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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-5-15, Page 2matojl, after all, poor 'obiltt ! Tint [j G� VICAR'S I GOVERNESS, % Ft H` utero is one thing I of co toll yam and HE G 1 rf R E .l e 1 It to tbo small drop of 'obit Gt tri toy OUR. About a month ego, Lord Sar - tore coated Palen her ,twenty thous- and pounds, end that will keep her at least free from earn. When.' ace gone, 'CHAPTER XXXI. "One one dottti tread upon another's Meet, So fest they follow:--Samiet, *One, that was a woman, sir,"—Hamlet. Across the autumn grass, that has Arowned beneath the seorobing mass mer rats. and through the fitful sues shine, comes James Scrope; Through the woods, under the dying !beechtrees that lead to Gowran, be 'taunters slowly, thinking only of tbine Marl beyond, who Ls not thinking of b mit all, but of the man who, in his soul; 'Sir James believes utterly unworthy of her. This thought so engrossed him, as he walks elong,,that he fails to bear Mrs. Bransconihe, until she is close beside Oiim, and until she says; gently,- "limy d'ys do, Sir James?" At this his start is so visible that she laughs, and says, with a faint blush,— that "What 1 is my coming et, light one fails to hear it?" '10 which be, recovering himself, makes ready response: "So light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint." Then, "You are coming from Gow- ran?" "'Yes; from Clarissa." "She is well?" "Yes, and I suppose, happy,"—with a shrug. "She expects Horace to -mor- row." There is certain scorn in her manner, that attracts his notice. "is that sufficient to create happi- ness8" be says, somewhat bitterly, in spite of himself. "But of course it is. Sem know Horace ?" "Not well, but cell enough," says Mrs. Branscombe, with a frown. "I know hien well enough to hate him." She pauses, rather ashamed of her- self for her impulsive confidence, and not at all aware that by this hasty speech she has made a friend of Sir James for life. "Hate him?' he says, feeling he could willingly embrace her on the spot were society differently constituted. ''Why, wine has he done to you?" Nothing; but he is not good enrugh for Clarissa," protests she, energetr- •eally." But then who is good enough? I really think," says Mrs. Branscombe, with earnest conviction, "she is far too sweet to be thrown away upon any ,men." even this awful speech fails to cool Sir James's admiration for the speeker. She has declared herself a lion admirer of the all-powerful Horace, and this goea bring hewifndaul so far with tfte can- notohimself toi with her on any score. i don't know why I express my likes and dislikes to you so openly," she says, gravely, a little later on; "and I don't know either, why I distrust Horace. 1 have only a woman's reason. It is Shakespeare slightly altered: 'I hate him so, because 1 nate him so.' And I hope with all my heart, Clarissa will never marry him." Then she blushes again at her open- ness, and gives him her band, and bids him good -by, and presently he goes on bis way once more to Gowran. On the balcony there stands Clarissa, the solemn Bill close beside her. She is leaning on the parapet, with her ,pretty white hands crossed and hang- ing loosely overit. As she sees him coining, wrth a little touch of coquetry, common to most women, she draws her broad -brimmed hat from her head, and letting It fall upon the balcony, lets the uncertain sunlight touch warmly her fair brown hair and tender exquis- ite face. Bill, sniffing, lifts himself, and, see- ing Sir James shakes his shaggy sides, and, with his Heavy head still drooping, and his most hangdog expression rare - Tully put on, goes cautiously down the stone steps to greet him. Having been patted, and made much •of, and having shown a scornful dis- regard for all such friendly attentions, ;he trots behind Sir James at the slow funeral pace he usually affects, until 'Clarissa is reaohee. Better than my ordinary luck to find , yyou here," says Sir James, who is in 01ggh good humor. "Generally you are 1 whiles away when I get to Gowran. And ! forgive me—how exceedingly charm-' nng you are looking this morning!' tullss Peyton is clearlynot above praise. She laughs; a delicious rippl- nng little laugh, and colors faintly. A complimentt from you l"she says.. "'No wonder I blush. Am I really 'lovely, Jim, or only commonly pretty I should hate to be commonly pretty,' She lifts her brews disdainfully. "You needn't hate yourself," says Scrope, calmly. "Lovely is the word for you." I'm rather gled," says Miss Peyton, with a sigh of relief. "If only for- Horace's sake!" Sir James pitches his cigar over the balcony, and frowns. Always Horace Can she not forget bum for even one moment? "What brought you?" asks she, pres- ontiyy iihat a gracious speech l"—with n. rather short laugh. To see you, I fancy. By the bye, I met Mrs. Brans - combo on my way here. She didn't look particularly happy.' Not" Clorisa's eyes grow sad. "After all, that marriage was a ter- rible mistake, and it seamed such a satisfactory one. Do you knew," in a half -frightened tone, "I begin to think rthey 'hate each ether 1" They don't seem to hit it off very Kwell, certainly"" says Sir James, nioodi- t1 , 'But t believe there is something snore on ilransromhe's mind than his domestics worries : I am afraid he is getting into trouble over the farm, and that, and nothing hits a man like want of money. That Sawyer is a very slip- :pery fellow, in my opinion: and of late Dorian has neglected everything and ,taken no interest in his land, and, in /act, lets everything go without ques- ,tion." I have no patience with Georgie," saysClarissa, indignantly, "She is glositively breaking his heart," "She Is unheppy, poor little thing says. Scrope, who cannot find it in his heart to condemn the woman who has. just condemned Horace Branscombe.. It is her own fault if she is. I know tee'. peopleso lovable as Dorian. And now to think the has anotber trouble makes me wretched. I do hope you are wrong about Sawyer." I don't think 1 am," says Scrape ; and time justifies his doubt of Dorian's steward. • • • • Sartoris Tuesday, four o'uloak. "Dear Serope,— Com up to me et once, if possible, Everything here is in a deplorable state, Yon have heard, of course, that Sawyer bolted last night; but perhaps you have not heard hat he has left things in a ruinous state, I must see you with as little delay as yoti can manage, Came straight to the library, where you will find me alone, Yours ever, D, B." Sir James, who is sitting in bieaister;s room, starts to his feet en reading this letter. Patience, I must go at once to Sar- torts," he says, looking, pale and dis- tressed. "To see that, mad boy?" To see Dorian Branscombe," "That is quite the same thing. You don't call him sane, do yyon? To marry that chit of a girl without a grain of common sense in her silly head, hair because her eves were blue and her Lair yellow, forsooth. And then to go and get, mixed up with that Annersley affair--—" My .dear Pati " ence.'W "Well, why not? hy should I not talk? One must use one's tongue, if one isn't a dummy, And then there is that man Sawyer, be could get no one out of the whole country but a creature who--" "Hush!" says Sir James. hastily and unwisely. "Better .be silent on that subject." Involuntarily he lays leis band upon the letter just received. Ra!' says Miss Scrope, triumphant- ly, with astonishing sharpness. "So I was right, was I? So that pitiful being bus been exposed to the light of day, lags be? 1 always said how it would le; 1 knew it!—ever since last spring, when I sent to him for some cucumber- • v plants, ntentotsent e nsul!, instead two (w vile gourds. I always knew how 11would end." "Well, and how has it ended ? says Sir James, with a weak effort to re- trieve his position, putting on le small air of defiance. "Don't think to deceive me," says Miss Scrope, in a terrible tone; where- upon Sir James flies the apartment,' feeling in his heart that in a war of words Miss Scrape's match is yet to be found. Entering the library at. Si rtoris, be finds Dorian there, alone, indeed, and. comfortless, and sore at heart. It is a dark dull day. The first breath of winter is in the air. The clouds are thick and sullen, and are lying low, as if they would willingly come down to sit upon the earth and and there rest themselves,—so weary they seem, and so full of heaviness. Above them a wintry sun is trying vainly to recover its ill temper. Every now and then a small brown bird fly- ing hurriedly pest the windows, is al- most blown against them by the strong and angry blast. Within, a fire is burning, and the curtains are half drawn across the win- dows and the glass door, that leads, by steps,down into the garden. No lamps are lit, and the light is somber and severe. "You have come," says Dorian, ad- vancing eagerly to meet him. "I knew I could depend upon you, but it is more than good of you to be here so soon. I have been moping a good deal, I am afraid, and forgot all about the lamps. Shall I ring for some one, now to light them?" No; this light is what I prefer," says Scrope, laying his hand upon his arm. "Stir up the fire, if you like." "Even that I had. not given one thought to." says Branscombe, drearily. Sitting here all alone. I gave myself up a prey to evil thoughts." The word "alone" touched Sir James inexpressibly. Where was nes wife all the time, that she never came to com- fort and support him in his hour of need? "Is everything as bad as you say?" he saks, presently, in a subdued tone. "Quite as bad.; neither worse nor better. There are no gradations about utter ruin. You heurd about Sawyer, of course? Harden has been with me all last night and to -day, and between us we have been able to make out tbat he has muddled away almost all the property, which, you know, is small. As yet we hardly know how we stand. But there is one claim 01 fifteen thous- and pounds that must be paid without delay, and I have not one penny to meet it, so am literally driven to the wall. "You. speak as 11—" "No, I am speaking quite rationally. I know what you would say ; but if I was starving 1 would not accept one shilling from Lord Sartoris. That would be impossible. 'You can under- stand why, without my going into that infamous scandal. I suppose I can tell Sartoris, and pay my—that is, Saw ver's—debts; but that will leave me a beggar." Then, 1.0 a low tone, "I should hardly care, but for her. That is al - moot more than I can bear." Ten say this debt of fifteen thousand pounds is the one that presses hardest? Yes. But for that, J. might, by go- ing in for strict economy, manage to. retrieve my present position in a year or two." "I wish you would explain more fully," says Sir James; whereupon Dor- ian enters into an elaborate explana- tion that leaves all things clear. "It seems absurd," says Scrope, im- patiently, "that you, the heir to an earldom and unlimited wealth, should be made so uncomfortablefor the sake ofra paltrythousand fifteen pounds." I hardly think my wealth unlimit- ed,' says Branscombs; "there is a good deal of property not entailed, and the ready money is at my uncle's own disposal. You know, perhaps, that be has altered his wilt in favor of Horace, —has, in fact, left him everything that it is possible to leave." 'This is all new to me," says Sir James, indignantly.. If it is true, it is the most iniomtoue thing I ever heard in my life," IL is true," says Branscombe, slow- ly. 'Altogether, in many ways, I have been a good deal wronged; and the money part of it has not hurt me the most." "It seven thousand pounds would be of any use to you," says Scrope, gently, delicately, I have it lying idle. et will, indeed, be a great convenience if you will take Lt at a reasonable—" That is rather unkind of you," says Dorian, interrupting him hastily. Don'.: say another word on the sub- ject. I shall sink or swim without aid from m friends,—aid, I mean, of that sort, In, other ways you :can help me. Harden will, of course, see to the estate; but there are othee,.more private mat- ters, that I would intrust to you alone. Am I aslting too much ?" "Don't be unkind in your own turn," se's Scrope, with tears in his eyes, Thank you," says Dorian, simply. His heart seems quite broken, Whet of your Wife?" asks Sir James, with some hesitation, ` Does she know?" `I think not. Why should she be troubled before her time It will come fast enough. She made a bird I want you to see her, and tot mo knew, from time to time, that sba is happy anal welt cared for," Rut will she consent to tbLs sopara- 'C tion from nth, that imi Dorialast for years?' onserv 1" says n, bitterly. "That is not the word. She will be glad, indeed, at Luis ohanee that has aeieenfro put apace betweenTusi be- lie o roan myt hes that—" "What is it you belive" says a plaintive voice, breaking in upon Dor- ian's speech with curious energy. The door leading into the garden as wide Open; and flow the curtain is thrust aside, and a fragile figure, gowned in some black filmy stuff, stands before them, Both men start as she advances in the uncertain light. Her face is deadly pale ; her eyes are large, and almost black, as she turns them quos- tioniegly upon SirJames Sorope, It fs impossible for either man to know what she may, or may not have heard. I was in tile, garden." she says, in an agitated, tone, and I heard voices; and something about money ; and Dor- ian's going away ; and--" (she puts her hand up to her throat) "and about. ruin. 1 could not understand; but you will tell me. You mu9t. "Tell her, Dorian," says Sir James. But Dorian looks doggedly, away from her, through the open window, into the darkening garden beyond. "Tell me, Dorian, she says, nervous- ly, going up to him, and laying a small white trembling hand upon his arm. "There is no reason why you should be distressed,"' says Branscombs, very coldly, lifting her hand irum his arm, as though her very touch is displeasing to him. "You are quite safe. Sawyer's mismanagement of the estate has brought me to the verge of ruin; but Lord Sartoris has •taken acre that you will not suffer." She is trembling violently. "And you?" she says. 1 shall go abroaduntil things look brighter." Then he turns to her for the first time, and, taking her hands, presses them passionately. 'I can hardly expect forgiveness from you," he says: you had, at least, a right to expect position when you made your unhappymarriage, and now you have nothing." 1 think she hardly hears his cruel speech. Her thoughts still cling to the ward that bas gone before. Abroad?" she says, with quivering lips. "Only for a time,"' says Sir James, taking pity upon her evident distress. "Does he owe a great deal 2" asks she, feverishly. Is it a very large sum? Tell me how much it is." Scrope, who is feeling very sorry for her, explains matters, while Dorian maintains a determined silence, "Fifteen thousand pounds, if procur- ed at once, would tide him over his dif- ficulties," says Sir James, who does her justice to divine her thoughts cor- rectly. "Time is all he requires.' "1 have twenty thosand pounds,.' says Georgie, eagerly. "Lord Sartori:9 says 1 may, do what I like with it. Dorian,"—going up to him again,— take it—cm, ao. You will make me happier than I have been for a long time if you will accept it." • A curious expression lights Dorian's face. 11 is half surprise, half contempt; yet, after all, perhaps there is some genuine gladness in it. I cannot thank you sufficiently," he says, in low tone. "Your offer is more than kind: it is geuerous. But I cannot accept it. It is impossible I should receive anything at your hands." "Why ?" she says, her lips white, her eyes large and earnest. "Does that question require an ans- wer 1" asks Dorian, slowly. "There was a time, even in our short married life, when I believed in your friendship for me, and when I would have taken any- thing from you,—from my wife ; but now 1 tell you again, it is impossible. You yourself have put it out of my power." He turns from her coldly, and con- centrates his gaze once more upon the twilit garden. •Don t speak to me Pike that,—at least now," says Georgie, her breath corn- ing oining in short guick gasps. "It hurts me so! Take this wretched money, if—if you still have any love for me." He turns deliberately away from the small pleading face. "And leave you penniless," he says. "No, not that. Some day you can pay me back, if you wish it. All these months you have given me every thing 1 could possibly desire, let me novmake you some small return." Unfortunately this speech angers him deeply. "We are wasting time," he says, quickly. "Understand, once for all, I will receive nothing from you." James," says Mrs. Branscombe, im- pulsively, going up to Serope and tak- ing bis hand. She is white and ner- vous, and, in her agitation, is hardly aware that, for the first time, she has called him by bis Christian name. "Per- suade him. Tell himhe should accept this money. Dear James, speak for me: I am nothing to him." For the second time Branscombe turns and looks at her long and earnestly. "1 must say 1 think your wife quite right," says Scrope, energetrceliy. "She wants you to take this money, your not taking it distresses her very much, and you have no right in the world to marry a woman and then make her unhappy:' This is faintly quixotic, considering all the circumstances, but nobody says any- thing. "You ought to save Sartoris from the hammer no matter at what price,—pride or anything else. It isn't a fair thing, you know, Brans- combe, to lift the root from off her head for a silly prejudice." When he has finished this speech, Sir James feels that he has been unpardon- ably pertinent. (To Be Continued.) FILLED CHEESE. A " filled cheese" hill has been pass- ed by the united States House of Re- presentatives, and is likely to become law. 11 does not prohibit the manu- facture or sale ot filled cheese, but handicaps that business by heavy taxes. It• provides that makers must pay a license fee of $400 a year, and an ex- cise lax of a cent a pound on their pro- duct; that wholesale dealers in it must pay a license tax of $250 a year; and retailers one of $12 a year.:Even this stiff scheme of taxation might fail to kill the industry, as similar imposts have failed to put a stop to the manu.- facture of olcomar*aline, But so heavy a burden, along wvit . the requirement to sell the article for what it actually is, would, drive a good many makers of bogus cheese out of the business, and perhaps into that of ,producing honest cheese. Hence a certain effect would be to raise the average quality, of United States offerings on the British market. Our cheese makers should note this, and rather redouble than relax their care to keep their product up to the highest standard of excellence, E'L$. 1)08T! YOUNG 'Oi KS OUR JAPANESE FRIENDS, 11'hon a boy js born into a Japan- CS0 boiiphold, every passer-by soon knows oT it by the imuaons0 Japen fish Winging Prom a Beg pole in front of the house. It is modeled after the carp, Width is a strong fish able to swim 119 rapid streams, I suppose this means that they with the boy t0 grew up with similar strength and energy.. Prayers are offered .et the temples by the fattier and other relatives, and when the babe is seven days' old, his head is shaved off clean. 0, no; they leave a little bunch of hair at the back of the neck, for seed, I suppose. This obavingof the bead is kept sip at frequent intervals until the child is eight or ten years ofd, This makes their hair very stiff and coarse, If the babe has a brother or sister old enough, and they do not have to be mora than five or six years old, he is at once,strappod upon his or her back, its little legs Lied down, with only its shaved head free to bob around. A Japauese baby seldom cries, they say, but is, very well behaved from the cradle up. When they have any work to do: they are very dignified and look as solemn as little owls, but when at play are as merry as any children. There is a law in Japan that every child between the ages of five and four- teen shall attend school regularly, but, like many other good laws in all coun- tries, it is not enforced. The children have to carry the babies about. and are set to work at an early age, still the Japanese think highly of learning. There are many kioderearten and mission -schools, besides the regular pub- lic scbool system: For many centuries a Japanese Girl did not have much of a chance . beside her brother. 1t was thought, that she was not capable of learning any but the simplest matters—to attend to her housework, perhaps to play it little on some musical instrument, embroider and arrange flowers. Her whole duty was, as a Chinese philosopher once said: "In childhood to obey her father ; when married, her husband; when widowed, her son." There Lias been a great change, how ever, in the last twenty years, and; to the present Empress of Japan some of Che credit should be given. She has in- terested herself in the cause of women, foundin,r a school for the daughters of the nobility, and now girls are admitt- ed to the schools and have nearly, if not quite, as aced opportunities for learning as their brothers. The Japanese eat a great deal of fish, but seldom taste of other kind of meat. They, raise fish as we would chickens or. pigs, Corp'and eels are the favorite kinds of fish. If we were to go into one of the restaurants called eel houses and order dinner, we would be shown to a large tank filled with squirming eels and asked to select the one we wanted, and if we: had bad any experi- ence with their eels we would, be sure to select a small one, as the large ones are coarse and greasy. Then, if we wished;, we could see it cooked, for, unlike our restaurants, the kitchen is on the front part of the building. This has one advantage, the dining rooms open out upon a beautiful garden. We would perhaps feel a little awk- ward to sit down on a mat in :our stock- ing feet to eat our dinner, and have no knives or forks, but little chop sticks. The food is brought in little cups or bowwis, so if one cannot make the chop sticks work, he can shovel the food in- to his mouth by the cupful. There are always two or three girls to entertain the eaters. They are dress- ed in gay costumes, and make them- selves as merry as possible, chatting and reciting little poems. If you were to dine with some rich. people, the host would, perhaps, showy you through the flower garden and cut you a bouquet, for they have beautiful gardens and are naturally proud of them. When you go back to the house,you remove your shoes and sit in your stocking feet, or if the floors are colds, a servant may bring you a pair of cotton overshoes. The servants are very polite. Eery time they enter the room they drop upon their knees and touch, their forehead to the floor. This must be inconvenient for them when bringing in the dinner, as they have to sat down the tray they are car- rying in order to make this profound bow. Silk cushions are scatteved about up- on the floor in place oe chairs, and the egests orare rank. Little atablesnaboutto their six inches high are placed in front of the uests. Then the food is brought is little bowls, tea and sweet meats usu- ally being the first course.. The Japanese consider it in bad taste to have the walls covered with paint- ings. Their artistic decorations are stored away in the kora, or fire -proof closet, and after the dinner is over the bosts may send servants to bring some of these treasures to show you. Ibis pic- tures will not be flamed but hung upon rolls called kakemonos. If he is very rich, there will be valuable gems in dainty carved. boxes lined with silk and highly polished bronzes: The wife of the host will not preside at dimner, unless there are lady guests, but will appear to guect you at ahe table and again when you are eay- keg your "sayosaras," or farewells. PAPER TELEGRAPH POLES. Paper telegraph Boles are the latest development of the art of making pap- er useful. These poles are made of Paper pulp, in which borax, tallow, etc., are mixed in small quantities. The pulp is cast in a mold, with a core in the realer, forming a- hollow rod in the de- sired length, the crosspieces being held by key -shaped wooden pieces driven in. on either side of the pole, The paper poles are said to be the lighter and stronger than those of wood, and to be unaffected by sun, rain, dampness, or any of the other causes which shorten the life of a wooden pole. A matrimonial bunco game is being worked with great 'success among Chinamen ,in various parts of Idaho. The bunco team consists of two women and a man. Both the women are said Lo be of attractive appearance, one being a blonde and the other abrunette. The man is about 50 years ohLsix feet tall, and passes himself as an old soldier, J31 some one of half a dozen clever schemes a Chinaman is induced to marry one of the women, The wedding takes place all right., but the bride promptly deserts her husband,taking whatever valuables in the way of wedding gilts she bad res celved anis such of her husband's port, able property' as is easily carried off, IT>rll cox' INTI IST, One, of the wine vaults of the Lon- don Looks taus an Area of sevepteeu Pores.. Artifioial musk a closes imitetloe of the genuiuo artiele, Le wade from coal tar. Henry $eebohm, the naturalist, has bequeathed 17,000 staffed birds to the British Museum. Only twenty-four white elephants have been captured era, Piano -players in Munich, are coca- belled to trays their windows closed while playing on that instrument.. In the Bay of Fundy the tide rises a foot every five minutes, The water sometimes attains a height of seventy fent, Some gallible people in Maryvillo,bSlo„ believe that the grease from n, yellow dog, If rubbed on the cheat is a pure for consumption. On the railroads in Australia a third- class passenger travels for one-third of a cent a mile; a first-class lemeei ager pays about anent a mile. Oats are scares in the little town of Valley, Washington. The coyotes Come boldly into town at night, and carry off all the Bats they see prowling around, Joel Lumen, of Burtonville, Hy, is a big man, His height is 0 feet 4 ]ashes, and his weight is 954 pounds, He has a son and a daughter, each of whom is as tall as himself. The streets of Calcutta are sprinkled by water -carriers, each of whom carries strapped to his back a leather recep- tacle, capable of containing about eight gallons, His pay amounts to six cents a day. For forty years Dawson Oldham bus been a member of the Methodist Church at White Hall, Ky., and during alt that Bine has never missed a sermon. His age is 78, and ho has never 'tasted in- toxicants or used tobacco. A citizen of Gorham,. Me„ has had a serious disagreement with hie wife. It was caused by an absent-minded blun- der. Ho entered his house with a San of milk in one hand and a roll of greenbacks in the other, and he pour- ed the milk in the bureau drawer. While sawing the trunk of a chest- nut tree which they .had just felled, Henry Cooper and James L. Ackerman, of Saddle River, N. J., found in the centre of the trunk about a pint of sweet and juicy chestnuts. They roust have been in the tree at least fifty years. Two toughs were extremely rude to a widow in Niobrara, Neb., and as they would not leave her house, elle lanced one of them with a pitchfork and meld- ed cisided : the other. They then left in a hurry; wishing they had taken Mr Weir ler's advice to " beware of the yielders." A San Francisco lady wrote to Pad- erewvski, asking how much he would charge to play the piano for five minx urns at an afternoon tea. He asked 82,500 -at the rate of $500 a Minute.. She offered him a1,000; but he disdain- ed to accept such a trifling sum. didn't even answer her second note. POOR ITALY, Tiro. Triple AAlaece Haag Been w Curse Instead or a blessing Co That Collages,. The condition of Italy attracts wider spread attention and sympathy. The country is still suffering from the necessities of the position which elle has assumed among the nations. Her "uni- fication," consummated nearly forty years ago, entailed on her enormous ex- pendibnies She needed lines 01 rail- way to bind her territories together, and a military display to make her in- fluence effective. To escape isolation, to hold her own against France and still further to as- sert herself in the eyes of the world, she joined Germany and Austria in the fam- ous "Triple Alliance. This brought new burdens in its wake. The army was gradually strengthened, and wam ship was added after wareship, until Italy now maintains the navy of a first-class power. The effort 1 to build up. a "united It- aly" disorganized the finances .of the country. As the armament increased, the treasury became empty.. For years past the nation has had to meet large annual deficits. To raise the needed revenue, taxation has become more and more excessive, both beivause the am- ount needed was great, and because, ow- ing to corruption, in municipal and nit - Bonet administrations, a part only of the sum collected reached its rightful diestination,. Bank scandals, involving the highest statesmen in the land, have aggravat- ed the situation; despair et reaching a solution bas furnished new opportun- ities to tIm radical and soaiarlistic agit- ators of the violent type, and not long ago was aa insurrectionary movement in Sicily. In many way's Italy is• only at the beginning of the career which, as a. great European power, she seems .to have marked out for herself, as com- pared those of Great Britain or n. She has a population of artisans and laborers whose wages barely suffice' to give thein the imperative necessities • of life. Hunger or actual starvation, pre - veil over large areas of the territory. The sanitary arrangements of towns are of the most elementary kind. Igr• nar'ance is wideespread, and there is much illiteracy. 1t is also clear that, while the Ital- ians possess qualities that connect them with an interesting and glorious past, they have also inherited some of the less praiseworthy traits of their ones, tors. In their proneness to anger, and the ease with which they commit crimes of violence, the line of descent can be traced—for southern portions ot Italy, at any ,rate—from the earliest period, of Roman history down through the Mid- dle Ages to our own day, The mob that might have been harangued- by Cicero in the time of Caesar, or could have understood an oration from the lips of Dame during the struggles between the Guelphs and Ghibelines, is still, in its baser passions, the same mob as that which the other day, on receipt of the news fromAbyssinia, proceeded to smash things up generally." The return to power of the Marquis di Rudini puts an already tried man into a position of acute responsibility, but promises no important change in the policies of the nation, The ferment of the ,past month, while it revealed the excitability of the populace, showed also the unshaken loyalty of the Italian people to their king. HIS NEVER -FAILING TEST. Old Chap, l've been duck shooting, dont you know. Duck shooting? Why, You don't know a tame duck Prem a wild one. Oh, yes, I do—the Wild ones got away :KTX Ir, 1841 TtlE HOME. TI117 STIIRT-WA1'ST. The woman will be poor ipdood who will not have a sbirtwwaist the coming summer, A yew isuanniers ago they wore considered stiff end mannish -look- ing, but naw they are universally worn by young and old and are deemed 00 comfortable that they eannot be die- pensed with. The materials used for them, range from the common calicoes to the handsomoet sines, The favorite materials this summer will be grass lin- ens and Medias cloths. Many shirt+ Waists are made of beautiful organdies, some of dotted swisses, others of dimity; great numbers are made of percale be cause of its good wearing qualities and because it launders very easily. A now idea, and a splendid mica is the adjustable cuffs and collar. It rarely bappsns that the body of a waist is mil - 'ed when the cuffs ands collar are. Now one may have three or four sets of col- lars end cuffs for one shirt -waist. Then too, cuffs and collars of a material dif.' ferent- from that of the . Waist are Jo be worn. Cuffs and collar Of pleinwhite aro often seen on shirt -waists of ecru linen or striped or figured material. With this fashion one may have as plain or as fancy collars and cuffs as one wishes. Turn -down collars edged with a ruffle of embroidery or leen„ with cuffs to match are very pretty. Embroidered or hemstitched ones of white linen will drop extremely pretty with figured or striped dimity or batiste, NOW that the Persian crane is upon us many of the materials suitable for these waists will show this latterly - The belts to be wvorii this summer are very narrow, few being more than an inch wide. Leather, gold or silver biaa'ut spangles sawed on elastic bands,heavy ribbons, some of solid colors, others - striped, barred or plaid—all are used for belts. They are -fastened with small buckles or clasps„ plain or elaborate as the wearer's Burse will allow.. Some very handsome ones are in the forms of metal ropes and chains. In neckties, small bow ties of bright, gay checks and small plaids are the favorites at pres- ent, but other styles may develop as the summer advances. The shirtwaist on the woman who knows how to wear it isa dainty arti- cle of apparel, but it is an exception, rather than the rale, to see it properly put on. To begin with the waist should be drawn down tightly in the back and pinned eecurely to the corset before the skirt is placed over it. The skirt should then be pinned carefully to the waist, alittle above the waist line at the bads. The skirt band should he pushed well down in front and pinned,so that the round of the belt will be perfect, and the line from chin to waist will not be several inches shorter thane theline from waist to neck. If one is the owner of a fancy belt -pin it can be placed at the back, fastening heat, skirt and waist to- gether. With such attention, there is no danger of a woman's clothi''n fall- ing apart. PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS: Variety of diet is not necessarily more expensive than that dreary sameness which is only too often the order in so many homes. Of course one must often have what is most quickly and easily prepared, but even for this meal one need not have the same menu three hundred days in the year. A good breakfast dish requiring but little time to prepare, is "hash on toast." Any kind of cold meat chopped fine, moistened well with cream, season- ed with butter, pepper and salt, and heated thoroughly, is heaped on well browned and buttered slices of toast. Send to the table on a hot platter. The cream in the hash softens the toast so do not have the meat too dry, Cold chicken is very nice used in this way. This dish, with good coffee, some plain cookies or fried cakes, and oatmeal por- ridge -with sugar and cream, makes a very satisfactory breakfast. Apropos of fried cakes—some one says the only wholesome portion is the hole in the middle. Possibly and even pro- bably true; however, if properly made (and we do not have them Loo often) wv erelish them with our coffee, especi- ally cold mornings. I have used the same recipe for years, doubling it sometimes. Let the lard be smoking hot, turn carefully to avoid pricking them. (lime knitting needles); cook un- tie nicely browned and thoroughly done. Drain on brown paper. If the fat is hot enough and the papas is used, you will find little superfluous fat in them. So many palatable d;ishesmay be made. from cream—sweet or sour. Cream biscuits are always relished, particular- ly by the men, land aro more easily made than any other kind. These with fresh berries, canned fruit or carefully cooked dried fruit, according to the seas- on or the larder's resources, ane "good enough" far any one. Ou• take the same kind el dough, bake as a crust over some kind of fiuit and you may have a.de- licious pudding which may be eaten with cream and sugar or any; kind of pude ding sauce. A very goof niers made by using this crust rolled thin to line a deep pie tin—filling with fruit and cov- ering as for any inc. 'lo be eaten fresh with cream if desired. Whipped cream is not difficult to pre- pare while the w gabber is cool '(or at any oilier timo if one is so fortunate as to have ice) and is nice served in has dividual sauce dishes with a 1ittle dot of crimson "jelly en top of each to be eaten wvith pie for the Sunday dinner dess'rt, or with oaks for luncheon. A one crust pie becomes something rather •' better than ordinary pie if covered to the depth of an inch with the whipped: cream just before cutting for the table, Tapioca' is no more expensive than rice, makes a good puddhag and is a desir- able change. Don't forget to sow some parsley seed this . Spring. The crisp , curly leaves form a pretty garnish for cold meats salads, pickled eggs, etc., and are also fine for flavoring chickens, stews and soups. Cottage cheese either in soft little brills or In oneround mold looks cool and appetizing surrounded by a parsley. border. It takes only a moment to use in this way and adds very much to the appearance of the food, which often means Adding to the relish of ,.it. NOT IN IT, in"1 Patpa,1,' said little; Johnny, they're not What are not in it, my to ? Why the other twenty-four letters of rho alphabet.