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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1888-8-16, Page 6LIKE AND UNLIKE. By M. E. 13BADDON, AIITILITC0.0F "LADY Annwey's SECRET," 64 WYLLARD'S W RD, ETO., ETC. 'CHAPTER XXIX, —(Oorreis ewe "You, are urgenely. wanted ae home for tetwons to be exoltemed when we meet. :.ttert by Brat train poeeible from Qhadford aoad," 4' lie must be ill," exeleimed Lady Bel. • 1eld. "He would hardly telegraph so • teergently for any other remota. What ooincl eshe be wanted at home for except her bus- bandei illness—an aeoident,perhape—thrown ffl ront hie horse, or something dreadful. And flee telegraphs cautiously, to prevent ourbe- !n frightened. I shall go at onoe, Adrian. I won't wait till this silly girl is found. I'll go to my son as fast as the rail can carry rne." She rang the bell hastily, white with a mew terror. "Dear mother, don't agitate yourself so dreadfully—indeed there may be no cause tor fear—about Valentine% health. I can't maderetand the telegram." He stood with the message in his hand, eieei etexed beyond measure. How should Veeescine have been able to telegraph from tfti•:u,tngton at half -pest seven that morning. jad e,,uld not possibly have reached London by tee- hour, even if he were travelling in ' that ,i -rection. There had been no train that weld convey him. Or even had ib been possible, why should he have sent suoh .mitessege ? What end would he hope to gain the hideous mockery of telegraphing to the dead? There was some mystery under - Lying the message. Je Tell Sandmen to pack my dressing bag ia portmanteau. for the ten forty train l" 'said Lady Belfield, when Andrew appeared, ed‘ and order the carriage at once. Adrian, I must leave you to look after Helen. There can be nothing really wrong with her—some foolish freak—an early ramble --and she has Vest herself on the moor, perhaps. I cannot estop to think about her. She can follow me tby a later train." The mother's heart and mind were full .of her son, and of him alone. She thought of him stricken by sudden illness—a con- eumiug fever—congestion of the lungs— Teralyais—or a fatal accident, his beck brok- en, life ebbing fast away, life measured by moments, and she so far from him, with so =any weary miles between them, seeming esiove even when travelled by the fastest ex. press that ever rushed along the iron road. -"Dear mother, you must do whatever you fehlrfct best," said Adrian,quietly; "but I gam, assured you are torturing yourself with - nut reason. Why should this telegram mean 'Eke so? There are a hundred poinibilities. It tells us nothing except that Valentine weal% his wife at home. It may have been •seae, In a fit of temper." The door opened, and Mrs. Marrable came In, clean and fat and homely, in her fresh pink and white print gown and lace cap, but much paler and lesa self possessed than was 'flier wont. Her broad good-natured count. serance had a distressed look as she Kt- nereached her mistress with an open letter in 'error hand. "11 you please, my lady, this was found die Mrs. Belfield's room just now, lying on ethe floor, my lady, among a litter of bits of gene and scraps of raper, and such like; and thought it was my duty to bring it to you with my own hands." It was Helen's letter ; that unfinished let. 'ter which so broadly confessed her own wicked purpose. "When you read this I shall be far away antra this house—far away from England, I ,fitepe—with the man who loves me well soneugh to sacrifice social position for my make and for whose love I am willing to for. efeit my good name." Lady Belfield sankinto her chair, crushed eby this bitter stroke. Her son's wife—the girl she had loved and trusted, and treated eke all things as a daughter—this girl -wife, ao young and fair and seemingly innocent, •the.d declared her guilt in those deliberate Aims.' The mystery of Helen Belfield's dis- appearance was solved. She and her good maim were gone for ever. "What news for me to take to my son," -gee exclaimed, thinking more of him than of his guilty wife. "Take my advice mother. Do not go to aim. There is something wrong about that telegram. It is a hoax'perhaps." "No, no, Adrian. Who should invent mach a hoax—to what end? I must go, I tell you—there is no alternative. He tele- graphs for his wife—he has no longer a wife. But his mother can go to him in his trouble. That tie is not so easily broken." ' "Let me go with you then." "No. You will have plenty to do here. rZort must find out all about that miserable gin1; how and when she went, and with whom. Have you any idea? do you suspect • "any one ?" Adrian was silent. How could he answer; ehow malign the dead. She bad been on the brink of sin, and yet perhaps had died spot- less, save in the intention to abandon her busk:and. And had he held his hand, she might have repented and drawn back on the ;very threshold of that awful guilt. The in- teontion announced in thee letter might never iave been carried out. She might have ,lived a pure and dutiful wife to the end. .And was he to betray her now in her ninon. emendea grave and say, "Yea, I know all about her. Lord St. Austell was her .over." " You don't know?" questioned his moth. or. "You have no suspicion about anybody, among her admirers 2 My God, gnarl what eoornes of being talked about as the beautiful • Mrs. Belfield. You must telegraph to her ',lather, Adrian. You need not telegraph to her sister, I shall see her. And you will reind out all you can abent her flight. Poor, wretched, sinful creattne. I was so fond of her," with streaming eyes. 'Sanderson came in with her mistress's 'bonnet and mantle; travelling bag and portmanteau were in the carriage already. d` Am I to go With you, my lady ?" "" 'Yee, mother, pray don't go alone," qtrged Adrian. "Can you be ready this instant ?" "I've only to /slut on my bonnet, my lady. 'We :shall have plenty of time." It was within a few minutes of tele, and the train was to leave Chadforcl-road Station at tea forty. Adrian helped his mother with her mantle, tenderly caring for her, while Sanderson ran off to get herself ready for the journey, Re handed hie mother into the carriage, and stayed beside her, somnfottiug and cheering her, till her maid ,teturned, and all was ready for deperture. "Where will you stay, mother? At the Alexandra,I supreme, And if—if you find i 'Valentine s not ill, that the telegram means' nothisig, you will come back todnorroive will you not 2 Or yeu will telegraph to me to go to you." "Yere r11 telegraph when r know What is wrong. r Shall stay at Wilkie Mansions, perharte. Ged grant 1 may And Helots Inhere," added Lady Belfle13, in a lower voice. "She may have veneered at the last momeet and gone to her husband, That wretehed letter may mean lest) than we think. It is not even finished, you eee, Adrian, She may have written it in :some mad, angry fit against Valentine, God knows. Goodbye, deerest, good-bye." Moeller and son olasped hands, and Adrian gave the coaohmen the signal for departure. He stood watchieg the carriage drive away, motionless, as if turned to stone, paralysed by despair. Under no other circumstances would he have allowed hie mother to go to London upon such an errand alone. Under no other circumstances would he have failed to see her off at the station; but to -day he dared not do even as much as that. He dared not leave the house, that dear home of his childhood and youth, which to him was henceforward,only the scene of murder, a place of horror and hideous memories. He went batik to the breakfast room slowly, wondering whatnext he was to hear. Mrs. tiferrable was hovering over the table pretending to arrange the roses and golden lilies in the geat chrysanthemum bowl which filled the center with bloom and perfume. "1 do declare my lady he gone away without as much as a cup of tea" she said. "It's a sad, sad day for us all, Sir Adrian." "It is indeed, a sa,d day, Mrs. Marrable." "And:to think that sweet young lady -- oh, sir, I know it was very wrong—but hu- man nature is human nature, and we were all so upset in my room and Jane she came rushing in with that letter, half out of her wits, poor girl, and oh, Sir Adrian, she read the letter on the stairs, nob knowing what she was doing, and she Just gave it in- to my hand, tried to speak, and couldn't ; caught her breath, and went off into strong hysterics, and I make no doubt she's in them at this very moment." "Then you all know—" he was going to say "everything," but stopped, himself and said, "You all know that my sister-in- law began to write a very foolish letter which elm never finished, and anal& may mean nothing. She has some reason to com- plain of my brother's neglect, and she may balm written that letter as a kind of warn- ing to him." " Yes, Sir Adrian, she may. Only—only —" faltered Mrs. blamable, who loved "the family" with a reverential affection, and would have out her tongue out rather than speak disrespectfully of any Belfield, "only, what can have become of Mrs. .Bel- field if she has—not—gone away with some one ?" That question seemed unanswerable, for Sir Adrian remained silent. " rn go up to Mrs. Belfieldei room," be said, presently, after walking up and down for a few minutes while Mrs. Marrable still lingered, and still found occupation in the arrangement of the breakfast table, where the silver kettle was boiling desperately over a spirit lamp, and the eggs were cook- ing themselves as hard as stone in a patenb egg -boiler. "1 may find some—setae other letter," added Adrian. " ou can come with me if you like." Mrs. Marrable waited tor no second invi- tation. She followed Sir Adrian to the rooms over the library, by the private stair- case which Valentine had ascended in the dead of the night. The bedroom remained exactly as Adrian had seen it last night, except that the win- dows were open and the sunshine streaming in and lighting up every corner. There was the spot where he had seen that prostrate form, with upturned face and blood-stained forehead ; there stood the table with befit - ter of writing materials, soatbered books and low vases of summer flowers, candles burnt low in the sockets of the massive old silver candlesticks, an arm chair in front of the table, the chair in which she had been seated when she penned that fatal letter. Two arge oil skin covered dress -baskets stood near the door, strapped and looked ready for departure. Doors of wardrobes were open, drawers and shelves were empty. Everything indicated preparations for de- parture. A travelling bag uponthe dressing table was filled with ivory backed brushes) and perfume bobbles, and all the trinketry of a woman's toilet, leaving the table itself almost bare. There could be no doubt that she had pre- pared for her departure; that she had de- liberately planned her flight. As he stood looking at these preparations the meaning of the telegram flashed upon him. It was from St. Austell: a message invented to afford Helen an excuse for leav- ing the Abbey. He looked around the room, movitg slow- ly to and fro, while Mrs. Marrable clear, honest eyes inspected everything, and while Mrs. Marrable's shrewd mind made its own conclusioris. Thp,t letter—unfinished as it was—taken in conjunction with the packed boxes and dressing bag, must mean a run- away wife ; but how was it that the fngitive had left without taking her luggage or mak- ing some arrangement for having it sent after her? "1 daresay she was afraid at the last, and dared not go off to the station with her boxes, as SOMEI have done, bolder than brass," thought Mrs. Marrable. write to me, perhaps, asking me to send her luggage somewhere. She'd never dare write to her ladyship." There were no letters upon the writing- table—not a scrap of Helen's writingiany- where, except that one fatal letter n Sir Adrian's breast -pocket. There was no stain of blood upon the oak filer yonder where she had fallen, or on the delicate chintz cover of the chair neat which she fell. "Gracious 1" exclaimed Mrs. lYlarrable, euddenly, "what's gone with the white Persian rug ?" Admits affected ignorance. "Tho beautiful white rug that nsed to lie in front of the writing -table. It was one of my lady's favourite rugs. She brought it down from London two years ago when she had been furnishing Mt. Belfield's honse. 16 wad in her own dressingroom till the other day, and then she says, " blamable, Mrs. Belfield is out of health, and coming to US to get strong. We mud make her rooms as pretty as ever we can, mid thie rug was brought here with a good many other things—that chair, and the Indian semen, for inetance, at Lady Belfield's or- der, And what can have become of the rug ? It Waft here the day before yeeterday when I brought in the clean linen," " The housemaid !melt have inotted it," said Adrian looking out of the wiudow. "Von don't suppose Mre.,BeIfield hes peek- ed it in one of het boxes, do you, Men - nide 2" " No, sir, of eouree not. But that rug must be semiswheret" and the housekeeper beetled off to investigate the metteree Adrain turned away from the window, sick a# hewn Was life alweys to go op like this for evermore, in niternate horror and shame Wes he to feel always the merderere terror of discovery, he who was guiltless of the murderer's crime. Where was Valentine while the hours were going on, and the chances of inquiry beeeming more haz erdous? Had he gone beck to London, to resume, his old life, to brazen out his gnilt by the care- less ease of his manner as he trod the 'beaten trade, among his usual set I Would he try to prove au alibi were he ever celled to question upon the business of last night? Heel anybody seen him at the stetioe or in the town? Had anybody heard him moving about the house? At the Abbey there was no auspiclon of anything wore than an elopement; but up. on that question the Abbey servants had all made up their minds. Mrs. Belheld had carried out the intention announced in that letter which Jane had read upon her way downetairs. And like young and foolish thing as she was, she had gone off without her luggage, trusting to the chapter of Wei. dents for getting her property sent after her. They were all rather sorry for her, though they were elate all agreed that this elope- ment had beeen inevitable hem the very beginning—ay, even while the sound of her wedding bolls was still in the air. "11 she had wanted to be happy in her married life, she ought to live. had Sir Adrian," said MrshMarrable, and everybody else agreed, as in duty hound. There was a good deal of discussion as to how and wheu Mrs, Belfield left the Abbey, and by what train she had gone; but this was finally settled to everybody's satisfac- tion. She had slipped out of the house overnight, shortly atter she had retired to her room; and she had walked quietly to the station and had taken her seat in the last train from Barnstaple, which would reaoh libreter in time for the mail from Ply- mouth. She would be at Paddington early in the morning. Her lover would meet her somewhere on the road meat likely. There was very little question ae to the name of the lover. Sanderson had been at the Alexandra with Lady Belfield, and had gone to and Inc between the hotel and Wil- kie Mansions with messages, and had seen Lord St. Austell at Mrs Belfield's, and at Mrs. Baddeley's, and had heard things. Even the little page had his opinions, and had expressed himself freely as to Mr. Bel - field's shorteightedness. Sanderson was too good a servant to talk much upon such delicate subjects ; but she had talked a little to Mrs. Marrable in the confidential half-hour after slipper, and now that the catastrophe had come she talked a great deal, and nobody in the housekeeper's room or the servant hall doubted that Mrs. Belfield had gone off with Lord Si. Austell. CHAPTER XXX.—Ters SILENT Peon. Sir Adrian sat in the library, or saunter- ed about the lawn and shrubberies near the hone% all that long, heavy rlay. He dared not leave the premises just yet—so intense was his deead of someemw catasbrophe. He wanted to be there, to face the worst that could happen; to be at hand to answer ques- tions or to meet calamity with a bold front'. IOnce he went down to the river, and look- ed at that rushy pool where his brother'svio- I tim was lying. The water, scarcely rippled in the still summer air; the lights and she. ' dows played upon the surface of the pool; the sunbeams glinted arnOng the reeds, trem- ulous uncertain, as the foliage moyed softly overhead. It was te lovely afternoon. He had come there to fish upon many cinch 'after- noons in years that were gone. That little creek under the willows, and its sheltisted bank, had been a favourite spot with him.. To -day he lingered there, listening to the faint plashing of ' the water, and watching the bright -winged insects as they dipped and fluttered on the dark surfaee of the peril, ail then skimmed away, azure, transparent, beautiful, like spots of living eight. How calmly beautiful the place was, and how hard it was for Adrian's over -wrought brain to realise the horror lying there. He stood staring blankly at the dark water, and almost wondering whether there were any reality in last right's crime—whether the whole tragedy from first to last were not an hallucination of his own, the graphic inven- tion of a madman. He went back to the Abbey, dreading to find that something hed happened during his absence, h'!of as it had been. A constable from Chaetord, or a detective from Scotland Yard would be waiting for him perhaps or there would be some frightful news of his brother: a suicide found in some sequestered spot upon the moor; a mutilated corpse, borne home upon a shutter. No; there was nothing changed on his return, The house had an air of deathlike stillriees. The vene• tians were closed. outside those windows above the library. He could _picture his brother's wife lying there on the white bed, with folded hands, and limbs decently com- posed, under the lavender -scented sheet. That would have been, horrible—early, untimely death in one so fair and light - minded would have seemed a reversal of na- ture's common law but, oh, how light a calamity compared with that which had hap. pened. He went into the library. His open piano, his books upon the reading table, his desk and papers, the grave old organ yottder in the deep recess by the high oak chimney piece, the organ he had so loved—all those things which made up the occupation, inter- est, pleasure of his daily life—all were there as they had been yesterday, but they could yield I.irn neither delight nor comfort; no, not one minute's retpite or deetraction. He sat at his book -table with folded arms, and his forehead resting upon them, shutting out the light of day, trying to think oat the situation, with all its sickening perplexities. Hits mother had told him to communioate with Helen's father ; but he shrank with ab horrenco from the task. What could he say which w eeld not be a blaek and bitter lie? To say Web she had fled would be to milieu the dead ; to say anything else would be to endanger his brother. He had to shield the wrong doer at any cost—for hi ff mother's 85keb Wen last heard of Colonel Deverill had been yachting in the 'Hebrides with a wealthy ship builder of Glasgow. • He had given hie address at a cleb in that city. "Wherever I am in August and September, any letters gent to the Imperial will And me," he had told his deughters, " 1 am sure to get them sooner or later." As the Colonel rarely answered artybody's letters, it did not seem of much coneequenee 'where they were sent in the dret instance. People who were bent on writing to him might as well address him at a Glasgow Club as anywhere elee. Adrian told himself that to let the day page without making any attempt ab com- municating with the Colonel, would be to create etidence against hie brother, a point upon which some future investigator might put his fingltr, eaying here is one email fact which alone might establish guilt, He to - membered how in most of the great criminal triale he had read the balance of proof hung upon inAnitesimals, Tridieg cireurestancee Which at the Moment of theit 000tIrrende neitellireet 1, get, Fel: nnacenedg, theoot mt4h. vehl zonhi :;le to ,fiveligda lir 017e onoonns:4- Xle seated himself at his writing table and took up a pecket of telegraph forme ; and elowly, after much irresolution, wrote his message. From Adrian Belfielch Chadford, to Colonel Deverill, Imperial CIO, Glasgow. "Um. Balfield has left the .Abbey sudden. ly, leaving a letter which involves trouble for us all. Her husband is in Louden, KUy commitnicate with him." liltiore wee not much in this. It commit- ted the winder tovery. little. It would in all probability be long In reaching the Colo- nel.; and in the meentime, Valentine might rooted towards him, (et cotemernen.) the reach of pursuit, fihould suspicion be di - have got away from England, and beyond Canadien Indians at Home. The inmates a this Indian home were the strangest part of the scene. The tidy women were squatting on the floor, some cross-legged like Turks, others eitting on one foot as a cushion, or on ellenr toes turn- ed inward tider them, OT 011 their knees and heels. They were quite erect, yet eesy, in these attitudes, as comfortable as we are upon luicutious furniture. One of thetn olaangecl her dress by detaohmente at my elbow. The men were waiting for diner; one slept aurled up in a heap near the wall; another sat flee on the floor by his wife; and the other two lay stretched aOTOSS the opposite end of the lodge. The children showed a remark- able capacity for stowing themaelves away in grotesque ehapes in nooks and comae, whence they stared at me with black bead- like eyes as expressionless as those of animals. Meanwhile the people kept up a general conversation in their o en tongue; their voices were low, even in laughter, aud expressive of a kind and considerate nature. You notice a good deal of abrubt. nese in their talk ; but this is due to their language, in which you hear many inarti- culate grunts, short, brusque inflections, and long, disjointed, unmeloclious words. But when they talk French, which the most of them understaed, their speech is quite agreeable. I tried in many ways to engage the squaws in conversation in this langue, but they turned to me a deaf ear, or else their husband's. It seems that the missionaries advise the tribe to have but little intercourse with whites'they will often pretend not to understand you or will grant your request without replying to your speech. The dinner meanwhile had been prepared by one of the squaws. She set out a numbei of plates on the floor, and L01143 invited me to est of their stewed ducks. I accordingly settled from the chest where I sat to the floor, Only the men came to the meal ; for it is the custom among them to serve the men first; the women, having less exposure and travel to endure in the winter, consider their needs as secondary ; they will absolute. ly test when provisions are scarce. And yet, notwithstanding their extra nourish- ment, in times of starvation the men always sucaumb first. We helped ourselves from the kettle; and when we had finished, two of the men rolled up into heaps and went to sleep. The women, children, and dogs then gethered about the dishes. Each one had an.attendant deg at her elbow, *ready for any emergency. The meal was social and pleasant,with good-natured 'talking, and manners quite deferential. But the 'dogs were an aggressive element. They were eager and unscrupulous ; if a hand remained too long away from the plate a deg captur- ed the contents. Now and then a yelp, or a crescendo of 'ire on the word "ahem," broke the calmness of the conversation. The dog of the prettiest maiden kept advancing his nose towand her plate, and she kept pounding his head with her spoon till he concluded to retreat. Another cur sat very quietly for SOM9 time beside a child ; but at last he rose in open rebellion and rushed to the plate. The child screamed, spoons flourished in the air; and finally the dog settled baok In his haunches with a reverge- ful snarl. When the women had finished their meal they sat still and let the dogs strugele over their laps, and take possession of the entire culinary department. After Betting things to rights the women resumed their sewing on the floor, and I left them chanting away the afternoon, more. happily than many of our care -worn house -keepers in their palaces of taste and educated dis- oontent. To Stop the Crevices in the Rookies. A gigantic scheme has been proposed by which the canons of the Rocky Mountains are to be dammed up from the Canadian line to Mexico, in order to form welt reservoirs of water to be used in the irrigation of arid lands, and to prevent floods in the Missouri and lower Missiesippi. Major Powell, Di- rector of the National Survey, estimates that at least 150,000 square miles of land might thus be reclaimed—a territory exceeding in extent one half of the land now cultivaned in the United States? The plan is to build dams across the canons in the mountains, large enough and strong enough to hold back floods from heavy rains and melting snows, and then let tho water down as it is needed upon the land to be reclahned. In view of the vast irrigating works of ancient Egypt, India and other countries,cihere is no doubt that finch a plan is quite feasible to modern engineering skill. Indeed it is very likely that 'some scheme of the kind will be put in practice When land becomes morevaluable as population becomes denser. Who shall say that the great Western "desert" shall not be transformed into rich arable lands by this memis•by the second centenary of American Independence / ' A Fentinine Aeronaut. Pariaian lady of high rank has lately attracted much attention owing to a remark- able balloon ascent which she made in com- pany with her husband. Thief lady, whose darling exploit deserves universal •chronicl- ing, is the Countees Chandon de Briailles, who, in fashionable life, is famous as an amateur acmes of no mean ability, and re- cently walked away with the palm for trionic honors at some private theatricals given by a, Marchionees whose fetes and festivitiee aro familiar to all those nourtly chroniclers knewn here as reporterremon- dairis. Mme. Is, Comtesse and her hueband, disdaining the °Hillary means a 1OCOMO- tiOn Which are employed by minor mortals, embarked in a balloon in Peres for the pur- pose of proceeding to their °emitter seat at Epernay. The plucky aeronauts, after haw- ing touched terra firma in dangeroue proxe imity to a railway three times, finally de- Heended, safe arid sound, in the grounds et their chateau, which they reached before the vervante and furniture had rrived from Paris, A Literary Man. —Jortes—I :say, k,Snalth, I understand that Brown is something of a literary man. &lath— Literary man, yo. Why, Brown writer: for the waste baskets of Some of the leading newspapers and magazinee in the country. Conjuring in Indian juggler's aro famous not only for their tricks, but for the apparent ease and opennees with which they perform them, Dr, Norman Macleod describes his own fin tile atfeinnt toe discover how one ef their meet celebrated feats was aceomplished Through. one of my friends, I frisked for the well-kuoten Menge trick. I am told that many intelligent young men prefees to know how it is done, but whenevet I have made inghlriee, I have fouad, to my regret, that at that momint they have always forgotten the secret, While the tonatcm WW1 boating and the pipe playing, the juggler, singing all the time in low accents, emoothed a plane in the gravel three or four yArds before me Hay- ing thus prepared a, bed for the plant ter grow in, he took a basket end plaoee it over the prepared. place, eovering it with a thin blanket, The man himself did not wear a thread of clothing, except a strip round the l°148* The time seemed now to have come for the detective's eye So, just as he was be- coming more earnest in his song, and while the tomtom beat and the pipe shrilled more loudly, I stepped forward, with dignity, a4 begged hirn to bring the basket and its cover to me. He cheerfully complied, and I carefully examined the basket which was ine.de of open wicker -work. I then examined the cloth covering, which was thin, almost trans- parent, and certainly had nothing coneeoled in it. . Then I fixed my eyes on his strip of cloth- ing with ouch intentness that ib was not possible it could be touched without discov- ery, and bade him go on, feeling euro that the trick could not succeed. Sitting down he stretched his naked arms under the basket, singing and owning as he did so ; then lifted the basket off the ground, and behold a green plant, about a foot high! Satisfied with our applause, he went on with hie incantations. After having set a little, to give his plant time to grow, he again lifted the basket, and the plant was now two feet high. He asked us to wait e while, that we might taste the fruit I But being enured by those who had seen the trick performed before that this result would be attained, I confeseed myself "done," without the alighted notion of the how. I examined the ground, and found it smooth and un- turned. Apparently delighted with my surprise, the juggler stood up laughing, when one of his companions chucked a pebble to him, which he put into his mouth. Immediately the same companion, walking hackwerd, drew forth a cord of silk, twenty yards or so in length after which the leggier, with his hands behind him, threw forth from his mouth two decanter stoppers, two shells a spinning top, a stone, and several other things, followed by a long jet of fire. Tooth Powder. A dentrifiee which is useful and at the same time harmless is not always at hand. The preparations bought for the purpose are variously put up as liquids or powders, and while some are eimple in their action others are too active as detergents and are not safe for daily use. Here are two select formulae for dentrifices which will be found useful and not injurious. They may be compounded by any druggist. Camphorate Tooth Powder.—Precipitated chalk 2/ parts ; orfis root le ; camphor one- fourthpart. A simple camphorated chalk, having stimulant effects on the gums as well as mechanical effect on the teeth. Spanonaceous Tooth-Powder.—Powdered oastile soap two parts ; precipitated chalk one pant; magnesia carbonate one-half part; sugar one-half part ; oil of wintergreen q.s. This powder cleanses by mechanical and chemical properties. An Explanation Desirable. He was doing very nicely in the parlor, when a solemn voice cense through the ope'n window from the porch : "That young man makes me very tired." "Don't be alarmed, Mr, Sampson," said the girl, as he hastily started up, ' it is only Polly, our parrot. ' "1 understand it's the parrot," he replied, "but I would like to know who taught her to talk. Some Conscience Left. Woman (to tramp) —I kin give you a piece of dried apple pie for breakfaet. Tramp --Madam, I only eat pie at break- fast in cases of the direst necessity; But if I should eat dried apple pie in July I would feel that I were flying in the face of bounti- ful nature. I will try and break bread fur- ther on. Gave HerseIr Away. She Sat Hanlan's)—What is that the band is playing, Mr. Sampson? . He--Mendelssohins "Wedding March." • She— Oh, is it. I have so often longed to hear it. Dirt Cheap at the Price. Wife—Whet did you buy such an expen- sive umbrella. for, John? Husbande-It was the last one of the kind the dealer had, and I got it at a bargain. The handle is solid silver; it was economylto buy it at the price I did. Wife—It dosen't :match that shabby suit very well. Husband—No, I s'pose I shall have to get a new suit of clothes, • Appreciates a Good Thing. Customer (to :Saloon keeper)-1Vhat are you laughing c.t, Dutchy ? Salome keeper -4 young feller vas choost telling me a very funny choke abowid dose goot times coming, Yen dot lion und dot lamb dey he down togedder, but dot lamb vas in- side dot lion. Dot vas no oheistnut. You lutf a. beer mit me? He Knew How it Was Himself, Murderer—" Do you think there is any chance of my emaping the gallows ?" Lawyer—" Only one chance in a handred, but I think it wculd be wise to take the 6111‘111111"erer—" To be sure. What do you propotte ?" Lawyer—" I think I shall plead insanity in your case." lelurcierer--" And if it works I fro to an asylum, eh ?" Lawyer—“ Precisely, but that is far beb. ter than being hanged." Murderer—n That's whete your opinion and myi experience differ. I was once a i keeper n an nsane asylum and know what the patients have to go through. Guetes 111 let 'em ehut off my breathing apparetus with a roped' 8ome ono asks, "Where do flies go in winter ?" We don't know, but we wieh they would go temre in summer, SCIENTIFIC. One of the lateet etplatie "fads" isa rud- derless, water -propelled Memia yacht, which ie expeoted to travel thhty nailea an hOur and spin around on her °entre like a top if room, miry. One of the Englieh regiments is experi- menting with a machine galled a centrecycle, which has four small wheels a foot in diame- ter and ono large one in the goner% It is said that the iuvention makes climbing a hill as easy for a cycler as rolling off e log. Edison says he tries nothing that doesn't promise dollars and cents. For that reason he has undertaken no electrical experiments to devise sotnething to enhance the powers of eight. Says he :—"I conceru myself only with conclitiens, not theorem There is no money in theories." Electricians are not agreed tie th flee -cer- tainty of instant death resulting Omni an electric shook administered to a condemned crirninel, It may leave him in a eistate of suspended animation, It will be nets:mare': therefore, to hold an autopsy to ascertain whether the man is dead or not, and if the electricity hes not finished him, it is expect. ed the surgeon's knife will. A weather prognosticator and amature artist of Prague has painted a landscape col- ored with the salts of cobalt. These colora are very sensitive to moisture, and are made more so by mixture with gelatine. With art inereasine amount of moisture in the atmosphere, the blue heavens of the pic- ture assume a dirty red hue, and the green grass and foliage, as well as the back- ground, etc., are also strikingly changed in color. A German photographer, Herr Obtomar Anchultz, has suoeeeded in pampering pho- tographic) plates we sensitive that an c XpO• sure of 1 5,000 of a second is sufficient. A very small lens 'must be used, so that the pictures are generally only 7-16 of an inch in length and breadth. Enlarged to an inch and a half on glees plates and rotated in a series of twenty-four before a Geissler tube, tho pthtures are used for reproducing the motions of an animal on a large screen. Five persons were imprisoned by the i caving n of a wall at a quarry at Chance - lade, near Perigeux, France recently, and there were no means at hand rescue them. To find out where they were, a ehaf t twelve inches in diameter was bored, down which was slid a tube, near the end of which was a small camera surrounded by a battery of elect lc lights. With this apparatus a num- ber of negatives were taken, and the effect of the disaster SaONVII, even to the faces of two corpses. 3 t was thus known that the men were dead, and that effort to succor them would be useless. Now comes The London Lancet with the assertion that hedging is the most pleasurable deeth imagmeble and claim- ing that where it has been tested and the victim recuperated, he hae aseettecl that it is refreshing, exhilarating and thrilling, and where once used the family will never be without it in the house. The deaeh by hanging is a concomitant of congestion of the brain caused by choking. The blood forced into the brain causes the forniation of the most beautiful pictures. Beautiful landscapes and waterfalls, green meadows and silver streams flit before hhhe vision of the haugee, and this change:it-to myriads of stars moving in splendour across the vision, and the man when resuscitated grumbled at coming away before he had seen the whole show. The sudden report of a revolver and the spectacle of a well-dressed woman pointing the weapon at her own head caused a tre- 'mendous scare in the church of Finnic, in Brittany, at a Sunday morning servioe. The cure rushed to the would-be suicide, wrenched the revolver from her, and held her until the police arrived. She explained that she had been deserted by her lover, a native of Pornic, and had travelled up from. Angers to track him to his lair. Disap- pointed, she had come to the church to con - tees her sins before she died, but finding the cure engaged, had decided to kill herself without waiting.. The woman was released upon her promising to leave Bernie at once. A BIG COACHING FEAT. Yesterday morning the "Old Times' Brighton coach was driven from White Horse Cellars to Brighton and back for a wager of f 1,000 to £500 that the matter could not be accomplished in eight hours. The propri- etors of the coach accepted the bet in the in- terests of Mr.larnes Selby at the recent race meeting at Ascot, with the resolve that, if they won the 101,000 should be presented to that welekeown driver. The proprietors of the coach accompanied the team, with only a few friends. Mr. James Selby, the whip, has driven the "Old Times" for mealy years, and is well knowh on the Brighton road, for the past 20 years having taught more men to drive in England than any man in the kingdom. Mr. Percy Edwards, watchmaker of Piccadilly, started the team, and the time was token throughout by Benson's chronograph. The inert was effected from Hatchet's Hotel punctually at 10 a.m. The police diel all they could to keep the road clear and soon after the start 12 miles an hour was kept up. Streatham (Horse and Groom) was reached at 10.28, and the horses changed in 47 seconds, some of the gentle- men getting off and assisting in performing the feat. A bicycle rider named Onfeill joined the coach hereabouts, and followed it as far as Merstham. Everywhere the coach was enthusiastically cheered. West Croy- don was passed at 10. 45. In passing Croy- don a uniform pace of 13 miles an hour was mantained. At the Windsor Castle, at Par - toy Bottom, another change of teams took place which occupied 1 min. 5 seconds. The roads after leaving Redhill at times became heavy, but neverthelees a good pace was maintained throughout, increasing at times tween Earlswood and Horley to 20 miles an hour, Horley was reached at 11,51/ and Crawley at 12. 11. Here the only hitch oc- curred through the level crossing' gates being closed, but the coach was allowed to go on after a delay of only a,eout two mintitee. The coach arrived at the Old Ship at 1 hour 56 min. 10 am, having ac- complished the journey just under four hours, The stay at Brighton wee (silly momentary. ' The horses were merely turned round and a few telegrams banded up. One • to Captain Blyth, from the Duke of Beaufort, read :—" Thank you mueli ; sorry coulkl not go; fine freeh days Elope 6 &dock will find yen at the Cellare. Sharp work.— Beaufort," The whip proceeded to work, and drove off amid the (sheen of a, lierge crowd at Brighton. The pasty came back by the same route. Everyone made way, and at numerous pleoes en route bouquets were thrown eh the coach, Stoppages were made at the Kennels, Friars Oak, CuckfielchiPeae Pottage, Horley, %vagrant, Purley Bottom,and Streatham to csbaugo theme and ultimately Selby brought 1411 patty safe to town in eplenclid style, atm - leg at Piccadilly at 5 50, or ten mittu tee uhder the etipulated time to Win the bet. Many members+ df the Cosching Club mete naval and military cfficers were prerient and ' greatly cheered Selby on hit woes.