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The Brussels Post, 1893-8-4, Page 2HIS HEIRESS ; UIt, LOVE IS ALWAYS THE SA.ME, UHA]'TER XXX VII. tr deu't see hots w0 can do much me o the tater without the grapes," aays al Rev?,etandin well bade freta the •ai Witteher (illumine head dellantslyy p„is to one side the better to comitration,: t effect of her work, "Tiley should be he by this time. I doubt that Branksmer gardener' is a man of his word 1" "Itis most mulles of him," sale 51 Goldie severely. Mr. Goldie is t curate ; a young man of faultle morale and itreproaohable clothes, we bolting blots eyes and zine pin cheeks, who has been following hiss bar about all the day (indeed, for the matt of that, all the year), and who seems to he small object in life except to stare mute ab her end hang upon her slightest word. "They will be here soon, Meg. It w my fault --the delay," says Lady Bran mere, who has conte down to look area her perhaps, because she certaiuly loan assisted them in any way. She is looking pale, and not altogether her best ; one must be happy to look that. Let see to the completion of the chancel then," says Mr. Goldie in his most pompous tone. "I fear those we loft in charge" the says the " we" with a fond but :-unfortunately rather foolish look at Marg- ery), "are not quite as steady as we could wish them." Niles Daryl, with an inward regret that she can not make hint as unsteady as she 'could with him, follows hint into the pros. "mute of a most boisterous group who are busy amongst fernsandeaulifiowers, Tommy ` Paulyn on the top of the ladder is giving away to much abuse of the boys, interlard • ed with tender speeches directed at the bevy of pretty damsels beneath. Look at Meg trying to wear out he fingers with that thorny stuff," says Pete admiringly, "Was there ever so pplastio `being? Idoleet to -day, full of pink to morrow. Her nails aro one of Iter goo points, she might consider thein." "It seems to me," puts in Mr. Goldie, mildly, with a reproachful glance at the young men round them, amongst whom are Civaot Bellew and Mr. Paulyn, " that Mies Daryl might be spared suck arduous work. Her zeal is so great that it outstrips her -strength." • "It strips her akin," supplements th Hon.' Tommy, who seldom minces matters r' It will play old Harry with her hands, an 'they used to be tolerable." " I think it is not well that you should •in`sueh a public —in fact in such a—or— saored place, discuss your cousin ae all. It would be offensive to many, 1 am sure, to be spoken of. Could she—that is, would abe—I mean"—floundering hopelessly— "were she the object of my affections I ebould—" Oh 1 Mr. Goldie, to call poor Margery an 'object 1' I wouldn't have believed it of you. Add we used to think you quite her friend Margery 1" caliiug lustily, "do you know what Mr. Goldre says of—" "No, no; no, I entreat 1" exclaimed the poor curate, almost laying kis hand on .Peter's mouth, who is in ecstasies. "1 meant—only to defend your sister from—" "And who the deuce are you, sir, to set yourself up as Mils Daryl's champion?" ex- claims Bellew, with a burst of wrath that has been gathering above the head of the luckless curate for over a month, " 1C'hen she needs a friend to plead her cense, she will knave where to look for an older one than you !" After this, ehaos—and a general rout. e bystanders very wisely abscond, and ven Margery herself very meanly slips] and a corner into the vestry -room, feeling. enured that Curzon's black looks and lir, oldie's red ones have something to clo with er. Bah in the vestry vengeance overtakes er. Mr. Goldie, either atung to action by t chew's °enduot, or eager to ")tut it to the 'ooh, to win or lose at all," follows her here and lays himself, his goods and chat. ole, all (which is very little) at her feet. It 'ekes only a fete minutes, and then vagary emerges again into the wider air uttside, a little flushed, a little repentant erhape for those half hours of innocent ogaetry that bad led the wretched man Is his doom—to find herself in the midst of home -group composed of Peter, Dick, ugelioa, and Mr. Bellew. The latter is tending gloomily apart ; the others make awards her, THE BRUSSELS POST. " f let a erose old u tt, ant Ino' ",iso says, penitently, tnekin_' her arm Into his, re + Never mind I'm very fond of yen] alter tr• all, in spite of your many enormilres, ' Is, You arts an a •s tel'' : tat s l e e. angel," t t with all i the of r sweet folly of a real ]ewer. He .apes ilio her hauls and lifts them. At this instant a piercing cry 1111l of agony e's comes to them fromtheinner porch I Alam• cry's face blanches, r. " What was that ? What?" oho cries, he a terrible wideper, And then—" It w rtlt May's voice," she says, and rushes past It to the spot whence the sound came. mp yl er ve ly ohs. nd 't CHAPTER \\.XVIII. of hie heart ? Until tltfs instant alto hail disbelieved it, but now—with tient oxprete Dion in his eyes' She Juni dreamed strange rh•eams of a divorce«–a separation -5 time when she, whose whole soul is in his peep. Ing, might ]tete ,.t,l n into his heart. But swift 00 n llaali alt hope has, died within tier, The wages for width she had so toil. ed will erne he Iters. And yet, great Heaven 1, a 13, I1011'all hes Inved this 015 1 talman ;how she has admired the stanchness, the no- bility el bit»; the strength that has enabled him to risk kis chance of ltappinose, MI for the sake of saving the honor of another 1 A eetse of age, of weeklies,, oppreeses her as site steals slowly front the room. to Br:utkamero has not noticed her depa as ars; he is still gazing from the window. 1151 Upon the stone pavement the little foram is lying motionless. The ladder from which she had fallen is stili quivering from rho shock. There is a moment's breathless pause, and then it is Lady Branksmore—the cold, the impassive—who first reaches her. She gathers the little still child gently to her breast, holding her to her with a press. urs, passionate, but very soft, and lake up at Curzon—who, with Margery, is at her side almost at once—with a glances full o the aoutest anguish. The despair in her oyes, startles Mrs. Daryl, and even at this supremo moment seta her wondering, If this undemonstra• tive woman can thus love a little sister,bow could she not love— iho hardly finishes her own thought, a moan front the child go. ing to her very heart. "1 will take her home with me. Who will go fora doctor ?" demands Lady Branks- mere, staggering to her feet with Curzon's aid, but never losing her hold of the injure ed child. ' Peter has already gone. But we have told hint to go direct home," says lliargry. r ,• Dear Muriel, the doctor will be there ba- r, fore its, so you see it would be madness to a take her to the Castle, Como with ns, and a hear what ifs opinion will be." She breaks down a little. ' Oh, it must boa favorable one," she sobs, misotably. After all, it is 1 " May had sustained a severe shook," said little Doctor Bland; had fractured her collarbone and bruised ono arm very badly, but otherwise tisere was no reason for supposing she would not be on her feet again in no time. Lady Thanks - mere having listened to this comforting e assurance, had suffered herself to be driven • home with the declared intention of coming c up again tonight to hear the very last ac• •• s dell us how he got through it," says Dick, efzing her arm. Perhaps there may be a rotherly pinch inclosed in his grasp, be- muse he receives an instant answer, "Well, he said --Oh, Dick, don't—" "What a story 1" exclaims Angelica, very aturaliy, "What did he say?" asks Angelica. " He said," returns Miss Daryl desperate- " Will you ? Won't you 1 Don't you?' t which 1 said (not dreaming what the Id absurdity was thinking of), 'Shall I? ha'n't I? Do I? What?' And then it iI came out1 And I'm sure I am very kry, because I never meant to encourage its. "Not you," says Peter. "A scalp more r less is nothing to you, bless you. Well, ud what did you say?" "You needn't jeer at me," says Meg re. youthfully. "I may be bad, but, at all vents, I au not worse 1 And I know I aver led ]rim on as far as I did the others, 3501188-" She stops abruptly, her eyes having by ranee lighted upon the wrathful visage Bellew, who has been lounging in the Lade of the lectern. " I want to speak to you," exclaims he, lashing her by the ribbons that ornament ie side of her gown as she endeavors to slip rat him. Of course the ribbons give way, id he finde himself the happy p00ses00r of om, with a most indignant Margery de- nuding an explanation of his conduct. " I really do wish, Curzon, you would try learn alto #Weaning of the word ' man. 00,1 she says, angrily, looping at the wished ribbons. "I have always told you 110 temper will beyour destruotion. Now, 3 where it has led you." Secretly she is lighted at the chance afforded her of put. ghim in the wrong. "Ian sorry for your gown," says Mr. Bow, who indeed does look rather shook. " But speak to you I will, 80 all this 0month, when you wore pretending to be quiet, you were oajsling that miserable 'lie into falling in love with you." What do you mean, Curzon ? Do yon eve what you are saying ? Are you going toll me that 1 encouraged him ?--A Jeal. Iman makes a miserable Moine," quotes t, senteutiouely. 'Who is jealous 1 Do you thinly I should I jealous of that unfortunate little long- ed parson in there? Give me credit for ter sones than that, No, I am only ail- ed that you should--nr--that he should tat—er—in fact—" Wo should," suggests Miss Daryl, de.Sly, tis he breaks down hopelessly, count, at eleven possibly—certainly no before—ns there was some prosy old conn try folk to dinner. She bids them good•nightand disappear from them into the darkness of the rbondo dendrons beyond. 10 is an entire surprise to herself when half•way up the avenue, at the spot where one turns aside to gain the svoodlaud pith that will lead Otto the Branksmere domain, a dark figure emerges from a plump of myrtles and stands before her. It is Captain Staines. A sense of caution, suggested by the maid's presence compels ]rim to meet her coldly, and as one might who was sur. prised at her presence here at such a late (tour. "Rather late for you, Lady Branksmere, isn't it ?. Hadn't a suspicion I. should meet anything human when I came up here fur my usual stroll. As a rule my agar and I have it all to easels ea. Even Muriel herself believes him. " My little sister was not well," she ex- plains, curtly. " I came to bid her good- night, and hear the very latest news." How is she now ?" he asks 111 a low whisper. " I would ]nave gone up to the house to ask but you knots Ian not a fav- orite up there." "She isbetter," she answered softly and as for grief—there is always grief." " Not always. And even 0 there is, there is love the purifier, the sweetener of our lives, to step in and conquer it." " Is there," her tone was listless. Already a doubt of the love of those she lied left be- hind in the old home is torturing her. She feels east off, abandoned. "Does your heart hold a doubt of it? Oh ! Muriel, if I dared speak--" " Wel), you dare not," interrupts she, coldly. Then abruptly, " When do you leave this place ?" "I don't know. I can not bring myself to leave it," "Bet why—why ?" with feverish fmpe. tionoe. "I have told you long ago. I eon not leave you and your troubles." "What are my troubles 10 you?" de- mands she, fiercely. "Let them lie. There is but one service you oan do me. Yet you shrink from it." "Why should my absence serve you?" asks he, boldly. You bid me be silent ; brit how can I refrain from apeeeh when many of your sorrows are but too well known to me ; your trials—" "Of which you aro chrefest," ries she, with pink vehemence. "Can you not guess what your staying means to me? Scorn, insult, contempt 1" She presses her hands forcibly together. " Go 1' site tout. ter0, in a low, compressed tone. " When will you go?" " When you will come with mo 1" The words are spoken I Given to the air 1 Nothing oan recall them 1 "Is there no friendship 1" site asks at last, slowly, sorrowfully. "What is friendship?" returns Staines. " It is so poor a thing that no matt knows where it begins or where it ends, A tough of flattery may blow it into a dame ; a dis• puts about a five•pound note will kill it. 1 do not profess friendship foryou. I do not believe in it ; there is something stronger, more enduring than that. Muriel, trust in They have reaohed the grassy hollow be• gond the wood that lets the house be seen. Beyond them lies a bare slope of lawn, and then the terraces and the drawing•room windows. Within the embrasure of one window two figures standing side by side can be distinctly seen. That one is Lord Bratkemere, the other Mme, Von Think, becomes apparent to Mut iel at a glance. Going to the window, Branksmere eases out into the gloomy beyond, that can hard- ly be called darkness, Against the back. ground of giant firs—in the very canter of the lawn—two figures eland out prominent, "You know I warned you," whispers ma. dame in hie ear, oreeping close to him and laying a hand upon his arm. Something in his face unnerves her and 'mindere her tone tremulous. He shakes her off as though she were a viper, "Leave me 1' ha says between hie teeth, addressing her, but never removing hie gaze from the two forms advancing toward im across the dewy rown, Por a moment madame regards him strangely. Thorn is no ranee in herglanee, there ie nothing indeed but a sudden de• spare. Is this to bo the and of 11; ell? Hae Staines, her own oommon 5onee, lied to her? To this woman, this soulless a'oature who be incapable of appraolating )rim, the pro0a050r and gratitude to 015 gnutdn:othor's faithful frlund." 'l'he time is over for explanations," exclaine she, hastily, waving aside hie words by a gesture of the hard, Silence falls between them after this, a lengthened silence broken at lest by hhn, ' 11 hen do you go ?" nske lie, abruptly, Now." tv, "Stelaee is its waiting?" " Vote ]live, pr'ohabiy made others aware of this mot•e1" As Brenitemmro asses this question he regards her keenly, " No. You alone kur'v of It," "It was extremely bifid of you to give rt. the such timely warning, It tapes away a good deal of the awltwardnees of a vulgar discovery, I ant sincerely obliged to you," he sage. "And, now, one other word be. faro we part. Do you think yon will be happy will) title– Staines?" "I don't know. Is there such a thing as happiness?" aske else in turn, lifting to his her great, somber, mournful eyes, " At least he loves nee, I shall have love—the one thing hitherto denied one." " You pre aware, perhaps, that Staines is penniless?" "1 haven't heard it," listlessly. "But even if it is true it will not distress me, 1 would welcome poverty—anything—to es. cape tete life I am now leading." " You propose leading another where stoney will be no object, or at least where very little will artifice? )1Iay I ask 0 you Intend living with—your friend—on your jointure 1' "Certainly not," flushing hotly. "'That I formally resign, now, at ones and forever. " Does—your friend—know that you are determined to accept nothing at my hands for the future ?" " No." 7" You have not mentioned the eub,jeot to )tint ' No. There was no necessity." " Alt l" says Branksmere, "1 think,how. ever, I would have mentioned it had I been you 1" " That doesn't sonaern 100 ; I have no further interest in it." " And—he—your—friend—really knows nothing of this ?" Why should he ?" haughtily. " Ah 1 that is just it. Why, indeed ? No doubt love, the all.mighty,will be more to him than — Did I understand yon to say you leave this house tonight ?" " lS'ill you permit me to order one of the oerriages for you ; or has your friend arranged for all ?' " You are pleased to be insolent, sir, but CIIAPTI•:lt XXXIN., Muriel, as slue approached the Castle with Starnes, lied noticed the abrupt go- ing of madame from the window. A cur- ious smile, full of bitterness rises to her lips. "A precaution," she mutters to herself, "taken too late." "Shell I conte with you any farther?" "Why not?" she answers coldly, a touch of reckless defianoo in her voice, "As you will," says Staines, with a rather overdone assumption of alacrity. They have gained the balcony steps by this time, Bridgman leas gone rotund the house to enter by another way, and Muriel motets the steps with a certain buoyancy in her step, a scat of devilry of carelessness that surprises even herself, and that her companion is far from sharing, But it is not she Branksmere receive% after all, His eye, black with pasefo0, has gone past her, to where in the semi- darkness the shrinking form of Staines may be seen. ''We have had enough of this, I think," says Branksmere, in a dull ter. rible one, striding forward, Muriel would have stopper. hits, but he put her aside as if she were an infant, and reaching Staines, seines him by the throat, and lift- ing him in hie powerful grasp, drops him right over the balcony, The thud of his body can be distinctly heard as it gains the ground. It is all the work of an instant. It seems to frill the venni in Branksmere and to do him good. Whether his enemy is lying writhing in pain with a broken back, or has escaped unhurt, is of equal value to him apparently, as his face is almost calm when he closes the window and taros to confront Ids wife. If he had expected an outburst of sympathy for the sufferer on her part, ho is mistaken. I fear you have hurt him," she says coldly, "I hope sn," deliberately. "I met him by accident as I left the Tow• erg, and Ire very naturally accompanied me here." "I should fling you after him if I for a moment doubted the truth of that state. meat." Lady Branksmere, with a superb gesture, full of scorn, sweeps from the roots. She flings wide her casement, as though athirst for air, and as the dawn comes slow- ly up, and the first cold breath of morn salutes her brow, her final resolve is form- ed. --- CHAPTER XL Marvel's fatal resolution once formed, she hastens the completion of it. When next Staines met her, she aatually laid plain the way for him. Site acquiesced in all his plaus t but so coldly, that he was both puzzled and piqued by her manner. To him, departure from this part of the world is imperative ; steeped to his very eyes in debt, both here and in town, noth- ing is left him but an immediate and secret disappearance frau the land of his duos. To live abroad on that thousand a year so considerately bestowed upon Lady Breaks. mere by her husband, is the little game that for some time has presented itself to him as being worthy of notice. The thought of leaving England with Lady firankamere (who is the most desirable nom• an in the world in his eyes), and this sum, seems gold in his eyes, and her yielding, however coldly accorded, a success. It is a weep later, and a cold, dull wren. ing when Lady Branksmere, with a travel. ing•cloak thrown across her arm, turns the handle of her husband's private room and enters it, to find him seated at a table at the other end, " It is a mistake to waste words in ex. planation," site says. "Hear me once for all. I leave tine house to•nieht, foret'or," "Ah 1" says Branksmere. And with whom 7' he asks, looking directly at her. His tone is calm, "Captain Staines," returns she, es calm• ly. Brauksmero's face remains impassive. "May I ask the reason of this sudden determination ?" he asks, presently " I thiole "—ooldly—" you hardly need. I have no time to waste." "In such mad haste to be gone? Even eo, I must press you for an answer, if only that I may be aisle to give it to my quos• tioners homelier," "Say I am unreasonable—fanciful it you will—anything," slowly, "but the truth 1 That is too [shameful ! Say—I don't hate what you say," she ends abruptly. "I can readily believe it, A woman bent on taking such a step as yours would naturally be indifferent to public opinion. And 00 this is to be the enc] of it?" "I hope 50, So far as you and I are con- cerned." Your chief claire is to o0eape from me?" "And—her 1" "Pshaw I let us keep to sense. Your old affection for Ole man hat induced you to leave me? I would et least hear you say so. You leave me 10 join your lover. Is that se?" A slow smile curie her lip, "If it will make you any the happier, leave it so." " Did it never saggsst itself to you that yo u might have aspirated yourself front me t0 amore decent fashion? You ntiglit have bone alone," "It is too late now for suggestions, I hese given him my promise." "Ones you made me a promise l" He pauses here, but her tired face showing no sign of relenting, he refuses to continue his subject. "Dia it never strike you that I Might prevent this mad act of yours 7" ' To seek to detain me is the last thing that would enter into your head,' "The very last. You speak truly there," p y. At last you aoltnowlsdge something, Why not acknowledge all?' asks she, lift. ing to hie & face that is passion pale, "Your trnrlreeee for madame—MI," "I almost wish 1 could, Then, at least, there might be a chance of gaining ebsola Lion ; but as it stands, you see," ooldly, ' there is nothing to confess," "You lie to the last," she says, "And yet oven to gain your wife, you refuse to lot her go." That would not have gained me my wife, And yet—" Ile looks at her strange. A 1y with a face grown suddenly white, "if jute 1 were now to prove false to my friendship we " The night is cold t let me at least"— poiiring out a glass of wine—" induce you to take this before enoonntering the chilly air." ' Thank yon ; no, 1 shall never again, I hope, touch anything in this house." " Von will permit the to see you as far as the wioket gate." " But no further," hastily. " If you forbid it, certainly not. I pre- sume you are taking the first step alone ?" " Why, no. As it happens you am lead- ing me in it." A short untunefel laugh parts her Iips. Captain Staines is not to meet you here?" Her step grows more hurried. Arrived at the wicket gate, she stops abruptly. "Here we part," she says aloud. And even as the words pass her lips she become, aware of a dark figure standing in the shadow at the other side of the ga t0. CHAPTER XLI. Staines had evidently mistaken the place of appointment, or else had come this much further in his anxiety to meet Lady Branks- mere. "Ila, sir 1 Well met 1 This is an unex• pected pleasure 1" says Branksmere, in a high, clear voice, and with a laugh that makes the other's blood run a little colder 111 his veins. There is a dead pause. "Your usual urbanity seems to have deserted you. He retreats still further into the shade of the laurels as Branksmere de• literately approaches him—as with a pur- pose—and with an expression in his eye of suppressed but deadly fury. Perhaps the scene would now have had a speedy end had not an interruption occurred at this moment that attracts the attention of all three. Along the path that leads to the wicket gate the sound of running footsteps may be distinctly heard,and presentlya sntallronnd• ed figure comes into sight,and in another in. start Mrs, Billy's amongst them. Musser - prise she evillas at their prosenoehere at this hour is open and immense. Ther her glance grows keen, and 0 takes• her buta little time to fully grasp the situation, or at least the headings of it. "I have aorcmplielted my task holf•way. I wanted to see you," she says, lightly, smiling at bfuriel. "Are you really going to Lady Blount's tomorrow? If so, will you come with Margery end me? The night was so pheasant I pomaded Peter to walk out with me. He has gone round to the yard to see the men about some dog, but I Dame straight on this way. Slowly site bed been reading each face, one after the other. She turns her atten. time from Branksmere to Starnes, who has grown livid, and going deliberately up to lm lays her hand upon his arm. "You here, too," she cries, in her gay, pretty voice ; Bat doesn't the whole scene remind you of the old days, when in the gardens at Wiesbaden we used to wonder beneath the lindens, you and I? Howyou swore to me fidelity, eh? To me 1 "Alt ! and those other days," begins she, again, lightly, but now with a thrill run - lung through her voice—a thrill of angry acorn. You remember—' " Nothing," interrupts he hoarsely. breaking away from her at lest. Lady Branksmere has roused from her lethargy, and has drawn a step nearer, her large grey eyes dilated, her breath coming from her heavily. "Nothing I" repeats Mrs. Billy, in a tone even more distinot. "Let mo recall to your mind that nover•te•be•forgotten. night at Carlsbad when first we met 1 That gimpy morn amongst the flowers at Schlan• embed. What 1 Inas all slipped from your treacherous memory?" felt St,aines makes an effort to speak, but At least you will remember the last night on whiolt we met? What? Not even that? It was on that very night that tato unpleasant 111018 of'air oeourred at the Comte de (Smiles' room, Perhaps" (airily) "you on remember that 7" " This is tiro man, then ?" asks hanks• here, "%1'hy, yes. Seeing him, how can you, doubt it ? Mak the noble bearing of Minn," smiles Mrs, Billy, pointi»g to Staines, sea i0 cowering before her, pro ort novtvtrten.) headache is eennetitnes cured with tine e of half a lemon in a eup of strong, hn ntenc•-1 coffee, • HE-A,Ls. Drugs and Kidney Diastase. Probably the nrtjority of people a aware of Idle fact that the nto,Heinea into the stotntth mist he oliun through tl u g t to excretory organ{, and c through the kidneys, alanv drnga aro not at all unpalatable, and which [mellowed easily in eunsidurablo tiosoo aid without ("Wahine the atoutauh, 00 tromely irritating to the kidneys, and mischief is done to those important when they are required to 011m]nat after ley, the doses of poison somal with the ,apposition that they will how cure a ahronie cough, a disc digestion, ora torpid liver. The con use of arsenic fora skit disease, iotli potash or mercury for shine constitu malady, or of simple ohle'ate of pots' a throat or bronchial alfeetdon, may b menu[ of setting up an incurable k disease. The last named drug is pa particularly dangerous, because oomi regarded as harmless. It is extreme] tattng to the kidneys, as well as dopy to Otto heart, and maps, persons have d less been greatly injured by its fro std long oontinned 1100. What to do in Elnergenoiss. When an accident happens, there is ton often valuable time lost in frantic rushing hither and thither, or in hasty appllcatiou of unsuitable remedies that do more harm than good. A little self-possession and the exercise of a car baro amount of common sense, will enable auo to be of the greatest use at such times, and perhaps oven the means of saving life itself. Every household should have a store of simple remedies, and also antidotes for cede of the more common kinds of poisons. They should be kept where they are easily accessible,—and iu a place well known to each member of the family. In very severe cages of burns or scalds, the nervous system is so pro5tratod by the shook there is often less suffering than when the injury is slighter. The pulse will be small and quiets, and to stimulant should bo administered without waiting for the doctor. The ivho)a theory of dressing is to exclude the air. The more effectually thie is done, the greater will be the relief afforded, When only a small surface is injured, an artificial akin may be formed with flexible collodion ; or 0 that is not at hand, com- mon mucilage or gust arabia disolved in warm water will anewer. As one layer dries, another should be painted over it. An excellent remedy for burns and scalds is a mixture of lime -water and sweat or lin. seed oil in equal parts. . Another excellent one is bicarbonate of soda. The common kind used for 000kiug purposes may be em• ployed. A thick layer should be spread over the part, and covered with a light wet bandage, keeping it moist and renewing 0 when necessary. When the clothing takes fire, it i0 well 0 the viothn have presence of mind to stand perfectly still. ldotion fans the flame, and causes it to burn more quickly. IIe may throw himself on the floor and roll over and over, but never move from place to place seeking help. A woolen shawl, a piece of oarpet, or a rug may be wrapped tightly around the person, not covering the facie, and if there is time to wet it, so much the better; but there i[ not an instant to lose, particularly if the clothing is cotton. The great object is to prevent the Acmes from getting down the throat and the chest from being burned. At:'t11T17 4, 1803 uume 111u1 hell if this court' of treat1nent ware poreisted 111. (,arses here been 1t 1,1yn where very large surfaces have been deeply horned, and the in lent has recovered with. re not out leering seat• when treated nn this way, taken l+tngs and chemical:] are host left alone in hutted aitch einergencle,, simple treatment, abao- luto r th t au n r " 1 t.tte ,w Molly 1 amount of plain, which nourieltine teed alumet iusuring a safe and etas be speedy 0(101001'. e ox. NAdSEN'2, PLANS. i mach e, day New Feasts res in Isis Rel,utne 1'ar ruse leg lowed co the North ['nee. sone' Mr. Hanson, who allied from Ch ristiaa(a 'lora'i two weeks ago on Ills little vessel lr00tn to trotted force his way into the Arctic fee near the tonal e of New Sihcrlan Istatids for the purpose of alt far drifting to the north pole, tools some pre. o Utr cautions for a possible retreat which wore o bb , not mentioned to his plane of the expedition. S A party has been sent out to leave stores chaps of provisions for twelve men nt two places Y nl on the Island of Kotelnoi, the largest of the Now Siberian Islamis. These denote sw1ng will be inapeeted in 1804 and 1.805 top see oubt' that they nee still serviceable, They are to yuenU bo maintained for the purpose of replenish- ing the stook of food if the explorers find it neoessary to abandon their ship and retreat soatb over the fee to the Siberian coast. Dr, Nansou will not retreat south unless fatal disaster overtakes his vessel before Ito teaches the north polo, If he should lose his vessel after reaching tato polo, he would stock his boats with food and drag them south ou sledges until he reached the open Nates of the ]East (ireeltleild sea. He did not wish to take a aiegle pound of food Irons the supplies on the &rant for these depots, and so an independent party has been sent out to cache at ample stock of provisions on the island. Another new feature of his abeam is the taking alone of doge to assist in sledge hauling if he is compelled to abandon his vessel. This idea was suggested by the 0005005 of Peary in employing dogs upon the inland ice. If, however, he should find the bee of the ;arctic Ocoee very rough his dogs would be useless its they have newer been found available under exceedingly rough conditions of the ice. Sealers report that the sea around the New Siberian Intends was quite open in 1588, ies0, and ISI10, and that within the past two years during the seminar season there has been very little ice iu that neigh - boyhood. If this condition prevails this season NE wen will be able to steam a con. sidorable distance north of the islands bo. foro he forces his vessel into the ice. I ansen is a student and a scientific man, but he has not the art of making himself very popular with the general public. The res' Itis that his couutrymet, as a rale, did not take nearly as much interest ie his pro. Int et the time he started as they did soon After he announced it ,when he came back from crossing Greenland. The result was that he did not secure quite as auoh money as he desired for his equipment, though he believes his is amply supplied with all nec- essaries for live years' work in the Arotio regions. Some authorities have faith that Nansen tvill find the current north of the New Si- berian Islands upon which i,e depends to carry his vessel to the north pile. He doee not, however, expect to reach that neigh, boyhood, even 0 he has excellent lurk, in less than two or three years, It will not be surprising if Ltent. Pasty outstrips him in the race. If the north pole is still to be striven for, one advantage of having two exploring par ties in the field is that, if bout auceeed, the report of one with regard to the conditions existing bre there tthe brought home by the other, will thus convince even slceptical people that the north pole' has really been reached. It has often been said that even it a party reached the plainest people would be inclined to doubt it until confirmation of the hest was scoured by another expedition. Grace and Exercise. A young lady who is to appear in sooiety feels, as does a young man, the etnbarrass. mens of not knowing what to tlo with her arms. She therefore assumes the position copyrighted by the general sex, and folde her hands in front of her, while her forearms rest on her hips. This is just as sure an indication that she has not perfect control of her arms as 1 1 is for a young man to thrust his hands in his pockets, says OutO'.y, Women almost invariably fold their hands in front of them, whilst men clasp theirs be, hied them. In either caro it may be a sign of embarrassment, Any one tvho has pride longs to be graceful in her movements. There is possibly no better way to acquire the neoe0sery ease of motion than by gym. natio drill, whether with light dumb -bells, clubs, wands or 1>y free movements. The oonsoiousnoss that this gesture eau be made well, gives confidence, and confidence gives the necessary solf.control. Accurate move. meat of the body can bo acquired only by The Treatment of Burns. Every little while one reads some ex• hauetive treatise on the treatment of burns and scalds, said treatise always ending up with the recommendation to use lime -water and oil, While there may be somewhere in medical science somo0x5ellent reason for the employment of this compound, one can- not but wonder how such a curious mixtet'e ever (tame into favor, One might die from exhaustion, from pain, before either of these ingredients could be procured and properlyprepared for ileo; beordos, not everyouo understands managing them, Why not use a remedy within the reach of every0ce, something that almost every pantry affords and which has been thorough- ly tested and found in every way to an. ewer all the demands of a remedy? At tite very first possible moment grasp a handful of lard, such as is used for eookine purposes, and smear it over the burned surface. This answers until the regular remedy can be prepared, which consists simply of a paste of flea and lard made as soft as it eats be handled. This is spread about half an inch think upon a cloth and applied to the injured parts. Let it re. MAO until it 63018 to crumble, which oast be rapidly ascertained by raising the corner of the cloth. The application must then be renewed, great oars being nee• e55ary in taking oft the old plaster that. the eurfaae of the akin is not broken. If Reticles at any point, It is much better to leave it than to run any risk of irritating the hurt and possibly causing a deep sore. The number of applications will depend upon the nature of the ban. Sometimes it is necessary to renew the plaster a dozen times, and Itis worth while to do this if the burn 10 deep. In other oases one or two wail bo quite sofftcieut. The burned flesh al>arbs all of the oil from the plaster, and the flour serves to keep the air from it and, if carefully managed, there will searoa ly be any pain after lard is put on. It 10 sometimes desirable to give a eooth. ing mixture and tallow the patient to sloop, for bans are extremely exhausting, and groat ogre should be talent with the diet, heeel every effort made to keep the system in a state of repose. If a very largo surface is injured, there is clanger to life, but this may zaniest al. ways bo avoided by the immediate applio• atinn of the lard, It is sato to assort that the average of fatal cases could he reduced WEIGHT OF A ORO WD. Experiment; Snow That 1st ti Fran 140 to 130 Pounds Per Senare Feot. The load which is produced by a dense crowd of persons is generally taken at 80 to 100 pounds per square foot, and is con. sidered to be tete greatest uniformly alis• tributod load for which a floor need be proportioned, says the 5»yin,eriu!I Views. That this value may be largely exceeded in an actual crowd was pointed out by Prof. W C. Pa'not of the Melbourne uni• varsity, Australia, in a recent paper before the Victorian institute of engineers. lu an actual trial a class of students averaging 158.5 pounds each in weight were crowded in a lobby containing 1,553 square feet, making an average floor load of 134,7 pounds. There was still room to have plead another man, which would have brought up the loading to 143.1 pounds per square foot. Prof. ILarnot also quoted from Stoney, who placed fifty-eight Irish laborers, aver- aging 145 pounds each in weight, in an empty ship deckhouse measuring fifty-seven square feet floor area. This was a load of 147,4 pounds per square foot. In another test, with seventy -throe laborers crowded into a but 0 feet by 8 feet 8 inches, Stoney produced a load of 143 pounds per scheme foot, and estimated that two or three more men could have been squeezed in. It ap• pears from these experiments that while the figures ordinarily assumed of 80 to 100 pounds are sufficiently correct on spaces on which there is do cause to mina the collection of groat crowds, larger figures, say 140 to 150 psunda per square foot, should be used for railway stations and platforms, entrances and exits to planes of public assemblies or of office buildings, bridge sidewalks, pavements over vaults and other planes where dense crowds are likely to gather. The Heroes in the Stokehold. Ono of the most sorrowful oireuntstaneeo connected with the loss of the Victoria is the foot that five out of theeix engineer oflieera lost thele lives. The reason is not far to seek. The ontgineors were at the post of duty, and the post of duty was in this ease tho post of danger. The chief engineer and four of kis staff were in the engine room en, deavouring to shat off tine steam, and to open the escape valves. They `lied but theywill not be forgotten, Those who know what a watch in the dark, fiery well of tine stoltohold, forty feet below the bridge, really moans, can alone appreciate the qualities which cable, men to remain steadfast et their post ru such ' surroundings in the hour of danger. It re, quires it stout heart to stay' at the bottom of at iron well, with a dozen high presser% boilers before ono and a square patalt of sky 0oeu through n, hatchway forty fort above, when the order, on deck is "'Pose all watertight doors," and " eel! away all alto beats," We must not forget the engineer r and stokers of the Vlatorba, They h:Ara deserved well of Ioglanrt,