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The Exeter Times, 1888-8-9, Page 2heeete tett"- ,Wt.'", (Now flue ensususe.) LIKE AND By 3/1, Author of:" Lang AIIDEEE'S [ALL SMITS RESERVED.] E. 3311A.DDON, SECRET," " WELtARD'S WEIRD," gxo., CHAPTER XXVIII.—Leavas awe LOIIP Si'. AUSTELL's JorrREAR. Had a row with Beeohing, who declared that I had undermined his influence with Leo, whom be adores, and that I have spoil- ed hia chances without oaring a rush for the hotly myaelf. There was a tune when I +leered a good many rushee for the lovely Leo, Pad would have gone a, very long way for hum sake, but a lovelier than Leo appeared— a fairer atar rose above my horizon, and Adieu paniers, vendanges sontfaites. I did not tell Beething this, but rather enjoyed his jealousy, and let him storm and fume as he liked. After he had raged like stoolnamhange Othello, he began to talk name money matters, and to "throw out," as my valet calls it, about my obligations to him in regard to the stable. He had ;band moat of the cash, and I had sweeger- <ea and naade money at his expense. This was intolerable, so I told him that I was 4teartily eh& of the stud and still more so of bine "There's not a thoroughbred one among, the whole lot," said I. He fiered up +=a this, and we became exceedingly ibieter. Tb*. matter ended in a way that was anti* lamely egremble to Me. We agreed to part •oompany as joint proprietors of a racing etude including Postcard, and I surrendered all interest in that distingulehed animal and his stable companions for a eonsideratiou— naid consideration being t otal release from all liabilities on behalf of' the stud. A very good bargain for me. The gentle savage was nu a rage. His herbditahy instincts as the on and grandson of stook -jobbers should have* warned him against transacting bush mess while he was in a passion. 4' Give me the man whose blood andjudg- tame are so well commingled," Sm. My ,laiood and judgment are—for I have never .yet allowed temper to make me blind to my sown interest. I really made an excellent .Intrietin with Beeohbag. f hate quarrels, and it is always painful to me to out a man with whom I have been Very familiar, so when I met poor old Joe at Ifurlingham on the following day—Satur- day, and a capital Saturday -1 clapped him on the shoulder and suggested that we ought to be the best possible triends now that our ileusiness relations were at an end. I told him that I was Out of health, lungs vatrogether uneatisfaotory, and that my dole - tor warned me against wintering in Europe. 'The Riviera migret do for most people, but lit was not echerd enough for me. I must go to Algiers, Egypt or Ceylon. This, by the way, is unvarnished truth. I neldom get thiough a winter in England without a bad attack, and I have been strong. ity advised to try.the East. Copt I have done—to its last cataract, and its last mummy. I have seen the first rays of the morning sun shininh upon Mem- . maths head, and have learned and torgotten ts monstrous number of lies about Cleopatra. !Algiers 1 know as well as South Kensington. Ceylon remains—the land of spioes and tea. To Ceylon I will go if— agile will go with me. Will she? That is the question. think she will. She has owned that she loves me; and when a woman once makes that confession all the rest is a question of patience and time. She is too lovely and womanlike to be false to the destiny of womanly loveliness, which is to reward a devoted lover. She is more to me thaa ever woman was before her, more to me, dearer tke me, utterly beautiful andutterly beloved, ▪ would make any sacrifice to win her, eirould accept life-long exile, and, what is ;much worse, lifelong poverty for her sake. 31y affairs are in rather low water, and she &as not a sixpence; but I think I have e nough to rub alongupon in Ceylon, where Hie is easier and society less exacting than In England. Stables and baccarat have ab .sorbed more than hive -thirds of ray income, ...end away from the turf and the dabs I shall .be comparatively ride. With her for my ecompamon I shall be infinitely happy. -July 22nd. She has bolted. When I '.called at Wilkie Mansion, this afternoon, t he door was opened by a maid without a map, who made of rank tobacco—lifeguards- man in the dining -room, I daresay—and who told me her mistress had gone to Devonshire. She left by the 11-45 from Paddington on a visit to Lady Belfield. "Wil she be away long ?" The maid had no idea; no date had been =mentioned for her mistress's return. Mrs. Baddeley was out. No information on the e ther side of the staircase. My Helen has srun away from her Paris ihatead of running -away with him. We sat out three waltzes tat Lady Montrackehs last night, and she gave me no hint of this departure. She was very melancholy. I sew tears in her eyes more than once while we were together, and thought them a goila sign. They were eat bad sign it seems, for to -day she bolts. Does; she think Devonshire, and the eagle ef a mother-in-law, can protect her from the pursuit of a lover? No more than the temple and the shrine could save Cassandra from Lexisso. I shall not follow her im mediately. I have a good many engage -merits and some business transactions to de- tain me in town. I will give her time enough to be miserable without' me, to find the emptiness of life without me, to pine sand mope in rustics monotony. My chances wilt be ever so much better for a judicious delay. August 17. Here I am, without aservant, ekeeping dark at the ion where Beeohing and X put up nearly three year; ago. I thought • of bringing my man as he is a shrewd fellow • aucle would be useful to me in the event of anecess—looking after a carriage to take us to the station, getting aff luggage and so on --if I could rely on his discretion. But one can never rely on that class of MAD. The • sharper he is the most certain to talk. A well-trained fool would be an invaluable • servant, if one could have such a combina- tion. our timed fellow inevitably gives away his master. So I decided on combag alone, and here 1 am, ostensibly on the in- tent of demon fishing in the Chad. I went 60 far as to bring time of my old Norwegian tackle, which is now adorning my sitting, room. This is a deadly dull neighborhood -out of the hunting season, and the hours I cannot pass with ha+ will be unutterably slow. To approach her will be difficult., as don't want her mother-in.law to kriceve 1 Ir) am here. They drove past the intt this afternoon in a big barouelie, the looking the image of sadness. She is martyrising herself—and for what? lo it conscience, duty, honour, chastity', surrendered her to hie 'brother. It Wag a 'feat of the world's opinion, or fear of me base act so lightly to have renounced her. With me the would be safe, guarded by an infinite+ love, sheltered from every harm. 19611. I have MOO her. We met this afterucem in the cypress; walk beside the river, I had been reeving easily. up and demi for an hour, when 1 saw her white gown gleaming between the tall dark trees, and in 6, v e minutes I had moored my boat to a great weeping willow, and I was by bor side. We were together for two hours walking up and down by the river, or sitting on a bench under the willow. Not a creature paned that way to my knowledge, except some men in a boat who had been netting salmon further down the stream. For two hours we laad the world, and the sunlight, and the summer air all to ourselves; and during all that time I was pleading ray muse, and she listening and agreeing and disagreeing, andnontradictingherseli, divine- ly inconsistene and illogical, after tne man, ner of her sex, But I know that she is won all the same. She went so far as to talk of our life in Ceylon, even the kind of olothes the would have to wear there. There is no situation in life, be it ever so solemn, in which a woman does not think of her clothes. "1 do not believe I here a gown fit for the place," she said. How like a woman "Bring three or four white muslin dress- ing gowns," I said, "and leve all your smart frocks behind. You shall have a toil- et of banye,n leaves and orohids. You shall have cobweb niuslins and silken robes that you could pull through. a wedding ring, and Indian embroideries dazzling with 'jewels. You shall have a gown of pemoock's feathers over a cloth. of gold petticoat." "Would not that be too warm for the tropics," she said, srailing at me through her tears. She is alternate sun and show- er like an April day. "But you know I am only joking. You know I am not going with you." ea" I know that you are going with me, that you could not be so cruel as to break my heart. You know that for me the east means life, but that life without you would be death. So if you refuse to go I shall stay in England and let the olint:te do its worst for me." "You will stay and die," she said, with a soared look. This little chronic cough of mine has al- ways an effect upon women, and ie attacked me mat at that moment. I believe I am consumptive, and I know I detest winter and bad weather. After this we, shed a few sympathetic tears, her head upon my shoulder, under the willow. The westering sun steeped us in golden light, the air breathed rustic per- fume, mingled odours of June woods and wild flowers, the ripple of the river was like music. If life could have gone on forever thus, flowing on like the river in sinless ecs- tasy, I should have been more than content. Heaven knows I am not a profligate. I have never loved a woman who was not a lady. Love without sentiment or poetry has ever been hateful to me. It is the un- ion of soul with soul that I have sought, and in Helen I have found my ideal, my Arche- typal women. told her my plan. She was to receive a telegram next morning between seven and eight, ostensibly from her husband, sum. moning he to London. She was to leave hurriedly by an early train, carrying her luggage with her. She listened and promised to obey, and I believe she will keep her word. I have been up the line to Barnstaple, and have telegraphed to my servant in London, in- structing him how to telegraph to Mrs. Belfield, and in Mr. Belfield's name, from South Kensington. She will be able to show her mother-in-law the message, and short of Lady Belfield offering to go to Loitdon' with her, I see no risk of the dodge failing. She will get away quietly by the 10.40 train, and I shall start by an earlier one, so as to escape notice and to be ready to meet her at Exeter. Then we shattgo on to Lon- don together, dine in a private room at the Grand, and leave Charing Cross by the Con- tinental mail. There will be no time lost, and very little fear of pursuit, for I know that Belfield was at York the day before yesterday, and is likely to be there till the end of this week. Me that I muld not Walt him latterly bad, though I knew that he was selfish and self- willed. But I ought to have betd her to . . her promise—she was mute, my very own, to protect and foster ; mall let her go to another. I had not strength to stand againet her folly. I should. have understood better what was best for her happiness. I should have known that she was not to be treated with her own guidance." His mind, utterly unhinged by the horror a the night, wandered vaguely from the dreadful oiroumetances which he had to consider, dallied as it were idly with the MeMOTy of the past—lost itself in futilities. What he had to think of was his brother, and his brotherh position. ' A murderer! .Itte, Valentine Belfield, the beloved son of ce tender-hearted mothet—he was guilty of murder, He had oonunitMd that tremendous ()gene which stands alone among all other wrong -doing, and by whith In one mad instant of ungovernable passion; a Man may forfeit his life to the law. He may forge, steal, swindle, break hearts, be- tray friends, beggar the widow and the orphan, work ruin on the widest male, and he may still posess that dastard life which to him means the universe. But for the shedder ef blood, the law has no mercer ; for him society has nothing hub abhorrence. Adrian looked up at those old armoriel beeringe, through whioh the sun was seini4 How proud he had been of those hietorieal quarteruags—every one of which had its meaning for him. Had crime ever 'stained these shields before? Those oldest arma yonder, had been borne by his Norman ances- tor, the Chevalier de Belohanm, crusader and hero. The family had divided after- wards into Beauchamp's and Belfield's, Yon- der was the shield of the Charapernonnes, with whom the Belfield's had intermarried, and there on a soutoheon of pretence, ap- peared the orest of the Prideaux-Brunes, marking a marriage with an heiress of that family. were adonished. I vraa reading very late in the library lad night, and I fell asleep over my leek. And after I had elep,t in my their till daylight,' I did net feet Inclined for bed." The man assisted his master with the final details of his toilet, brushed invieible specks of dust off the neat grey lounge coat, handed Sir Addeo his watch and bend - kerchief, and glanced at him furtively now and then, wondering to me him so pile and weary looking, even after a oMnlortiess • night. Eight o'olook. The prayer bell rang, and Sir Adrian weut down to the lereakfase room ,•where the old serventis and their newer sabot dinatea were quietly slipping into their acoustomed places ni front of the sideboard. It was Leder Belfield's habit to read prayere at this hour, no matter who among her AA - ton 0612/6 4r stayed away. She expected no subjection from her guests in this matter ; but she deemed it her duty to her servants that she should be one with them in their devotions. The prayers were not too long, nor the portion of Scripture too &imbrues ; and when they had all risen from their knees, Lady Belfield would enquire after the health of any one among than who was ailing, or would ask the last news of sick parent, or would detain Mrs. Merrable for a few min- utes' that between prayers and breakfast, or take her into the garden to look at some small improvement, or a newly marked geranium, which the gardner had, as it were, evolved from his inner consciousness by scientific treatment of the parent plant. The loond of love and duty was very strong between mistress and servants at Belfield Abbey. Helen had rarely appeared ab prayers dur- ing this last visite Indifferent health wres an excuse for late hours and she Was seldora downstairs until long after breakfast. If elle did show herself at the breakfast table her presence there was merely an empty form, Had any son of these good old families as she ate hardly anything. Lady Belfield ever stained his name with the red brand of made no remark therefore when prayers murder? Those men of the older times had were finished and when breakfast began lived in a violent age—when the sword was without her denghterdn-law. ready to the hand, and anger, hate, revenge, " You are looking very pale this morning) Jealousy, were wont to recognise no higher law then impulse. Yes; doubtless there had been crimes committed, blood shed by nten who bore those honoured names, and the Church, had heard the murderer's con- fession, and had absolved the sinner. Had not the Church thriven and grown rich by such stories of crime? The very stones of old abbeys and minders might show dark stains of bloods, could they but tell of the motives which had prompted the benefao- tions of their founders—of the oravenhpirits whose gold had been poured out like water to win forgetfulness on earth and mercy be- yond the grave. But murder to-day—in this civilised, well - regulated world, bears a more hideous aspect. Murder Malay means the news- papers and the hangman; and perhaps the newspapers are the more appalling ordeal. " Wh it will he do?" thought Adrain. "Kill Iniuself ?" , There was a new horror, To Adrian it seemed only a natural. consequence of last night's work that Valentine should put a pistol to his mouth and blow out his brains. It seemed the only obvious issue. He knevr that religious scruples would not stop his brother's hand. After what he had done, his life must needs be hateful to him, and the most natural thing for him to do was. to destroy that life. CHAPTER XXIX.—ArrEnWAnDS. It was summer still, yet Adrian shivered as he sat and watched the Blow dawn, the dawn that was rising with such an edr of gladness for eager hunting men round about Chadford, starting up from their pillows briskly, with thoughts of trying new horses and new hounds across the dewy moorland, or the heavy graes. Adrian felt as if his limbs were lead, and his foreheaddron. He sat by the empty hearth in the library, with his book lying open on the carpet just where he had flung it last night in his agony of fear. He sat while the sun rose gloriously, shining with partheoloured light through the emblazoned windows, steeping the sombre old room inbrigh tress and splendour. He heard the make crowing triumphantly in the poultry yard, the horses neighing as they were brought out of their stables for early exercise. The world VMS swake and astir again, earth and sky were bright and blythe • and she was lying face downward in that 'dreadful pool where the great raven- ous pike mustered. She was lying there, murdered on the threshold of sin, unshriven and impenitent, the victim of a most miser- able marriage. He thought of her lying there—pietured her under the tushes, the lovelythair, dark, with threads of gold in it, surging loosely to and fro with the slow movement of the water. nlle thought of water rats and all the fowl creatures that haunt the margin It was of his mother he had. thought, much more than he had thought of V alen tine during those long hours in which he had been sitting there, waiting helplessly for the, morning ; having no plan or thought as to what he should do, no capacity to think out the future, for himself or for histguilty brother. It was of her agony— her ruined life—her broken heart, that he thought.-- and he would have given his own lifeigladly to save her. Would it be better for her peace of mind if her son were to destroy himself, and thus end the horror of last night by a double tragedy. However terrible the catastrophe, it might offer the only possible escape from a deeper horror—the shame and agony of seeing that beloved son in a criminal dock. What was to be done with him if he lived, if he clung to the burden of existence with all its chances of infamy? He had chosen she secret path, which to Adrian's mind stamped him for ever as a deliberate assassin, he who had sinne,1 almost unawares in a woman of passion,and who might have confessed his crime and held himself erect before his fellow -men, guilty, but not dishonoured. He had chosen the darker path; the way of lies and concealments. He had made his choice, and would have to abide by it That murdered corpne lying in the quiet grave yonder, might rise up to bear witness against him, as other hidden forms had arisen out of strange, and unlikely places, to testify against other murderers. After sunrise it seemed to Adrian as if the moments hurried past with inexorable speed. He so intensely dreaded the awaken- ing of the household, the resumption of the ordinary course of events, and then'the in- evitable shock of Helen's disappearance, the fear, the wonder, the confusion his • mother's distress and perplexity. It was of her he thought always; to save her pain he would do anything, sacrifice even conscience and honor. He who was the soul of trtith, would stoop Mlle, and would lend himself to the concealmnt of his brother's crime. The first sound of a housemaid's footfall on the atairs, fell heavy on his heart. Then came the opening of a shutter on the grouted floor. The day had begun. The hour chimed from the stable cloth—six 1 All the house would be astir before hall -past. Adrain went slowly up to hie room to steady his nerves by a oold bath, and to prepare himself to meet his mother. He shnddered as he caught sight of his haggard face in the glees. "It I who look like a murderer," he said to himself. Efe remembered having passed an ander- footman on the stairs, mei how cdriously the man bad looked at him. He had been Adrian," she said, as she began to pour out tea, with her son sitting oppoaite her in the morning light, "I hope there is nothing wrong?' Nothing wrong! It was just what his valet had. said outside his door an hour ago. "Nothing. Ouly I sat up later than 'us. ual lest night—absorbed in a new book. In fact I was so foolish as to read on till I ex- hausted myself and fell asleep in my chair." "Thee does not seem as if .the book were very interesting." "Oh, but it was interesting—a mast en. grossing book." "What wag it about, Adrian? I am al. ways interested M your new books." "This wasn't new," he said hastily, fear- ing further interrogaion. "It is a book of Muller's, and I was interested in tracing some of Darwin's ideas to their source in the older writer." "And you fall asleep in the library, and you were very late going to bed, 1 suppose," interrogated the mother anxiously. "Very late. In point of fade-- What is it, Andrew 1" "Can I epeak with you, if you please, Sir Adrian?" said the footman, with a look that foreboded evil of some kind. Adrian rose hastily, and went towards the door. "Yea, of course." "Stop, Andrew," exclaimed Lady Bel- field, " Whet can you have to say to you master that you can't say before .me? Has anything happened ?" The man looked from his master to his mistress, and then back again to his master, with a troubled aspect. "It is about Mrs. Belfield, my lady. Mrs. Marrable felt i little uneasy at what Jane told her just now." "What do you mean by all this mystery —Jane told her—whet? Is irty daughter ill ?" asked Lady Belfield, hurrying to the door. i "No my lady—it's not that, my lady; only Mrs Belfield is missing, and her bed has not been slept in, and her boxes are packed and strapped, my lady, as if she had prepared to go away, and Jew, whose room is on the floor above Mrs. Belfield's rooms, not exact- ly overhead, but very .near—heard her mov- ing about very late last night, and wondered she should be up so late.' " What can it mean, Adrian ?" exclaimed Lady Belfield. "She had to idea of leaving us for months to came. Why should she have packed her trunks? Where can she be? In the grounds, perhaps, wandering about somewhere after having been up all night. Let us go and look for her, Adrain. 'There is nothing really ainiss, perhaps," and then 'in 9. lower tone she added, "Servants are such alarmists." "A telegram, my lady," said the butler, appearing with the well-known orange en- velope on a. salver. " For Mrs. Balfield," said his mistress, looking at the address. @Shall I open it, Adrian ?" " Yes, I think you had better," answered Adrian, trying to school himself to the false- hood which must need govern his conduct henceforward, in all thinghbearing upon the horrors of last night. The message was from Valentine Belfield to Mrs. Belfield., handed in at Kensington at thirty-five minutes past seven, received at Chadford at three minutes before eight. (To RE ColiTiNtiEn.) ' IB " WRITE PA81/4." • ITIOONAL, One onto Moat males et Exploral Ian in Mammy% Adventures. Sir Frimela De Winton, president of the Emin BOY Relief Aseociatiou, in an interview regarding the statement of Sir Richard tier - ton, the African explorer, that the White Pasha who has arrived in the Behr .El-Ghazel Province is Emin Bey, and not Henry M. Stanley, said: The lest anther:tic news we received stated that Bruin Bey was at Wadelai, on the Nile, and we know that Stanley left the Corigo,on. his march towards Egan jest a, year, age, and in a few days S tanley had vanished from the sight of the civilized world. Stan- ley hoped to be in communiodion with DEW by the 15th of lad August. In a letter dat- ed November 2 Emin detect:lab up to that date he had heard nothing whatever of Sean. ley or his expedition. Reoenely certeln Arabs, returning from the mountainous region of the upper Aruwima, told the com- mander of the camp at Y embunga, that they had met desertere from the expedition, among them being two Soncittnese, who formed part of the escort. Other information is said to have reached Yarabunga from deserters, of whom one had returned to a villaree only a few leagues distant from the camp, Bet in neither case have these deserters themselves been seen, and it nuty be taken for granted that the Arabet who want to reserve Central Africa exclusively for therneelvesi ea a kind of human game preserve, would gladly seize any oppotunity of spreadlog exaggerated ill news a.boub the fate of the expedition. Stanley undoubtedly intended, if he met with no ;serious obstacle to relive Emin Bey first then proceed 'to Khartoum to rescue the unfortunate European prisoners there, Now, unless the "White pasha. story is an absolute figment, the "White Pasha" oe,n bene one bat Stanley. But if le be Stanley something ertmordineey has hap. \TEAT STARLET mar HAVE DONE. Stanley set out fr ern Artiwima lad June for the Albert Nyanza. When he got there he tneant to put his steel whaling boat together and to set out Northwards by water for Wadelai. Now he has turned up in a province some hundreds of miles to the Northward of that place and instead of marching 500 miles he must have marched something like 1000. What has happened? When the bearers of ehe last authentic news from Stanley left the expedition first August he was enoseamed within eight days' march of the Maleode country, and advancing towards the Western shore of the Albert Nyanza. Hewes only about 200 miles from that lake nearly a year ago ; the lake was his goal; and now we hear of him in the Behr-el•Ghazel. We oaa only suppose that he found the country between the Upper Aruwima and the Alberti Nyanza, nothing .but a vast morass, and absolutely impass- able. ' Lest Summer Emin sent two parties of ten men each to•the Albert Nyanza on pur- pose to get news of Stanley. They seem to have found none, or Eakin would have given it. It looks, therefore, as if Stanley had been obliged to ohange his objeot alto- gether, and had turned. Notthward from the draleode country, instead of following the line he had previously taken and pressing on towards the East. What facts are known, therefore, points to the general con- clusion that after pushing Eastwards, dr rather Estet-Northead, from Yambunga for some 200 or 300 miles, Stanley found fur- ther progress impossible along that line, and set his face Northwards instead of coming upon Emin from the South, .he will come upon him from the North; but if he does in the long run come upon him some- how, that will not matter. LORD ORABLESBERESFORD'S OPINION. of a Mahe; but worst of all was the thought dandy "conscious of the fact at the mo - of thosershining, deadly monsters which hunt, but he recalled it now at the eight of had so often, watched, flashing silvery under his own face. No wonder the man had the dull green water. stared at him. And then he remembered her as he had He made his toilet slowly, d'eeply thought, first beheld her in her girlish beauty, light- ful, and with a strange incertitude as to the minded and gay, gentle, pliable, a creature duration of time—thinking he had spent to entwine herself about a, man's heart, to hours in his dressing room when he had been grow dearer to him by eve* folly, and more there Tess than an hour, sacred to hint by every touch of weakness, Rig va1.4t knocked at the dressing -room So would she have been to him had she door presently. become his wife. It would have been the "Your shaving water, Sir Adrian. Is delight of his day e to .cherish and protect there anything wrong, sir ?" her, to strengthen that which was feeble How the question startled him, Was her character, to develop all that was good. every interrogatory, even* Sound of e, human Oh, if he could have recalled the past, and voice to have the same p6Wer to shock and that fatal evening by the river, when he scare hilt henceforward, until the dreaded discovery was made, and all was over. " Anything wrong," he answered quietly, opening his door MI he spoke. " What should be wron.g 2' v that weighs heaviest with her'? Her heed is mine; and the Mad Itiont that she would be happier as MiStreed than AB wife of is clown, who leaveS her in a date ef dinialetertion, and hass:to little • knowledge of her Vette that he exposes ho eto the Mira& of eeersdprolligate in London, he thought, toaught, en his anguish. He ought to have saved her from herself. Re ought to have °tainted and held her against the worich. anything rather than to t aye given her over to a ecoundrei. "1.0 brotito he said to himself. "MY own fieth and blotide Oh neat' and dear to " Nothing sir. I beg your pardon, sir, only when I 'went into your room jest now at* year bed had not been slept in, and it frf htened Inc is bit sirv". h was that all Vent, 1 daresay you A Case of Haman Glanders. The awful death of Mme. Paviakoff, one of the most charming amongst all that bevy of charming Russian ladies who sometimes gladden the winters of Paris., has created a terrible shook among the ctroles so lately embellished by her presence. The unhappy lady left Paris but a short time ago on a summer tour to Germany. While stepping from the door of her hotel at Berlin to gam her carriage the let fall one of her bracelets close to the pavements. Stooping to pick it up she observed laughingly that one of the horses belonging to the next+ carriage had kissed her." Next day the unfortunate lady was taken ill with that most horrible disease, glanders, and in a few more days breathen her lad in spite of the attendance of the first physicians of Berlin and every resource to be obtained by Wealth or by the eeaseless vigilance of friends. The highest court in this State has passed upon the legality of the boycott as applied to a non-union labourer, aud holds that no organizItion has a right to insist on the dis- charge of an objectionable workman or pre. vent him from obtaining work elsewhere. Thirst's a, wholesomeand satisfactory decision. Flee members of the Enights of Labour were arrested on a charge of conspiracy in the case of Hard, 6 thoemaker, who refuted to loin in is strike, whale cliseharge they Se- cured, and whom they prevented from get- ting work in other shove, The acetified Met seciired Writs of habeas corpus. .1ust.ice Barrett and the general of the animate mind in turn di:Unitised the writs, and those two deeisions have leen confirmed by the court of appeals.—(New York TrIbune, Further information from Banana receiv- ed tends to confirm the report that Stanley Is really on his way to Khartoum. It also appears that Emir; emit% has left the neigh- borhood of Albert Nyanza and is advancing to meet Stanley. The probability of the success of Stanley in relieving Khartoum is regarded with downright letdoway in mili- tary circles in London, especially among offi- cial soldiers. Lord Charles Beresford, who took part in the disastrous Nile expedition, admitted recently the possibility of the White pasha being Stanley, and in giving his reasons why an undisciplined body, chief- ly composed of natives, should be able to an. coraplish a feat which proved too much for the Nile expedition,said: i It must be borne n mind that since that expedition a great change has come over the state of affairs. Than the whole surround- ing country was fanatically devoted to the Mandi. Now, if we are to believe the reports which have recently reached Cairo from the European captives and from other sources, great dissatisfaotion againet the false prophet prevails, and at the first approach of a hos- tile force his followers are said to be ptepar ed to go over te the enemy, In my opinion if the 'White Pasha is really Stanley, he has undoubtedly some time since captured Khar toum and offioial news from him can not much longer be delayed. The Mat law signed by Kaiser Freddie* was one permitting soldiers of the guards to wear full beards insteaa of mu:10011es only. ,Tudge Kerferd, a Melbourne, Aus., polim justice) reeentlY sentenced AMIE of 60 YeUe., convicted of robbery with violence, to ten year& hard labor and two !leggings of fifty 68,ThoeLe4Walla.PaPlaker, the rich Philadelphian who paid $100,000 for blunicaosy's painting of "Christ before Pilate," has now bought tohnact aarIvtarvist's.,,other famous picture, "Chrhit The United States is nob the only home of the railroad millionearis. Aillittalle has one eitizen—J, G, Turnbull—who leas made $50,000,000 out of railway construction. Canada has also severalrailroad.millianaires. The phrase used by the new Emperor in referring to himself in his recent mitnifeato to the German army has puzzled the translat- ors. They have made it "chief" and "ruler of the arm)," and a lot of other things, but have &idly decided that the nearest Eng- lish to it is "Lord of war." . Phil Robinson, the English author, its now lecturing in Australia, and he is soon going to the United States for that purpose. Mr, Robinson w as both in India, where his father ie editor and proprietor of a leading papA.r. The son has spent the most of his time in traveling, and was 00TreSpOD.d9Ot inAfghan- Johan, the Soudan and Zululand. Miss Jessie Keyes, who has just gra,duated at the Boston High Sehool, has bean attend- ing the public schools of tied city since she was 7 years old, and she is now 18. In all those eleven years she has not lost a day by absence or a minute by tardiness, and. she ' stood seventh in a graduating class of forty- four. The only funeral she attended took place on a Saturday, and she had the mea - sole during vacation. The man who has just become the Earl of Seatiela was hard pushed to earn a, liveli- hood a few years ago, and was acting as a bailiff in the New Zealand town of Gemara in 1884, when his father became Earl, and he thereby the Viscount Reidhaven. He was "un pFsession " of is house in his official capticaty when the news of Ws rile in life came, but he refused the offer of a subatituM and stuck to his post for two days longer. Mary Anderson finds boating on the Thames a great relaxation after hard theatri- cal work. She will now for miles at a stretch, and is as fresn at the finish. as at the start. She dresses for this exercise in a blue flannel dress intersected with knife•pleatingof white, with lines of gold braid, sailor blouse bodice and shirt, and. white straw stiller hat with No corset, tournure or dragging skirts in ,er- wide ribbon band and upright bunch ofells. fere with work. Countess Marie Da Munster, daughter of the German Ambassador to France, return- ed to 'Paris from a visit to Berlin with two spaniels, descendants cif the famous dogs of Frederick the Great. They were given to her by the will of the late Emperor Frede-e' rick 111, which according to the Gatdoisa; contained the following bequest: I leave ' my favorite dogs to the Countess Marie de Munster, hoping tied they will oure her of her aversion for the canine race." New York's colored Methodists have been holding an annual Conference in Al- bany. Bishop Turner presided, and eauied -ov' - something of a commotion by demanding of Thomas Taggart, of the Sullivan Street Church, New York, a candidate for admis sign to the ministry: "Can you sing.? I in- sist on alt candidates being able to sing. A preaoher who cannot sing is of no a,ocount. He is not in favor with God." Candidate Taggart proved that he could sing, and he 'a now an accepted shepherd: Count Anchor Szeoheni at Bads Path, taunted Herr Wahrmann with being a Jew, and in a duel that followed was se•verely wounded. After he had been expected to die for two months hegot well, and they both were put on trial. The Count's lawyer allegnd that it was an honor for any one to mate m contact with one of the Czecheni family, and the Publics Prosecutor promptly rebuked him, declaring that now days nobody was noble by birth, but only by work and knowledge. The Count was sentenced to one month's imprisonment, andHerr Wahrmann was let go. The young Prince Victor Bonaparte, pre- tender to the throne of Frame; la living at Brussels, where he has been since he was exiled from Prance. He lives in a comfort- able three.story house in the avenue Louise, one of the fashionable thotoughfares. He has two secretaires, and works bard to pre- pare himself for the "high destinies that await him." Unprejudiced persons who have met the Prince have not been struck with him. He seems decidedly heavy and evidently takes after his mother rather than - his father. He goes about a great deal, but $ is not often asked to the royal palace, for King Leopold's mother was a daughter of • • Louis Philippe, The relations of the King and the Prince are, therefore, simply cour- teous. Some of the Qaeen's Ecoentricities. Queen Victoria is declared to be highly pleased wibb her experiment of using an In- dian servant, and has bent to India for some more to come and wait in the royal hawse - hold. This may be a good hint for Ameri- can housekeepers. I have seen Indian ser- vants doing all sorts of work, and showing unlimited patience. An Indian six feet in height will devote himself with equal cairn and perseverance to preparing a curry or walking up and down to quiet a peevish white baby. .Whether Indian servants are as eatiefied with the Queen as she is with them is a question, as her noted fondneas for unlimited fresh air must be rather „unpleas- ant for them in the Englisholimate. In fact, it is very unpleasant even for niany of the Queen's English attendants. Many ecclesi- astical dignitaries who have been honored by an invitation to visit the Qaeen, have groan- ed at being sent for in the dead of night in an open carriage, and the Queen's regular phy sician intimated recently that he would have to throw ep hia post if compelled to go about at night in it dog cart. Even in last week's weather the Queen thought nothing of driving from Wiadsor to Frogmore in the morning, and breakfasting wider a tent, with the Wind blowing in her face, Several of the Miles in waiting, who had to go about and do the same, are reported to be suffering from very severe colds, which is natural. Omitting Certain Services. Just before the collection a country min, Viler said t di Dearly beloved brethren, owing to the ehtreme heat of the day I think it Will be wise to omit certain periled of out morning eervloe." This seemed to please date of the Mem- bers and they began covertly to return dimes and quarters to their pockets. Then the minister went on "The collection ili now he %keit tips! The Canadian Pacifio's Elastic Roadbed, Mr. Thomas C. Maier, President of the American Sooiety of Civil Engineers, in his annual address recently before the con- vention gave the following pieces of informa- tion regarding a division of the Canadian Pacific: "There is an interesting example of rail creeping on a highly elastic roadbed on this divison, where the line crosses a muskeg,' the Iudian name for bog. The roadbed here yields about six inches to every passing train. With a consolidation engine hauling thirey- five cars., the track crept twenty-six bathes in the dmeotion in which the tram 'was move- ing. The rails creep for three quartere el a mile east and about one -halt of a ej mile west of a small bridge at tne toot ' of a rade in both directions. They creep with every train, and ill warm weather will often run twelve inches under an ordinary train. Cinder ballast keeps the track in fair line and surface, but thee not in the least prevent the creeping of the mile. Spikes must be left out each side of the angle plates, otherwise the creeping tail would carry the ties with it. The whole muskeg, wtten , train ispassingt slows a series of short Naves five or six inches deep. The 13rehera1 Superintendent of the Weetern divison, Mr, 1 Whyte, proposes to wietwelve-foot tiehforty- inch angle bare, and eat a slot in alternate ' aides of the rail at every tie." •111. His Rutin Passion. "There wus Bill Newton, LyintBill, we • all called hum Never waz near water all his life, yet he waz always tellin' about the fifth he'd caught. Once when he waz sick with the jaundera his father says to him, I 'Bill how are you feelin% 2' Finer 'n a fid- • ae I elle,' see Bill.'That settles ite mid the old men, ahd he etatted off for the niultetaker. His tonfurdence wuz not mitaplaeed. When I he 00.MO Week With the undertaker till wut a corpse."