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HOUSEHOLD. From the Kitchen Windows. To and fro, back and forth go the steps of the busy housewife all through the long moenings while what glimpses she gets of the sweet spring or of the gorgeous summer must, for the first few hours of the day at least, be caught from the kitchen windows. How can the prospect therefrom be render- ed more pleasin ? Being asked tie way to the house of his employer a serving man replied : “ Just down this street, boss, and round the cor- ner ; front mostly marble steps, back mostâ€" ly slop barr‘l, sir. " This is suggestive of the way in which matters are sometimes ar- ranged at farm houses; that is, grass and flowors have a place in front of the house, making a pleasant sight for the passerby, while the yard in the rear is made a place of storage for old wagons and miscellaneous rubbish ; a depressing prospect for the weary eyes that sometimes turn for a glimpse of the outer world. The soft, oozy yard where the water stands in little poJls and ruts and where a zig-zag line of boards marks a crazy pathway across it, is a thing to give one the nightmare. The first work in such a one should be to thoroughly drain it, making sure that all drainage is carried far enough away to render contamination of the water supply impossible. It often happens that there is much driving through the backyard ; that here the farmer unloads his groceries at the kitchen door, perhaps bcre unharnesses his driving horse, stores his harness in a convenient outbuilding. and here, possibly arc posts and rings for hitch- ing the horses of callers and it may be a shed for driving under. This is not the worst kind of a yard by any means. There is little grass and the ground is quite likely to be hard under such circumstances. If, then, the surface was well cemented the yard would be, from a sanitary point of view, Well nigh perfect, for it could be kept scrupulously clean. Grass in a yard, though nothing can be more pleasing to the eye, may cover all sorts of uncleanliness which should be raked up and carted away, and cleanliness should be the basis of all im- - provement in the kitchen yard; Having it cleared of rubbish and well swept or raked if grassy, one may then go further. If bur- dock or other persistent weed has gained a foothold in any neglected corner, out off the main root an inch or two below the surface of the ground and turn on it kerosene oil. The remedy is sure. “’ith hard ground or a cemented surface flower beds are out of the question, but if the yard be sunny boxes and stands of plants and annuals may be arranged here and give pleasure to busy eyes all through the summer with their wealth of buds and blossoms. Ono kitchen door which I remember open- ed upon a sunny yard where were no trees and was approached all one summer through a vineclad archway ten or twelve feet in length. It was simply made by setting in the earth opposite each other two rotvs of poles ata distance of four feet apart and bending the tips until they met overhead where they were firmly fastened. Over thcsc from July to late October morning glories of every conceivable shade of pink and “bite and blue nodded their dainty heads philc velvety nasturtiums nestled at their cct. If the yard is too shaded for flowers then by all means have a rockcry and plant in its interstices maiden hair fern, trillium, partridge vine, jack-in-the pulpit and the odd little indian pipe. If you have a bit of sandy bank that in spite of all your efforts thus far has persisted in remaining sandy stick dowu a few sprays of gro'und gill and watch it becoming “a thing of beauty.” Cover rude or unsightly outbuildings with some hardy vine. The common hop has thick foliage and its leaves are prettily cut and veincd. Our ordinary woodbinc does well also for that purpose, or our native clematis. The beauty of either of the two last is heat enhanced at the appearance of frost, the one gorgeous in its scarlet leafagc, the other equally pleasing with its feathery pompous of seeds. - In any and all possible ways brighten the View from the kitchen windows. Pie Plant Receipts- S’rsnmn Rnunxunn-Wash, peel and cut the rhubarb into inch pieces. Put it in a granite double boiler, add one cup of sugar for a pint of rhubarb and cook until soft. Do not stir it. To CAN Rucmauâ€"Fill the cans with rhubarb cut in small pieces, then fill up full with cold water and seal up tight, set away in a dork,cool cellar and it will keep indefi- nitcly. Ruru.\un J Buttâ€"Wash and cut in small pieces, put just enough of water Over it to start it to boiling ; when tender drain through a coarse jelly bog, odd one on ful of sugar for each cupful of juice and oil over a brisk tire for ‘20 minutes. It- is best madc late in the season. llurnannPis.â€"Pccl therhuharb,cut into inch pieces, pour boiling water over it, and let it stand ten minutes. Drain, fill the latc,sprinhlc thickly with one cup of sugar, 0: with bits of butter. cover with a crust, and bake. Rhubarb pic, well made, is very delicious in flavor; indifferently done, it is one of the poorest. Chat. In looking over the trunks and clcsets this summer, see if you cannot weed out many things you have saved for years. Give away many things you have all outgrown, even hooks and pictures. All the pretty dross skirts of your family that it is possible to utilize, rip, wash and tie up, to make comforts of in the late summer. This is lcasant work to sit out on tho lawn and do. 'ou ern l‘c out of doors and still be doing something for winter. Burn and destroy all old letters of no value; even clothing that has become soiled past. cleaning. Nothing breeds moths faster. For packing away cloaks, nothing is nicer than the moth-proof piper sacks, fifty cents each, that can be hun up, and no moth can enter. Clocks with or must be especially guarded. Get all of the sweet summer you can : eat I outdoors as often as possible. Sit out of doors; it will imprmc your health. Never mind the sun and tan-«it is letter than ill health. “an: some kind of a hammock omit-when alt-out the place, and rest in it lame pan of «‘17 day. A light framework fixed around atrcc and re- nml with cheap Hutton \ull last unv- u-oâ€"n. Ltd sent: to brag) off droughts of wind and also to give a little more privacy from the scrutiny of the neighbors. Throw a blanket down on the grass and tie a little cap over baby’s head, put on a light wrap, and let her crawl all around on it and pull clover tops while you read or sew. On rainy days, give attention to indoor things and fix them up to last till the next rainy day. Coax the children to sleep through the heated part of the day, then bathe and dress them, and all go out for your fresh-air time. Keep the house well aired from five to seven in the morning, and from sundown to bedtime in the evening, and closed the rest of the time, and you will find it very much cooler. Watch your early fruits during July and August, as they are apt to mold. Straw- berries and the early jellies should be kept up-stairs, where it is warm and dry. . Always keep some kind of disinfectant in the house to use. Air and watch your cellar, as much malaria and fever can be traced to that. A pleasant home 15 had only at the price of eternal vigilance of the housekeeper. Everyone else enjoys it, but she must sec that it is enjoyable. Cnatsrtn IRVING. THE GULF STREAM. It Would Take Two Thousand Mississippi Rivers to Equal If. The currents of the ocean are the great transporters of the su'n’s heat from the tor- rid zone to temper the climate of the polar regions, says John E. Pillsbury in the Gen; tnry. It is argued by some that such a stu- pendous change as that which occurred in Europe and America at the time of the gla- cial period was caused simply by a deflec- tion in the currents in the northern hemis- phere, whereby its share of tropical heat was partly diverted toward the south. In the three great oceans, the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Indian, there is to be found a similar circulationâ€"a general westerl movement in the tropics, a flow toward the poles along the eastern shores of the conti- nents, an easterly set in the temperate zones, and a current toward the equator along the western shores. This system thus becomes a grand circular movement, some parts being very slow, but still quite constant, and other parts very swift. There are offshoots here and there, due to local causes, and perhaps in the slowly moving current there may bea temporary inter- ruption, but, taken as a whole, the move- ment is continuous. The part of this circulation flowing along the eastern coast of the United States is the greatest of all these currents, and, in fact, is the most magnificent of all nature’s wonders. This is the gulf stream. The name gulf stream was first suggested by Benjamin Franklin because it comes from the gulf of Mexico, While it is a portion of the grand scheme of ocean circulation, ' and the gulf of Mexico is in reality only a stopping place, as it were, for its waters, the name is generally applied to the current when it reaches the straits of Florida, north of Cuba. In the large funnel-shaped open- ing toward the gulf of Mexico the current at first is variable in direction and velocity, but by the time Havana is reached it has become a regular and steady flow. As it rounds the curve of the Florida shore the straits contract, and the water then practi- cally fills the banks from shore to shore and reaches almost to the bottom, which is at this point about 3,000 feet deep. As it leaves the straits of Florida its course is about north, but it gradually changes in direction, followingapproximatcly the curve of 10) fathcms deep until it reaches Cape Hatteras. From this point it starts on its course to Europe. It has lost something in velocity as well as in temperature,and as it journeys to the eastward it gradually diminishes in both, until it, becomes a gentle flow as it approaches Europe. People think the Mississippi river a grand river, and it is so in truth, as for as land rivers go ; but great as it is it would require 2,000 such rivers to make one gulf stream. The great ocean river is an irresistible flood of water, running all the time, winter and summer, and year after year. It is as diffi- cult for the mind to grasp its immensity as it is to realize the distance of the nearest stars. At its narrowest part in tho straits of Florida it is thirty-nine miles wide, has an average depth of 2,000 feet,and a velocity at the axisâ€"the point of fastest flowâ€"of from three to more than five miles per hour. To say that the volume in one hour’s flow past Uapc Florida is 90,000,000,000 tons in weight does not convey much to the mind. If we could evaporate this one hour’s flow of water and distribute the remaining salt to the inhabitants of the United States, every man, woman, and, child would receive near- ly sixty pounds. It is curious to note in the history of the gulf stream how great its influence has been on the fortunes of the new world. Before the discovery of America strange woods and fruits were frcqucntly found on the shores of Europe and off-lying islands. Some of these were seen and examined by Columbus, and to his thoughtful mind they were con- firming evidence of the fact that strange lands were not far to the westward. These woon were carried by the gulf slrcam and by the prevailing winds from the American continent, so that in part the gulf stream is responsible for the discovery of the new world. Ponce dc Leon, while or. his fam- ors search for the fountain of youth, made the discovery of this more practically bene- ficial phenomenon. The whalch of New England were the first to gain a fairly ac- curate knowledge of the limits of the cur- rent between America and Europe by fol- lowing the haunts of the whales, which were Sound north of one line and south of l another, but never between the two. This, they reasoned, was the gulf stream current. Benjamin Franklin received this informa- tion “out the whales, and published it on a chart for the benefit of the mail packets lplying between England and the colonies. The chart was first irsuc-l about 1770, but was not ave-spiel by the lingli-h captains. Before it mmc to be generally known and used the trouble between England and the colonics had begun, and Franklin, knowing the odvsutmc the knowledge would be to the British naive-rs, suppresscd it all he could until hostilities ceased. ............_. E. A. Cto've, of King‘s l'atlt, L. 1., has a lamb that Was born without a lower jaw. Prof. H. W. Vogel, a Berlin chemist, claims to have discovered a system of repro- ducing natural colt-rs in phqt’graph. Cuban harbors lather their patrons with their luau-lat, from a bâ€"nt'l male to lit under the chin. No brush is used. THE DOCTORS PRBSURIPTION. It was a happy group that had assembled in the society rooms. Mrs. Howe had come earlier than usual and accompanying her was Mrs. Helen Bumham, a native of Brompton, and an old friend of nearly every member. She had come to town only the night before on the semi-weekly steamer and the exclamation: of surprise from the ladies were profuse. She was slightly above the average height and a certain air of youthfulness about her made every woman in the room experience a pang akin to envy, thou h Mrs. Burnham had such delightfully cor ial manners that it was impossible for anyone to dislike her. Her large brown eyes were fringed with lashes still velvety, although she was con. siderably “ out of her teens.” But at last the members had all come and Mrs. Burnham had a chance to see how the friends of her girlhood had developed. There was the president, Mrs. Emmons, the Katie Dodge of former days, a comely matron of forty-five, who wore spectales and liked to “ manage things,” but carried out her plans in such a diplomatic manner that her subordinates actually believed they were having their own way. Miss Arabella Finch was a lady of un- certain age filling the honorable position of secretary. She was tall with black eyes and an eagel nose on which she wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Arabella . had no income save the rental of part of 1 her house. Helen pitied her as she no- ticed the faded cheeks and deep lines in her forehead ; she had been pretty once. Mrs. Howe looked unchanged except her hair, which was almost white, and Laura King â€"“ Helen,” exclaimed Emily Brown, “ What have you done to keep yourself so youthful ? Here are most of us grey haired old women, while every hair on your head is broan.” “ You must have discovered the fabled fountain of youth,” added Miss Finch. " Oh, no, I have done nothing,” an- swered Mrs. Burnham, laughing, “ but I was not aware that I was among such venerable people. I haven’t stayed in one place long enough to grow in one way ; I l have so longed to settle down for a while in a. cosy home of my own, as you do here, where one is not continually meeting strangers that one doesn’t care about. " “ Why Helen,” said Mrs. Brown, “ you are as cosmopolitan as Jacob Greenlow, you remember him ? Well, since his wile died he went to live with his son in Providence, but he couldn’t stay because he didn’t know what his next door neighbor was doing. He said he couldn’tlive in a place where he didn’t know everybody.” Before the laughter had subsided apretty I young lady came in who was introduced as Miss McDonald, the high-school assistant. “Tell me about our distinguished visit- or,” she whispered to Mrs. Brown. “ Come into the kitchen While I am getting supper, and I will,” she answered, delighted with the opportunity. “ You know the Dunn house,”she began. “ Well, Mrs. Dunn, Mrs. Burnham’s aunt, lived there and brought up her niece who was an orphan. She was a. beautiful girl, and every young man in the town was in love with her. It was said that she was en- gaged to Fred Robbins, the doctor, you know,but I don’t think she really was, though he was desperately in love with her and has I never married. But Mrs. Dunn was careful that she should make no alliance with pen- niless Brampton lovers, and engaged her to a,Ncw Yorker much older than Helen. Of course she was young, attracted by the wealth and thought she loved him, but I guess the poor thing would have given all her money to have been single again. They say she’s been very unhappy and She never her husband was cruel to her. ad any children and he wouldn’t let her i I adopt a child, but she’s given a great deal to the poor. Mr. Burnham was insane half the time, the last years of bislife, and when he had those spells she was the only person who could manage him; yet when he was sane he managed her.” “ But why didn’t she get divorced ’2” asked Miss McDonald. “Oh, that wasn’t her style; it was her way to stick to anything she had attempt- ed, andI remember when she was a girl she always had such a contempt for divorc- ed people.” “And-has she lived in New York '3” “Only a short time. They’ve lived in Europe most ever since the marriage. She must have been relieved when he died, the monster!’ “Yes, I should think so,” said the list- ener warmly. “How long has her husband been dead?” “A year last month she said." “Do you suppose the doctor will be here tosupper?" asked Miss McDonald. “I hope so; though heis busy and ofcourse cannot know anything of Helen’s being here, for Mrs. Howe kept it secret until this afternoon on purpose to surprise us.” “Thank you for telling the story, its quite romantic,” and she thought to herself that it might be still more so. Miss Mc- Donald wrote something on a bit of pa er and gave it to a boy who was passing. rs. Brown happened to glance out of the win- dow and saw that the boy stopped at the doctor’s office. , ’ “By the way did you know that we gen- erally had ccmpany at the society suppers?” said Miss French to Mrs. Burnham. “No, Idid not" she replied. “Then why were you so surprised to see me?" “Oh, I mean gentlemen, the husbands and brothers and friends of the members. It’s nearly supper time now, and there are several coming down the street; yes, they are society gentlemen ; see if you know them.” “Ah! the one ahead is Jonas Tompson, and is that Mr. Frenchâ€"Why can that be Fred Robbins 2" - Miss McDonald, saw a change pass over her face at the mention of the last name, not a blush but a soft light came into the eyes and the sli ht shadow disappeared from the brow, w llcll until it was passing had not been noticed. The doctor was the first to enter the room. He was a tall man, rather too slender for his height, sud had an open, pleasant face. Miss French im- mediately presented the visitor, saying, "Here is an old acqrulntancs of mine.” “ Helen!" he cxclnimed,lookiog as though he had run a ghost. pardon, Mrs. â€"â€" "Berri-am." suggested Bliss French. “ .‘lis. Borehole, this is indeed a sur- prise! 1 did not know you were on our side of the globe." ‘ “'1: man mutual creature, to know so little about your old friends," she returned. “If-c for twenty years," he answered. "If it were not for a spirit of the past that seems lurking about this old place I might say twenty days instead.” “Ah! That ‘spirit of the t’ means me, I perceive; how delightful y antideluvian you make me feel. I think I should have recognized you by your delicate way of com limenting, if by nothing else." “ thought he had for otten how to com- liment,” broke in Miss Trench, as they sat own to the supper table. “0, then, it is a lost art!" inquired Mrs. Burnham; “if so, allow me to congratulate you on its revival.” A sudden light came into the doctor's eyes; he sat as one in a dreamâ€"a dream from which all his fellow-creatures were as completely left out as though they had never existed â€"all except the restored friend at his si e. He was in a dim wood half light. ed by the setting sun; the air was filled with the beautiful fragrance of J one; the birds were calling to each other from the tree tops and warbling their good-night songs; and there was the spasmodic tinkle of cow bells and the far away voices of children coming across the meadow. He was seated 0:1 the “Great Rock” and by his side was a lovely girl with sweet brown eyes and pale golden hair looking like a wooden nymph against the green background. He had availed himself of the chance and was pour- ing forth his love in quick, glowing words. He scarcely understood that the dream of his young life was over, but as they parted she repeated the lines : “ All discord. harmony not understood ; All partial evil, universal good." And what had his life been, not wholly discordant he hoped, and hers? Her voice recalled him from his reverieâ€"â€" the same musical votce which he had so loved in her girlish days ; yet it was not quite the same ; he had thought it unchang- ed at first, but now be detected a subtle harshness ; possibly it was in himself, or it might have been the words, they were so foreign to his thoughts and the scene was so dili'erent from the one which he had rc- called. “ Really, Mr. Robbins, I think you have been dreaming." “ Beg pardon, I am sure,” he answered. “Ibelicve my thoughts had gone wool gathering. Can I serve you to anything? Some of this nice bread,” he continued, passing the plate. “ Bread indeed l” exclaimed the maker in a tone of disgust! “ That’s angcl cake! Doctor, I think your eyesight is failing.” “Well,” he returned laughing. “I ought to have expected to find angel’s food here.” As they chatted after supper some one asked Mrs. Burnham to sing, so she sat down to the organ though protesting that she “ had hung her harp on a willow. ’ Her voice was not strong, but flexible and sweet and she sang with much expression one of Moore’s melodies. “And doth not a meetinglike thismakeu-monds For all the long years I’ve been wandering awn ’, ' To see this around me my youth's early friends As smiling and kind as in that happy dayl Tho' haply o‘cr some of your brows as o'er mine. ~ Thcfinoug'fall of time may be stealing, what len Like the Alps in the sunlight or smooth flow- ing Rhine. “’o’ll wen; the gay tinge of youth's roses again. She next sang a pretty German song and then rose to leave the instrument amid the delighted applause. “ Oh do not stop,” they cried. “ Very well,”’she said, gnily, “ you must all sing and we will have a musicale and I will be director l” Then followed such a varied programâ€" school songs they had learned with the al- phabet and ballads which brought with them the sweet memory of long ago summer even- ings and of friends with whom they had sung their last songs. There was a trem- bling in some of the voices, and while the eyes were yet glistening overs. tender recol- lection, the “ director ” Would break into a strain like “John Brown had a little In- diau.” No one seemed to take any more thought of time than if that valuable commodity had entirely dropped out of existence. Finally the lamp on the organ went out and Mrs. Jones awoke to the fact that the fire which had not been replenished for the last two hours had also departed this life. On in- quiring of “Isaac ” what time it was, he answored in a guilty voice, “ Only five minutes after eleven, Mirandy.” “ Goodness ! " exclaimed his spouse in the midst of a pathetic refrain, “ You don’t say it’s most midnight ! Why didn’t you tell me before? and its my nightto sweep too,” she continued in a sufficiently audible voice to arouse the others. “ Only one more, Mrs. Jones,” pleaded Helen, “ the old ‘ Good Night ’ in the ‘Glcc Singer ;’ I think you must know it." And so the musicale ended as informally as it had begun. “ We have had a deli htful evenin haven’t we ‘2 " she said to t to doctor, on he answered, smilin . “ The most enjoys. la in ‘20 years.” Nearly a week later he made his first call upon her. They had met every day, but there had 'been time only for a few hurried words at each meeting. She was lookin quite ill, and he remark- ed it. “ Onlya ittle headache,” she said with rather a pitiful smile. " And touch of hcim wek,” he added. “ How discerning you are l but I am bet- ter now and shall be very glad to see you if you do not talk about health.” They were both in a far different mood from that in which the society had seen them, and each felt that the other had un- dorgonc a change since that time. “ Helen," he said suddenly, “do you re- member our last walk ‘5” “ Oh, yes,” she replied, “ I have thought of it many times in my wanderings, and have never seen a sunset which I preferred to that. " There was a pause. Both were living over again the scenes which had so stirred them. “ Yet you never came back,” he said at lute s “ No ; this place seemed a part of my lif: which had gone out with my girlhoodâ€"d portion which I had passed beyond ans could not recall. There are some thing which belong to the past so entirely that’ could we bring them back, they would not satisfy ; they would seem only a mockery of what had been." ” Do you mean that you can not come to me now when all your ties are sundercd? I am alt-ac, too." There was a thrill in his voice which sent "Yes, my friends whom I have not seen a little shook through her. as he continued ; t “ Helen, I have been waiting for this 29 years. Your memory has always haunted me, though God knows I tried to forget; and when I heard that you were free, it seemed as though I had escaped from a long im- prisoument and were breathing J une air again, after being shut up in a poisonous atmosphere. When I met you the other night it seemed a fulfilment of my cherished dream, although I did not know you were on this side of the Atlantic. You could not expect to return thinking I should not ask this of you." His manner and words were far different from the boy‘s passionate confession in the wood, but she felt that the feeling which prompted them was as strong and tender in the man as in the boy. With this knowledge a look of in crossed her features as she said: “ ow could I know that you had not changed like allâ€"” then correcting her- self, “ like so many of the rest of us‘.’ I would not willingly give you pain, you who 0 ““ Aviva have been so faithful to the friend of your ‘ boyhood through all her fickloness." “ No, not fickleness, surely,” be inter- posed, ‘f do not say that, rather your self- saorilicing obedience ; no one could censure you ever.” “ Please do not interrupt me,” she said, “ nor think me eelf~sacrificing. I was speakin of your loyalty. How it strength- ens my aith in human nature and human love ; it is so rare to find one’s friends un- changed in all these years. I did not know there was one in all the world like you. But I have changed, oh, so much 1" She had also risen and was pacing the floor, as she went on in ahurried, suppress- ed voice : “ You would not want me for your wife,” raising her hand when he would have spoken. “ I am not the girl you know ‘20 years ago. It frightens me when I compare myself with HelcuDunn, and if any one had told me that I should be the woman I am, I should have shuddered, but not believed. You can not think of the wicked thou hts that have sometimes possessed me, and could not es- cape, I had to go on.” Her voice had sunk to a passionate whisper. “ Once I actually bought poison; no,_no, not for him," she exclaimed, as she saw his look of horror, “ for myself.” " My poor Helen l” “ But in some way my hand was stayed," she continued, “ my good angel, in whom I had lost faith appeared to me, and I can not thank God, enough. . . . After he died I seemed neither to think or feel for a while ; simply to exist. But kind friends came to me, and life became more intense, in another direction I found a beautiful little girl whom I have adopted ; she, like me, was alone ; we shall be a comfort to each other. ” They were both silent awhile, busy with their own thoughts. “ I do not know why I should tell you thisâ€"exceptâ€"that l have been so misera- ble ; I have never told any one before,â€" never.” “ Why should you not? have I not a. right to share your joys and sorrows after all these years of waiting '3" he asked in a pleading tone. “I think perhaps I am not quite well, or it may be seeing you ; I used always to feel as though I must tell you my wrong- doings, because I could not bear that you should think ill of meâ€"and now what have- I done ; what will you think of me ?” “ I shall never cease to think of you as» the dearest woman in the world, even though you cannot give yourself to me.” he said in a low voice, taking her hand. “ It is hard for me to fully believe such love,” she answered, slowly, “ I have been so long in the shadow ; you must know me better before you say that again.” “I will send on a prescription to-morrow and you would rather I would go away now?” “ Yes, but please come soon again. I do not often have such considerate callers and I need you and~thank you.” The doctor thought be detected a new expression in the beautiful eyes which look- ed so appealingly into his. ‘ Their lips met by a common impulse and he was gone. The next morning little Maude Howe brought; a package to Helen’s room, saying the doctor had “sent some medicine.” On opening it two roses, a faded one and a fresh one fell out, and a slip of paper on which was written, " Here is the prescrip- tion which I spoke of and you have never seen, although it was written for you 22 years ago before I had begun to write them for other people. It is for heart disca'ie and the other oncis for headache. If you follow the directions to the very letterI feel assur- ed that you will wear the gay tinge of outh’s roses again the next time I call. lease say when that shall be.” There it was-the love letterâ€"written so long ago, and Helen read it with happy tears falling on the checks which were beginning to “ wear the tinge of youth’s roses.” . The other “ prescription ” was a proposal of marriage in set terms, and Helen smiled as she wrote the following reply. “ Thank you for sending the ‘prcscriptions ;’ they have worked magically and my headache has entirely ceased. My heart is much improved though it beats strangely fast and I would like you to call this evening. I will wear the beautiful rose, but the one which the 'snowfall of time ’ has ruthlessly stolen I shall keep as an emblem ; it may prevent an attack of heart disease whenâ€" when I am Mrs. Robbins l” uâ€"«wm A Daring Nihilist Plot. A Berlin correspondent says thehational Zeitung learns from St. Petersburg that a fresh Nihilist plot has been discovered in that city. It had been arranged to blow up the Gatschina Palace, which is the con- stant abode of the Czar and his family during most of the year. It is said that the whole palace was undermined. Of course, it was not the St. Pctcrsburg police who dis- covered it. A warning from Paris frustrat- ed the attcm t. When searches were made all was foun as stated. The mines extend- ed ssveral kilometres around the palace. Great exitemont has taken hold on the population. General Gresser’s death and the explosiouontheMcolaillridgeafewdaya ago are given out as unimportant incidents such as may happen any day. The cir- cumstance that a double explosion took lace on the bridge within the space of two more is in any case remarkable. It tore up ving stones for about twenty yards and Blair a peasant boy into the river. Happily be was saved. During the repairing of the bridge another explosion occurred, hut nothing serious happened. ‘mnauu «anâ€"W...” .. .