The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

I ~ _ HIS Hus ; ‘ on LOVE CH APTER XXXIII. “ Consider that the iuVisib‘ze thin:r called a go )d name is made up of the breadth of the numbers that speak well of you.” She has barely time to go to her room and put herself into the hands of her woman before the arrival of her guest-s, returning from Lady Blount’s tennis-match, makes itself felt in the house by the sounds of gay laughter and the click-clack of high-heeled shoes running up the stairs. Mrs. Amyot knocks at the door in passing to ask if her headache is better, and with a vile sense of hypocrisy full upon her she answers, “ Yes, a little,” though the headache certainly had been there in the morning, and no faintest untruth had been uttered about it. ‘She is feeling tired, worn out in soul and body, and it is with a sense of physical com- fort that she sheds her walking attire and lets Bridgman clothe her in the looser, easier teagown, of white terry velvet, that sits so charmingly upon her lissome figure, and is undesecrated by faintest spot of color. As the maid is.putting a last finishing touch to her, Muriel asks her a question that is yet hardly one. “ Lord Branksmere has returned 2” she, says. “ Oh, yes, my lady. He returned by the four o’clock train. He inguired for your ladyship, but I told him you had gone for a walk with Captain Staines, as your head was bad.” Bridgman being dismissed presently, Lady Brauksmere rises from the chair and her enforced calm. and begins to pace fev- erishly up and down the room. What was it Staincs had said at that mo- ment at the foot of the stairs? “ A remedy!” “ There is alivays a. remedy ; always.” She was to remember that. So she will. Huh 1 see that they do not drive her too far. More ' than one can play at this damning game that heâ€"lier husbandâ€"(oh '. the iguominy of it !)-â€"-has chosen-as his pastime. Mrs. Amyot’s voice roaches her as she steps from behind a large screen. “ We are disgracefully late,” that pretty buttcrfly is saying to Lord Branksinere. “ \Vc richly deserve the scolding that 1 hope Lady Braiiksmere Will not give us. You agree vi ith me 1'” “ Entirely,” says Branksmere. But I am afraid she must have found it very lonely here, all by herself.” “ Terribly lonely ~all by herself,” returns Brnnksmere, with a. grim smile, looking straight at his wife as she comes slowly to- ward them over the polished floor, her long white dress trailing behind her. “ Oh, no, I was not lonely,” says she, in I a sweet, clear voice. “ I went for a row .. . , . . , . .. ,i, - a) on the lake thli Captain Staincs, and the lupt’ed amend)“ “* 1*“ “1’”- fresh breeze there did my head all the good in the world.” in the glance she directs at her husband. Lady Primrose has now got hold of Mur- iel. “ I do trust, my dear, you did not stay l long on that lake,” she is saying with pond- crous anXiety. H on such a day as this. She is so deaf, poor old soul, that she always talks at the top of ; her lungs, beingr perhaps under the impres- sion that her neighbors are similarly afflict- ed, so that all she says is given to the gal- lery in ‘gcneral. “ There was no mist, I think. unpleasantness,” replies Lady llranksmere able. calmly. Only Margery, who is watching There is a touch of defiance) "my “end did {WW lhaughtilyâ€"“ I had no intention of going on “ Nothing so unwholesome as a water [ the lake until long after they had all gone mist, and there was sure to be one uprising l to that tennis-match.” I felt no 3 breaks from her. IS ALWAYS ' THE-.SAMB. mere is standing on tha hearth-rug a few paces from her, gillelg at her intently. .â€"__.. CHAPTER XXXIV. “Harsh. springs and fountains bittcrcr than th sea. His face is white and stern, a sullen frown has gathered on his forehead ; beneath his bent brows his eyes look out on her filled ' ’with suppressch fire. “ This is an unwarrantable intrusion,” says Lady Branksmere, rising slowly to her feet, and standing now with her hand rest- ing upon the back of her chair. “No more so than usual,” coldly. “ My presenceâ€"anywhereâ€"is an intrusion now, if you happen to be there.” “ What has brought you '2" asks she, haughtily, gazing at him with ill~conccaled dislike. ‘ “I have come to demand an explanation,” returns he, deliberately crossing the room to close the door by which he had entered. His very action had such determination in it that it startles her. “Explain! What should I have to ex- plain ?” replies slie, proudly. “You will be kind enough to tell me,” he says, slowly, “what it is you mean by your friendship with Captain Staines. I wish to know how matters stand between you and -'â€"your guest.” “Yoursâ€"rather.” “True. Iliad forgotten his double dis- honor there.” “ Honor isa word that seems to trip ” snecrs she with lightly from your tongue, ineffable contempt. I'Ier large eyes flash. .“I am placed at the bar, it appears,” murmurs she, with a curious smile. “ State your case then. What fancied wrongs are yours ‘2” “I seldom have fancies”â€"â€"coldlyâ€"“ I have refrained from speech until you your- .self have rendered silence no longer pos- sible. Vthn your name is made public property, when it is in the mouths of all, I feel~” “Be silent I” interrupts she, imp iriously. “I want none of your comments. Tell me only of what it is you accuse me.” “Of your intimacy with your former \lover,” crics he, with the first touch of violent anger he has shown. Ills nostrils dilate, his breath comes heavily through his white lips. “Last night you made yourself conspicuous with him before the entire county; to-day, under the pretext of a headache, you absented yourself from your guests, refused to accompany them to Lady ; Blount’s that you might have an uninter- 1 . I vehemently ; I stayed away from Lady Blount’s ; yet it was by the merest chance that I went on the lake with Cap- ; 'ain Staines." “ Pshaw l” cxclaims he scornfully. “Listen to me or not, as you “It is false,” returns she, will,” “ And it was the unrest chance, too, that :kept you on the island with thatâ€"fellowâ€" for three long hoursâ€"short hours, rather,” with a. pale smile. ' “ Did she tell you all that?" asks Lady Branksmere, slowly. A strange little laugh “She is indeed invalu- V‘Vliat more did your spy impart to Oh, it is wise of you to turn the Eyou? her with sad eyes, notices the convulsive ‘ tables upon me lest I be the first to bring , twitching of the white hand hidden in the folds of her gown. “ Of course, Branksmere, being with you, without fear of censure from me. would-see to that,” croons on the old lady, whose intellect having grasped the fact that Branksmere was not at Lady Blount’s can I go no further beyond imagining that if not there he must have been with his wife_ “ Not-hing so good as a husband, my dear,” witha benevolent smile, “ when all is told.” Deadly silence, broken only by a murmur from Mrs. Vyner, which is understood by all but Lady Primrose. “ You will bear me out,” she is whispering mildly to Curzon Bellow, “ that I always said the dear old creature was in her dotage. Doesn't that speech conrirm it ?” “ But I think slielooks tired, Branksmere ’ â€"â€"-slic looks pale,” calls out the mistaken old lady across the room. “I doubt you kept her on that lake too long.” ' “ I don’t think so,” says Brauksmere. He lifts his head and gives way to a curious little laugh. “ That lake possesses charms for her of which we know nothing. She would have pined all day but for the benefit she derived from its air.” He says all this with the most‘natural manner possible, but Muriel writhes and winccs inwardly beneath each sharp out. How dare he take her to task ! Well at all events she is lonking too whi‘e to please me,” declares Lady Primrose with some faint insistence. “ I don’t believe in l the lake, I don’t indeed. Don’t take her there again, Branksmere, if an old woman’s advice is worth following.” “ I won’t,” returns Branksniere, and again h» laughs unpleasantly. A suspicion that he is seeking to shield her from Lady Primrose’s censure waking within Muriel’s breast, drives her to an open declaration of the realities of the question at issue. “ Brauksmere was not with me on the lake to-day," she says, coldly, but distinctly. “ He went to town by the early train this morning.” _ “ Eh, my dear ? I quite understood him to sayâ€"what was it you said Branksmere ? and if he was not with you my dear who wasâ€"-eh ‘2 eh ‘2” “Oh! Lady Primrose! Do you know I quite forgot to tell you until this momentâ€"butâ€"” breaks in Margery’s gay, sweet voice, “ I have discovered the new knitting stitch that so puzzled us last week, 'Willie knew all about it. It is the prettiest thing ; seeâ€"” dropping on her knees before her, and tak- up the eternal work-basket that ever accompanies the old countessâ€"“ let me show it to you now while it is fresh upon my mind. One. One, twoâ€"one, two, three -â€",a turnâ€"you quite see‘? and then l‘aca again. It has the happiest result. I It has indeed l~. Lady Primrose growmg enthusiastic over the new stitch, Muriel makes her escape to a. distant tea table where comparative calm, at least, is obtain- ed, until thc dinner-bell rings and. she is enabled to make her escape to her own room. . ,q ‘ - I, , A sliizht none startlee Isi‘. Lori. “ranks- aii accusation. . Isuppose it is that I no longer care. I give in. Do what you will I feel §deadened, emotionless. You have killed. ! within me all feeling, all sensibility.” “ To follow your rhapsodies is beyond me,” says Branksmere, with a shrug. I He looks at her searchingly, but her eyes 1 meet his boldly. i “ For the second time I warn you :to be- ware,” exclaims she, losing all control. i “ Are your actions then so altogether pure i that you can afford to take me to task? ; Youâ€"youâ€"who keep that shameless wom- : an under the same roof with your wife !” f “ Do you know what you are saying?” )demands Branksmerefiercely, grasping her arm. “ Prove your words.” I “Oh ! that I could,” breathes she wildly. , “ That I could prove anything that would iset me free from you.” I - “ Free to give yourself to another !” He :lcts her go abruptly, pushing her roughly jaway', and a sharp jarring laugh breaks from him. “Pah! you play too opcna game. I fear it is not in your power to .lurnish yourself with those proofs you so feagerly desire.” ? “You meanâ€"” Her voice‘ is curiously i; low and calm. l “ That you would welcome any dishonor ’ that would fling you into the arms ofâ€"your lover l” It is said'! Nothing can recall it ! There is a moment’s awful silence, and then I Braiiksmere falls quickly back from her, a ‘dark red stain across his check where her palm had struck him. It in all done and ~over in a moment, but for a full minute he scarcely recovers himself. Then it is to find the room empty. For in the tumult of her rage Lady Branksmere had caught l up a shawl and hurried from the roomâ€"the ‘ house ! CHAPTER. XXXV. The stars are hidden by the dense bank i of clouds that makes dull the heavens, but ' a pale watery moon sheds here and there a l vague pathway through the earth that Ehelps Lady Branksmere to find the wood- : land path that leads from the Castle to her fold home. Swiftly, mechanically, she g'moves toward it, conscious of little but ithat she is leaving behind her misery too igreat to be borne. l \Vith blind haste she hurries along the llittle beaten track beneath the shadowy ; leaves until a sudden turn in it brings her a face to face with the walls of her old home, i gleamineg gray in the growing moonlight lâ€"the old only home, she tells herself with i throbbing heart, that she will ever know. ' Some instinct draws her feet to the quaint ‘ iron-bound door of the armory, and laying her hand upon it as one might who is sure ‘of entrance, even at this late hour, presses it from her to find her instinct true. The door yields, and she moves quickly onward into the irregular, vaulted passage beyond. It is unliglited, but a stray beam, flinging . entrance hall above. itself through the stained window at the} lower end, gives her a lead, and shows her the stone steps that bring her finally to the Turning aside with- out thought, she opens the door of this room, and enters it so softly that her com- ing is unheard. Here the lamps are burning brilliantly; the heavy silken curtains are closely drawn; a small, but eminently cozy little fire is coaxing an equally small kettle to sing with all its might. There is a tiny tea equipage upon a. gypsy table, and upon another table near it a fowl delicately roasted, a tempt- ing pate, a Dresden bowl full of strawber- ries, and a. long-necked bottle. Before the fire, in pretty, loose white robes, sit Mrs. Daryl and Margery : at the side, Angelica, in a costume that might suggest to the iii- tclligent onlooker that she had been sum- moned from her bed at a moment‘s notice. “I didn’t believe a kettle, a small kettle, could take so long to boil,” Mrs. Daryl is saying, anxiously leaning over the fire, “When it makes that little fussy noise, it’s boiling, ch?” ’ “ It isn’t thinking of boiling,” declares Angelica. First it must sing, then the steam must pour out of its nose, and then it is all over, andâ€"you take it up.” She is looking at Margery as she speaks, and at this identical moment the kettle gives way to the ebullition of which she had been speaking. “ it you mean ine,’ cries Margery, push- ing back her chair, “ I couldn’t do it, at all ; I couldn’t really. It’s an abominable little thing. How angry it looks ! I wouldn’t touch itâ€"to say nothing of lifting it bodily from the fireâ€"for anything that could‘ be offered.” As she speaks, she turns quite around, and thus brings herself face to face with Muriel, the poor, rich, titled thing, who would have given all her possessions to-night to be able to mingle Wth them. The rustle of her gown, joined to Mar- gery’s- silence, muses Mrs. Billy. She turns, and would perhaps have given way to the expression of dismay that rises to her lips, but for the swift glimpse she gets of iilargcry’s face. The girl is livid. in a second Mrs. Billy has conquered herself, and is advancing toward Lady Branksmcre with rather an increase of the debonnaire manner that belongs to her. ,7 J “ You are just in time, she cried, with an air of open jollity that does her credit. “ We have been dining at that wretched old Sir Mutius Mumm’s again, and as usual have conic homo starving. The servants for the most part were in bed ; so Margery 'aud I decided upon making a raid on the larder for ourselves, and we haven’t done so badly, have we? Thc only drawback to , our success lies in the fact that I have made up my mind to a cup of tea, and the kettle has proved too much for us. But you have hall 0. good long walk, eh ‘! You are tired ! : Men,” with a swift glance at Margery, “ will you and Angelica make yet another predatory incursion, and see if you couldn’t impound some Madeira.” \Vlien the door has closed upon them, Mrs. Billy turns to Muriel. “ Now, what is it ‘3” she asks, promptly. “It is of no use your banishing Meg,” returns Lady Branksmcrc, coldly, " She must know it all soon. The whole world will knowit. I have left that place for- ever.” “ You have left your husband?” ” If you wish to put it soâ€"yes. For my- self, I feel more if I had left Madame vou Thiisk and all the vile associations that have degraded my married life.” “ All?” questions Mrs. Billy with a searching glance. “ You, too, condemnme then f” shesays, slowly. “ I luvs no friend anywhere.” “ here ; I think you had better tell me all about it.” She presses her gently into an arm-chair. Exhausted, physically and mentally, Muriel leans back among the cushions, and then suddenly she breaks into a recital of her wrongs; not loudly or passionately, but in a cold angry way that somehow is more impressive. Once or twice during her hurried explanation of her presence, Mrs. Daryl had changed color, and now it is with her face partially averted that she speaks. “ This manâ€"this friend of yoursâ€"Cap- tain Staines, got rid of him,” says Mrs. Billy, a little doggedly. “If you think there is anything between Madame Von Thirsk and your husband,” begins Mrs. Billyâ€"â€" “ Think l” “ Well, why don't you go straight to him and just put it to him that you can’t be happy while she remains at the Castle? Speak boldly to him. Throw yourself on his generosity. I believe half this is mere imagination of yours. And at all events, speak. Why should one be afraid of one’s husband ‘2” “ Ah 1” A long-drawn breath escapes Muriel; “ you are a happy wife,” she says; “ you can not comprehend a case like mine.” Her hands fall iiiertly into her lap in a weary, purposeless fashion, that goes to Margery’s soul. “ I am tired of it all. And even if I would, opportunity is denied me. That woman of late haunts him ; they are to- gether from morning till night.” “ But not from night till morning,” says Mrs. Billy, briskly. Muriel‘s lips grow White. out her arms protestingly. “ Who can say '3” she answers in a low voice full of terrible suspicion, her eyes on the ground. Mrs. Daryl is shocked : Margery bursts into tears. “Oh, Muriel, darling, why will you do- stroy your own happiness by harboring such sad beliefs '2 I am sure Brauksmere in his heart is true to you, I . “ Well, I have not come here to listen to Branksmere's praises,” says Muriel, rising abruptly to her feet, with a short laugh. If Ican not get sympathy here in my old home, from my own sister, I need hardly look for it anywhere. After all, why should I expect any one to enter into my griefs ‘2” “Don’t speak to me like that, Muriel,’ cries Margery. “ Between you and me su .11 words are cruel.” “ Let us think what is best to be done,” breaks in Mrs. Billy, in a matter-offact tone. , “There is nothing to be done.” Lady Branksmcre turns upon her with flashing eyes. “Do you imagine I am going to truckle to a man who is not false to me,but who takes me to task for my behavior with -â€"with one who is an old friend ?” “ An old lover,” corects Mrs. Billy, in a strange tone. “ Let us keep to the strict facts. You are alluding to Captain Staines l” “ Be warned about him in time. I don't She throws know why, but instinct tells me to distrust him.” Muriel sighs heavily. “ H we a glass of wine," says Mrs. Billy, who, after all, is nothing if not practical. At this moment the sound of a footstcp the hall outside makes itself heard. in Muriel starts in to an intenser life, and, springing to her feet, looks with angry eyes toward the door. “ It is he,” she says. me. ” “ He has followed CHAPTER XXXVI. It is, in fact, Branksmere’s stop. He had found his. way through the armory door that she had left open, and is now in the hall. A faint light coming from beneath the library door attracts his attention ; in- voluntarily he turns toward it, and finds himself presently staring at Dick across a reading lamp. , “ Where is your sister?” demands lie, in an aggressive tone. “ With herowapeople. In her own home. “ I wonder you are not ashamed to men- tion her,” cries Dick, With a sudden burst of passion. “ Yes, she is here. She came half an hour ago. She went to W'illy’s boudoir. I followed her there, and heardâ€"- heardâ€"you know what I heard. She look- ed so tired, so worn.” “Muriel is a fool, and you are another,” says Branksmere, coolly. _“I am not !” The blood recedes from Dick’s brow and his large eyes glow. With an inarticulate cry lic rushes forward and fliugs himself upon his adversary. He is a tall lad, but slender, and in less time than one can pic- ture it, his attack is at an end, and Brooks- more has him in his powerful grasp. Twist- ing his arms behind him so as to leave him powerless and at his mercy, he looks for a minute full into the boy’s defiant face. “ The some blood,” he says, with a sneer, that ends in a groan, and by a sudden move- ment lie releases his foe and sends him stag< ,geriiig back a few paces from him. “ Pshaw I” he says, contemptuously, and } turning on his liuel quits the room. A few steps bring him to that other room where three pale women are waiting his coming. ' Entering, he closes the door heavily be- hind him, and looks straight at his wife. “ It is rather a late hour for visiting,” l he says. “ Are you ready to come home ‘2” “ lam at home.” “ Are you ready, then, to return to the {Castle ‘3” His voice, thouin subdued, is vibrating with rage. His face is white, his lips set. There is a dangerous light in , his somber eyes. i “ To prison? ? fiantly. , “I implore you not to let things go too 5 far,” says Mrs. Billy. “ Be reaso iable. l The world’s opinion is worth a good deal.” At this, Muriel’s long-felt irritation takes l flight, and flames into life. ' “ \Vhat do you all mean ‘2” she cries, with a burst of passi )1}. “ Do you want to lgct rid of me? Am I a disgrace to you ‘2” l “ Muriel! What folly! My dear girl, think l” entreats Mrs. Billy earnestly. “ What can I think but that I am not -, wanted by any one, here, or there, or any- where? May I not rest bencath your roof ' for even one night?” “ If you leave my roof (uner such cir- lcumslnnces as these) for one night, you leave it forever,” interposes Branksmere; stcrnly. l “ Are you coming ‘3” he asks with a frown. “ Yes;she is,” returns Mrs. Billy un- i abashed. She throws, as she speaks, a i light shawl round Muriel in a way that ad- i mits of no dispute, and indeed .Vluriel, who is now looking tired and exhausted and hopeless, makes no effort to resist her. “ As you all wish it, as I am unwelcome lhere, and only a trouble, I will go,” ' says, wearily.” “Oh ! no, darling! Do not speak like that,” sobs Margery, clinging to her. “ But not nowâ€"not just yet,” goes on Lady Branksnierc, hardly heading her ten- |der embrace. “In a little while I will go I back. But not quite now.” ' “ You will come now or not at all Branksmsrc interrupts, doggedly. “ I will i have no gossipâ€"no damning whispers.” Margery lifts her head impetuously, and would have spoken but that Mrs. Billy checks her. “ He is rightâ€"quite right. Let there be no scandal,” she whispers wisely. “ They both came down to visit us Lo-night. Both. Together. You will remember? It was an idle freak. There was nothing in it.” She pushes Muriel as she speaks toward the d .or. Branksmcre who is standing next to it, puts out his hand as his wife approaches, and though still with a lowering brow, would have drawn hers through his arm. But with a gesture of extreme rcpugnancc she pushes him aside and hurries from the roonu No l” replies Muriel, de- m (To us onwrvnwn l -â€"â€"â€"o-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"- From Philadelphia- One of the best of the recent stories at the expense of the average inhabitant of the Quaker City is told by Low Dockstadcr. “I was walking through Twenty-third street the other afternoon,” he said, “ when a man toppled from the roof of a six-story building and came whirling down through the air, striking the sidewalk just in front of me. To my aiiisizeuient he got up and began to brush off his clothing with the utmost unconcern. “ ‘ That was a pretty big fall you had,’ said I. ‘ Aren’t you hurt ‘2’ “ ‘ Nop,’ said the man. “ ‘ I can’t understand it,’ said I. ‘A fall like that would have killed anybody else.’ - “ ‘ Yes, I know,’ said he. ‘ But, you see, I’m from Phi ladelpliia and I fall slowly.’ ” A Wife’s Confidence- Wifeâ€"“ Have you any secrets you keep from me, dearest '2” Husbandâ€"“ None, darling.” VV.â€"â€"-“ ,Then I am determined I will have none from you either.” H.â€"“You have secrets, then '2” W.â€"“ Only one, and I am resolved to make a clean breast of it.” H. (hosrsely)â€"“ Go on." W.â€"“ For several days I have had a secretâ€"a secret longing for a. new Summer suit with a. hat to match.” That fetched him. The Reason Why- Candjdateâ€"“ You have not any doubt as to my cliaiaoter, have you?” Vaterâ€"" 0, no, of course not.” “ Then why won’t you vote for-me?” "Because I have iioxloubt as to your char.- M ter.” 11: us) she .. SIAM MBNAOED BY FRAE’EB’E Britain Interested and May be Involved. Recent reports state that a French gun. boat has anchored in the river opposite Bangkok, the capital of Siam, and is making preparations to bombard the city, while a French fleet is proceeding thither from Saigon. London despatches, however, assert on the authority of Sir Edward Gray, Under Foreign Secretary,that a British warship is‘ also at Bangkok, that anotheris on the way and that a third is ready to proceed there ifrequired. It is therefore clear that matters have reached a crisis, and that France is likely to be involved in a second edition of the Tonquin troubles with the added pleasure of a serious diflerence with China and Britain. As the Celestial Empire claims to hold asort of suzerainty over Saim, and Great Britain now borders upon itinBurmah neither powerdikes the inroads of France, and will probably oppose the further pro- gress of the Republic so far as may be practicable. , . ' For some time back the French have manifested a desire to encroach upon ter- ritories bordering along Cochin China or Tonquin. Such an ambition is easily un- derstood and in some cases is clearly defen- sible. But the excuse given in this instance is hardly sufficient. Siam is accused of be- ing the aggressor; is said to entertain a de- sire to drive its frontiers eastward; and to be wickedly ambitious of turning its com- merce towards Bangkok by way of Korat, to which a railway is now being built, in- stead of allowing it to run via Aniiam and Cochin China, which the French naturally consider to be the “natural” route. How- ever, matters seem to have come to a head, and it remains to be seen how Siam with its 6,000,000 people, its standing army of 12,000 men, chiefly officered by Europeans, and its ten fully equipped war vessels, will receive and treat the menacing action of France. ll’hilc a. war would probably prove fatal to its independence in the long run, if no other power intervened, yet Siam could defend itself at least as well as Ton- quin did, and the French republic has few sweet memories connected with that strug- gle. Bangkok and amounts to some $16,000,000 a year, is almost entirely in the hands of Great Britain, and its ports at Hong Kong, Singapore and in Lower Burmah. There are also a million Chinese in the country, and China is very touchy upon the question of further interference with what she claims are her rights in the peninsula. It is therefore probable that Lord Rosebcry’s vigorous foreign policy and the present principle of alliance with China against Russia and France in the East, will help to make matters warm if the latter power really attempts to subjugate this Asiatic Kingdom. ' Meantime it will be a great pity if harm comes to Bangkok from hostile men-of-war. Unlike Mandalay, the one-time capital of Upper Burmah, it is a beautiful and strik- ing centre and has been well termed the “ Venice of the East.” Many of the streets are traversed by canals, while the 500,000 people who comprise its residents have er.- tended the city seven miles up and down and upon each side of the great Siam river â€"the Meinam. It is fulle handsome tem- ples, palaces and public buildings, and its evidences of civilization include electric lights, street cars and two 'ncwspapers. But the Government is despotic, the people lazy and the courts corrupt. A correspondent of the London Times, about a year ago, summarized the general situation as follows : “The people expect a British protectorate, but the French have advanced westward to the Mekong and there will be a sharp con- test between thc two nations for the posses- sion of Siam. It would not be pleasant to have the French there, as the garrison of Burmah would have to be enlarged. But if they will remain quiet we hope that Siam will remain independent for another genera- tion. Whatever the abuses, the people are tranquil and happy, and we have eaten so much territory in the decade that if we do not take care we shall have indigestion. The Siamese would furnish no soldiers, and the Malay regiments, which we should pro- bably raise to garrison the country, are not easy to manage. It is by no means certain either, that European claimants of Siam would escape a deadly quarrel with the Chinese.” . It is therefore, apparent that France is courting trouble if she endeavors to forcibly annex Siam against the wishes of its people, the policy of England, and the feelings of China. . Gown 500 Years Old- Thc oldest dress in the world is probably that described by a French traveller in Jap- an. It belonged to an Empress in Japan who lived in the thirteenth century and it has been kept all those centuries in a tom'- plc near Yokohama, where the priests sometimes exliibitit for a sufficient reward. It is kept in an old cofl‘er covered with white silk. The robe, or robes, for there are several of them, are described as 8. dia- pliauous mess, crumbling at the edges With decay. The material is a crops, or some filmy stall, and the efl'ect must be like that worn by Loie Fuller. It is made with a long train, pagoda sleeves, and a high collar like Medici’s culf. The upper layer was once white, and is now the color of ivory, embroidered with flying birds the size of crows, with dragons’ heads green, blue and violet. Then come several layers of the silk muslin, yellow, blue, violet, old gold and green; on which seem scattered strange animals, all in flight. The seventh, which touches the body of the long dead empress, is violet embroidered with figures like phantoms. The embroidery on this won- derful robe is said to be as transparent as the gauze. The effect of the whole is smoke colored. ‘â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"_â€" Highly Intelligent 010th- Customerâ€"“Sce here! Look at these pants ! Bought ’em only yesterday, and theyhe shrunk half-way up to my knees.” Dealerâ€"“ Mein frient, it cos raining.” f‘ Of course it is raining.” “ Und dose pants is vet.” “I should say they were wet. You didn’t expect me to keep them dry, did you.” ~ *‘No ; I only expects you to keep dose bottoms clean.” - .“ They are clean.” “ Yah, dat is reclit. But think how dirty they vould be if they vas nod made off our fine imported. patent self-regulating cloth,’ vnt raises dose bottoms out of is mnd.’ But Siamese trade which centres at 'r ..¢_;\,,.,....;;.‘~.._._-_,._,\,.Van/â€"_.W -,. A ,..-..~ ,.~.,.\.«. f p...,-.~<- - \rw’ -« "\f-s A