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Commercial Law. BRIEF DIGESTS OF LITE DECISIONS. Tenanoy A tenant does not violate the condi tion of a lease against an assignment or a sub letting of the premises by permitting the temporary occupation of a room in the building by another. —Leduke vs. Barnett 8preuie Court of Michigan. Mortgage—Waste A mortgageor may, in the absence of fraud, sell wood, coal, ore, etc., ^ growing upon or contained in the land mortgaged, without being guilty of waste as against the mortgagee. Angier vs. Aguew, Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. Advancements An advancement is the giving by anticipation of the whole or a part of which it is supposed the child or per- son would be entitled to receive on ■Kthe death of the party making the ad- mBBm van cement. It is a pure and irrevoca- .. ble gift.—Harley vs. Harley, Court of Appeals, Maryland. ^ Life Insurance An occasional use of intoxicating drinks will not render a man one of intemperate habits so as to avoid life insurance policy in the application of which he was warranted as of temper ate habits, nor will an exceptional case of excess, even though resulting in delirium tremens.—Knickerbocker Life Ins. Co. vs. Foley, Supreme Court of the United States. Interest on Notes Where a note is made payable at a future day with interest at a prescribed rate per annum, such iuterest does not become due or psyaMe until the priu- pal sum does, unless there is a special provision in the note to that, effect.— Tanner vs. the Dundee Land Co., U. S. Circuit Court, District of Oregon. Checks There is no fixed rule of law that the holder of a State check takes it at his peril, and is affected with any equities attaching to it as in the case of overdue bills and notes. But if an action is brought on a State check the holder must prove not only tha he came by it bona fide, for value, without notice of any equities, but must also show that he took the check under circumstances which ought not to have excited suspicion in the mind of a reasonably prudent person.—Lon don and County Bank vs. Groome, 46 Law Times, p. 60. Loss of Profits In an action for breach of contract to deliver goods it was shown that the goods were not procurable in^ht^nar- ket; ths$ the plaintiff in ie knew Sen purchased by (for sale. Held that the not entitled to recover loss of profit on the re- >Thol vs. Henderson, Court of n’s Bench. Beal Estate Liens. jty owning real estate subject or judgment sells part of plaining in his hands, if of value, must bear the whole fe of such mortgage or jiftgment, "the part sold cannot be made to Contribute until that remaining with the debtor or mortgageor has been ex hausted. This rule extends to pur chasers of the incumbered premises and in an order inverse to the dates of their several titles. It also extends to releases of mortgages.—Matter of Martin’s Appeal, Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. Lunatlo’a Liability A lunatio was held liable for per sonal injuries occasioned plaintiff by a defect in the doorstep of a building, owned by the lunatic and under the management of his guardian. By the common law a lunatic is civilly liable to make compensation in damages to persons injured by his act, although, being incapable of criminal Intent, he is not liable to indictment and punishment. But this case does no require the affirmance of so broad a proposition. The owner of real estate Is liable for a defect upon real estate owned by him and not exolu slvely controlled by a tenant, al though not caused by his own neglect, but by that of persons aoting in his behalf or under contract with him. And there is no precedent and no rea son lor holding that a lunatic having 0 y 1. thiy^HiAysexemBt from tbs respon sibilities of ownership of real estate.— Morain vs. Devlin, Supreme Court of Massachusetts. Bailroad Crossings The failure to erect Ciution boards at railroad crossings a< required by the statutes does not necessari'v make the railroad company responsible for dam ages occasioned by a collision with one of its trains at the crossing. The caution board i-t for the purwus'’of a notification to those who are passing aloug the road. And where a party is familiar with the crossing and has fre quently been over it and had it in mind on the occasion in question as he approached it, he cannot be said to have been injured by the failure to set up the caution. The fact that the approach of a railroad to a highway crossing is obscured by embankments or otherwise, imposes upon travelers by the highway, as well as upon the railway company, special care to avoid collisions.—Haas vs. Grand Rapids & Indiana Railroal Company, Supreme Court, Michigan. Power of Attorney A power of attorney to “superintend any real or personal estate,” and gen erally to do all things that concern the interest of the principal, and giving the attorney full power to use the name of the principal to release others or bind the principal, does not em power the attorney to sell real estate. An instrument under seal given to such attorney in fact by the principal acknowledging himself firmly bound by all the acts of such ageut or attorney, and ratifying and eoi firming whatso ever he had done in his name, and acknowledging the receipt in full off all sums of money, dues, obligations and other things from such agent or attorney, does not ratify or validate conveyances of real estate made by such attorney acting under such pow er of attorney.—Hunter vs. Sacra mento Valley Beet Sugar Co., U. S. Circuit Court of California. Polluting Water-Course The right of riparian owner to have the water of a stream flow through or by his laud in its natural purity aud without appreciable pollution caused by owners above him, is well settled is a part of his property, and will be protected by injunction. Nor is thi3 right modified by the fact that the flow of the stream has been increased by reservoirs built along its upper course.—Silver Spring Bleaching and Dying Co. vs. Wauskuck Co., Supreme Court of Rhode Island. Bepresentatious Where one represents himself as an owner and as such contracts and is contracted with, the person with whom he contracts may sue and re cover against him as an owner. So, when one represents to another that a nated person is his servant or agent, and induces the person to whom such representations are made to confide in and act upon them, an action may be maintained for the ser vant’s negligence, although the rela tionship did not exis*\—Growcock vs. Hall, Supreme Court of Indiana. The Bitter Secret. English and American Society. Perhaps the greatest contrast in English society as compared with American is that in the former a woman’s importance grows with years, whereas in the latter it declines. At a large English country house some difficulty arose to making room for all the guests expected at dinner. ‘Way, let those girls (indicating two pretty young ladies) take their dinner at luncheon-time,” said an old peeress, “and comedown to the drawing-room in the evening. We don’t want young girls at dinner; we want good talk ers.” This old lady was a famous London dinner-giver, and loved “a feast of reason and a flow of soul.” Lady Salisbury, who stands at the head of the great society leaders in London to-day. is 67; Lady Derby about the same age, and many others conspicuous as agreeable entertainers at the same period of life could be oited. But here, even now, ladies of such an age seem to deem themselves shelved. It is a great pity. A woman of 60 has knowledge and experience which if she be naturally intelligent, can scarcely fall to make her sooiety congenial to men of sense, whether they are young or old. It is often re marked by clever young fellows that their pleasant hours at London ballB are spent rather in talking to agreea ble mothers than in dancing with their daughters. Nothing oould im prove sooiety here more than a deter mination on the part of ladies of ma ture age to keeu well to the Yont sad aseert themself* Never had the bright blossoms of hope been showered around a betrothal of more promise than that of Maude Livingstone. Her “accepted” was both a men and gentleman in the strictest meaning of the term. Beauty, too, had dowered noth ; she wiih rippling tresses of the deepest auburn; eyes so very blue that a shadow changed them almost to haz' l, and puzzled the bo holder; a complexion of the purest white, through which the tell-tale blood curdled in roseate blushes ; nose as daintily carved as ’fever sculptor dreamed ; and a Bmall mouth whose coral-cleft lips revealed alineof regular and dazzling white pearls within. And yet there was an expression about those little lips that betokened a firm will if the heart was ever called upon to battle for the right; an expression such as has carried heroes through a whirlwind of battle, and made mar tyrs die triumphantly and with songs of rejoicing at the faggot-surrounded stake. For him, if he was the opposite in his strongly-sinewed form, in his eagle eye, in his black and straight hair, and somewhat strongly marked features, he was still gifted far more than is usually the case with manly beauty—was just such a one as a true hearted woman would look up to and lean upon—just the human oak around which the more tender human ivy would clasp its tendrils lovingly and cling to, even though want or shame come to the bitter end. But there could be no fear of this for them. Education and wealth forbade even the thought of such a future ; aud when the soft moon shimmered through the interstices of the cherry trees and made the ripened fruit glit ter like globes of blood, they fell upon as true a heart-plighting as was ever seen upon earth. Yet the next night they met again, and how all was changed ! Sunlight, starlight, all hope and joy was ban ished from their young hearts, and dense darkness reigned alone and triumphant there. A few short hours, and the trail of the serpent was over all the love-flowers, and the poison was distributed into every bud of glorious promise. “My God, Maude! ” was the excla mation of her lover, as he came to the very spot that had thrilled with the words of endearment, and saw how ghastly was her face. “Oh, my God, Maude, what is the matter with you ? ” “Nothing.” The accent was firm, although the words came from the trembling lips now robbed of their coral hue and wearing almost the ashy one of death. “But^iomething is the matter,” he replied, as he sat down by her side, and stretched out his arm to clasp her to him. “Did I not say ‘Nothing?’ ” “Maude, darling, I will not be put off in this manner. Something ter rible is the matter, and I have a right to know what it is.” “You know all that you ever will— except one thing.” “Are you mad, Maude, that you talk th^s? ” “Mad? Oh, heaven ! I fear I soon shall be. Oh, that I could die—die !” f “But tell me what is the matter. Something far more than common must have driven you to a state of feeling like this.” “ Yes, something has happened ; something more than terrible.” and she repeated the words as if weighing well their importance; “ something that you will never know—that none but God and Dr. Malcom will ever dream of until the grass is grown green above me.” “Maude, Maude, this is terrible. You will not—you cannot—keep this secret from me!” “i must, ana will. My life—my whole life—is blasted ; but as God is your judge, thiutc no evil of me, for I am innocent either in thought, word or deed, of anyllBng wrong.” “Maude, 1 vwll not listen to such words. You ahu tell me the secret that is crushing ytm to the earth. Thluk of last nignt, m the promise you made in the sight, m it were, of God and his holy angels, t^hd refuse me if you o&u.” “No; you wrong me. If you only knew all you would not judge me thus harshly.” “Maude, Maude, what am I to think? You aresuffering, suffering; far beyond your nature to bear, and you deny me consolation of sharing your sorrow; of attempting to lighten your burden.” “You must think what you will, only no wrong of nu ; I have not the power of altering’t. As I have already said, when the grave closes over me you will learn all; but until then, nothing.” “Then you never loved me?” “Never loved you? Great heaven! I have never loved you half as wildly and deeply as at this moment.” “Take back this ring and fell me all.” “Never. You know not what you are asking.” An hour of vain eff >rt—an hour of entreaty, urged by eloquence and in tensified by love, satisfied him that she, so gentle and yielding to him before, had become iron in this. She would not renew her troth—would not take again the engagement ring—and he bowed his head upon his hands, and strong man as he was, wept like a little child. ‘But one thing, Maude, my darl ing,” he resumed, after a long pause of bitter thought. “Tell me if there is no way in which I can help you; if not as a lover, at least as a man ? ” ‘No, none; but there is a favor I would ask of you,” and she looked up pleadingly, her eyes streaming with tears. “Name it. Anything that man can ever do shall be done.” “It is but little. Never seek me again until I send for you. Will you promise me that? ” “If you will promise to call upon me as a brother when I can be of even the most trifliug assistance.” “I promise before God.” “And I. May He not deal lightly with the one who first ignores the compact. But is there no single thing that I can do for you before I go? ” “None. One word might reveal all. My trust is in God—God and Dr. Mal com.” “Doctor Malcom,” he repeated, almost savage. “Doctor Malcom! By Heaven !—he shall tell me ; ” and he clasped her in his strong arms, kissed her warmly before she had time to resist, and darted away, deter mined to flad the physician and force the secret from him. But he calculated without his host. Doctor Malcom was not the kind of a man to divulge confidences, even if lightly made, and much less so when it was one of vital importance, and so the half distracted lover flew to the mother for information—and met with a like success. The poor, afflicted “That e pel/ is broken—that promise D void,” she answered,with a sigh that was more like the wailing of a broken harp strii^ when suddenly struck by a carelesf hand, than by a human voice. “Yes, that dream is broken. Happiness and I are strangers henoe- forth^nd forever. Here is your ring; take it. It shall never rest upon a linger of mine again. With Its parting I take baok all that I ever promised. I oannot, will not be your wife.” “Notyny wife! Now I know you i woman wrung her hands and wept bitterly but had nothing to tell. The terrible secret had been kept from her as well as him. And so a long, weary week passed away, with Maude Livingstone con stantly growing more feeble. All of beauty was fading from her face. The fair skin was becoming sallow and wrinkled ; the bright eyes were losing their#glorious azure; the lips were drawing back, shriveled and shrunken from the snowy teeth, and the very hair seemed to be burned from the roots by some terrible fire of the brain. But still she dragged herself, day after day, to the house of the physi cian. Dragged — for the sprightly walk had changed into the movements of an old woman to whom even “the grasshopper had become a burden.” And her lover was but little better off. He too, grew thin, and was almost heart broken. Terrible as was the effort, he kept from Maude, and if they chanced to meet, he turned his eyes away that he might not see what a very wreck she bad become. But wllht could this fatal, terrible secret be? Ho thought of everything possible except those that would reflect upon her. To his honor be it said, he never thought—never allowed anyone to speak of her except in terms of the highest praise. Six weeks— three months—a year passed, and yet there was no change, except that she had wasted to a shadow; that she no longer was seen abroad; that her glorious voioe was hushed in the choir, and her once merry laugh had dwindled away into the very ghost of an echo. Yet still there was no revelation, still none were the wiser as to the cause of her illness. “Great Heavens! will this suspense —thiB almost mortal agony, never end ? ” said the disconsolate lover, as he returned home one evening, after having, by acoident, caught sight of he loved so well, for the flret time in months. “Is there no power to save her? Ob, that I could know the worst, at once ! Certainly it could not be as terrible as this uncertainty. T must know. I cannot live any long er thus. She, my Maude, my darling, will not see me, and I have promised not to molest her; but the doctor! the d< ctor! I’ll wring the secret from his very heart.” But fortunately he vas saved from his rash determination by the sudden arrival of a messenger from Maude, and with flying feet he hastened to her side. “Maude, my darling, my darling!” was all he could exclaim, as he sank hy the bed upon which she was lying, whiter than even tiie snowy lineu. “Robert!’’and the shrunken arms drew his head nearer to her, and her lips rested upon his forehead in a holy kiss. “Is there no hope?” Maude asked as soon as she could command her feeling. “None,” replied the .physician, sad ly, as he turned away to wipe his eyes. “As God wills. But now I release you from silence. You can tell all. Tell him how much I loved him. Tell him how I have suffered for these long months, and all for his dear sake.” And the doctor did tell all. He told that on the very night of their betrothal she had been bitten by a rabicl dog, and believing that she would die from the terrible disease that would follow, she had nerved heieelf to keep the secret—to free him from his engagement, and had suffered more th»n tongue can tell. “And if you had lived you would still have kept silence? ” asked her lover. “To the end. But all is past now. The sickness, fatal thought it may be, has brought great happiness. Kiss me, Robert, darling, I am dying— dj ” “Hush! ” With startling emphasis the physi cian uttered the word. He saw that a great change was taking place, and it was not death, but life. Again the cherries hung quivering like blood drops among the green leaves, and the soft moonlight flashed like silver fire between. And again it shines upon Maude Livingston and her lover-husband. The past has van ished like some distempered dream, and in a few short months, when the roses shall blossom fully again upon her cheeks, no one will ever dream that she so nearly journeyed through the dark valley and shadow of death, to prove the trials and triumphs o love and gain a life long happiness. Economies ot the Kitchen. Turbot.—Take a white fish, steam till tender, take out the bones, and sprinkle with pepper and salt. For dressing heat a pint of milk, and thicken with a quarter of a pouud of flour; when cool, add two eggs and a quarter of a pound of butter, and sea son with very little onion and parsley; put In the baking dish a layer of fish, then a layer of sauce till full, cover the top with bread crumbs, and bake half an hour. Mayonnaise of Tomatoes —Select firm, ripe, round tomatoes of equal size. Peel them with a thin sharp knife (do not scald them to peel). Cut each tomato into thick slices, but do not separate the slices, so that the ap pearance of whole tomatoes may be preserved. Place them upon ice to become thoroughly chilled. Just be fore the salad is to be served, arrange them upon a bed of crisp lettuce, and put a spoonful of thick mayonnaise sauce upon each. This is a delicious salad. Scotch Short Cakb.—Take one- half pound of salted butter, and one pound of flour; then mix flour and butter with the hands; then add four ounces of loaf sugar, and work all into a smooth ball; then roll out until it is an inch thick ; prick over with a fork and pinch round the edges, and bake for half an hour in oven, with a moderate fire, in a round or square pan, according to taste. Boiling Fish.—In boiling fish al low live to ten minutes to the pound according to thickness, alter putting it in tne boiling water. To test, pass a knife along a bone, and if done the flsn will separate easily. Remove the* moment it is done or it will become “wooly” and insipid. The addition of salt and vinegar to the water in whioh flsh is boiled seasons the fish,, and at the same time hardens the water so that it extracts less of the nu tritious part of the flsh. In boiling flsh always plunge it into boiling water, anil then set it where it will simmer gently until done. In oaae ol salmonjwt into tepid water in« oU^^^^MEye tl^ielf oolor.l