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• MACHA. sir Humphrey Gilbert dreaaed hUwlfe In a lady's garb, and gurrounded her with all the appointments that were â- uhed to her new Bt*tioo. The first Jar to hia happiness was given by bis perception that, beaatiful as was Ma- oba in her bUib and laces and trinket^ muBtcal as was her t\peecb, grateful as were her mo««ment8, there was yet aometliing wanting in her to ma^e her a bride that ocmid be presented, with- out risk of criticism, to bis friends. The enchiantiDg mountain girl, with her pic- turesque beauty and wild charming ways was no more. The lovely Lady Gilbert was a little too umconventiooal, with her soft brogue, her vivid tkod fig- urative language, her quidc natural gestures, her little slips in grsmmar, and artlew habitual utterance of the truth. But Sir Humphrey wsb very pa- tient with her, and set to work to poV ish his precious gem in the rough. A long time passed over, and the hus- band felt no desire to revisit the high- lands of Connaught. t "Dear," said his wife to him one day, "when are we going back to see my mot her t" i She was standing before him in a flowing ro4)e of white stuff, with her honey-coloured hair dressed by a French ni&id with jewels in her ears, and flowers on her breast, looking such a picture of beauty and refinement that even tbe peculiar intonation that still clung to her speech could not declare her othpf than a lady. Macha possessed in a high degree the power of adapting herself tx> the ways of those around her, Rer husband recognized this power in her, and relied upon it to oarrv him tiroiigli the consequpnces of nis own rash and extraordinary conduct. He was grateful to bis wife for the per- sistent efforts he saw her make, know- iiig rfie was influenced solely by love for him for she took but little interest in the pleasures that surrounded her. He did not know bow far. she was influenc- ed by another naot.ive also, the dejire to earn e reward, in tJie fulfilment of bis promise to bring her book to her native hills. So long ago did it seem that folly that had married him to a peasant-wife, that all recollection of the details of the circumstances had almost passed away from bis mind. He was a man of quick overpowering impulses, and memories that faded with ease. Things that were full of pathetic interest to him yeaterd.-iy were very likely to b« follies to him to-day. Yet he was faith- ful in his affection for Marha ; and the sight of her struggling with her diffi- culties, lal)Ouring to make herself all that ho could wish, and succeeding by the inspiration of something like gen- ius, touched and delighted the best feel- iiigs of bis nature. Tie was the more diRpoeed to be s.itisfied with the re- sults of his marriage Ix-oause his wife's low extraction was a secret from his associates. It was believed that she was the daughter of an noble hut im- poverished familyâ€" that she had been negleacted in bes early years, and edu- cated by her husband. A pretty ro- mance bad been constructed, how, or by whom. Sir Humphrey did not know. Bis wife's gentle grace was the real foundation for it ; and at all events he had not the courage to contradict the tale. With all this good luck there was something wanting to their happiness. Macha did not f.all into raptures with the splendours of her home, nor with the amusements of society, nor with the flatteries and triumpha that fell to her shiire. She only half livwl in luxury by her husliand's side ; the 'tb- •r half of be' lived on the mountain among the privations to which sh>i was l>orn. Under ber rich sables she slmd- HerpH fit th<» Aold on hT '?o*her's liml)s; and by her own glowing fireside sho kept counting the sods of turf that might have lieen saved in the rainy season to keep warmth in the aged grandmoth- er's withered frame. She hivird the lit- tle sisters sa^inif, " What is Mncha do- ing T Mncha is so liappy she has forgot- ten us I" The heart within her was getting every day more chill, liecause as yet her busl>and's iironiise did not seem llkaly to be fuKilled. At last she bad summoned courage and asked him tbe question, " When will you let me see my moth- er t" Sir Humphrey was troubled. He was uite resolved never to lot Macha re- urn to her people, and he had hoped that the desire to gu tu them would liave faded away from her before now. There was liumetbinK in her face which be could uut understand, but which made him feel that he must deal very gently with her. " It is cut of the question at pre- sent love," he sojd ; " Imt you shall send her any present you (ileose." 6ibe shut ber eager Lips, seeing that her husUuid would uut bear tu be urg- ed. He wont hurriedly out of the room, and Maclia stood siluiitly by Ihu fire, with a strange gray cluud over-shad- owing lier face. The third summiu' had gone by. and now again the winlt^ was (:c4Ming, and she Hcuiued farther than evar from atlaiuiug the great desire of ber heart. A minute she stood where he had left her. with closed eyes. climL>- iaii In spirit the rough ascoat to I he mountain cabin. In miuginatiun she rh."«w herself at her mother's feet, iH-g- fed bor forgiveness, ns.'fujed her of her ove, pleaded her inaliility to keep ber word. Then with a long sigh Hbe un- closed her eyes, unlienl linr Tirows, and Btlently went alxnit her occupiitiims. ihe took advantage of her husljund's permission to send u presentâ€" a cloak for thegraiidmothor, and flannel for tbe mother and little sisters. 'I'here was niuoli trouble alxmt addrcwsiug the par- cel su that it might reach that distant and isolated c^hin ; Init the trouble was talceu, and that the parcel wejit safely borne was known by the arrival of an acknowledgment of the giftâ€" a gro- tusqus scrawl in |ien ami ink, scarcely legiiile, but expreesive of love and gra- titude. Sir Huuii>hrey read tbe curious document with a curling lip, and threw it in the fire. AIIuav his wife tu go back aiuoug these savages I No ; it wan not likely no could U so foolish. One such fully in a lifetime was surely en- ough. Tttev must learn to forget Ma- oba, and Macha must learn to forget Ibam. How was sho to be tOAight to do It, though? Why was she so stupidly, so Ohe^iDately blind to the exigencies uf z the case 1 Full of intelligence on every utber aul)Ject, she could not be brought to see that between Sir Humphrey's wife and tbe wild tribe of bor people there could not and must not be any further personal intercourse. How slow she was in taking up his meaning, when he tried to bear it upon her, without outting the fact before ber In uncom- tortable worils I With her beautiful ser- ious face her outward and inward re- finement, in her soft white draperies, and delicate laces, how cuuld she con- template a visit to that abode of pov- erty which he remembered only too well f Fancy the wild, brown, little sis- ters hugging tbe elegant Lady Gilbert; the meagre weather-beaten mother weeping over ber, the mummy-like grandmother mumbling Irish into her ears I There was a grotesqueness in tbe picttire, at' presented to Sir Humphrey's imagination, that brought the indignant colour to his face. Macha's obtuseuess was aggravating. Frooi time to time she would say to him imploringly. " When will you allow me to go 1" and when answered satisfac- torily, would turn away with that dull look of patience that was becoming hab- itual to her countenance. She lived in a state of painful suspense, of silent ex- pectation, which showed she had not taken in the idea that be was resolved never to grant her request. The memory of his promise ^aa still so fresh in her thoughts. Her stupidity was the blind- ness of perfect faith. Every day her yearning grew deeper and the look of it settled in her eyes. Her htisband resolutely appeared to mis- understand her. refused to meet her pleading glance, persuaded himself that she was ill. out of temper, anything rather than home-sick and lonely by his side. If his conscience smote him with the remembrance of an eager pro- mise voluntarily made, he told himself that foolish vows ought never to be kept. The strangest part of it all to him was, that she did not r^roach him with having broken his word. Hat she did not think he had broken itâ€" only that he was wearily long about begin- ning to fulfill it. A bitter season set in. and Sir Hum- phrey, looking at bis wife's thin cheek, and tbe darkening trouble about her eyes, bethought him of taking her to some gay city, to a genial climate and the novelty of strange faces and places. He bad watched her walking to and fro among his comfortable tenantry, in and out of their warm wholesome dwellings, and be knew what brought the spasm upon her lips and the quiver of pain across her eyes. She was thinking of that dreary hovel among the wildi of the Connaught hills. Where the sun always shines, he thought, she would forget how cold and hunger sting. So tbe Christmas guests were put off, and Sir Humphrey and Lady Gfilbert went to winter at Florence. Uncomplainingly Macha did ber hus- ttand's bidding. She said to herself, " When we come back, early in the spring, he will take me or let me go." In the mild air of Italy she did not realise so keenly the well-remembered rigours of the Connaught winter. Her imagination was caught by the beauties that surrounded her, and for a little time Sir Humphrey thought bis tri- umph was at hand, It was but an ac- cident that turned the scale against him, and made shipwreck of his plans and of Macba's life. Accident or fate led Lady Gilliert, who rarely looked at anything printe<l, to glani"e into the col- umns of an £Qglish newspaper ; and a paragraph met her eye in which cer- tain rough statements were made, re- garding a famine of food and fuel in certain parts of hungry and melancholy Connaught. Instantly her long-suffer- ing patience gave way, and all the lat- ent fire of ber nature burst forth. She flow to her huslKuid with burning eyes, and laid her finger on the rru<U linos, Sir Humphrey was in an irritable hum- our. Cut off from bis customary coun- try pursuits, idling in a foreign city, ho had fallen into play, and bad lost heavily the night lieforo this eventful morning. The sight of his wife's fev- erish emotion made him angr^ ; her passionate demand to be sent with suc- cour to her people cbaffe<l and t)ewil- dored him. Macha I for whose good he had inconvenienced bims(\lf so serimis- ly, left bis home in winter, lowered him- self to sit at the table with gamblers I â€" Macha to rise and turn on him with tho.se flaming eyes I He met her with a flat denial, and uttered some bitter re- proaches, upbraiding her with her im- prudence and persistent folly. Having f)e«un to give a little vent to hia dis- pbuusure, be ended by saying more than he had ever nieont to soy. He refused to believe in the newspaper's tale of distress, and forbade ber to mention her people again. __ Macha stojMl like one stunned, slowly taking in what his angry words convey- ed. As she had lielievtid his words l)0- fore, so she lielleve<l them now. They fell upon ber like blown, and when he had turned harshly away and left her under sentence of his diB|>lea8ure, one only desire and determination possos- se<r her â€" to get away out of this cruel world of plenty, and bring fcmd and comfort to her famishing mother. She did not weigh the consequences of de- fying her husluind ; her agony and long- ing blotted out even the memory of his existence. How she made her way to C<mnaiight who shall tell? As the lion- ess finds her stolen young, so did Ma- ?oha scent the path to bor native hills. Accustomed to rely upon her huslwnd for everything, to follow bi.s instruc- tions and mark out nothing for herself, she must have made almost supernatur- al exertions to accomplish her end. But accomplish it she did. When her hus- band returned tlwt night, half angry and half relenting, revolving plans for reconciliation, taking counsel with him- self lis to how he ought to deal with her, knowing very well that he meant to send a largess to those rreatures on the mountain who were such a thorn in his sideâ€" when he came l>npk to his home that night, Macha was gone. Dismay, anger, terror, all passed through and over him. lie first swore ond condemned her ; then reiiiemlier- od her 8we<(t face and her former pat- ience, and almost forgave her. Uneas- ily he resolved to let her go and have her way. He hail given her money yes- terday, commanding her to .Mi>end it on her own amusement ; for the present she could not want ; and this reckless visit would lie sure to tame her. Very soon sho would l)e glad to return to him on any terms. Thus torn by distracting thoughts Sir Humphrey went l>ack alone to his English home. Pride, olistin- aoy, and the conviction that his wife was wrontj; and required punishment ?ind humiliation, prevented his follow- Dg her to Ireland. The sun was setting behind whitened iHtaks when Macha came wearily up the lost ascent of the hills. There were the tmre seamed levels, the weird rocks, tbe scant green patches, tbe dark mys- terious-looking lake. " O, God, I have returned 1" broke from her. "There is mj mother's cabin." The fierce ache thait bad gnawed her heart suddenly left it, and a glow of satis- faction went tingling tbrough ber veins. Strange, uistiuctive, unreason- ing love of home and kindred, that can forbid a human being to accept "ase and pleasure in exchange for the suf- fering of want I MacJia. who had been delivered over to abundance and lux- ury, cast tbem from ber like broken fetters, and rushed forward into the embraces of ber old conanenion and foster-motherâ€" Poverty. T'bia was the spot where she had danced and sung, wept and prayed ; where sbe bad been hungry and cold and full of care, and had been necessary to the existence of those she loved. Here waa where she had watched; half credulous, for the fairies among the rocks ; and, wholly lielieviog, beheld, with delight, the prooe'&on of glorified beings in the heavens. This was the home of ber pa.vuonate devotion ; the strait hard l>ed from wbicb she could endure to yield up her mortal brea;tb. Only the eagles, and whatever super- natural beings had been lurking near natural beings bad been lurking near, heard tbe damour of wild cries that arose in the isolated cabin at sight of her. "Mother there is something beauti- ful coming that looks like Macha 1" crLed one of tbe little sisters. "Macha must be dead, and coming from heaven to see us I" And they all stood solemnly in the doorway to wajtcb the approach of the appar.!tion. Buit when Macba's Living lips spoke to them, and her out- stretched hands touched them, then arose such cries as the rooks gave back. Tbe advent of mercy was not an hour too soon to bring the colour of life back to pinched faces, and to put light on thie tireless hearth. A long battle wilth hunger and oold must soon have dolefully ended ha.d not sucour arrived. Rains had drenched the turf, and the sun bad not shone to dry it ; and the potatoes had been washed out of the earth. Klacha had known how it would be, thuugb her busband re- fused to believe in the tale. Who will take oil from tbe flinty stone, or honey out of the rock ? Tbe very birds will not live in this barren w^orld. Why shou'.d man cling to it witb such an unarcoUiitaJble lovet When Macha, having ministered to their bodily wants, and comforted tbeir hearts wiih ber Uive, lagr down that night on the old familiar bed of straw, sbe had time to remember the buslKMul from before whose angry face she had fled. "He will never love me more," thougbit sbe; "he wUl never come to seek me again." She tried to comfort herself witb the thought that that sbe was still tbe Macha of old, and would work for her people ; but the tears poured from her eyes, and ber passionate heart was not satisfied yet. Next day sbe went about her old work in her old dress, and tried to for- get that she bad ever been away from her home. Painfully sbe saw the mis- ery and squajor of it, and planned such little improvements as might lie with- in her rea4.,b. But soft living bad spoiled Mocha for privation and toil. Hunger afflicted her, and her limbs were wrung with cold; .sbe was come back to a .state of things which she was no longer lit to strive. Wandering round the dark waters she could not nuw (eel an interest in "him who lives down in the lake ;" "li\'ng man" whom she had diapleaAed and forsaken, whom she bad loved and made unhappy, ab- sorbed all tbe dreams of ber imagina- tion. Even tbe blessed spirits, the golden cloud-shapes moving across the sky. had become cold abstractions to her whose eyes were always looking vainly for one absent human form. Her experience of lielter things, her natural good taste, and the mouey she bad brought witb ber enabled ber to make tbe projected improvements in her home ; yet, when they were made, sbe had no pileaaure in beholding them. They bad cost ber too dear to have the power to give ber any delight. In satistying the infidelity uf bt-r nature on one side, sbe bad but inflicted a mor- tal wound upon it on tbe other. The blue pinched look of hunger had gone from her mother's face ; tbe sitara were no longer visible tbrough the roof ; yet, lying there at night, and thinking about it all, Mu-ba tell that tbe piincb of cold and hunger bad set- tled on bef own heart, and that the stars of love and posaiiile happiness were forever shut out from ber life. A hundred times a day she made ,in imagination, impassioned aots of love and sorrow and ap|>eala for pardon at. her husban<rs knees. In fancy she uttered exixinnations tu him, that in realiity would have been impossible to bear tongue. And she woa too shy and too timid to attenpt to write to him. . "WhWl a wife leaves her husband," thuughit Mocha, "of course he will not want her any more." Sibe blamed no one but herself. "I liebaved badly to my mother in leaving ber at first," she reflected, "and badly to my bus- Lxindaiii running away against his will. There must bo a twist in mo somehow ; for I know I (lid not want to do wrong." Sorrow-stricken, remorseful, perplexed, she lived through the long unovenlful «lnys and nights. The stivngth ebbed awa^ frout her limits, the light fniui her eyes. She ma.de no com;>laint, for sbe was willing to en- durt> bravely in expiation of the wll- fulne.is of her sins. Her one burning desire was to see her busband before ' she died ; yet, so self -condemned did , sho stand, sbe oould not summon cour- i age to implore of him to come. | Sir Humphrey .sat at homo in the doi>ths of wbiuL may be truly called 1 a sulk. He bad more than half for- ! given his wilful wife, and was ready j to receive her, should she ask to re- 1 turn. Ue«ie was willing to go and (etch her a.s soon as she should Mend (or him; and it is not wonderful that ho was at fault as to her n^otive and conduct, for her nature had al-ways been a rid- dle to him. Why could she not write and tell him wlutre she was? That much he ha<l a right to ex|ieot from bor. He was (|uiite resolved not to go in search of her, not lo attempt to communioate \vilh her till her ptmitent cry should be hiMird, and till her love should make her ask to bo iakaa back to his home. He told all who inquired to know that Lady Gilbert \vaa paying a visit in her native land, and tnon sat in bis lone- Uness awaiting some sign. It was only a few weeks, after all, since she hatl loft him and returned to her mountain, but many a heart has lieen broken in a (ar shorter time. 'Phe woman won one, who, in other ciroum- .stanees, would have made the happineas anil well-lieuig of those sho lovocl; but diviiled duty and fidelity rent her as- under, tbe ardour a;nd tenderness of ber nature oonsnined ber, end all tbe powere within ber wrought towards tragedy end death. One evening Macha sat at the cabin- door, thinking of her buaftiand, owning ber treapasses, end watching the sun .set redly behind the mountain-peaks, the sun that never waa to rise for ber again. That night she turned bar eyes on the old brown crucifix which woe to bar as the passport to that re- gion where the weary are at rest. She was not so glad to go as she might have been bad she never met anyone while walking in ber girlish innocence round the margin of the lake. "Tell him I wati sorry," were the last words .she wbcspered in her mother's ear. The sign that Sir Humphrey waited for came at last in the shape of a .scrawled letter, with am unpronounce- able name on the postmark. "Come to the mountain to see your son," it said ; "Mocha, the mother, ia dead." That sorrow is long pa«t now. Sir Humphrey is married to a more sui- table wife, and life has gone pleasant- ly with him. nis eldeat huu has Ma- cba's eyes, with oftein a grave, sad, un- accountable expression in them, wbich, in the midM, of mirth, will make bis father start aivd sigh, while the words of the poor peasant mother on the mountains will come ringing hock in bis ears, '"Tis only tbe heart that is too Atrong in her ; and it's ill to love a stranger that must part you from youi own I" TIhe end. MAGIC AT THE BANK. Two FavsHte IVIrlM of Ike I.ale Prafeuor â- errauaa. The death of Herrmann, the famous magician, has called out many stories of the pranks he was accustomed to play In the course of bis travels, about tbe world. One of these has to do with a visit of his to a bank, where he, ac- companied by two friends, had an in- terview witb the cashier. The talk had hardly begun before the visitor drew a cigar out of the cashier's Vandyke beard. The cigar he quickly multiplied into enough to go around. The cashier bad been busy clipping new bank-notes from printed sbee'^ issued by the Treasury. " I see you are a magician, too," said Herrmann, jocularly, " You're making money. That's something I can do my- self at all times." He asked to be allowed to examine the sheet of bank notes, and while looking at it be rattled off one of his pet stories, and got tbe cashier and bis friend and the stranger all interest- ed. In the midst of the story some heavy object fell from a desk and ap- parently startled the magician, who, in his fright, tore tbe sheet of notes in half. The magician seemed angered at his clumsiness, and in a rage tore tbe sheet into small fragments. Then he offer- ed to make good the loss witb money from his own pocket. The cashier pro- tested that this was needless. Herrmann then declared that perhaps the accident might not be so bad after all. He rolled tbe torn bits into a ball in the palms of his bands, blew in them, and then, unrolling tbe ball, spread out the sheet unharmed. In another bank he performed a trick that was always a favorite of bis. He wore upon the little finger of his left hand a striking-looking Iring with a heavy setting. The president of the bank conuuented upon the odd appear- ance of the ring. " Yes," the magician said, " that is an odd ring. It was given to me by the Kmperor of Austria. But you can hove it if you will aco/opt it." Thereupon he drew the ring from bis finger, and slipped it upon the l)ank president's little finger. But it was- n't there when the latter looked at bis hand. Instead, it glittered upon the little finger of the professor's left band. The change hod l>een effected by a skilful bit of palming. I LONDON'S FIBE DEPABTMENT, II It Called a Brisadc, aad Feriups Tkat Is a tiood Baoagk Naae for II. At firat glance it seems a remarks ably low average that a city ao vast and compact should have but 122 seri- ous fires In a year; but in addition to tbe fact that a "serious" lire la London usually mteans a total dtatruiv tion of the property (exterior walls sometimes excepted), there is to be con- sidered the appalling fact that 106 livsa were lost in these serious fires. Cot» mander Wells says that statistics taa- tify to tbe rapid increase ot fatalitisa as the result of fires, and tbe infereno* is plain that betteir methods of dealinff with tbe great enemy axe imperative. Within the county limits of London (some 75,442 statute aorea) there is m population of, in round nuiubexs, 4,500,- (XX). To fire-guaxd the inunense terri- tory there is a brigade of 842 firemen, 25 men under instruction, 17 pilots, and 76 coachmen. Tbere are 58 land fire coachmen. There are 58 land fire ea- gine stations, 6 river stations, 6 sulv stations, 15 street stations. 57 land steam fire engines, 9 steam fire en- gines on barges, 77 manual engines, US hose carta, 37 miles of hose, 8 steam tugs, 13 barges, '246 fixe escapes, and 5«0 call posts. Tbe average number ot men available for duty is 652 by day and 388 by nifebt. . ^ _. ^ _ In the majority of London housed there is but one stairway, and that 4 uarrcAV one. There is no emergency exit or escape, and the thought of pro» vision to insure safety in tbe eivent of a fire scema never to have entered th» mind of a buildej. That tbe "fire e»» capes" furnished af the eleventh houj by the firemen are to a large extent mockeries is proved by tbe proportiojl of 106 fotalities to 122 "seffious firea. That the vocation of firemen is not onA of great hazard here is shown by tha fact of there having been but 110 ac- cidents of all kinds lo firemen last year, and only two fatalities. An economy conservatism is largely contributory tp the fire risks of London, wbeare a cheap mmeral oil is chiefly Used in liffbting. Lamps are In common use where a brighter illumination than caudles af- ford is desired. Tlhere ia m pretence of gas in moat of tbe better sort of houses, but mineral oil lamps predomi- nate even there, and in the great ma- jority of lodging houses gas is used only on the drawing room and dining room floors. Electric lights are coming into service very slowly. But candles and lamps are still the main opponents of darkness in London bouses, as through- out the rest of England. Tbeir utility io support of tbe fire brigade, or in supplying it with reoaoo for existence, is considerable when weighed against other causes of tires. Out of the total 3,616 fires, candles may claim the cred- it for 206 and mineral oil lamjis 3B9 among ascertained causes, and proba- bly a fair proportion of the 880 "un- known" causes. WARFARE ON OWLS. BrIliKh ralambla ttparlMMca loaned by Ihr Preying or Thme BInIa on 4;RBie. According to the Forest and Stream, owlsliave raided British Columbia game bird covers, and have almost extermin- ated pheasants in some districts, no- tably that of Saanaoh. The sportsmen are up and doing against the birds, and over 500 have been tolled on Van- couver Island, 200 of them in the city of Victoria and the district of which it is a part. More tban 1,000 were shot in the province. In an urdinary seas- on twenty or thirty are killed. The birds are not jiarticular as to t.h<^ir diet, as Umg iiH it is live uient. Pbensants, grouse, quail, and domes- tio fowls are their principal food. A' house cat is relished by the^m as niiu-b as any rat would lu". W'bere they all come from is a m}titt>iry. I'lu' we«itb- «r bus been mild, and flowejw are blooming in tbi' goirdens in spile of the pr«'dictiona of the old luein o( British Columbia, red aiul white. May bo cold oold we<itbeff in tbe north has driven them down. Birds stum^times mivko ex- tensive migrutioiu, even i( they are of a species not commonly migratory. PYauie ctiickens once flew nortb over Detroit, thousands of them alighting within the city limits l>ef«re rroMsing the wtttea- lo (Jiuiada. Thi>u«inds were drowned while trying to fly over Liiike Superior, but otlmrs got across safely, and now inhabit tl«'. g.rvat burned ter- ritories north o( the big lake. Why did they go? Tbe only explanation gen- eoTilly received is that persistent mai^ ket bunting dnwe tbem. , A similar migration of wild turkt\vs took place in Michigan. 'ITiese bints had iH^en onoe bunted a ^r^ot deal and suddenly tbey all disappeared. Hut tbey l»\rt a trail, and were seen g<ning due west. Tbe flock was a fourth of a mile wide and several hours lon^. Tiu'keys appeared .soon afterward in prodigious numlmra wlu're there had had biien only a fow before in tbe xe- gion to tbe we»t. CORSETS. Tbe corset is found on the mummified bodies of Egyptians who lived in the times of Romeses. The pictures on the walls leave one in doubt as to wlhether the petiuliar stjle ot drawing the hi>- man figure means corsets or not. Ke- oords of them are found in the times of Caeaar. In France we learn that in the time of Louis VI. bandages de- signed to change the shape of tbe fig- ure were worn, one reaobing from tbe but to tbe waist line, the other overlap- ping tbis, reached below the bips. At the close of tbe fourteenth century a corset to be worn outside o( tbe dress, laced in front, but not brought together so as to display embroidery beneatb, was uiucb in vogue, and it would seem that the lace bodice of tbe peasant may be a survival of this ; then came a wxioden one made in two similar ports '"ined at the Iwck by many strips of linen. The object o( this was to give a narrowing appearance from tbe shoulders to the hips, and among tbe portraits of tbe time we can see hoMT this wearers looked. ' What martyrs tbey were I But they probably consuled themselves with tbe saying. "11 (aut eoulrie, poui the belle." This instrument o( torture was fol-» lowed by on iron cage, made of kid- covered strlips of iron, but these were su|)pressod by the edict of Henry IV., I and then tbe women took to putting I evasive strips ot .steel into their gowns, ; with an effect occasionally more gro4 ! tesque tban graceful. 'J'be next ad- I vaiioe was in the adaptation of whale- ' bone, and soon .so good a corset was pro- I duced by Frencb tailors that both men ! and women t>egau tu adopt them aat I comfortable additions to the wardrobel I and so skilKully were they made thab j lA>uis XV. sot aside tiOO.UOl) florins for I wliule-dsbing and the production oC wllul(^'l>one. Modern times have seen tbe anatomy 'of the figure so carefully studied that< : the corset has l>eooiue an element of eomfort, and. many good pbytiiciaus be- j lieve, of health. Now, drees-reformera may Innish the corset, but it will be a long time, (or no matter how dKficult ttu> shape to be accomuiodatod, humani ; ingenuity ac>x>mplisbes it, and the cor- I aei as wo know it is a marvel of liirhit I ness and grace. WORST PAID OB^ MEK. Deacon Capen is dead. His title to distinction is that, living all .his life o( 87 years on a wooded and rocky farm, ntwr Sharon, Mass., and (ollowiug no pursuit but (armiug, and economiz- ing, he accumulat«Hl a fortune of $190,- 000. Of this aun> he made over some years ago over #88,0(10 in securities to I the Alas.sachusetts liaptist Association land #30,000 to Ihe rxnuist lUrnie Mia- ! aionary Society o( Now York, stipula- â-  ting that while he lived he eihoulcl re- reive annually a sum equal to 6 (or I cent, on the amount given. He denied himself what others consider the eom- I forts of life, and was proud of his econ>- omies, boa.sting thnt he had worn the same coat to chua'cb (or aliout, 60 years.