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A LEGAL SECRET. CHAPITER IV.-<Continued.) Ifirs. Piliington clasps her hands tightly toirether and looks up eagerly. "Whal are you telling me »-- says she Id a i>iteous Toice. Sidney answers thoughtfully: "We have sometimes spoken together â€" though on rare occasions â€" of her whose memory is very dear to you and to me. We have both grieved over the loss.â€" Can yoiu bear to speak of her now f " Mrs. PilkingtoD bows her huad. The tears are rolling down her cheeks; she cannot answer him in words. " All hope," Sidney continues, "of ever seeing her againâ€" though our love for her ha.s never lessenedâ€" died out of both our hearts years ago. We have mourn- ed for her as one who is dead." 8till the tears fall fast. What better eonfirmation that she acquiesces in all that Sidney is saying t " More than once," the young lawyer resumes, " it has been suggested by Mr. Pilklngton thatâ€" althougii it would be Impossible to replace herâ€" by hunting the world over, it still might be advis- able for you to have some companionâ€"" " Not to replMe her, Sidney ; that can . .never be." "Still, dear Mrs. Pilkington, you have at last consented, A young girl â€" one that no one could help lovingâ€" has been found." " It was to please him " " But â€" will you not see her f" BCrs. Pilkiii(;ton looks up quickly. ** To-night f Is it my husband's wish!" "It it inina/' Something in Sidney's voica brings a keener glance into her eyes; she Marchaa his (ace more closely ; she •peaks In a soft, tremulous voice: "She Is some one yon love. Is ah* not, deart" I Yea ;" and Sidney rises slowly from his chair. " I loved her when a child." Mrs. Pilkington utters a surpressed cry. " I love her mors deeply now. She wasâ€" and still isâ€" my little sweet- haart." Btarting up ^ith an eager look in har eyes, Mra. Pilkington steps toward the door. Sidney, in sudden alarm, ov- ertakes her ; and but fur his supporting arm she must have fallen. It is paat midnight now. Rosa is ly- ing with wakeful eyes watching the tremulous circle of light thrown upon her bedroom ceiling by the dim night- lamp on h«T tabU. Her thoughts are busy still with ail that has happened since the morning. She almoal dreads to close her lida. lest she should fall asleep, and presently wake again to find her- •elf in her little garret in Took's Court, ad ahe bad many a time done after dreaming happily of her old home. The parting with Sidney Trench to- day at the edge of the grove has awak- ened a feeling of sadness. Nor does the thought that they muat soon meet againâ€" probably on the morrowâ€" re- move this sense of happiness. She can- not complain of his altitude towards hear; it is everything that she oould kave wished. Any reference to their childhood would have displeased her ; this tacit understanding between them ?-the drifting back slowly into the past â€"is all ahe craves. Can their meeting In the old wood again, now that they have both reached u more romantic age, have unconsciously loused a deeper love In bm heart ? Ko.sa knows lluit all the guests must be gone ; for there is a stillness in the house ihat assures bar that even the servants have retired. But still she feels no inclination feu- sleep ; her brain ts feverishly atitive. There is one face- one that is most distinct in the memor- ies of this hoiiipâ€" which she has not yet seen; I he face that has bent over her in bygone days. While Rosa is still medilating, with her eyelids sinking slowly at last, her door is soft ly opened, and an eager fig- ure is coming towards her with keen look and oulstretched arms. A face bends over her and whispers to her in •'^â- j*/'"'"^ '"*'''*• "^^y "*^l'e Rowi-my child I ' Hostt ouickly opened her eyes. The face tliat she looks up into is intense- ly beautiful, for there is expressed in every feature wonder and adoration It IS the fare that she has seen u hun- dred times in her dreama. •IHIAI'a'.KR V. Why does Mr. Piliki.ngtot» sit so late lo hi« library, aflur his guests are gone with his armchair drawm up lo the fire- leas grate t It Is nearly daybreak, and tbers he ia still Bf«ted, his head leao^ ^g agains< his hand, pondering deeply. Hm fsio nxiiremes a slarlling change If hae beormic more wrinlkled and with- ered than ons would have snippo.sed pos- •able, in a few linura time, even in bo old a man Doe#i anythiog unusual vei iun mind I Thul wmuld seam improliahle. hnr Ims h<v rwK confided all the legal •ecreta to Bidoeyâ€" ail t.hnt he need con- fide I On Ihp morrow another Trench will take tha nenlor partner's chair in tarn oblong room; far another «lking- ten bM played oul bis le«al part, and B«« taken leave once and for all of his ell«n!t(«, MD'PH>'» Idb htia aeen him for <he laM tima. ..'" ^U-J^!' '^^ "«' (rouA>lea himt Noj Mr. Pllkmrtop mita erery trust in MdaeT TVanoh. He wwuJd not other- wiiaa have taken. Ihin derisive stm>. T^ load fcaa bfiaji lifted off his minn llbe load of o<h»r ueople'e troubles t Yes; and yet Bometliing Is vexing him. Bis <ac« grown morn aBiinun every mo- ^venl ; he loolni frequently towards tba ' I door ; but at lost be leanls badk wear- ily in hia chair. And now o ahndotw begins to gather over his face. What shadow? The ' lamp burns steadily upon the table cloce beside him. Wihat la«nii> crtuld be the cause of a fhadow like Ihiit! Mj. Pilk^^ton is distinctly conscious of its presen/.'e. and Bmiles grimly. Is it the shadow that sooner or later, ho- vers over all f Presently the door is opened and Mrs. Pilkington steps swiftly towards the chair and kneels down beside the «>ja lawyer and pre«se« his hand lovingly in both her own. "You i-hall never see me sad now," she Hells bim- though there are bright tears gli.stening in her eyesâ€" "for I shall now have you with me alwaysâ€" all day long; 'â- nn." she adds io a more subdued voice, "dear Rosa too." ,,,, , Mr. Pilkington's troubled look in- ereales. "Sidney lia.s tnld you.â€" You hnve Been her, then?" The wife aitill bending at her hus- band's feet, touphes his hand with her lips. "How good you have been I The new» has been broken to her so ten- derly und to me too.-^And is it not maTveJlous? Sihe has forgotten noth- ing." . . TlhB lawyer's expression becomes Mnrlled. "Nothing?" . ... Mrs. Pilkington looks inquiringly into his face. , n. •She has not toll you," he says doutit- inelv. "how she disa,ppeered f " "No." V • . "Then I must. The man who is alone to hl.ime," says h^ ini a broken' voiceâ€" "who hae kef)1 her from you for twelve long yearsâ€" is your husband I" Rising slowly from her kneeling pos- ture nv<\ Mandin« before the old man, Mrs. Pllkington's face expresses l)lank amazement : "Yoo I" It is obvious from her tone, her whole altitude., that she is uterly dumbfound- ed at the Ittwyer'a words. How can she who has never doubted bis integrity; credit this avowul? She has heard onl more thim one occasion the tradition concerning the houae of Trench, Pil- kington, and Trench. It flashes across her now. She has heard it affirmed that as soon as tho senior has imparts ed his legal secrets to his successor, his brain begins lo Khow eigns of decay. Can such a fatality have already over- taken Mr. Pilkingtxm ? It would scarce- ly seem po«4sible. And yet she would prefer to believe his intellect impaiied than accept auch adimiasion from him as truth. The lawyer waves his hand impa- tiently towards a chair. "Sit d«jwia bettide me," aaye he in a tone of quiet authority, "and listeirk to what 1 have to tell. It is a painful affair ; it is the secret that 1 have hiddenâ€" the se- cret you would have had me keep from you ; but I cannot. No partner in our hpuae, I feel very corofiaent, ever car- ried a aecret to bis grave. It wnuld have destroyed our reputation. Even our secrets ore not our own." •She sits down without uttering a wtjrd. Her hunband's firm manner, his distiiirt though somewhnt feeble ut- terance, is that ot a mn.n who obvious- ly re-lainod hi.s mental vigour. She is overwhelmed with grieif ; and although she tries to keep t»ck her tears, ane loaks at him through a mist, and the shadow Which Is gathering over his face e.scapes her. "It was your wish," says Mr. Pil- kington, "to Bfiare me tihr pain of this humiliating tankâ€" the uiiin of ronfee- slan. Do you thJrik 1 do not fully ap- preciate your trustfuln**)*" Indeed. I do. Hut it has not altered my pur- P«>«e; it bos given me strength to speak." For a moment he pause* with a si ill deciK>r look of thought on hia face. "It 'was jeal(«iByâ€" a mad jeal- ousy that began (t. That wa-i tb*- root of all this trouble, lltiw cin I have been so irrational, so unjust? Hut so it was. What 1 ought to have admir- ed, 1 detested. Your po-ssionote love for your child drove nve to desjieration. It roused the demon in me. 1 was de- t<\rmined that nothing, not even your affect lun for little Koaa, whould come lietween Usâ€" Not that in reality," he hastened to add. "it ever lessened your love for me. But 1 iiungined it did ; it was more than I could endure." The lawyer's voice grew weaker and more troubled as he pnx'eeds. "That she waa your child, though not mine, should hiivo awakened my dfepe«t sympathy. Rut it hod the rjuHjeute effect: I oould scarcely hiile my aversion. I hate4 to see you caress her ; 1 even hat- e<l at lea-sK. to hear you iveuk of the child. Nu other wubjectâ€" so il s«ie(ned in my mildnessâ€" in'teresled you: I waa even mad enough to believe that you had no love for any one except this child- none even for me." "Uid I rleserve this?" "You deserved a belter husband ; for an evil (liought twized me at last," says the lawyer, "and 1 could not reaisl (he tem|>(ation.â€" You have, not forgot- ten thot journey? 1 took the childâ€" I took Ro.sa with me." "I'brgVifceni?" ruuriTUirs IMrs. Pil>- kinglon, clasping hex bands. "1 toidc her with me for one objw^t â€"to remove her out of your sight ttn<l mine.â€" And you, dear wife, never ques- tioned my atory You believed all that I told you ; you lielieved that Rosa was lost." Mr. Pilkinglon's voice grew very wieak now; but his words are still arti- culate and full uf mrauing. tlxvugh hIcAvly ulte|-pd. "|l whs im\y then.t when too lote. that 1 realized what a fatal error I had made. Your love for me never changed : ilt became no greatefr. no lees. It waa the same true devotion thot it always had been ; it wviB expressed in lyour actions more then in your words â€" the truest love of oil,â€" Ah, my erweet wife I how could I now fe.eJ I hot 1 merited the love you favg' met I RoWi s'DU i»il««i«ly mourn- ing (he loss: never a word of complaint eBca|>ed you. H>»w 1 Icogvid lo restore to you your cSiild I And not many mmntiiH w«nt by tiefore i again toohi a Journey (o St. Albans in searob of her. with the cxj>r«ae intention of bringing har home. lUuit nhe waa gone, no one knew] wfijPTe. A jiacket of let- ters from Abel Norria. Written from Alli.'in<4. was all I had. I kept them lorikvd in your deetl-box' at Lincoln'* Inn. I never hbd lh« oourtge. until Sidney discovered th« old clerk, to tgive thin iiocket to you. .^ou burnt the let- ters without suspeot.vng my treaohery and I could not K|)cak--J could nn break the n<i>«'N to youi then that Rona wnn found. But xuum you know all." 'The shadow lies darkly uimn Mr. Pilkington'* tBC«.. but lie seNns to heed It' nto longer. Tlhte grtei canne never recurs; the exiirbeeiuii has beoomc siern and stony, like the faces of the sphinxes which are staring at each other over the gateway out in the summer dawn. There sits the old lawyer motionless, a« though overcomt! by sleep. Mrs. Hl- kinglou raises hier eyes slow ly ; the look is full of unchanging love and free furgiveness. Voen he see that true woman's glance? No word escapes his li^ ; his countenanoet is as stern and sitony as ever, and yet a tear rests up- on hiis cheek I And now a lodk of terror cornea into Mr.i. Pilkinglon's face, ami sihe utters a piercing cry. Still the old lawyer sits motionletis in his chair ; still no word edcapes him. His secrets are all told at last. Sidney's, first year as senior partner, a year that went quickly by. placed a visible line of care upon bis youni? brow. There nevear ha<l been known,' in the recollection of the olde.st clerk, suoh legal recej)tion.s as Mr. Trench held in the oblong room. Ot.h'pr wnit- tng-roonvi besides the octagonal cham- IwT had to be set apart for those who had mode appGUitments. It w«is a.s though clients hod purposely reserved their secrets from Sidney's ear, from a dread of the able old lawyer â€" a dread he could well comprehend from per- sonal experience in early days. One afternoon, when the treee in New Bqaare and Ijint^vln's Inn were again in lea/, Sidney walked over to aVjok's Court. Tliere sat Abel Norris, atb his desk in the dingy iiarkmr. copy- ing docume-nls witli the same diligence which be had shown when first employ- e<l by the great legal firm. NothinK was changed. The black cat. his only, companion, now lay curled up on thei hearth-rug like a great hlotcn o< ''nki â€" thei only one in the room for wWich ' tibx^ old clerk wuh kiot responsilile. "Well. Norris, wihwn are you cwming <0 pay us a visit at the villa ? Rosa asks me the nuestiitin every day." Norrid ^Dok hin head. "Roanâ€" (Miss Gage. I should say^-ds very g<X)d lo think of me. air. She bas a kind heart; sib&'ll never forget me, I know. Will you tell her, eir, that she is always irt my thoughts? I miss her dreadfully sometime.s. It ain't to be wondered at. Is it, Mr. Trench? Twelve years w.is a long time. It was like losing one's own daughter, when IMr. PlUcingtun took her from me." There were tears in the old clerk'.'* eyiis. "Then why not gi';* uip Tcoli'i CViurt ?" said Sidniey. "'Vou would find gardening a more healthy ocropation. Why imi give m> the law? I wi.'h I could." th<' young l.iwyer ndded. laugh- ingly. "If .'omr one would offer mo a pension 1 would retire without lo.-a of time. What cam yoo find in the.vi old parchments' â€" and he pointed to the cleTK'.s deskâ€" "to k^ep yen in tow-nf" "It's hnhit, Mr. Trench," paid Nor- ris, taking up Ms pen. "It's too latn now to rlmnge (hi.'* tor a rake or spade. Nor would an idle country-life suit me. sir, after more thnn fiftv years of de«lc- work. This home is oil I n»ed sir. for the short time I've (itill to live." Such was always the answer which .Sidnej received whenever he Fr»oke to Norris olwut hlm«'lf. No nrcument would induce him to fcrrsske the pre- cincts of Chnnrerv fjine The inky par- lour had a fiisr'inn'ion for hion ; nei- ther the green field.^ nor the prosipe<'t of tx'inp near Rosa would teimpt him to Itvive his old de.s.k even for a sin»;ln day. (To be Continued.) PRESIDENT CARNOT'S WIDOW. Mme. Carnot, the widow of the mur- dered I^esident of the Fren<'h Hepub- lio, lives in the deepest retirement. She waa absolutely devoted to her huaband and she lives only in the past. Like moat Preiich widow.s, she pays constant visits to her husband's grave, ami slie has never yet gone to his tomb without taking with hex a small bunch of flow- ers. .Mme. Carnot, was the daughter of Uupont White, a celvlumted econo- mist of Kritish extraction. She niarrie<l the future President when ahe waa on- ly 17 years of age. and Lbeir union proved ideally happy. Notwithstanding the awful blow of her husliand's death she proved that there wius nothing pet- ty or mean in her <lis{)oHition. for she Ixtggeil that his murderer might be treated as a lunatic, and not subiect- eid to the extreme penalty of the law. CONVICT SALVATION 1U;CRUITS. The late.sl plan of the Salvation Ar- my to gain recruits is to swear in con- victs converted in prisons. Five men in a San Francisco prison, each of whom has several years to serve, joined the army the other day with a character- istic ceremony. The exercises, which were held, uf course, in the .iail. were at- tended by a tluiusnnd people. The new " Soldiers of the Lord " were obliged to an-swer all the questions of the extreme- ly severe " articles of war " and to sign the customary documents The prison- ers had firsi been re(iuired to p.iss through the regular probationary per- iod. FLORENCE NIGH-nNGALE Flonenoe Nightinipile in 76 y«ars old anxl so luxVkiin in health that she can Bcon-ely wTite a letter, yet ahe itever forgets to fend some message to the veterans of the Crimea on the anniver- aary of a victory, or to remember, at Christmas time, those who ore laboring in the in.stitiilion for training nur.«es which ehe founded at St. Thomas' Hos- pital Boon after the close of the war, Surgeon-General Manifold waa one of her warmest friends, and ene of (lie filrB* to promote the employment of women nuTNes in the army. THE TURK'S VITAiUTY. Dig stories are Imlng told dt tbts vi- tality Off tha Tur'tJ. One man ahot through the stojiiach in a re(*«t bfet- tla stayed in thto r.in&s till the fight- ing waa over, and than marched 10 miles before reniortiavr tw this doctors. Another, with a wound in eajch l««and one in the shoulder, ke^tt (tn duty for ti Itours, when ani officer notined him and aent liim to the hoapitn,!. The doc- tors attribute th» qnin^k itttp/erj of the Turkiah wojundad to their abstem- ioua habits, i < MANY CBIANCES TO MSB. > Dutoherâ€" I nead a boy about tout siize and will giv« yoni twelve ahiliingi a week. Boyâ€" Will Ihav» a ehanoe to rlaef Rtitcherâ€" Yes; I want you to b« here at 4 o'clock in thto mnmlog. JhlOUSE HO I^. WHJ5N BAUY CAME. A sigh, a crylâ€" and heaven and earth Are joinwl again A tiny life of jxriceleas worthf ; A feolden reign. ^' A message from Infinity; , A ,i>le<lge of Love; A wondrouii consanguinity, ^,^ ' All ken above. .« A breath of morn; an ecstasy; An oj)ening flower; . A sparkle on a summer sea; A welcome shower. A gleam of holy innocence . ' Of purest mold; Mankind without mankind'* offanse; iUnblemibhed gold. A kiss of heavenly ''^nctity; A biainless blush?. A caJence ot rich harmony; Love's first sweet tluak- Siurh iw.hispers of divider things Ajre ours to-dar; God grant the joy your advent brings Be youiB for aye. RECOPES ^R INVAiTaLDS. Boiled Whiting and Egg Sauca, â€" Choose a large whiting, have it skin- ned and curled round. Put tbia into a pan ol boiling water, slightly salte4, let it boil about ten minutes, or. if very large, a little longer, removing the scum carefully. Drain this dry and •"'â- /vo liot with sauce, prepared as fol- lows : Work one ounce or butter with a lablefl{)oouful of flour to a smooth paate, and add half a pint of boiling waier. ,Lel this simmer for a few minutea, then take it off the fire, add the juice of half a lemon and the yolks of two beaten eggs. Stir thi.s slowly over the fire till as thick as custard, taking great care that it does not boil. iLemon Custard- Beat three eggs till very light in color, add to them half a pint of water, thh grated rind st ^ lemon, stir all togethier, then gradually ad>l tl i: juice of the lemon. Hut the mixluriJ into a clean salt Jar, stand Ibis in a sauc«pan of boiling water, and stir ovpr the fire, using m wooden K;<oun, till thb mixture is oa thiok as i-rdinary custard. Strain into glai>ses, und .St rvB with Savoy biscuiia. Egg and Soda Water.â€" Beat the yolik of one egg with one ten^ioonful of while sug.ix till it looks light and irtvimy. .Vdd two tablemxioafuls of miUc, stir slowly. Pour the mixture iulo a tumbler, siiue>'ze iu a few drojis of lemon juii'e und fill U() with »»k\i\^ water I Invalid Cho(JS. â€" Takv a loin obop, .'rt^ it from bone, skin and tax, mince it verv fineljy, add a. little salt and pepper, and form it into a compact flat lake. Flour thid thickly, and fry till u guo<l brinvn on both sides l^t into a small pan half a gill of sir.)ng beef tea, and when it ju3t begins to boil jihice ill it ihe uaji^ uf meat ; let it cook for a quarter of an hour, turn- ing it ovtr ocrosiomUly by jiassiag a knife under it. lake cure that it does not boil. Scatter chujiped paxaley over, and serve. > 'IVo iiood Wajra to lYe(>are Eggs.â€" 1. A knowing cook of my acquaintance will jioach eggs in milk, seo^ioned with salt or itepper, or alook for a change. When the eggs are cooked and set on their squares of touM, the nxilk or sio.k is thickened, then flavoreil and poured over thtt eggs. '2. Set half a Kill o fwater in a snuill sauceipan, odd a gill of good grav-ty and a teaspoon- ful of vinegar, set the ihui over the fire, and dim-Uy its voult\nt8 boil up stir in the beaten yolks uf tw>o egga Wlieu the sauix< thickens, |iour it roundi liali' u dozen hurd-boiled eggs. Garn- ish the whole with aijtpeis of toast and chojiped parsely* A C,LOV£R LESAF LUNCHEON. One of the enter ui,iumnnts that can be given without much irou ble or ex- l«n8e is a olovi.-r leaf "luncheon, in which clover bluosoms and foliage form the decorations, rhe tables had tops cut in clovtv leaf aliope and en- ameled in green ; three {lersons were sealed at each. The centre pieces were white linen embroidered iu clover leaveM und their 4Jiak blossoms; the menus wer.' clover leaf iu shu^w, col- ored iu the natural shades, and being used for favors, also the name of the guetit and tha menu wxr- inscribed in gold letters. Tlie dishes were garnish- ed with green, and ii« creaiu was pis- tache, Ihe icing of tbo cakes daintily tinted with greenâ€" «v>inacb juic« is the beet culuriogâ€" and the bunbons were the suitu^ cohjr. Candles with green shades de or lied the tables, ihe guests should, OS liir us iiossible, conform to the color si<heiue or thp lunch and the hostess should certainly do so. lUUiAD MAKING. One of the causes of jioor Lfread is the lat^k of knowing whether the flour used in its cointiOBition is made from spring or winter wheat, or the two mixed. Winter-wheat floiur rontaina mure alur h, and the bread dritti U4> quicker than if mode of aiiring-wlhaat flour ; this contains more gluten than the other flour, and is therefore more nu- tritious, and as a consequence is more en'onomical. Wiuter^wheat flour makes whiter bread t^n that made Ifrom apring-wheat, the former flour being eaaily packed hi tba hand, aa it is fine and sutooth. The latter is coarse, bas a yallons-vr tint, and is not eaadly pack- ed in the hand. The former ia best for bread, tha latter far pastry. A mixed flour makes very good bread, and win- ter-wheat flour will do yprj wall if you work it right. . ' , i ( Ci>.re vnd attention must be taken with bread fronx the beginning to the end of th • (iruceos unjit It la aafely out of the oven and wr.'m>p«d in a clean old tahlei^lpth to stanui and cKx>l off. It muat not be allcnved tn rise too long eqpcpially thai lai»t time, w^ea the loavca are ready for tha oven. Have the ovan hot enough. If you k«<t>your I hand Vi! it until you *unt tw»nty ill w»U do. Keep the fire steady for ahoof hal? an hour, then leit it cool dtewnf It will take about aja hour to bake | CMiiiuon-»>ized loaf. Di-vlde the teaf in- to two parts, then mold it to put into the toking tina. The loa! rises mora ever J.y than when in one jjiece. SJyui should be kej/t to a dry, cdcj place, and always sift it before usiag. When you buy flour alwtaya ask if i| ia made from spring, winter or mixea wheat; if from the former, knead as liW tie as iKissibile, and keep tha douglj smooth. Mixed-flour bread ia kneadej smooth. Mixed-Xlour bread is kneaded a little longer and a little firmer; win- ter-wheat tlo^r ia knii*iled until it ia smooth and light. When yon make I>read do not use ttoo much yeast; if you do, /our bread will be coar-ie-grained, and is apt to sour la warm weather. Bread is best made by the slow jiriK-oas; that is, sponging at night, cutting down in the morning and molding when light again, and putting into the baking tins and letting riad again. Bread should rise the last tima until it is nearly twice the bulk it waa when placed in the tins. Bread mada with milk dries up quicker than if mix- ad with water. > PERSONAL POINTERS. |t m* abant Sonic of Ihe â- â€¢â€¢! Pr«BUa«at Follu mt tke WarM. The Duke of Fife keeps twelve suita going at the same tima, and never wears the same clothes twice. i Jo^ Ru.skib rnends hia time iai Ijlaojling bulbs anu nulling them up tha next day to see if they are grow- ing- Switzerland has issued a new twe»- ty-franc gold piece, Helvetia being ra- presented on its face, a realistic paa»> ant girl's head. Around it arc twenty- two stars from the twenty-two cantona. Baron Krupp, the great ironmarter of Germany, carries evidence of tha trade with him when he goes calling. His cords are made of iron, rolled ao thin that they are said to be a great success for social use. Prince Maximilian of Saxony, who fo» a year past has been officiating as a Catholic priest in the slums of Whlta- ohapel has l»eeo ordered by hia doctor to leave London on account of his bcalta breaking down. A woman having passed an exan^ nation in veterinary aurgery in £ni^ land, the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons refuses to grant her a cartiifi- cate until the courts have decided that ft is legal for women to Iw horse doo* tors. She is a Scotch woman and 4 graduate of a Scotch college. Mr. Richard le Gallienne seams anx- ious to take the place formerlji held in London society by Oacar Wilde. Bm a|)peared re<-ently on a bicyole in a bljLck silk costume trimmed witk oreamK'olorad lace, according to %h» Ixmdon Figaro, which also asserts that hia father is a respectable brewer. Nansen's discovery of deep water ill the Arctic Ocean leads M. de Lappar- ent to infer that the Antarctic continent is of equal extent, and bas on it moun- taios of a height correeponding to Nan- sen's ocean surroundings. From this ha goes on to deduce the theory that tha earth is top-shaped and spins, w^ith tha South Pole for its point. A loyal Briton pru|)osea in the Lon- don Mail a unique method of honoring the Queen, lie would have the year divided into thiiteeu lunar montba, twelve of them to bear the present names of the months, and the thirteen- th to be called Victoria. The latter niouUi would consist of twentyruine days and would take in the period from June 18th to Jlily Kith. .Among writers the ex-newspaper men are able to do t he most daily work, as Roliert Barr and W. 1,. Allen, who do 4,000 words a day with ease, while Sir Waller Uesant does only al>out 1,000. Canon Doyle does about 1,500. Anthony ThroUope used to do never less than 1 500 words, getting up at five in the morning for the purpose^ and performing his regular work at the post-off ice nil day. CVjllege oarsmen will give a remark- able dinner soon in I/ondon Thoir guests will be four old university oars, who have attained high judicial rank. Lord Macnaghten. Lord of Appeil in Ordinary; Lord Eaher. Master of tlia Rolls, and Loid Justices of Appeal A. L. Smith and Chittyâ€" lh^^ last tlireect>n- stituting cne-half of the British Court of A|)peal8. The Provost of • Eton al- so an old Blue, will preside. Thomas Thompson, the millionaira hilanthropist, who left his fortune to lis wife with the provision that on her death one-half the income would go to poor women of IBattleboro, Vt.. was gradu.ited from Harvard College in 1817, in the class with the eminent hia- torian. (ieorge IVimroft. His widow, who is ;iow over eighty years old, ia one oif the most liberal givera of the day to charity and lieneflclal enter- pri^^es. The Emperor of Russia does not core much for the bicycle, but his sisters are devoted to it. He likes lawn tennia tietter, and devotes much time to it in summer at Peterhof. He is fond ol art and eminent Russian painters are frequently invited to bring their new pictures to his palace, where he givea much time to their inspection He ia not talkative and usually expresses his thinks with a smile or a gesture. IX)VER'3 WAYS. Prolmbly there is no instance in which any two lovers have made love exactly in 'the aame way as any other two lov- ers since the world bt^an. A'lexantlar made a bonfire fur Thaia. Basaanio soft-soldered Portia with a leaden cas- ket. The garrulous female iu the "Ara- bian Nights" told her husband storiea. Hippomenee had a close rat-e for Ata- lanta, but ho played the apple game tL^Kin her. In the Polyneaian Islands ihey win their hearts by beating their beads with a shillelagh. Newton poked down the tobacn-o iu his pipe with his sweetheart's fingerâ€" a warm token of affection. Bothwell was inclined to Mary, and locked her up in his castle. Cobbett's wife caught him by the griu« with which she used her wo-ihtub; sha waa never known to use it after tha wedding. Nicholas of Russia wanted to pop at a dinner table, but wiva nervou^ so he imbedded a ring in a lump of bread and handed it to tha lady. Char- lemagne'a secretary was caught by a anowatorm "8i>arkiiig" tha amperor'a daughter at midnight, and ahe carried him home an her back, so that hia footsteps shouldn't be traced. The em- paror heard of it, and saddled him on to bar for the reat of bar life. r'"i