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Exeter Times, 1907-06-27, Page 10leant+0+0+o+0+0+001+o+0+0o+o+G, A Loveless Marriagc; A t'IATTER OF EXCHANGE. o+o+o• o+o CCE+ +040+>i 0+0+0+0+0+0 CHAPTER XXXIX. April came and went. and summer succeeded it, and followed it to its grave and another Christmas whitened the world before Coil Vereker returned to her home. It was Indeed eighteen mouths since that terrible autumn, when she at last looked again upon the old Court. Wild March had corns in like a Hon, bad roared its loudest, and now lay crouching on the ground, old and beat- en, and dying, and harmless as any Iamb. Sweet moist winds were blowing out cf the south, driving baby showers be- fore It. The rooks were building In the tall gaunt elms, and all the land was rich with swaying masses of yel- kw daffodils. Crocuses thousands, purple and white and parti-colored, remade pretty groups here and there, whilst the pheasant -eyed narcissi fed the scented jonquils fought for room with the tinier daintier tags. Such a wilderness of sweets as the gardens were! Old-fashioned gardens some of them. where all these best cf Nature's treasures were suffered to run wild. "Now blooms the lily by the bank, Tho primrose down the brae; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, And milk -white is the alae." Every passing wind bore on its wings perfumes delicately rich. In every hedge small birds were building their nests; their songs made countless melodies. Mingled with them was the wild, mad music of the rushing stream as It dash- ed over its stones, and by its sedgy hanks, almost tearing the pals bunches of forget-me-not from their hold. Cecil stood still and looked all round her. She could not deny to herself that a hmne spring was more distinctly ex- quisite than anything she had found abroad. Stie had travelled a good deal during these past eighteen months, a strange unaccountable restlessness driving her from place to place, and now that she had returned to England. she scarcely knew whether she was glad or sorry. The old familiar landscape, the tender jcys of the budding spring, the pecu- liar sense of life renewed that spoke to her in all around, touched her, and made her pulses throb in unison with It. but at heart she felt lonely and de- pressed, and full of a sick longing to And near her something or someone be- loved. Dorothy and her husband were in the North paying a visit to an uncle of Far- quhar's, and Ludy Beasy, whom she really liked in spite of her many ec- centricities, was at her own place, for a wonder. As for -anyone else, -why site hardly cared for anyone else, and besides---- Well, why should she not think of him? She asked herself this angrily -besides St. John was still in the East. Even as she thought this she lifted her eyes, and saw him coming to her across the closely -shaven grass. Her heart seemed to stop beating. For one moment she thought she was going In feint. Then once more life surged strongly, almost painfully, within her. Ohl how he revelled that past terrible lime --her pest terrible existence. She hail hardly known +with what a coward- ly s hrinleng she had been looking rciund on this spat and on that -until tie cisme. flat row a full horror of this place made hers fey a loveless marriage was full upon her. "YeQjh'' she said. "1 thought you were In Egypt," "Kell, so 1 was until a month ago," said he. 11e' hal come up to her and hid taken the hand sho had not of - feted. He was greatly bronzed, null, perhaps, a trifle thinner. but he was 10 sirens!, so good to look at. Delight shine in his eyes. "Beset' sent me word that you were thinking of coining horns, w._ 1 thought of coffin z too. You know you forbid me to seek you whilst you were ;thread. And 1 obeyed you to the letter, though I refuse to say what it cost ire. 1lase 1 not been obedient? Dont 1 deserve n reward? At all events, t have 11," said he gaily; "I ani tooling at yell now." A charming thing to look at, too. A very Lovely picture. She was the sumo Cecil he remembered, yet scarcely the sante. The weight of ninny years seem- t'e! to have dropped from her. and ratio stood there before him In her elide s. rge gown like the young girl that In reality she was. She was very pale, certainly, and nervoustirss was evident• 1y preying uLJout her; but he noticed tl.nt the old miserable fear was gone from her eyes, and flit the pretty oval et the inee was rounded and a rimier In tint. She was indeed beautiful. "You are looking better, strenger," seta he, with all a lover's glint solici- tude. "These eighteen months have cone you a world of good. Surely they were long enough to work a thousand cures. DO ever months drag so slow- ly I weirder? But now," with a trium- phant uplifting of his head, "they are gone. (lead. Behind us''. "When did you return?" aJeol she. "Ilia• strange that you should ems. hero k, -day. 1. myself have only Just arrive• ed, but 1 !old no ono of my intention lc he here." She regarded him err• nestly "Yet you knew!" she said, with a soft blush. "Pers, 1 knew. Do you think yea could to he n'. so near. without my knowing? And why should 1 not know" You have been a tittle cruel to me, 1 think. You be:ul;l1l your servants?" "telly my 11181,1, and Thompson. There are always purple in the house. But 1 Alan•' stay hare'," she went on. hur- riedly. "I couldn't. Even these few tours have (s nvincrd see of that. Eve;r•y scene brings back the could not live here." "\\'ell, you need not," lyShe colored warmly, tot a moment. . "Of course, 1 understand what you mean," she said, speaking rapidly, as It to prevent any interruption from him. "That it is in my power to live where I will. But though I dislike this place, i have still a love for Brent. It really means home to nee. Where one was born has always a clatm on one 1 think. On one's affections. Dorothy lives here, and -all the friends I have ever known." "You misunderstood me," said he. "I did not mean to suggest banishment from Brent. What 1 did mean was that you might snake yourself a new honia here, if you would." "I think not. 1 can hear of no 'toffee to the neighborhood to be let or bought or—" "Acoepted " questioned he. Then: "There is one," he said, slowly. Ile waited awhile for tier to speak, but pre- sently be saw that she would not. Her gaze bent upon the ground, and she was looking strangely troubled. That little touch of distress went to his heart, and sent hum to her at once. "Darling," said he, in a low voice, "will you dare to tell me that you do not care for mer" "Oh! I care for you," cried she, Im- petuously. "It is not that, but--" "You love me?" demanded he, draw- ing her into his arena. "Yes. i love you. Ohl" she paused, and glanced up at him through eye warm with tears, "when 1 saw you coming towards me awhile ago, I-" "Yes? -go on. What then?" "1 knew," said she simply, "that I bad never been quite happy before." A little tremulous smile broke upon her lips. "My beloved!" said he. And then, af- ter a pause. "Well you must try to be quite happy for the future. You have a long, long time to make up. And 1 love you so, Cecil -so deeply, so truly --that I am presumptuous enough to believe that 1 can make you so. What! tears? \Vhy I will have none to -day. Nor any other day. We shall begin to be happy from this hour." Ho kissed away the drops that would have fallen, and at that sho Laughed. It was quite a new thing to him that laugh -it told, more than anything else cculd have done, that she had, Indeed, thrown off the spirit of bondage that had for so long oppressed her, and was once inure fulfilled with the spirit of youth. "\Vhat am I to do about staying here?" she asked presently. "1 don't believe," blushing hotly and looking ra- ther abashed at her own want of cou- rage, "I could sleep hero. it is all very well whilst you can remain; but after that--. The long dull evening sand the night would kill me." "Don't remain," said he. "Run up to town with me. My aunt, Mrs. St. John, will ho delighted to reoeive you, and to-niorrow 1'11 take you to Bessy. She ts, 'for a wonder, in her own home now, at \\gaits. By -the -bye, have you heard about her?" "Heard what?" "Why, her engagemen." "Is she going to be married?" said Cecil, intensely interested. When ono is going to be married oneself, it is really astonishing with what pleasure one hears of the intended marriage of other;. "To whom?" "Blair?" "Mr. Blair!" \Vith distinct disbelief. "011! nonsense." "1 wish she could hear you," snid St. J..hn, laughing. "It is Blair, neverthe- les." "Why, 1 thought they were always past. No, I Bald he, slaw - and hesitated -always—" "\\thy don't you go on? So they were -so they are. Always quarrelling; sparring Is perhaps the proper word. 1!ut they seem to like It, and Blair, res you know, or as perhaps you don't know, Inas been in love with her off and or for flee or six yens.,. They are ro 1).1 married in June." "It is the funniest thing," said Cecil. "IM you know," with all the air of one stating an unexp.'••ted fact. "i liked Mr. 111HIr. They w111 to very happy 1 Think, and hope." "Net sea Happy as we shall be. liy- 1h'-bye, when shall we bo inn reed? Next month?" "Certainly not," with slay indignation. "There isn't arty- ransom for haste. How could one be ready? This is just the very end of March. and -next month!" "May, then?" "Olt, no." "June? That is the monthon Which Busy and Blair have decided? The afith is their day. What do you say to the 1st, eh?" "Of course, one can't go on saying 'no' for ever!" said she, with such an ndorahle attempt at reproach, that he caught her in his arms, and so put an end to that nrgument. "if riot 'no' it must be 'yes,' " said he. "Sew so. darling heart." She said it. THE END. — ---# - VERY SIMPLE IBEASON. "Does your wife object when you slay out, late at night ?" "No." "\Vhy doesn't she?" "le'cnuso 1 don't do it. She won't let me." (:hnlera has not been epidemic in England since the year 1866, when 11 appeared in both London and Liverpool. Aunt, -"Ah, my dear, don't deoelvs yourself! Fine feathers don't make fine birder Nlec♦--"IPertap• not; but Noy mak* 10117 woo bats.' AS JAPAN SEES ENGLAND bPECII AND POUT6NESS OF TIM TWO NA'T'IONS. Tokio Newspaper Correspondent Iles Some Interesting Things to Say. 1 have studied English from my childhood. 1 have many acquaintances both among Englishmen and Ameri- cans. Yet on first arriving in England 1 was quite offended at the manner In which 1 was addressed by some people here, writes K. Suginuri, special cor- respondent ot the 'Tokio "Aslul," in the London Daily Mail. The English and Americana whom 1 knew in Japan were men of some so- cial position, not IOW class people, and they generally employed Chinese er Japanese as their servants. It was not until 1 came to London that 1 met with English servants, waiters, and attend- ants. To my surprise, 1 found that roughtly speaking, exoept for the epos- trophical use of "Sir," there is practl- cally no difference to the speech of the well-trained English servant and his master. There is no particular differ- ence between the language of the low, middle, and higher classes. RICH iN HONORIFICS. At the table a waiter comes to me and asks, "Do you like to take tea or coffee?" This is exactly the same lan- gt.age that I should use If I were to ask that wetter which drink he would like. This is so contrary to Japanese cus- tom that, to tell the truth, 1 was at first affronted to find myself being spoken to in this way. The Japanese language is unfortu- nately very rioh In honorltics or graded expressions fitted for the social class cf the person you are speaking to. Each man chooses different words according to the position of the one he addresses and his relations with hint You have one for a superior, one for rn equal, one for an inkrior, and many Mettles between. BOWED CO THE BUTL1'R. Another allied difficulty to the stran- ger in England is in the similarity cf dress of persons of opposite positions. 1 had an awkward illuslrr.iion of this very soon after my arrival. One even- ing i visited a certain house and rang the bell. A gentleman came to the door and opened it. He was dreaved in ev- ening clothes; he was quite a fine-look- ing fellow, and spoke English very flu- ently, and he must have been an Eng- lishman. I took off my hat in deference. 1 bowed very low, in Japanese fashion (for in my country we often bow like e carpenter's measure), then i held out my hand to shake hands with him. 1, of course, thought that he was an hon- ored member of the household. Im- agine what was my chagrin when 1 af- terwards found that he was a butler( KNOWN BY CLOTHES.. Now, in Japan, such a mistake would be impossible. A man's social position is shown by his clothes. His family, or the household he serves, can be learnt t.y the crest on the clothes. The peo- ple- of one class do not desire to put on the garments appropriate to another. They recognize their own position, and are proud to be in it. In order to show how far the distinc- tion of speech for different classes goes in Japan, it is necessary to go Into the matter In some detail. We have, for esarnple, several different words for "you." In speaking to one's superiors c,r strangers we use the word "atnna,' 0? seine people who hor►orlfic sufllx 'serene" alter that, thus rendering it in - le 'atana same." '1'o those inferior in rank we use "omae," or if we wish to mark their inferiority less distinctly, "aurae same." Very Inferior people we call "ornushf" or "kisama." There Ls another word among students, and still another among laborers. BALI) SPEECII. Coming out of a country such as mine, where a complicated, graded language is in use, my readers will per- i:reps not be wholly surprised at .ny having been offended by the language of my servants. "Do you like to take tea or coffee?" \Vhat a simple langu- age! what bald speech! NOW, if this question were asked •n Japan, it would be rendered in either one or other of two completely differ- ent ways. If n (Millar friend tidiness - ed me, he would ask: "(:ha go like kohl go like'?" it, however, a servant asked the guns - lien of his master or of guests, he would say: "Oche ga yoroshii gozalmasuka aer- eleino kohl nI mein netsuke?" Even the Englishman who has never seen a word of Japanese before can tell if he tries to rend these tsvo sentences ,eser lhol there Is no possibility of [nee inking one for the other. Not merely Ilhe words. but the 'style of the words is Malty different. IIORitIHLE. Practical Faller --Why did you and it necessary, Elinor, to discharge the baby:. nurse' 1lygienic Mother-\\'hy, 1 nctunlly caught her giving baby a bath in water a third of n degree holler than the phy- sician had ordcre.l. We can't afford to oak baby's late in that reckless man- ner. THE IIAi'I'1' FA..IIt.i'. Mrs. Scrappinglon (in the midst of tier rending) -"Here is an item which says That full grown rhinoceroses cost 811.000 npieeee." Mr. Serappingten (meanly) - "i:h- yall! And 1st) t it a pity that women (Mil wear them on their hats." An old men who had been working for a city firm for forty-two years was called one morning into his misters private office. "lent nw•fully sorry, Mr. Holden." said the employer. "but we've decided to reduce our sluff. so year ser- vices will not be required after next week." The old fellow seemed to lc considerably astonished. "Surely there's some mistake, sir!' he exclaimed. "why. when I alerted I was told the job was regular!" The Farm SELECTING A FLOCK. Getting together a profitable flock cf sheep is not such a simple matter as it may appear at first giance. Pro- bably no sheep is entirely free from faults, nor are there any but possess some good quality. If the buyer of a flock of sheep de- pends entirely on his eye for judging the points of the sheep he will be more easily deceived In them than in any ether class of stock; because by a pro- cess of trimming it Is possible to hide their faults and make sheep appear to the eye quite different from what they really are. To select sheep success- fully to make uj, a good flock, the buy- er must be able to judge of deficiencies by touch as well as by sight. A sheep in its natural condition may show a rough place and other Nulls of lortn, but after trimming by an experienced Land it will appear smooth and straight with an outline nearly perfect. When using the hand to examine a sheep keep it open, as by passing i1 over the animal In thLs way thestraight- ness or otherwise of the lines will be discovered with the least possible dis- turbance of the wool. in making a critical examination of the sheep start with the head, observing the number and condition of the teeth by pressing down the Iower lip with the finger ex- amine the covering of the head, eyes and ears, looking for an appearance of horn where there should be absent. From the head pass the hand over the neck to the shoulder, discovering in this way whether or not the neck is lacking in proper proportions of length and thickness, whether falling off or swelling to meet the shoulder, as it should in good mutton forms. Next pass one hand down to the brisket and over the chest keeping the other on the shoulder, thus getting a correct idea of the depth of girth and spring of barrel. Passing the hand open from neck to lungs with a gentle shaking motlian de- termines the fleshiness of these parts, with the straightness of the back, with Loth hands get the width of the loin and hips and how covered, proceeding to the kg for development of thigh and hind quarters. According as the sheep is developed cn those parts most valued from the I-utcher's point of view, of the sheep from the mutton raisers standard. The length, texture and weight of fleece will be the base of estimate from the standard of wool production. Fee defects in the form oC a "sheep lcok for a shoulder where the blade feels sharp and not well covered with fksh, ribs wanting In spring and a backbone corning up in a ridge, or hind quarters that slope towards the tail and shrink along ttie thigh. For a good fat sheep the leg should not be fat and muscular on the outside, but in the twist the leg should be fleshy well down to the hock, and tho animal should stand well and squarely on its legs. Having examined the sheep for form, its quality is best to be considered. Examine Iho bone for strength and cleanness, also the texture of the hair cu the face and legs, which is an im- portant index to the sheep's value either in a breeding or fattening flock. 'Taking finally the value of sheep and wool production. the chief points for criti- cism are quality, quantity end condi- tion. The way to judge a fleece and ar- rive at a fair estimate of its value is to start at the shoulder where the best wool grows. Using again the open hand, part the wool evenly, examining its ledgth and texture, also the condi- tion and healthfulness of the skin. From the shoulder pass to the thigh, where the poorest wool is, thence along the Kelly, and with such an examina- tion a fair estimate of the value of lite fleece will be made. Wlien the selector of a flock of sheep c•nanes himself to pure breds, charac- teristics demand careful attention. We 'have in sheep, as In other animals, cer- tain strongly marked characteristics, which forth a type, just as in horse.;, we have horses for speed and horse; for drafts, cattle for beef and dairy; stew) types being all formed by careful selection and development of those func- tions peculiar to'each. Again surround- ings have had much to do with the ward of selietion, and this Is especial• iy so with sheep. The suitability of sheep for different altitudes has divided them into lowland, upland, down and n,ountaut breeds. The large, square. strong -frame production of wool and niulton are the characteristics of the Ireland sheep, while the down breeds are smaller, with a better quality of flesh and fleece. The mountain breed, are of a type possessing more vigor el cen.litutinn, strong muscular limbs of 11 more active disposition and nlilily. t< gether, a subsistence under rugged mentions. A part of breed type as judged from a scale of points, the rani ;o heal the flock should show the inns- culine trails strongly. The face should (e brown and seed, the body sinking well, the fore le'r- deep and large rills. with brisket full and wide. in the ewe leek for the seine type as in the dairy cow. The ewes That milk well ore the ones that raise the early maturing Isnibs. BrrS OF D.\1111' SENSi;. These warns days favor the develop- ment of germs which injure the quality ol milk and butter. (et rid .f thenal be Treating and milk utensils to twtiling watbutterer iruces, wa�hing thin111e- first in cold water. 1f hest water is toed first in washing a tin vessel that has contained milk we find it cooks the milk onto the tin and snakes cleaning difficult. Too niurit exposure to the sun is not i,00d for churn, but the churn that is not thore.ughly aired is nil to have a close, musty .;melt That will surely spoil the flavor of the butter. No matter hew much other tries arc en -meting w. try to clean the churn and dairy uten- sils immediately after being used. of June end butter mails at this s.'3-. ti Ions such a fine flavor 1, n woman be - lend a (blurt] unde:elan& Ilse art of butter makuig, and the farina/ Wiwi( understands the ear* of cows. Gond butter depends upon the men folks as well as the farmer's wile. Milk of leaf quality cannot be expected U the oowa are not given plenty to eat, kept quiet, contented and treated kindly. LIME \\'APER CLEANSER. One of the best preparations to cleanse dairy utensils is clear lime - water. This may be made by dissolv- ing a pound of lime in water find when stacked add enough water to make six gallons. Let It stand until the lime par- neles settle and use the clear water on tep to wash the utensils. This will Le free from germs and bacteria of every kind and will be death to ttxuse with which it comes in contact within the utensils. f AT THE BRITISH COURT A IYAGNiFICEl1TT BUT NERVE -TRYING EXPERIENCE. When Fair Women and Brave Men are Presented to the King and Queen. it is in the ball-noom, a majestic apartment in Buckingham Palace, that their Majesties hold their Court, stand- ing on a velvet pile carpet emblematic et the British Empire, with a Royal red centro and a cream border woven with the English rose, and at the corners de- vices significant of the various colon- ies. There are no thrones in the apart- ment. The King of this vast empire and his lovely Consort stand from about half -past ten to midnight, while past therm with deep obeisances file the beauty and c.hivalry of the realm. At one end' of tine vast apartment is the Minstrels' Gallery, where the Mas- ter of the King's music conducts the famous orchestra, each man clad in the quaint uniform of his calling. A softened blaze of electric light suffuses the scene. Diamonds glint with a thousand vivid flashes of light, exquisite toilettes, a foam of lace, embroideries, and tulle, animated and eager faces, loyal and speaking eyes, make the place a veri- table parterre of beauty. To all this are added the uniforms of the Lord Chamherlain, the Royal pages, the Gold and Silver Sticks, the Gentle- men -at -Arms, and the equerries, massed together, to bring about a sunk total of sumptuous array, a quintessence of dig- nified grandeur, rivalled nowhere. EXCLUSIVE -VERY. Supposing a loyal subject of the King made up her mind to attend ono of their hfajestieas' Courts, she would not be al- lowed to enter the portal of Bucking- ham Palace unless she bore in her hand an invitation card issued by the Lord Chamberlain under the King's direction, and for this she would have had to ap- ply many weeks, perhaps months, be- forehand. Every member of the family who !s tr, attend a Court receives a separate invitation, and all those individuals who are les., than Royal have neer cards defverd by post. Equerries are speci- ally sent to each Royal personage with his or her invitation card, and drive in rcyal carriages to their destination; and on the night the Court is held these privileged individuals enter the palace by a special door. It would be of no use to strike out an independent line In dress if you were going to attend a Court, even if you did so in the laudable hope that Roy- alty, would signal you out for special nctice. One young American, greatly daring, dict et the first Court of their present Majesties' region decorate her hair with pink feathers, instead of with the white or black ones demand- ed. She was informed of her mistake in courtly but very frank terms, and was given to understand that it must never occur again. DRESSED TO ORDER. With the full-dress evening toilette, erel quite low so that the neck and shoulder; are visible, and Iunlshed with very short sleeves, roust. be worn a Court (rein, Thing from the shoulders or the waist as preferred, of from three and a half to four yards long, white gloves, and in the hair three) while os- trich feathers, and either lace lappets of a white veil. For mourning, black trimmings ere permissible with the black toilette. The feathers absolutely must be visible from the full face front view of the wearer. As the train is usually the most ex- pensive part of the dress, or, tit any rata, the one less easy to utilize after- wards. it Ls sometimes hired for the evening; and one dressnhaker in Bend Street lust season made quite a profit upon the handsome velvet and lace trains she loomed out at the price of CIO an evening. A (:;art gown is consid Bred very cheap at seventy-five guineas, even when the wearer's own lace 1s used, rnd the cost of some runs well into four tiger's. Brides go in their welding garments. and all the colored gown fairies aro chosen by the electric light at Itte great dreesinakers to ensure A GOOD (:\'ENING I:lllx-i'. \\'hen the debutante with her mother, er whoever is to present her, finds her- self in Buckingham Palace. whether it Ir that she has entered by tho private entrance. where the wives of i i nibers the (iirps Dipl•unatique are lerniit• led whit is called the "entre'," or by the "genernl rempany:ti' cher in Bw•k- ing'inrn l'etnce Road. stie discovers That she is apparently a centre of attraction to all the perfectly -trained servants, as well as to the gentlemen ushers and GenUw►an-at-Ares who conduct tier to the Presence Chamber. A maid takes all the cloaks and wraps as the coinpany arrive, and bandit over • ticket number to each person. Than the gentlemen ushers di- rect the footsteps of the exquisitely - garbed company through the corridors. Satin and velvet, tulle and lace glisten and shimmer es their wearers walk; and the men who attend their wives and daughters, in their velvet tail -coats and Floe) buttons, knee -breeches, black silk stockings, buckled shoes and white glove's, a cocked -hat under the arm and is handsome small -sword at the side, add to the splendor and pictorial value of the scene. Now is the moment at which the de- butanto's heart goals pit -a -pat. She may be only a unit among a thousand gue-ts; but she feels us if she were the only one. THE CRUCIAL MOMENT. When the last ante -room has been left behind and the last corridor has been traversed, the crucial moment attires, and the presence of Royally is enter- ed. Her card safely grasped in her hand, Ute debutante advances, handing It 10 the functionary at the barrier. 'Then her train is gently dropped and two Gentlemen -at -Arius arrange it in spread- ing, peacock fashion behind her deftly, beautifully, and in the twinkling of an eye. Meanwhile the card posses from functionary to functionary, and the de- butante, too, advances, until, oh, mo- ment of moments! the Lord Chamber- lain himself receives the card, reads the name aloud after that of the chaper- on, and lo! the courtier is face to face with her King and Queen. Behind their Majesties cluster the Royalties, but only two curtseys are ex- peeted from each courtier, one to the King and the other to the Queen, in- stead of the eight or nine that had to te "dropped" at, Queen Victoria's Draw- ing-roonts to the members of the Circle; neither is there any nerve-racking back- ing out to be performed. The King and Queen have altered all that. SIC TRANSIT. When the presentation is aver, the debutante and her chaperon leave the ball -room and slake (heir way to a fur- ther apartment, preparatory' to the deli- cious supper that is served, with all the delicacies of the season and the most cielightful beverages, including the King's famous hock cup, the secret e,f which is strictly guarded, and a full dis- play of the unrivalled gold plate that belongs to the Sovereign. Reluctantly the debutante yields to her chaperon's desire to make as early e start as possible from the Palace, for the night is yet young so far as its en- gagements aro concerned. So the car- riage, called up by telephone, comes in- stantly to the door, and the debutante is whirled away to further festivities. - London Answers. LiVE ON MILK AND HONEY. Men of Fine Physique Living on Slopes of African Volcanoes. Dr. A. F. R. Wollaston of the British Museum expedition to Ruwenzori ;Mountains of the aloof)), with Mr. 1). Carruthers, has just crossed Africa from Mombasa to the ntouth of the Congo, passing from the south of Lake Albert Edward through the heart of the Mfumbiro volcanic region, a will, mountainous and difficult coumlry, with eateries.; stretches, where 110 English- man had ever been before. 1'he natives in many cases, tie informs Reuter, had Lever before seen a white man, al- though Captain Grogan, on his Cape - to -Cairo journey, passed the eastern side of the region. For the most part the nine volcanoes are extinct; Rio highest is about 14,- 000 feet. Near the top they are cover - with dense bamboo, supposed to be inhabited by a race of pigmies who live le raiding the villages on the lower slopes. As they are far removed from the Congo forest pigmies they are pro- bnbly a new race. 'floe sides of the extinct s-lcano.'s are thickly populated by a people of fine physique, living prin- cipally on milk and honey. The Mal) nema country is devastated by sI&pping sicknees. Dr. \\'olltiston saw dead and dying on the roadside. Almost every village presented a re- volting spectacle, as it is the custom to eau out the stricken to die. DIA UI BEFORE RIUiCI"LF. Prelim's Taunts Drive a Greek Priest To Suicide. A pathetic account of the tragic death of a Greek priest conics from Car- diff, wales, where early on a. recent Friday morning his body was recover - et'. from the Glamorgan Cnnnl. The victim, Marcus (:olcolaras. carne from Smyrna, and for some weeks he had Leen filling minor offices at Ile (reek church at Cardiff. ills host says tint when he tiro came to Englund his heir reached 10 the middle of his back. Street urchins annoyed him considerably by laughing a' hint. rest once, w Tien he was in e c.:ffee tavern in l'en.Jeen, some young- sters surreptitiously lied his hair to the back of his ehair. \Vhen'he came 10 Cardiff local y,ulh4 also poked fun at hint, and one day he mentioned Ila, metier to hi; landlord, who segge.te l that he should have his hair cut. 11e did so, and eser since he Lad worried over it. because he could not return to his e,w n country and hole' to beeline the priest of a church there with his hair cropped. His hest thought this had preyed on hi, mind, but neither he nor his wife su.p ected that he cen- t' nep'nt'.1 suicide. Consumption is less deadly than it used to ND. Certain relief and usually complete recovery weal result from the following treatment: Hope, rest, fresh air, and—Scotts' Ernest.: fon. ALL DRUOOISTC t Gr c. 11:1.03. CREMATING THE BODY "MS ASHES FLUNG TO TRE FOUR WINDS OF I E's 'LN." Some Very Curious Funeral Requests Lett Behind by Eccentric Persons. Frequently the man or woman who desires to be cremated stipulatee in his "last will and tel,tament" the manner in which his ashes are to be dh;pu3ed of; and instead of having them enclos- ed in an urn, as 13 castumary, and sent to the family mausoleum, he iurpeses cn his relaln'es duties which often e fait a good deal of trouble. A couple cr years ago, for instance, a gentleman +1 the nark of Chambers, a Philadelphian, left directions in his will by which he was not only to be cremated, but his ashes taken by (► cemm:ttee of friends (whom lie muted) to the Ilartholdt Sta• tut' of Liberty, a; New York, and there "flung to the four winds of heaven." This cerernony was to bo performed within two months of his death, and therefore on a certain day the commit- tee travelled up to New York, grossed In the Island on which the Statue ot Liberty stands, and after a few short prayers the ashes of the eccentric in- dividual wero thrown into space- some to the north, some to the cast, some to the south, and some to the wrest. When none of the sacred dust remained the urn was broken into frogrnents and cast into the sea. Then the friends to. turned to their homes, deeply impress - SOLEMNITY by the SOLEMNITY OF TIIE CEREMONY. There was much publicity given to this unique method of disp esing of a human body at the time, and the beauty and picturesqueness of the ceremony niado so vivid an impression on the minds of ninny that a number of men and women afterwards added codicils to their wills leaving behind requests similar to that of Itlr. Charubers-though choosing, of c•rrse, other points than the Statue of Liberty from which the ashes were to be thrown. One of these persons was Charles A. Johnson, who left behind strict instructions that he was to be cremated and Itis ashes "thrown to the four winds" from the Tennessee River bridge. Some years before, however, Joluison was one of a party of four who were commission- ed to throw to the winds of heaven the aeons of a friend who lived in New York, and he was so impressed by the ceremony that immediately afterwards he made his wife promise that his re- mains should be similarly disposed of. Therefore, in compliance, with his wishes, his body wns cremated and af- terwards taken by the undertaker to the Tennessee !liver, where they were cast to the winds. Mr. Johnson's wife, who Is not an advocate for cregiation, cculd not summon up sufiicient courage to be present at THE WEIRD CEREMONY, but remained at tome. As a matter of fact, whenever the ashes of a cremated body aro Ilius dis- posed of and the story becomes public, (hero is always a number of irritators be I I t the novelty, who em to struck n o h se.� picturesqueness, or beauty of the cere- mony, and leave behind equally queer instructions regarding the disposal of their remain. One of the most inter- esting ceremonies in connection with cremation leek place in 1903, when Theo - dere Jones, a philanthropist whose good works will long live after hint in I'en- nylvania and Maryland, left written in- structions that his body was to be cre- mated and liLs ashes di+iaied, pieced in a number of smell caskets, and de• ptsited in the different iustitutlons which he had either founded or en- dowed. Before his death Mr. Jones lime self designed a number of caskets in ivory and silver, and these may now be seen in Philadelphia, Italtin+ore. and Pittsburg, where they are treasured to the archives of the manyue_,tiluhun.i nssociatec! with the manse of 'Theodore Jones. ' Women, as a rule. de not look fater- ably upon cremation ---10 them it bor- ders too much on the horrible. How- es er, sonic women are able to look sp- ot: death and subsequent burial with >o C111111 an eye that they leave behind nhi• mute instructions regarding the disposi- tion of their remains which sometimes BORDER ON THE tilliffEsQuie Here is nn instance in euipnrt of this statement. L► 1900 a \Ir . II••mry 1).oven- por1, an Englislnsouenn wh•a had spent +I her life in the Slut's, died, leaving behind a will in which elle stated that feet body was to find n resting -place in the living -room of her nephew, ale. Jelin n flnbcrts, during his lifetime. On his death it wns to be handed ower M his heir. after which 1l efts to be passed e.0 to the next nearest relative, and so nn "throughout all ages." She left !m- elte! a sum equal 10 85.000 a year for "any little inconvenience which such a r'qumight entail." SI►e did not, haw - ewer, stipulele in whit wily the Ire,dy wit,cst to be "confhn'd." Mr. Botany t1.'reupon had his mint crernaled ant la's ashes emclos•r.1 in a meat urn, niter sshich he bulli n site in Iho salt of Isis drawing -resin) and there he placed the retrains of hie dercased relative. Each ycnr the urn is brought forth from its retreat end ptaceel on a flower -de -ked alter, met a shell service held, in which the t dls of her wsehes tl en111a1gno11S areecadwelt ur,nn byhothoseasetwhnrn she has loft IN hind. -London Tit -hits. DIDNT HAVE rr. Fie.orwalke•r-"Sec It re. \11'. Solve, that customer C011111111111, 1101 you didn't show her ordinary civility." Salesii an --"(rent Scott! I shows) tier everything in !tie More, and she bought nollrinp. If 1 didn't show lief Ihel, we haven't got it.' IhO\IANC.1•:.1NI) IiEAI.ir1'. ' "Read 111.1 romantic ctnry 11,m, Prance of n marrtnge bae'ke n ale by suspicion That the la ide hail a cleve•n leof?" "No; but I know serer unr• rnftnli� dories et nerringe•s lesita'6 up le) rhe e-ertninty that the neap 1.M .e (-seven MhalA."