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BETRAYED;
-or.
A. DARK MARRIAGE
MORN.
A Romanes of Love, Intrigue cr.d
Crime.
BY MBS. ALICE
CHAPTER XXVII.
SHE LIGHTNING’S FLASH IN THE CLEAT. SET.
Flora had closed her eyes to conceal
her tears. She opened them at the in¬
stant Siyme se z d her hand and called
her “poor angel.”
Seeing the mau on his knees, she could
not comprehend it, and only exclaimed,
simply:
“Are you mad, Mr. Siyme?”
“Yes, I am mad!” Siyme threw his hair
back with a romant c gesture common to
him and, he believed, to the poets. “Yes,
I am mad with love and with pity, for I
see jour sufferings, puie and noble
victim!”
Flora only stared in blank astonish¬
ment.
“Kepose yourself with confidence,” he
cont nued, “ou a heart that will be de¬
voted to you until death—a heart into
which your tears now loll to its most
sacred depths.” wish her roll
Flora did not tears to to
such a distance, so she dried them.
A man on his knees before the woman
he adores must appear to her either
sublime or ridiculous. Unfortunately
the altitude of Sljme, at once theatrical
and awkward, did not seem sullime to
Flora. To her live y imagination it was
irresistibly ludicrous.
A bright gleam of amusement illumined
her charming countenance; she bit her
lips to nevertheless. conceal it. but it shone out of her
eyes
One should never kneel unless sure of
rising conqueror. Otherwise, tike Siyme,
he ex; oses himself to be laughed at.
“This “Rise, book Mr. Siyme,” sa d bewildered Ft or a, gravely.
has evidently you.
Go and take some rest and we will forget
this; only you must never forget your¬
self again in th s manner.”
Siyme rose. He «a> livid.
“Mrs. Cleveland,” he sa d, bitterly, “the
love of a great heart can never be an
offense. Mine at least ■would hive beeD
siucere ; mine would l ave been faithful ;
mine would net have been an infamous
6n«r s!”
Th* emphasis of these words d’splaj-ed
so e’ident an intention, the countenance
of Flora changed immediately. She
moved uneasily on the lounge.
“What do you mean, Mr. siyme?”
“Nothing, ma’nm, which you do not
know, I think,” he replied meauingly.
She rose.
“You shall explain your meaning ira
med ately to me. sir !” she exclaimed; “or
later, to my husband.”
“But your sadness, your tears,” cried
the secretary, in a tone of admirable sin¬
cerity; “ibe^e made me sure you were
not “Of ignorant what? of it!”
How he hesitates ! Speak,
man!”
“I am rot a wretch! I love you and pitv
you!—that is ail;” and Siyme siglred
deeply.
“And why do you pity me?”
had She spoke haughtily; this “nd though Siyme
of never suspected imperiousness
manner or of languege, be retlectid
hurriedly on tbe point at which he bad ar¬
rived. More sure than ever of success,
after a moment fie took from his pocket a
folded letter.
It was the.one with which he had pro¬
vided himself to confirm I lora’s sus¬
picions, In now awakened for the first time.
i rofound"silenee he unfolded it and
handed it to her.
She hesitated a moment, then seized it.
A single glance recognized the writing,
for she Lad often exchanged notes wi h
Cora.
Words of tbe most burning passion
term nated thus:
“Always a little jealous of Flo; half
vexed at h iving given her to you. For
she is pretty, and—but I! I am beautiful,
am I not, my beloved? and above all, I
adore you!”
At tbe first word Flora became fear¬
fully pale. Finishing, she uttered a fe ir
ful g oan, re-re td tbe letter, and re¬
turned it to Siyme, as if unconscious of
what she was do mg.”
For a few seconds she remained motion¬
less—petrified—her eyes fixed on vac ncy.
A world seemed roiling down and crush¬
ing her heart.
Suddenly her she turned, passed with r pid
steps into boudoir; and Siyme heard
the sound of opening and shutting draw¬
ers.
A moment after she reappeared with hat
and cloak, and crossed the boudoir with
the Bime stro g an i rapid step.
Sljme, terrii.ed to death, rushed to
stop her.
“Mrs. Cleve’ancl!” be cried, throwing
himse f before her.
She waved him aside with an imperi
ous gtsiure of her band. He trembled
and obeyed, aud she left the boudoir.
A moment later she was on the avenue,
going toward Broadway.
It was now near mil night; cold, damp
weather, with the rain falling iu great
drops. broad The few pedestrians follow still on the
pavement turned to with
their eyes this majestic lady, whoso gait
seemed hastened by some errand of life
or death.
But in New York nothing is surprie
ing, for th-re/ people witness all manner of
things Therefore, the strange ap
penrame of Flora did not excite any ex
traordinary attention.
A few men smiled and nodded; others
threw a few words of raillery at her.
Bo h were unheeded alike.
Kea h ; ng Madison Square, she stopped
near the lountain. The soun 1 of the
*****
Hurrymg up P Fifth avenue, she passed
her own door, and soon reached the Ellis
ton mansion
ved there, the unfortunate ch’ld
knew not what to do, nor even why dial*,. she
bad come. 8b. had some vague
os thouth to assure herself palpably of
her misfortune; to touch it with her
or rethape I. find soma reason,
«ome pretext to doubt it. ..
She dropped down on toe stone -»e *s
and hid her face in both her hands, vainly
striving to think.
It was past midnight. The store's
were deserted; a shower of rain was fall¬
ing, and she was chilled to numbness.
A policeman tbe pas-ed by.’ He turned
and stared at young woman, then
took her rongh'y by t he arm.
"What are you doing here?” he asked,
brutally.
Sue looked up at him with wondering
eyes. know myself,"
"I do not she answered.
The man looked more closely at her,
discovered through all her confusion a
nameless refinement and the subtle per¬
fume of purity. He took pity on her.
“But. mad..m, you cannot stay heie,”bo
rejoined, in a softer voice.
.“No?”
“You must have seme great sorrow?"
“Very “Wh great.” name?”
it is your
“Flora Cleveland,” she said, simply.
The man looked bewildered.
“Will youte.l me where you live?” he
nsked.
She gave the number with perfect sim¬
plicity and perfect indifference, she
seemed too be thinking nothing of what
she was sayinc.
“Ah! just below here,” said the offi
cer.
“Yes,” she rejoined.
“Will you tako my arm?”
She did so quietly, and they started
slowly down tho street.
Eugene had just reached the house, aud
heard with stnpeih d surprise, from the
lips of tbe lady s maid, the details of hts
wife’s mj’.sterious die appearance, when the
bell rang violently.
He rushed out 'and met bis wife on the
stairs. She had somewhat recovered her
calinnee’, aud as be interrogated her with
a searching glance, made a ghastly effort
to smile.
“I was sligh'ly ill and went out a lit¬
tle,” she sad. “"I walked too far and am
somewhat tired."
Notwiths audng the improbability of
the explanation, he did not hesitate. He
murmured a few solt words of reprorcb
who and placed removed her in the hands of her maid,
ber wet garments.
Di ring that time he culled tbe officer,
who remained in the vestibule, and close¬
ly inteirognted him.
Eu On learning where be had found Flo’-a,
ene knew at once and fully the wholt
truth.
He went directlv to his wife. She bad
retir d and was trembling in every limb.
One of her hands was resting outside
the coverlet.
He rushed to take it, but she withdrew
it gentiy, but with sad and resolute dig
nitv.
The simple i esture told him they were
separate 1 lore ver.
By a t • cit arrangement proposed by ber,
and as tacitly accepted by him, Flora be¬
came virtually a widow.
He remi-ined for some seconds immova¬
ble, his expresi-iou lost in the shadow of
a The curtain; then slowly left the chamber.
idea of lying to defend himself never
ocenrred to him.
His line of conduct was already ar¬
ranged—calmly, blue methodically. But two
circ es bad already sunk around bis
eyes, and his face worn a waxen pallor.
Hts bands, joined behind his back,
were clenched together; and the ring he
wore sparkled with toeir tremulous move
ment.
Af er hi If an hour he stood in the door
of her chamb r.
“Flo!” he said.
She turned her eyes gleaming with
fever uj on him.
“Flo, 1 am ignorant of what yon know,
and I sh 11 not ask you,” he continued,
as he stepped into the room an t ap
proachel her bed. “I have been very
c.iminal loward you, but perhaps less so
than you think.
“Terr ble circums'ances bound me with
iron b .nds. Fate ruled me! But I seek no
j alliation. Judge of me as severely as
you w sh; but I beg of you calm yourself
—preserve yo rself!
“You sj oko to me this morning of your
presentiments - of your maternal hopes.
Attach yourself to tbose thoughts, and
you will aiways be mistress of your life.
As for myself, I shill be whatever you
will me— a straBger or a friend. But now
I feel that my piesence makes you ill. I
will leave you for a time, but not alone.
Would you wish Mrs. Morgan to come to
you?”
“Yes,” she murmured, faintly.
“I shall go for her; but it is not neces
?ary to tell you there are confidences one
muBt reserve from one’s deaiest friends.”
"Except a mother?” She murmured the
question with a supplicating agony, very
painful to see.
He grew still paler. After an instant:
“Except She a mother!” he said. “Be it so!”
turned her face and buried it in the
pibow.
"Your mother returns to-morrow, does
she not?”
She made an affirmative motion of her
head.
“You can make your arrangements with
h®r. I sh ill accept everything. ”
“Thank jou,” she replied, feebly.
He lelt the room and w. nt to find Mrs.
told Moigan, his whom wife he awakened, and briefly
her had been sei ed wi h a
3=veie neivous attack, the effect of a • hil.
’-The amiable lady ran hastily to Flora
and spent the night w.th her.
But she w-.s not tbe dupe of the ex
plana ion Eugene had given h-r. W omen
quickly understand each other in their
grief. Nevertheless asked
she no confidences
received non ; but her tenderness to
ihe stricken one redoubled. •
.Duimg -ht the the only silence of she that could dreadful lender
ai service
xer was to make her weep.
A or did those laggard hours pass less
utterly lor Eugene Cleveland.
He tried to take no rest, but walked up
#nd down bis apartments untildaylig.it
IU a sort of frenzy. The distress of this
P 001 ' wounded him to the heart.
lhamemoiiesof the past rose before
him, and parsed onward in s id proces
Tuen the morrow would show him
the crushei daughter with ber motliei—
ad £beTihu;on? 0 in al Ill herded
j h " pi>1 -
H e found he had yet in his heart lively
feelings of pity; jet some remorse in his
• conscience.
Strange to say, this weakness irritated
hlm - and he denounced It to himself.
Wbo bad betrayed him!
I degree, . This Question agitated him to an equal
but from the first instant hd had
““^nddeT’.r 1 he sudden gr.ef e“.nj'b?lf‘S.e1 and half-craze.l con con-
viction of his wife, her <'e«j>ni ing atti¬
tude, aud her Rileuce, c*>uld only be ex¬
plained by strong assur nee and ee.tiin
leve.atio i.
After having turned tbe matter over
and over in ins mind, he arrived at the
conclusion th it nothiug could have
tu own such i l.-nr light iuto his life save
C a a s letters
He never wrote to Mr’. Elliston, but
:ould not prevent her writing to him, for
to her, as to alt women, lo*e without let¬
ters was incomple’e. fault inexcusable
But the of Eugene, in
a mao o bis tact, was to have p esered
tue e lefers. No one, however, is por.ec ,
and Lie was an > rtisf.
He delighted in these chef d’oeuvres of
p ssioniteeloquence, was p.pnd of im-pir
ing them, and be could not m tke up his
mind to burn or destroy them.
He examined at once the secret drawer
where he hid concealed them, and by
certain signs dscov. red the lock had
been tampered with. Neverthe ess, there
was no letter missing; the arrangement
of them alone had been disturbed.
Hts suspicions at once reverted to
Sly me, slight, whose aud scruples he suspec ed wete
but in the morning they were
continued beyond doubt by a letter from
tbe secretary to his emp’oyer.
la fact, Slyme, after passing on his
pprt a most wrenched night, did not feel
nis nerves equal in the morning to meet¬
him ing the reception the Lelands’. possibly His in waiting for
at letter was
skillfully penned, to put asleep suspicion
H it bad not been fully aroused, and if
I Flora had not betrayed him.
QH situation, announced his acceptance offered of a lucra
commercial tlve suddenly h'm in a
house iu Boston. He was
obliged to decide at once, and to start
^bat same morning, for four of losing au
It opportunity concluded which coul I not recur again,
with the liveliest gratitude
and re ret.
Eugene could not very well reach his
brother-in- aw’s secretary to strangle
him; so he resolved to do tlie next best
thing. He not only 7 sent him a friendlv
letter thankin'! him for all bis kindness
i> his wife, but a handsome present in
addition as a testimonial of his sympathy
and goo I wishes!
This, however, was a simple precau¬
tion, for he apprehended nothing more
from the venomous reptile, so far be¬
neath him, after ho had once shaken him
off.
Seeing him deprived of the only weap¬
on he could possibly use a.;aia»t him, he
felt safe. Besides, so far as he knew,
Siyme bad lost the only interest he could
desire to subsetve, for he knew this man
had done him the compliment of court¬
ing hts wife.
And he really esteemed him a little
less low, after discovering this gentie
ma>'lv taste!
Ah! but the end was not yet.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE DAUGHTER AND HER MOTHER.
It required on the part of Eugene Cleve-
1 nd, this same mo.n.ng, an extrtion of
nil his courage to perform his duty ns a
geutlemnn in receiving Mr. and Mrs Le¬
land upon their return home. But couva o
had been for some time past his sole re¬
maining virtue; aud this, at least, be
sought never to lose.
He received them most gracefully—his
father and mother-in-law as t* ey de¬
scended from their carriage and entered
the broal hall.
Mr. Lei nnd was much broken in health.
The trip, wh ch it had t een hoped would
benefit, had only wearied him; and now,
on again entering bis own door, he be ged
to be at once assisted to liis sleeping
loom.
Mrs. Leland lingered in surpr’se at not
Beeing her daughter there to meet them,
and cast an inquiring look upon Enjene.
He informed her that she had been a
little indisposed since the preceding even¬
took ing. Notwithstanding the precautions he
in his language and bji his smile, be
could Dot pte ent Mrs. Leland from feel¬
ing a lively alarm.
He did not pretend, however enUrely
to reassure her. Under his reserved and
measured replies, she felt the present¬
ment of some disaster. After having
pressed h ; m with many questions, she
suddenly turned and hurried up stairs.
Flora, to spare her mother the first
shock, had quitted her bed and dressed
herself; and the poor child had even put
a little rouge on her pale cheeks. Eu¬
gene, who had hastened after his mother
in-law, himself opened for her the door,
of her daughter’s chamber, and then
withdrew.
All that passed between them at first was
a silent interchange of mutual caiesses.
Then the mother seated herself near
her daughter, drew her head on her
bosom, and looked into the depths of her
eyes. “What is
tbe matter?” she asked sadly.
“Oh, nothing—nothing hopeless! only
vou must love your little Flo more than
e%er. Will you not?”
“Yes; but why?”
“I must not; worry you; and I must not
wrong myself, either. You know wbv!”
“Ves; but I implore you, my darling,
to ti ll me. ”
“Very well; I will tell you everything
But, mother, j’ou must be as brave as I
i am."
She buried ber bead lower still on hei
mo her s bro 'St. and commenced to re
! to her, in a low voice, without
, ... ble / . .
bad been ma< j e to 'ber, l and ie which
| I J 3 18 ^® . landdl s , a: i < i l nnt n!li ee C ° *“ n t t « im6< rro P t t l hei
’
tb ® cra °\ S he lr , f'
. ed kiss . her hair
I prm a on from . time to
hi who . dd ... not dare . to hex
or a, mso
I eyes of another to her, as though might she hare were ashamed
s crime, lm-giuel
I ° f
he F misfortune, since her mother had re
«« 1 '' 3(1
r *. e8 s : B ut ’ i | e talmnees of Mrs. Leland
j . f* J, . . * . b i i of
® " 6 7h!i tbe
1 l f f }j . or th a i * Christians ^ lH under . b ®£ the n
I cla '’; s of tb ® , J er ' ® r ® D ^
S , i”/ ^ ^ at tho
t i Z -.-hef Ijrfe
| eyes
c ‘. rc » a ~ f.PPf-ed ‘J.®.® as «hough demanding
l dul,y had any con8olat OD
l ? rt,are :
, I When she had heard , . all „ she , summoned
I smi ! a at ber daouhter, who at
® * ^ertaiS ty .mbrae P nT * be“r L
n dariinw l
“Well mv onT'it ” said she “S' at lost “it
<• • " .,e
ri ht notwithstanding; there is nothing
todgsnairof.” . _
“Do you really believe so?”
“Ccr-amlv. Thera is some inconc iv
able in’ sterv under all this; but be a-
Hired TS.” thyt tt e evil is not so terrible as it
edge’! “My it?” poor mother! but he has acknowl¬
“d am I etier pleased be has acknowl¬
edged it. Thu proves le has vet some
pride, and some good jet left in ids sont.
Then, too, he feds virv muehaxflic ed; he
su iers as much hs we do. Thick of that.
Let us tnink of ih* future, my da ling.”
They clasped each other s bands, and
srnil d at one imother to n strain the tears
wiiich tilled tbe eyes of both.
Af er a few raiua es:
“1 must go to your poor father now, my
child,” s.id Mrs. Ltland. “and t en I
would bke to repose for half an hour.”
“I will accompany you to papa’s rcom
Oh, lean walk! I fee, a great deal better."
“I think you had better wai' a lit le.
my dear. Tour father is reposing aftei
the fatigues of tbe journey. I wilt come
for yon by and by.’’
“Very well, mamma.”
Mrs. Lelaud rose to leave the room. A
the door she turned :
“Be sensible,” she said, with anothei
smile.
“And you also,” rejoined Flora, whose
voice fulled her.
Mrs. Lei nd hastened to her own
p ivate room, closed and locked the door,
raised her cl sped bauds toward Heaven;
tkeo, falling on her knees before tbe bed,
she buried her bead in it, and commenced
to weep despairingly.
Flora, left alone in her room, dropped
upon her knees, clasped her hands, and
supplicated bear the terrible the Great trial Throne for strength
to through which
she was passing.
The apartment occupied by Eugene was
continuous to this chamber. He bad been
walking with long strides up and djpgn
the room, ext ecting every moment nYsee
Mrs. Leland enter.
As the time passed on he snt himself
down and tried to read, but his thoughts
wondered. His ear eagerly received,
agniust his will, the slightest sounds in
the house. If a foot s-earned approaching
him, be rose suddeuly and tried to com¬
pose his countenance. When the door of
the neighboiing chamber was opened his
ugonj 7 was redoubled.
then, Ho caught the snurd of a weary sigh,
an inst nt after, the dull fall of
Mis. Leland upon the curpet. then her
despairing Eugene sobs. from h violentlv
threw ; m the
book which be was forcing himself to
tead, placing his e bows on the bureau
which was before him, held, for a Ion/
t me, his pa’e forehead tighiened in his
contracted baud’. When the sound of
t <e sobs abated and ceased, little by 11
tle, be breathed freer.
A little after midday he received thi?
aoe:
“My husband’s health is hopelessly
broken. He has sent in his resignation to
Ike directors of the bank. He loDgs for
the country. W’aireu has placed his
house »t Koxbury at our disposal, and we
depart almost immediately. If you will
permit me to take mv daughter with me
for a few days, I shall be grateful to
>’ou. Agnes L-:iiAND.”
He returned this simple reply:
“You can <‘o nothing of which I do not
approve to-d .y and alwajs.
“Eugene Cleveland.”
Mrs. Leland. in fact, having consulted
the inclination and the strength of her
daughter, h id determined to remove her
without delay, if pos ible, from tho im¬
press ons of the spot where she had
Buffered so severely from the presen e
of her husband, and from the unfortu¬
nate embarrassment of their mutual s.tua
t.ou.
She desired also to meditate in soli¬
tude, in order to decide what couise to
take under unexpected circumstances.
Eugene Finally, she had not the courage to see
again—if she could had ever see him
again—until some time el psed. It
wai not without anxiety that she awaited
his reply to the request she had addressed
him.
In the midst of the troubled confus'on
jf her ideas, rhe believed him capab'e of
almost anything; and she feared every¬
thing from him.
Eugene’s note reassured ber.
Sh* hastened to read it to her daughter
and both of them, like two lost creatures
who cling to the smallest twig, remarked
with pleasure the k nd of respectful
abandonment with which he h d reposed
their destines in their own h nd.
He spent the remainder of the day in
his counting-room, and wuen he returned
they had departed.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE REPTILE TURNS TO STING.
When Flora Cleveland returned to New
York and her home sha toere experienced
tne painful somber preoccupation impressions of of the the past, future; and
tne
but she brought there wi h h -r, although
in a irague form, a mo t powerful con
iolation—ber first-born child.
Assailed bv griet, and ev n menaced by
new emotions, she was obli ei to re¬
nounced the nursing of har li tie one;
but nevertheless she never left him, fox
she was jealous even of his nurse. She
at le st wi-hed to be loved by him.
She loved him wiih n infinite passion.
She loved him because he was her own
son and of her blood.
He was tbe price of her m’sfortune—of
herpain. him because
Sue Joved he was her only
hope of human him happiness hd hereafter. beau
She loved b cause was as
tiful as the day. And it was true he was
so; for he resembled his father—and she
Z2ZZT& hem
a’l ber tooughtR on this dear ere ture, >.nd
ut fir>t 8Le thought prised she herself, had succeeded. her |
She was sU' at a’ own
tr n nullity, when she saw Corx Elliston;
for t er lively imagination hid exhausted,
in advance, all tne sadness which her new
°t»t n wh.Te'h d ifad St
. th, kind of tor
por into which exccs-ive suffering hal
plunged her - when her rnatern il sensa¬
tions were a little recovered quietdd itself by custom —
her woman s heart in the
moth* r’s
She could not prevent herself from re
newing htr pas-iiouate interest in hex !
gracetul though tturifile husband. J
Mrs Leland did not retuiu to the tiity
w.th ber daughter, but remained in Box
bury, with her husband. of
Flora wrote her qude en, however, 1
and told her everything that was taking
pi ice. For this wise young woman, ma
tnred thing, by misfortune, observed every-
8.w everyth.ng, aud exaggerated
nothing.
She touched, in her letters, on the
most delicate points in the household,
vnd even ou her husband’s secret
thoughts, with accurate justice,
Eugene, as yet, was not at ail < onverted,
nor near being so; but it would be i dy¬
ing hum.n nature to attribute to his
heart, or that of pny other human being,
a supernatural If imp i*sibii implacable ty.
the dark and theories
which Eugene Cleveland hal lately made
the law of hiR exi-teu«e could triumph
abso'utely, Tbet'i this would ba true.
Is he had pissed th'ongh did
not reform bfci they only staggered him.
He oil not pursue his path with the
same firmness; he strayed fro h s pro¬
gramme.
He pitied one of his vio'ima, and, as
one pitying wrong his alw.jH entails ano her. after
wife, ho came near loving his
ch Id.
These two weaknesses had glided into
his petrified soul, us into a marble fouut,
nnd there took root—two imperceptible
roots, however.
The child scarcely occupied him mors
than a few moments every d iy.
He thought of him, however, and
would ret ra home a litt'e earlier than
usual each day then w is his habit, se
creetly attracted' by the smile of that
fresh face.
Tbe mol her was for him somethin g more.
Her Bufferings, her youthful heroism, had
touched bint. She b.camo in his eyes
somebody. He di-.covered
many merits in her. He
perceived she was remakablv well in¬
formed for a woman. Bhe understood
half a word, knew a great deal, and
guessed at the remainder.
She had, iu fine, that blending grace
aud solidity which give’, to the conversa¬
tion of a woman of cultured mind an in¬
comparable charm.
She was a lov. ble creature, and it can
he understood that she might have many
attractions, even for her lm-ban I.
Yet, though bo h ti not for one instant
the idea of sacrificing io her tho p»ssion
that ruled his life, it is certain, however,
that his wrife p eased him aa a charming
fr.end, which she tiuly was.
[TO 3E CONTINUED.]
Saving is a practice beat begun early
—and for this reason: It is a habit,
ard like all habits, easily planted in
child, but taking root with difficulty in
an adult. It is no kindness to teach
children to spend, unless you can in¬
sure them money to spend to their
lives’ end. ,
Facts About Glycerine.
Glycerine is one of the most useful and
misunderstood of every-day assistants.
It must not be applied to the skin un¬
diluted, or it will cause it to become red
and hard, but if rubbed well into the
skin while wet it has a softening and
whitening effect.
It will prevent and cure chapped hands,
two or three drops will often stop the
baby’s stomach ache.
It will allay the thirst of fever patients
and soothe an irritable cough by moist¬
ening the dryness of the throat.
Equal parts of bay rum and glycerine
applied to the face after shaving makes a
man rise up and call the woman who pro¬
vided it blessed.
Applied to shoes glycerine is a great
preservative of the leather and effectu¬
ally keeps out the water and prevents wet
feet.
A few drops of glycerine put in the
fruit jars the last thing before sealing
them helps to keep the preserves from
holding on top.
Half a teaspoonful every half hour
will cure summer complaint or dyspep¬
sia.—New York Commercial Advertiser.
Love for the Zigzag.
The straight line is an abomination to
the Chinese. They endeavor te avoid
it in their streets and buildings and
have banished it completely where coun¬
try field paths are concerned. They will
always substitute a curve whenever
possible, or they will torture it info a
zigzag.
In districts not devastated by the Tai
Pings nor subject to the influence of tbe
foreigner the houses and temples are
characterized by curved, often peaked,
roofs, ornamented with fantastic modifi¬
cations of the “myriad-stroke pattern.”
The inhabitants of such regions are soon
found to have a mental world to corre¬
spond. The straight line is scouted.
They think in curves and zigzags. To
the Chiuese mind the straight line is
suggestive of death and demons. It be¬
long- not to the heaven above nor to the
earth beneath. In a true horizon line are
feen the “undulations of the dragon.”
Therefore, argues the Chinese, the
straight line p rtains to hades.—[Con¬
temporary Review.
A Prodig oas Family.
A * 6 mn S« arrlv « laS <- f took place , at
Hirceloua, R spam. Au o.d man or ninety,
wno had lelt the town m bis youth to
seek his fortune in America, reappeared,
with a suite of over XOO pirsons— a very
large family, lie hud been married three
times, and brought back to Barcelona
with him sixteen daughters, of whom six
thiee Z'° f sons, dmvs some “* ot T whom e r™ were^niow’- a * »•»*
ers and others mained; thirty-four
granddaughters, married, some of whom were
and forty-seven grandsons, and
among the rest three great-grandsons,
These, with their wives and husbands
’tcS-o LUhica.o Hcruld. Hom'ld" “ P k®” 7 ’
A Valuable Fur.
Foremost in the list of American furs is
the American sable. The pine marten,
or sable, of northwest America, is not
esteemed so valuable as the sable from
Russia, but there is no doubt that the
^ w0 B p *, ec j es are j n reality J one and the
_ same, _ the difference ____ of . temperature . , and ;
other local monxtymg causes readily ac
counting for the better quality of the
Russian fur. The light-colored skins
are usually dyed and frequently sold as
Russian sable.—[Chicago Times.
