a lady against her will. But in Holland it appears that a rather different view pre- vails in judicial circles. A young man who has assaulted a young lady in this way in the streets of a village near 'Utrecht was brought before the burgomastex, who took the matter up, demanded that the offender should be fined one florin, or, in default, be imprisoned for one day. But the Utrecht Court, and finally the appea Court at Amsterdam, both dismissed tbe case, the judges declaring "that to kiss a person cannot be an offence, as it is in the nature of a warm mark of sympathy!" This is pretty much the like Yankee judge who dismissed a similar offender, remark ing that the plaintuiff was so temptingly pretty that during the trial he had to keep himself down in his chair with both hands, he felt so much inclined to get up and kiss her himself. A stolen kiss once brought the culprit into possession of a fortune. He was a butcher at Sydney, and had taken the lib- erty of kissing one of his customers, a pretty girl, who resented the affront and had him prosecuted for assault. He was fitted heavily by the local magistrate, and the case was commented on freely by the press. The publicity thus given to the affair happened to arrest the notice of a firm of solicitors in Sydney, who had been appointed trustees of some property which had been left to the man by a distant rela- tive twenty years before. They had failed to trace the heir, but when his name ap- peared in the papers in connection with the case of assault they communicated. with him, and he was able to establish his identity. A certain Senor Taloa, of Valparaiso, however had a very different experience, and paid heavily for his momentary freak of kissing a lady on the Plazawithout her permission. She prosecuted him, and the magistrate, as indignant as the lady, sen- tenced him to sixty days' imprisonment, This severe penalty Senor Take, considered himself justified in appealing against, but the higher court, so far from bestowing any sympathy on the offender, sentenced him to',.an additional thirty days' impris- onment. The amusing part of the affair is that the higber court took 200 days to consider the appeal, and during the whole of that time • the senor had to remain in jail. An Independent Lawyer. .A. lawyer with his client called one day at the office of a gentleman who is consid- ered to be one of the leading naen of the :Philadelphia bar. The lawyer bad an im- portant case and he wanted to take the legal big gun in as advisor. He explained bis busine,ss and said ' he and the client would be back in the afternoon. e won't be here then," said the legal giant, " I have an engagement at 8 o'clock and I won't be here after that hom•." "But there is a $5,000 foe in this for you," ex- plained the young lawyer. " Can't help it ; Won't be here. You will have to come to -morrow." "But my client estie 1 come to -mar- row." "Well, I can't break my engagement," said the senior. After some further talk it was agreed that a meeting be held that night. That afternoon, having nothing else to do the young lawyer and his client went to a ball game. The first tuan they sew inside the grounds was the 'great Iew- yer, who was hurrahing for the "PhillieS" with all the vigor of his lungs. That was hie important engagement. Needlees to say the lawyers' praetice nets him enougb Money each year to make him independe TURNING Tort, sr, imlirnExon, It Once Han Through Lake Obameasellie taut Could Again De Diverted. 11 is a geological foot that all the waters of the St. Lawrence at one time poured down through Lake Champlain and were discharged into the Atiantio at Now York, and Chauncey N. Dutton, of New York, the engineer, who has worked out the pr beim of the new waterway, receetly told an Albany Journal man they could be turned back into that 0110131101 1± Money enough wore expended upon the work. His plan, howeeer, does aot contemplate any- thing which would destroy the commerce of Montreal or make Quebecs' water front a sandy plain. The great river can spare enough water for the ship canal and not appear to have lost aedrop, It is the fore- most of elvers iu its uniform discharge, of which the mean amount is 270,095 cubic feet per second at Ogcleeebtag. The lowest discharge of the blissisippi is 156,000 cubio feet per second, and the maximum is fully eight times that amount. The work re- A quired to complete the project is not so great as may be imagined. It will be necessary to build a n.ew aqueduct over the Chippewa River on the Welland Canal, also eight miles of new canal from near Thorold, Ont., to neax Queenston, with two locks; a lock at Cornwall, a lock near Valley Field, Quebec; a canal from Lake St Francis, to the St.Latieance,at a point opposite Grand Island, to the Richelieu River, and, lastly, a Nana from Lake Obaanplain to the lindson River. The last will be the most difficult part of the whole undertaking. • The proposed canal will connect South Bay, Lake Champlain, with the Hudson at Fort Miller, although an effort will be made to connect with the river at a point higher up. Below Coxsackie the Hudson will afford a clear, unobstructed waterwety 10 New York. The look at this end of the route will be at Waterford. The depth of water necessary in the canals to be constructed will conform to that on Limekiln Crossing in the Detroit River. This route will be essentially for freight vessels'and it will be deepened from time to time to conforin with the depth maintained by the government in the Detroit River. Five Years an invalid. Sometimes there are overwholmine evi- dences of the possibilities of the faith' cure but there is a case in which. Dr. T. A. Roomy a few weeks ago appeared as the attualing physician which bears out the only true possible clue by faith, says the Cincinnatti Enquirer. The patient in the case was the wife of one of Kentucky's ablest and wealthiest men. She had been an invalid for five years, and in that time her ailments have been diagnosed by the best physicians in that state, and she has taken medicine without intelligence of quantity. Nothing seemed to relieve her of her great physical troubles. Becoming desperate, she decid- ed to make one more trial, and her hus- band joined her in her decision. A private oar was secured and she was transferred from her home to the car, and her condi- tion was such that it was deemed best to remove her bed and bedding to the car. In that condition she was brought to Cin- cinnati, and Dr. Reamy was summoned to examine her. When she was in the pre- sence of the doctor she said: "Doctor, I am fully prepared to receive the worst ver- dict." The doctor made a most faithful and close examination, and then remeked: "Do you feel able to receive just Wrest my finding is?" I do, doctor." "Then," he replied, "madam, there is not the slightest degree of MUMS apparent in you. You are as strong and ha -lathy as any person could be who has gone ehrough what you have. There is nothe slightest reason why you should not get up and walk." s Both the patient and the husband. were perfectly astounded at Ms statement. "I mean every word of it. You can walk." "Why, doctor, I have not taken a step in five years." "That makes no difference. You may be a little weak, bu.t get up on your feet and walk with me." The husband endeavored to interfere, but the doctor waved him to one side and said, "This is my patient '• I know what is best for her." And he took the lady by the arm carefully lifted her from her couchand the two walked acrosstlie room and back again. "Now, what I want you to do is to go back to your home,stop all meelelues, and take interest in your fiowers and home. You. say you are a great lover of animals and fowls. Put your mind on them, or anything to remove it from bodily ail- ments." The lady and her astounded husband re - tweed home, and since then the doctor has had weekly reports from his patient, and they are all of them.ost favorable na- ture. She has never been ill an hour since her visit to the city, goes to partiesetnd in every way is a thoroughly well and active woman. End of the Voyage. A woman who has just crossed to Europe for this ferst time writes home oe the pleas- ant pomp and ceremony with which the end of the voyage is celebrated on the last night out. "It seems," she says, "that it is always customary, on the German line, at least, ad probably on all, to have a11 especially elaborate dinner just before arriving in Southampton,which is called the 'captain dinner." Everyone ia supposed to order wine and drink th the health of the cap- tain while he responds, toasting the health and safe journeyings of his passengers. When we came to the table we found 11 decorated with most elaborate cakes four etories high, with little Anietican and Gorman flags stuck on all sides, and little daper ornaments--trtily German. We went through a Inost elaborate mariu, and when we came to the dessert, the waiters sud- denly disappeared, the music stopped, and the lights went out. .A. hush and sense of expectanca fell upon the company, Sud- denly the music started a lively march, the doors opened, arid the waiters appeared, bearing trays. On each was a round globe of rico paper with a light inside, and around this sat small Japanese II gases made of lee cram, each holding in his arms a little 'umbrella of light-celored paper. The roam wits perfectly dark, and the effect as the waiters marched around, and around, form- ing differentengures and beariug their il- luminated burdens, was rtoVel and inter- esting, Everybody, clapped and eheered. Then the lights were turned on, arid we ate tho ice-cream men and kept the um- brollat! et sou'venitt. It was a captain's! detrital though without a captain, for we chanced to be passing at the thne through a very dangerous plate, and he could not leave his post; on the bridge." re