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HIS HElRESS ;’ on, LOVE IS ALWAYS THE SAME. __.â€"â€"â€" CHAPTER I.â€"â€"(CO.\‘T[‘SUED.) Sir Mutius, stepping through the open thought that he is stricken to the earth, and advances on her uncle. “ Now that you have made us all unutter- window into the school-room, looks labor- ably miserable.” She says, tearfully’ “I iously around him. aware that there is a young man behind him who is following his footmarks as fast as his legs can carry him. “ So,” says Sir Mutius Mumm, with a sniH, “ this is how you comport yourself, Margery, when the eyes of your relatives are not on you.” “ As -â€"as I am now, uncle '3” demands Margery, who is sitting in~the demuresf at- titude possible to her, with her hands cross- ed dutifully before her. “ Iâ€"I am very sorry to disappoint you in any way, but I would not abuse your trusting nature, uncle, and conscience compels me to confess that I don’t always sit like this. Sometimes Iâ€" stand.” “ And sometimes you halloo at young men out of a. window,” shutters Sir Mutins, angrily. “ How dare you be so impertincnt, miss? D’ye think I haven’t got eyes in my head, ch ‘2” “ Even if you had I don’t see how you could bear out of them,” says Margery, who is in a mutinous mood. “ What I want to know is,” returned old Grumpy, striking his stick savagely upon the carpet, “how you, who probably call yourself a respectable young woman, can explain away the fact of having yelled an invitation to a young man across an acre of grass, and of having used in my hearing such a low term as ‘ Drat it.’ I only wish your aunt Selina has heard you.” There is somewhere in the dim recesses of Mumm’s Hall a gaunt spinster, sister to Sir Mutius and aunt to the young Daryls, whose name has been transmogrified into Selina. by Sir Mutius. He in not, perhaps, hope you’ll go away. If that horri'l Woman is coming to-night, there are things that must be looked to. See ‘2" with a. little stamp. “ Dear Uncle Mutius, you will understand how busy we are, and have been, all day, and how many things have still to be done. and you will forgive Margery for seeming a little overdone,” puts in Angelica, with her soft smile, squeezing the impetuous Mar- gery’s arm just a little. “ You are going now? Ah, that is good of you. Good even- ing, dear Uncle Mutius.” There are moments when the youthful Angelica, who is yet only half child, half woman, seems older than Margery, who is quite nineteen. Peter is twenty, Dick seventeen. After Angelica there was quite a pause until the twins cameâ€"and the moth- er went. There was a pause, too, after the birth of Billy and Muriel,who are foui’and three years older than Peter, but after that the children seemed to tread upon each other’s heels, so fast they came. The mother’s death had been hardly felt, they were so very young. But with the death of the fatherâ€"an event now two years oldâ€"there had come the sad knowledge of money’s value, and all the petty miseries that accompany straitened means. Sir Mutiusâ€"Mrs. Daryl’s only brotherâ€"â€" an old bachelor who lived at Mumm’s Hall, a place situated about four miles from the Manor where the Daryls reside, had looked after his dead sister's children in a snap- pish, unsympathetic fashion when the last blow fell, and death of Mr. Daryl been fol- lowed by the certainty that he had been liv- “ That’s very unbrotherly of you,” says ing considerably beyond his means for many Margery, “ You should be anxious to spare her all the pain you can.” years, and that nothing but debts and a very insufficient income was all he left be- There is a touch of open mischief in the hind himâ€"except the eight children. lovely broad little smile that accompanies this wilful speech. Sir Mutius swells with rage. He is a short, stout little man, with a corporation, an overweening opinion of his own impor- tance, afiery eye, and a sandy wig. Be- sides all these qualifications, he has a tem- per that knows no control. What the crushing remark he is preparing for Margery may be is never known, because at this moment the young man behind him comes into full view. It is plain, however, to the Daryls that he had not known he was following Sir Muiius, because of the fall of his ingenuous countenance as his eyes meet those of the irate old baronet. He is a tall, indeed a spendidly built young man, with a figure that Hercules need not have sneered at, but with a face, alas, that falls far short of the figure. His eyes, perhaps, are above reproach, so clear, so blue. so straight-look- ing they are, but as for the rest of him ! his nose is impossible, his mouth huge, his check-bones distinctly on evidence. As for his mustache, it is not worth speaking about at all, and his hair is abominably void of curl. He is ugly ! There is no doubt about it, he is distinctly ugly, but with this sav- ing clauseâ€"that nowhere, under any cir- cumstances, could he be taken for anything but a gentleman. The presence of Sir Mutius seems to freeze him in part. He pauses with his foot midway between the balcony and the school-room, and looks anxiously at Mar- gery. “ Come in, young man, come in,” says Sir Mutius, in an odious tone. “ What are you afraid of, ch? Seems to me that a young fellow like you must consider him- self almost one of the family to enter a house through a. windowr like a burglar, as you have done.” “ And as you have done,” says the new- comer, smiling. “ Never mind me, sir. An uncle may come in by a window, I suppose, when a That wasâ€"as I have saidâ€"two years ago, and the sadly-lively, merry-mournful family had up to this struggled through all difficul- ties with a strength that only youth could grant; but now to-day fresh trials have seized upon them. The eldest brother, Bil- ly, to whom, indeed, the house and land (such of it, at least. as is not mortgaged up to the hilt) belongs, is bringing home a bride. A stranger! Horrible word! And who is to greet her? Who? There is no lone at all to go forward and face the en- emy’s guns, now that Muriel is away. Now that Muriel is married 2 And so strangely ! CHAPTER lI. “ When you come into any fresh company 7 1 Observe their humors; '2. Suit your own carriage thereto: by which insinuation you will make their converse more free and open." “ There’s a ring at the door-bell ; did you hear it ‘3” cries Angelica, rising to her feet, pale and nervous. “ They have come i I feel it ;I know it, by the cold thrill down my back.” It is some hours later, and the Daryls are waiting on nutssc in the rather shabby lib- rary, and in the very lowest spirits, for the expected coming of their brother and his wife. Now, at last, all is indeed over ! “ Yes i and there is the knock. They’ve come to a moral,” says Peter. The twins grow pale. All in a body move solemnly toward the library door. “ Good heavens ! Why isn’t Muriel here to receive them? gasps Margery, hanging I fire on the threshold. “ \Vhy am 1 to be the victimized one? I feel as if I should like to faint.” “ Peter? 3. pin,” says Dick, with stern determination in his tone. “ No, no. I’ll go, of course,’ declares Meg, hastily. “ Onlyâ€"” She pauses, and looks as though she is on the point of tears. “ Don’t bea goose,” puts in Peter, not unkindly. “ She won’t eat you ! She can’t even blow you into fine dust on so short an acquaintance. Here ! step out. Put your , Young jack““ap"3“‘ IS the” no hall'doo" ’50 ' best foot foremost. Quick ! march! And, this house, Iask, that you must needs charge through a casement, as though you were a mounted dragoon, or the most inti- mate friend of the family?” “After all,_ Sir Mutius, perhaps I am that,” says the tall, ugly young man, with a concilatory smile. “ In- for goodness sake, take that lachrymose ex- pression off your face. It would hang you any where. , If she see; she is unwelcome, she’ll make it hot for us later on.” “ She’ll do that anyhow,” says Dick, grimly, to whom there is evidently a soup- can of enjoyment in the whole affair. “ Go tinnt’e’ I mean‘ I've been coming here’ 03’ on Meg. You shouldn’t scamp your duty.” and on, everqsince I can remember any- thing.” “ I’m going,” whimpers Margery. She takes a step forward with what she fondly, “ ’Ihen the sooner you put a stop to your but erroneously, believes to be a valiant air, eternal comings the better,” says thc'und tries to baronet, angrily. pects your visits, and-J’ “ v ' Margery eV’dently ex would have done on such Muriel another with her think what occasion as thisâ€"Muriel, “Unc’e’” “Claims Meg! “Sing to he" calm, haughty face, her slow movements feet witha face suffused with indignant shame. that she hastened for no man’s pleasure, and her little strange smile, so cold, so u ‘ . , I assure you you Me wrong' I d1" “0” ' sweet, that could attract or subdue, as its come to see Margery. I came to see Peter owner willed. There is a dignity about “lion” 3‘ terrier pupa” interposes Mr’ Be’.’°W’ Muriel that she wishes she could copy, if With a haste that might be termed agonized. for u this occasion onlyn__a savage fab-m__ “ You remember, Peter ‘2” Peter doesn’t but, with a noble desire to snccor the weak, declares at once that the Irish terrier in the yard shall be Curzon’s without any further delay. There is no Irish terrier in the yard. “Thanks, old man," tensely grateful. “ I don’t believe a word of it,” declares Sir Mutius, with true grace. a sense of breeding, aâ€" “ Blanche ! if you tread on the tail of my. gown again." breathes Miss Daryl at this point of her meditations in an angry whis- per, “ I’ll tear you limb from limb. ” V VI. This awful threat being received by the . . sals'f ’: Bane?“ culprit with the utmost indifference, the heartily. At this moment he is indeed in- train once more advances. The hall is reached. “Mary Jane is just opening the door, “Terrier! . , ' ' "tl ' h What terrier? Which terrier? I tell you, $21,293,335 hsajjglfi’dzll.’ down’ 8 egmp 3 He is with the 7' .: ~ young man, advancmg on the astonished advanced guard, and has, beades’ an eye Curzon. But Angelica. who has been terri- like a gimme. fied all along, here rushes to the rescue. unhappy enough without your adding to foreman” our misery? Mrs. Daryl, Billy’s Wife, is coming to-night.” “ And the time I took over that girl’s et-up,” groans Angelica, despairingly. , . . . . s “I m daughted to he“ ’6' I hope She .11 “If you could manage to throw yourself . ‘ h I n a prove a Woman w’th 8‘ Chm “ten says S“ into Mrs. William's arms and lean heavin Mutius, with a withering glance at Mar. on her, all will be well," whispers Dick gei‘y. “You all require a person who would 55 You’re a well_g,.own girl, and weight al. ways tells. Do anythingâ€"â€"hurt her, even keep you in order.” “To'u’ght' ’ Nonsense’ ‘Vhy’ When did â€"but don’t let her see our Mary Jane.” you hear ‘2” asks Curzon, in a low tone, of Margery. “A telegram to-day at one,” curtly. “ Oh, why wasn’t Muriel here ?” returns Margery with quite a shiver of nervous horror. “It is sticking out like a . ” , "tll. “T ii Oh! Uncle Giumâ€"Uncle Mutius, she €j’127gr1332fihegiggasdgg.t(Exam y o t h H a ' l “ Mrs. Daryl cone" 3 arse ’ “""O’ls 3” Me we no” time to notice it, or our reputation is lost ___________________._â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" who has now finally got rid of the small l amount of wits that once were hers, is courtesyiug profoundly and unceasingly. “ After all, she isn’t Irish, she is a Hin- doo,” whispers Dick; “ she thinks she is once more in the presence of Vishnu, the Pervader. See how she mops and mows. Poor thing. She is very mad.” Margery takes the final step, “ You have come, Billy,” she says. timidly advancing toward the young man who is trying so hopelessly to disentangle the little parcel of soft goods. “ So we have, so we have,” cries Mr. Daryl, in a cheery voice. He is a man of middle height, the very image of Margery, and he now abandons his efforts to unravel the little form, to go to his sister and give her a hearty hug. “ Oh! there you all are,” exclaims he delightedly, seeing the other figures drawn up in battle array in the background. “ Look, Willy ! Here they all are in a body to bid you welcome.” “ Look !” laughs somebody from beneath the mulflings. “ Oh ! how I wish I could. I wonder if I’ll ever look with living eyes on anything again l I’m just smothered.” Billy haying kissed the children, who are frightened,and shaken hands with his broth- ers, who are stolid, now once more attacks the bundle and finally brings out from it his wife with quite a flourish as distinctly proud of her. “ He is new to it,” says Peter, with fine contempt, turning to Angelica. “ She’sâ€"she’s pretty,” returns Angelica, slowly, and as if just awakening to some- thing. The meetings, the introductions, have been gone through. Mrs. Daryl is quite a little woman, with clear eyes, that have looked with leisurely kecnness at each of her new kinsfolk in turn. Her month, if firm, is pleasant. There is no self-conscious- ness about her, and no shyness whatever. “ Nice old hall, Billy,” she says, smiling, when she has spoken to every one, and is at last at liberty to look round her. Nice ! All the Daryls exchange covert and furious glances at each other. Nice, indeed i when they have been accustomed to pride themselves upon it as being (which it really is) the finest hall in the country. “I should just like to see the one she has been used to,” mutters Peter, with extreme disgust. "‘ Dinner will be ready in about five minutes,” says Margery, suggestively. “ You must be very tired, andâ€"3’ “Dinner! Ah, you should have men- tioned that, Billy,” says Mrs. Daryl,bright- ly. “ We dined at \Vatton about two hours ago, and to dine again so soon would be dreadful. As to being tired, I never felt fresher in my life. But you must all go to dinner, andâ€"’ “ \Ve dined early. It makes no difference at all,” says Margery, slowly. “ You will like a cup of tea instead, perhaps?" “ Presently. When I have talked to you all a little,”arranges Mrs. Daryl, promptly. “ I think in thc meantimeâ€"Ah ! what room is this?” Margery had led the way into the draw- ing room. “A charming room," declares the new- comer, briskly, with a swift but comprehen- sive glance round her. “ But what ghastly furniture ! \Ve must turn it all out of doors or else relegate it to the garrets, and get something lightâ€"zesthcticâ€"satisfying, ch '3” with an airy wave of her hand. Indeed, all her ways seem to be specially airy. “ That’s the prelude to turning us out of doors,” whispers Meg, gloomily, into‘ An- gelica’s ear. “ \Vcll, nothing like knowing the worst at once i” “ \Vhat’s outside ?” asks Mrs. Daryl, pushing wide a window-curtain, and gazing into the still darkness of the spring night. “ The garden.” “ Ah ! I wish I could see that i” cries she, eagerly. She seems thoroughly untir- ing and full of vivacity. “ Is it too dark, BMyW “ Much too dark and too chilly, besides,” returns he. “ How careful he is of her 3” says Peter, in a moody aside. “ Seems to me she's as strong as aâ€"â€"” He is evidently on the point of saying “ a horse,” but some innate breeding forbids him. “ So she is,” whispers Margery back, who, perhaps, understands him. And, indeed, there is something suggestive of strong and perfect health in Mrs. Daryl’s small elastic frame, and fair face and eager eyes. “ It is rather late for the children to be up,” says Margery, addressing her new sister. “ I think I will take them away now, and give them their tca. Billy can show you everything,” with a faint smile. “ Of course. If they want to go,” says Mrs. Billy, cheerfully. “ But perhaps they’d like a holiday from their beds in honor of me. Would you, mites '2” But the mites are too impressed by the solemnity of the occasionto do aught but hang their heads and behave abominably. “Just like ill-bred little brats,” declares Margery, afterwards, with an access of wrath that descends upon the lucklcss twins. “ Ah! well, no doubt they are tired,” says Mrs. Billy, genially, and so Margery carries off the disgraced babies to their tea in the school room, where they are speedily joined by Angelica, Dick, and Peter. “ What idiot said brides were shy?” de- mands Dick presently. “ Of all the ef’fron- tery, the coolness, theâ€"~” “ She is just what I said she should be.” “She isn’t in the lcast what I thought she would he,” says Margery, “sheâ€"she’s worse. Did you hear her remark about the hall ‘3" “ And about the furniture?” “ I suppose she’ll give us a week’s grace,” says Peter, thoughtfully. " And then-â€" Where are we to go ‘2” “ Ah ‘. you are here, then ‘.” cries a gay voice. The door is pushed open, and Mrs. Daryl enters as though certain of a welcome. “ They told me I should find you in this room," continues she, entering as composed- ly as though she had been an inmate of the house all her life. “ This is a very uncomfortable place for you,” declares Margery, risingpale and un- smiling from behind the teapot. “ Let me take you to the library. I have ordered tea to be served there for you and Billy.” ~ rave even this poor room to ourselves,” nutters Dick, indignantly. _ “ All or none 13 her motto. Anything so indecentâ€"All his pretense at bonhommie is a mere dodge to prove that she is mistress of everything. l‘hat all the rooms belong to her.” “ \Vcll, so they do-â€"-â€"so they do i” returns Angelica, with a fine justice. Then her feelings grow too much for her. “ But of all the mean actionsâ€"” she says, tears rising to her dovcdike eyes. “ There were hot cakes in the library,” says Mrs. Daryl, who has seated herself at the table, and is plainly waiting for her tea. “Couldn’t we have them in here? l’in certain the children would like them. Eh ‘2” She pulls May toward her. Fat little May is not proof against this promis- ing oll'er. “ I should,” she says, shyly. She -is staring at Mrs. Billy with her finger in her mouth, so does not see the concentrated glances of wrath showered upon her by the entire family. “Good child ‘.” laughs Mrs. Daryl. At this moment Billy crosses the thres- hold. “ Billy, this little sister wants the hot cakes in the library,” says his wife, looking up at him. And after half an hour or so Blanche and May are at last dimissed for the night with as many scones on their conscience as size will permit. The new-comers follow them very shortly â€"’.\Irs. Daryl having at last confessed to a slight sense of fatigue. She bids them all good-night in an airy, cheery fashion, and leaves the room, in spite of the tired sensa- tion to which she has acknowledged, in a breezy energetic fashion, suggestive of a mind that governs the slight body and is not easily to be subdued. As she goes the storm b.1rsts. “ Well i” says Peter, when the last sound of their footsteps had ceased upon the air, “well! I never !” He might have said more. He Could never have said anything that conveys.so expressively to his listeners the real state of his feelings. “It isn’t well. It is ill,” retorts Mar- gery. “Itâ€"it is disgraceful. She is de- termined to sit upon us. ” “ She’ll have something to do, then, that’s one comfort,” exclaims Angelica, hysteri- cally. “And she can’t do it all at once either, there’s such a lot of us.” “ Don’t be a fool,” says Peter, who is in no humor for jokes. “ Peter, don’t be rude to Angelica,’ in- tei‘poses Margery, indignantly, whose nerves are by this so highly strung that she feels it a necessity to quarrel with somebody. “ \Vho’s rude ?” demands Peter. “ I only advised her gently not to jest on solemn subjects.” “ Very gently ! You told her not to be a fool.” “ Well ! \Vould you have me tell her to be afoul? You’re all fools together, it strikes me. There isn’t a grain of sense in any girl born.” “I say, look here ! Have it out to-mor- row, you two,” cries Dick, “but let us discuss the new madame now, as she no doubt is discussmg us at this moment. ” “ That is most unfavorably.” “ She is no doubt abusing us like a pick- pocket,” mutters Peter, (lejectedly. “She is arranging with Billy for our im- mediate dismissal, with a character, having paid all wages due.” “ Perhaps, after all, we weren’t very nice to her,” says Angelica, doubtfully. “ What’s the good of being nice? In books they always do the correct thing, at first and get kicked out afterward for their pains. I’ve read a lot about people-in-law. \Ve have done the incorrect thing, and we shall be kicked out, too, but we shall carry our self-respect with us.” “ That’s about all,” puts in Dick, grim- 7 ly. “She isâ€"didn’t any one think her eyes lovely?” hazards Angelica. “ And her hands very small? Small as Muriel’s.” “ No, no,” declares Margery, shortly. “Come, let us go to bed and forget-our misfortunes for a time. if we can.” -x- «is * ilâ€" * Meantime another scene is taking place in the room over their heads. “ After all, Billy,” says Mrs. Daryl, u ith a jolly little laugh as she closes the bedroom door firmly behind her, “ you were wrong. They didn’t fall in love with me at first sight. You are a false prophet.” returns Billy, thoughtfully. “I noticed it. But you mustn’t minrl that, you know. It’ll wear off, andâ€"~-when they come to know you and understand you, there won’t be a diffi- culty anywhere.” ' “It is natural, I suppose,” muses Mrs. 'Daryl, gravely. “They must look upon me as a female Jacob. A supplanter, a usurper.” “ They mustn’t be allowed to harbor that thought,” says her husband, turning quick- ly toward her; “you are mistress here. The house is yours.” Some sudden remembrance checks him here, and drives the color to his check. “A barren possession,” he says, laying his kindly brown hand on hers. “I wish there was something in it worth your accep- taucc.” “It seems to me there is a good deal in it.” A second little laugh breaks from ier. Daryl looks at her anxiously. “Too much, you think perhaps?” he says a quick shade falling into his eyes. For just the moment it takes her to read his thoughts she does not answer him, then : “So that is what you are thinking ‘3" she decides, at last. “Have I deserved it, Billy ?” I tell you, you are wrongâ€"all wrong. The very spirit they displayed warmed my heart to them as no silly untried tenderness would have done. Had they throwr themselves into my arms, and affected a sudden love for me, I should have been troublesome perhaps,” with alittlc grimacc; “but now ! \Vhy they seem to be real grit all through, and I’ll stand to them for it, and make them all like me, before I’m done with them.” “That’s my dear girl,” says Mr. Daryl. “How they withdrew from me 1 Did you notice that boy with the big eyes? How distrustfully he let them rest on me? I shall take him for a ride to-morrow, and bring him home my slave.” “They will be all your slaves ina month Then with a return to that grievance aris- n Go along_you’11 do wen enough at; a 111g. out‘Of 3‘13 frequent worsmping at her pinch," says her brother, noble enc’burage- “"193: ‘ IVOW _I 119138 you, 5599 What Your ment in his tone, as he gives her a friendly perSistgnt and ill-timed vmts here mean push that, sends hex-“with what, the new. ‘90:“0- . ' ” comers imagine to be most flattering haste Th“ 1 love You- â€"â€"right into the glare of the lamp. . “.8511”. and nonsense in “3’9 Miss Daryl: Here, at the hall-door, there is a slight indignantly. ' “on M the himds Of that bad omnman- 0h! up of Eastern sliawls,is standing near the 1105:} W151} You were "1 Jer}°h° ! , hat-stand. A young man is fumbling hope- 3 “10“” away from him» glad 1“ the lessly with these shawls, and Mary Jane, [of your tea, and so would Billy.” hold l” or so.” “That’s the tea down there, isn’t it,” . “Amonth!” Mrs. Billy gazes at him nodding her head at the elderly tea-pot so _ h well known to the twins, l earnestly as one might who is filled with u ch__but in the library_" surprise. “How you underrate my “Iknow. I’ve been there. And very abilities,” 31155594”; M 133% guyl)“ “Be cozy it, looked, but, not, so cozy as this_ I warned in tune. Before tomorrow night “They mean Public caSt'iga' confusion. A little bundle,apparentlymade think old school-rooms the best bits of a ISha‘“ be “Ob only mommied: but WMle house, don’t you? And I should like some accepted by every member 0f thisllouse' “ She’s evidently determined we eha'n‘t (TO BE CONTINUED-l IN DIA’S INFINITE Visisr‘r. llcr Society? and llcr Scenery Complex 311,3 Varied to a Doctor. The grand difficulty of talking to an Eng- lishman about India is thnthc always forms a picture of the place in his mind. It may be accurate or inaccurate, but it is always a picture. He thinks of it either as a green delta, or a series of sunbaked plains, or a wild region with jungle and river and farms all intermixed, or a vast park stretched out by nature for sportsmen, and sloping some- how at the edge toward highly cultivated plains. It never occurs to him that as re- gards external aspect there is no India ; that the Peninsula, so called, is as large as Europe west of the Vistula, and presents as many variations of scenery. East-Anglia, is not so different from Italy as the northwest provinces from Bengal, nor are the Landes so unlike Normandy as the Punjab is unlike the limiting districts of Madras. There is every scene in India, from the eternal snow of the Himalayas, as much above Mont Blanc as Mont Blanc is abm'e Geneva, to the rice swamps of Bengal, all buried in fruit trees; from the wonderful valleys of the Vindhya, where beauty and fertility seem to struggle consciously for the favor of man, to the God-forgotten salt marshes by the Runn of Cutcb. It is the same with indigenous Indian society. The Englishman thinks of it as an innumerable crowd of timid peasants, easily taxed and governed by a few officials, or as a population full of luxurious princes, with dilliculty restrained by scientific force and careful division from eating up each other. In reality, Indian society is more complex and varied than that of Europe, comprising, it is true, a huge mass of peasant proprie- tors, but yet full of princes who are poten» tates and princes who are survivals, of land- lords who arc in all respects great nobles and landlords who are only squireens, of great ecclesiastics and hungry curates, of mer- chants likc the Barings and merchants who keep shops, of professors and professionals, of adventurers and criminals, of cities full of artificers, and of savages far below the dark citizens of Hawaii. A Congo Mystery Solved. The mysterious Lake Landji has been visited at last, and a curious and important question of African geography in thereby settled. Lake Landji has figured on the maps for a number of years, though nobody seemed certain that it really existed. The lake has eluded the grasp of explorers al- most as successfully as the North Pole. It has been the goal of several expeditions, all of which failed to reach it. Mr. Alexander Delcommune, who has probably travelled further and seen more in the Congo Basin than any other white man, has finally stood on the shores of the lake, and demonstrated that it is not mere- ly a vagary of the Arab imagination, for the only proof we had of the lake’s existence was the dictum of Arab traders. Accord- ing to their reports, the lake played a most important part in Congo hydrography. They said it was the gathering ground of all the Congo’s head streams, and that the Congo proper began only where these unit- ed waters issued from the lake. The telegraphic report of Delcommune’s discovery is very'brief, but gives the essen- tial facts. Delcommunc followed the ' Lu- kuga River, the outlet of ‘the great lake, Tanganyika, far to the west, till he found its waters pouring into Lake Landji. He found also that the Lualaba and‘ Luapula, head streams of the Congo, which gather up the waters of the southeast part of the basin, flow into the south side of Lake Land- ji, and that the true Congo emerges from the north side of the lake. The most sur- prising statement in his report is that the Lukuga River is the main artery of the Congo. It had not been. supposed that tho Tanganyika basin was the chief contributor to the upper waters of the great river. Explorers have been very busy in the southeast part of the Cbiigo basin within the past two years. Le M arinel, Dclcom- mune, Stairs, and Bia have led expeditions across it in various directions, and have re- vealed many facts concerning the hydrog- raphy of the region. They have found that these upper waters of the Congo are imped- ed by many falls and rapids, and that most of them are shallow streams. It is doubt- “Theyâ€"thev Were 8: little queer. eh ?” ful if they can ever be made valuable for navigation. ..___â€"â€"â€"- I The Probable Attendance at the World’s Fair. The average daily attendance at the Cen- tennial was 62,333 ; the largest attendance was 274,019 ; the smallest 12,720. The daily average at Paris was 130,000; the largest single day’s admissions, 400,000. While the circumstances and conditions surrounding the Columbiau Exposition differ materially from those of either the Centennial or Paris exhibition, the divergence is not great enough to affect a very clear conclusion from the figures given. The unavoidable inference drawn from every international fair is this : The attendance is very largely drawn from the population within a limited radius from the site of the exposition. Thus, for instance the statistics of the Paris exhi- bition show that on days when the attendance averaged 250,000, at least 190,000 came from Paris and its environs. Allowing for the difference in national habits which makes the American regard a trip from San Fran- cisco to Chicago with greater readiness than the Frenchman .does a journey to Berlin ; allowing, too, for the unlimited stimulus to travel given by the excursion system plan- ned by the railroads of this country for the coming eventâ€"taking every possible factor into account, it seems hardly possible that l more than an average of two hundred thou- sand non-rcsidcnts will be in Chicago during the Exposition. Assuming, then, that two hundred thousand will be the largest average of strangers needing food and lodging in the city, no one familiar with the situation would hesitate to declare that the ordinary rule of suppy and demand will prevail throughout the six months and that the price of living will be as reasonable as could be expected. ______â€"_â€"-<'â€"â€"- Couldn’t Be Lost “ So you persist in receiving the visits of that fellow Sinythe,” said Charles, in amel- odramatic tone. ’ “ I do. He is a very agreeable gentle- man and I see no reason why I should de- liberately offend him.” “ Then I am lost to you forever.” “ Don't talk nonsensensc , Charley.” “ Nonsense ‘2" . “ Yes. The idea of anybody getting lost with such feet as you have is absurd. You couldn’t help being found and identified."