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THE nulls G- OHAPTER X. “I have no other but a woman's rea- son: I think. him so because I think him so. Shakespeare. “ \Vbere is papa. f" she asks. meeting one of the servants in the hall. Hearâ€" ing he is'out, and will not be back for some time. she. too, turns again to the open door. and. as though the house is too small to contain all the thoughts erg. _ _ that throng her breast, she walks out Diamth 11118 in the air again and passes into the garden. where autumn. though kindly and slow in its advances, is touching everything with the hand of death. "Heavily hangs the broad sunflower Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock. Heavily hangs the tiger lily." With asigh she quits her beloved garden, and wanders still further into the deep woods that “ have put their glory on," and are dressed in tender russets, and sad V greens, and fading tints. that meet and melt into each other. The dry leaves are falling, and lie crackling under foot. The daylight is fading, softly. imperceptibly, but surely. There is yet a glow from the depart- ing sunlight, that, sinking lazily be- yond the distant hills. tinges with gold the browning earth that in her shroud of leaves is lying. But death. or pain. or sorrow, has no part with Clarissa. She is quite hap- PY.â€"-utterly content. She marks not the dying of the year, but rather the beauty of the sunset. She heeds not the sullen roar of the ever-increasing streamlets, that winter will swell into small but angry rivers; hearing only the songs of the sleepy birds as they croon their night-songs in the boughs above her. When an hour has passed. and twi- light has come up and darkened all the land, she goes back again to her home, and, reaching the library looks in. to find her father sitting there. en- grossed as usual with some book,which he is carefully annotating as he reads. " Are you very busy ?" asks she, coming slowly up to him. “I want to be with you for a. little while." ‘ " That is right. I am never too busy I to talk to you. \Vhy. it is quite an age since last I saw you lâ€"not since breakfast; where have you been all day ’l’" " You are a pet," said Miss Peyton, in a loving whisper, rubbing her cheek tenderly against his, as a reward for his pretty speech. "I have been at the Vicarage, and have pleaded Georgie’s cause so successfully that I have won it. and have made them half in love with her already.” "4 special pleader, indeed. Diplom- aicy is your forte; you should keep to‘ i 'fI mean to. I shouldn't plead in .vain- With you. should If She has grown somewhat earnest. “ Oh! with me l” says her father,with much self-contempt; “I have given up all that sort of thing. long ago. 1 know I how much too much you are for me,! and I am too wise to swim against the [ tide“ Only 1 Would entreat you to bel merciful as you are strong." “\V’hat a lot of nonsense you do; talk, you Silly boy !" says Clarisaa, who is Sill leaning over his chair in such a gosition that he cannot see her face. erhaps could he have seen it, he might. have noticed how pale it is be- yond its wont. "\Vell. the Redmonds: seemed quite pleased. and I shall writei to Georgie toâ€"morrow. It will be nice‘ for her to be here. near me. It may keep her from being lonely and unhappy." “Well. it ought,” says George Pey- ton. "What did the Vicar say l'" " The vicar always says just what I ‘ say," replies she. a trifle saucily, and? with a quick smile. " Poor man! his is the common lot," says her father; and then. believing she has said all she wants to say, and i being filled with a. desire to return to his books and his notes. he goes.on:; “ So that was the weighty matter you i Wanted to discuss. eh? Is that all your § news 7" l, " Not quite," returns she. in a low: tone. i ‘jNol You are rich in conversation this evening. \Vho is it we are now to criticise ’3" " The person you love best,-â€"-I hope." " Why. that will be you." says George Peyton. " You are sure 9" says Clarissa, a lit- tle treinulously; and then her father turns in his chair and tries to read her face. "No; stay just as you are; I can tell you better if you do not look at me." she whispers. cntrcatingly. mov- ing him with her hands back to his former position. " What is it. Clarissa l" he asks. has- tily. though he is fair from suspecting the truth. Some faint thought of James Scrope (why he knows not) comes to him at this moment, and not unpleas- ingly. ” Tell me. darling. Anything that concerns you. must. of necessity. concern me also." "Yes. [am glad I know that,” she says. speaking with some difficulty. but very earnestly. "Today I met Horace Branscomhe." ~ “Yes?” His face changes a little. from vague expectancy to distinct dis- a pointincnt; but then she cannot see b face. "And he asked me to be his wife «andâ€"l said. ’0‘}. pa." It Eta over. The dreaded announce- ment is made. The words that have cost her so much to utter have_gone out into the air; and yet there answer. . For a full minute silence reigns. and then Clarissa lays her hand imploring- ly upon her father's shoulder. Ila is looking straight before hunt his ex- troubled and grave. his mouth compressed. Yesâ€"ifâ€"if it pleases 18110 " Speak to me."“says Clarima. anti-eat- ingl . .After this he does speak. _ " wish it had been Dorian." he says. impulsively. Then she takes her hand from his shoulder. as though it can no lon or rest there in comfort. and her eyes with disa pointed tears. “Why 0 you say that? she asks. with some vehemence. "It sounds as ifâ€"as if you undervalued Horace! Yet what reason have you for doing so? “’hat do you know against himlf’ "Nothing, literally nothing.” answ- Mr. Peyton. soothingly. yet with a. in his veice thatmight suggest thhe idea. of his being sorry that such answer: must be made. "I am sure Horace is very much t o be liked." “How you say that!"â€"reproachfully, "It sounds untrue! Yet it can't be. \tht could any one say against Hor- m I! "My dear I said nothing." "No but you insinuated it. You said Dorian was his superior.” "Well I think he’s the better man of the two,” says 111'. Peyton. deeper-l ately. hardly knowing what to say,and feeling sorely aggrieved in that he is com lled to say what must hurt her. “ cannot understand (ion; you say you know nothing preju 'cial to Hor- ace (it is impossible you should), and yet you think Dorian the better man. If he has done no wrong. Why should any one be a better man? \Vhy draw the comparison at all? For the first time in all your life you are unjust." "No. Clarissa. I am not. At least, I think not. In'ustice is a vile thing. But. somehow. artoris and I had both made up our minds that’ you would marry Dorian, andâ€"" ‘ He pauses. " Then your only objection to poor Horace is that he is not Dorian f" asks she, anxiously letting her hand rest upon his shoulder. " ‘Well, no doubt there is a. great deal in that,” returns he. evasively. hard put to it to answer his inquisitor ’ with discretion. " And if Dorian had never been, Horace would be the one.person inall the world you would desire for me ?" pursues she, earnestly. George Peyton makes no reply to thisâ€"perhaps because he has not one ready. Clarissa, stepping back. draws her breath a. little quickly, and a dark fire kindles in her eyes. In her eyes, too, large tears rise and shine. " It is because he is poor,” she says, in a low tone that has some contempt in it, and some passionate disappomt- ment. " Do not mistake me," says her fath- er, speaking hastily, but-with dignity. Rising, he pushes back his chair. and turning, faces her in the twilight. " Were he the poorest man alive, and you loved him. and he was worthy of you, I would give you to him without a. murmur. Not that"â€"â€"hur- riedlyâ€""I consider Horace unworthy of you, but the idea. is new, strange, andâ€"â€"â€"the other day, Clarissa, you were a child." " I am your child stillâ€"always." She. is sitting on his knee now. With her arms round his neck, 'and her check against his; and he is holding her svelte lissome figure very closely to him. She is the one thing he has to love on earth; and just now-she seems un- speakablyâ€"almost painfullyâ€"dear to him. " Always, my dear." he reiterates, somewhat unsteadily. " You have seen so little of Horace lately," she goes on, presently trying to find some comfortable reason for what seems to her her father's extra- ordinary blindness to her lover's virtues. l “ \Vhen you see a. great deal of him, you will love him! {is it is, darling, doâ€"do say you like him very much. or you will break my heart!" . “I like him very much," replies he, obediently. repeating his lesson meth- odically, while feeling all the time that l he is being compelled to say something against his will, without exactly know- ing why he should feel so. " And you are quite pleased_that _I am goin to marry him ‘l" reading his face wit her clear eyes; she is very pale, and strangely nervous. . “ My darling. my one thought is for your happiness." There is evasmn mixed with the affection in his speech; and Clarissa notices it. . “ No; say you are glad I am 0mg to marry him." she says, remorse essly. " How can you expect me to say that,” exclaims he, mournfully, " when you know your wedding day must part lls ?" “Indeed it never shall!" cries she. vehemently; and then. overcome by j the emotion of the past hour, and indeed of the whole day. she gives way and bursts into tears. ” Papa, how can on say that? To be parted from you! Ve must be the same to each other always: my wedding-day would be amiserable one indeed if it separated me from ‘ou.” 3 Then he comforts her fondly caress- ing the pretty brown headdhat 1185 upon his heart. as it had dam in past years. when the slender girl of to-day was a little lisping motherless child. He calls her by all'the endearing names he had used to her then. until her sobs cease, and only a sigh. now and again, tells of the storm just past. " \V'hen is it to be 'l" he asks her,after a little while. "Not too soon. my pet. I hope i" i " hot for a whole year. He said something about November, but I could not leave you in such a hurry. “'8 must have one more Christmas all to ourselves.” " You thought. of that," he says. ten- derly. “0h. Clarissa. I hope this thing is for your good. Think of it seriously, earnestly while you have time. Do not rush blindly into a compact that must be binding on you all your life." "I hope it will be for all my life," reâ€" turns she, gravely. “To be parted from Horace would be the worst thing that could befall me. Always remember that. papa. I am bound to him With all my heart and soul." "So be it!" says George Peyton. sol- emnly. A sigh escapes im. For some time neither speaks. The twilight is giving place to deeper gloom. the night is fast approaching, yet they do not stir. What the girl‘s thoughts may be at this moment, who can say? As for her father. he is motionlem. ex- cept that his lips move, though no sound comes from them. He is secretly pray- ing. perhaps, for the welfare of but on y child. to her mother in heaven; who at this time must surely be looking down u n her. with tenderest salientude. C arissa puts her lips softly to his cheek. r. 8 ) Our engagement will be such a lo oneYang' we thinkâ€"” es ' " “'e should like it kept quite secret. gour'will say nothing about it to any The Ideal HOSIBSS- he ' .. ' . . "th the best intentions and the Not until on we me leave. Y n! 1 . - ' . have acted “gen-.81 think. in puttiiig Hm“ hearty Sm‘wmi 0““ my ‘3" °‘ Off your marr' for. a, wlyue_"_ A1- importing the desired flavor of hospit- figgttunoonstfio y he is telling himself :zlity, writes Emily Huntington Mil- ime c anges all things. an:1 howller. Like the poet, the idczd hostess LOUS . many plans and affections can be alâ€" , in . vide on Saturday for Mondhy. gathering t tered in twelve months. "But surely you will tell James ,Scrope." he goes on after a while: that EWill not be making it public. :known you and Mn fond of you ever -smqe_you were a baby; and it seems uncivfl and unfriendly to keep him in the-dark. I “Then tell him; but no one else now [papau I quite arranged for James, he ;is such an old frien , and so nice in “every way." '3 Here she smiles involuntarily, and ‘after_ a little bit, laughs outright, .in spite of herself. as though at some ‘ridiculous recollection. 1 "Do you know," she says, "\Vhen I ,told Horace I thought I should like Sir James to. know of our engagement, I really think he felt a little At least, he didn't half like it. surdlâ€"wasn’t it? of dear old Jim!" "Oldlâ€"oldl He is along way of that. HVhy. all you silly little girls think a .man past_ twenty-nine to be hovering on the brink of the grave. He cannot be more than thirty-three, or so." “He is ver dreadfully old. for all jealous ! How ab- Fancy being jealous is positively ancient; I never knew any- one so old. He is so profound. and earnest. and serious, and " I “What on earth has he done to you that you shouldlcall him all these terâ€" lrible names i" says Mr. Peyton. laughâ€" :mg. I ' ",He scolds me," says Clarissa, “He lectures me. and tells me I should have an aim in life. You have been my aim, ,darlhg, and I have been devoted to it, shaven’t I f" ' s v ' ' "You have, indeed. But now I shall {he out in the cold, oil course.” His tone .is somewhat wistful. "That is all one ; gains by lavishing one’s affection upon 5 a pretty child and centering one’s every ithought and hope upon her." “No. you are Wrong. there; it must Ibo something to gain love that will 3last forever." She tightens her arm around his neck. “that a horrid lit- itle speech! I could almost fancy James ’dictated it to you. He is a skeptic, an sunbeliever. and you have imbibed his .notio'ns. Cynical, people are a. bore. You wouldn't, for example. have me fall in love with James, would you t" “ Indeed I would,” says George Peyâ€" ton, boldly: ;I would choose‘for you,â€"-‘ not Launcelot {nor another!» He is so genuine, so thors lough in every way. And then the es- 'tates join. and that. I really wish you éhad fallen in love with Scrope." , “I love you dearlyâ€"dearly," says éMiss Peyton; “but you are a dreadful ,goose! James is the very last man to Egrow sentimental about any one,â€" gleast of all, me. He thinks me of no ‘;account at all, and tells me so in very Ipolite language occasionally. .see what a fatal thing it would have ’been if I had given my heart to 'him. ghave died, and you would have put up ;a touching and elaborate tablet to my lmemory, and somebody would have ‘planted snowdrops on iThere would have been a Pullingham, with Jim for its hero." "You take .a, different View of the lease from mine. I believe there would , have been no broken heart, and no early grave, and you would have been happy iever after." - i "That is a more comfortable theory, icertainly, for me. But think what a .miserable life he would have had with 'me forever by his side." 5 “A very perfect life. I think," says iMr. Peytou, looking with ‘pardonable jpride upon the halfâ€"earnest. half-laugh~ ! ing, and wholly lovely face so near him. {"I don't know what‘ more any fellow could expect". “You see Ig'was right. I said you were ga. goose," says _Miss Peyton, irreverent- {ly. But she pats his hand, in the very ! sweetest manner possible, as she says it. 'Then she goes on: : . "Horace said' he would come up to- morrow to speak to you." "Very well, dear. ;thing, I suppose. :that way. then a thing is done it is done. and discussion is so unnecessary." t "Eromise me to be very, very kind 0 1m." He has ,that," says 1V iss Peyton. wilfully. "He' ing it. I the (is undoubtedly born rather than made. ibut she who aspires to such honors 'must have both tact and talent; she must study the situation like a true lstatesman. and adapt her course to it.. Failures lie oftenest in sins of omis- lsion perhaps at the very outset in ne- fgiecting the wisdom of the old saw which cnjoins us to “welcome the com- ing guest." \Ve forgive a good deal to our friends, but it certainly dulls the edge of delight to be received at the threshold by servants whose mistress is out shopping, and to wait in the parlor weary and dusty. until your hostess at last rushes in. breathless and apolo- ge lC. . The perfection of art is that no trace of the laborious processes should appear in the finished product; the perfection of style is that the polished faultless- ness which is the result of‘ infinite painstaking shall grow to be spontan- leous. And so the golden rule of hos- pitality is that it must never display evidence of effort. for that moment it ceases to be enjoyable. \Vhether it be Sarah. serving under the oaks of Mamre, or Solomon - feasting the wondering queen from ves- sels of silver and gold. it is always the hearty sincerity of the entertainment which gives it the true charm. Clothes Cleaning. Clothing will often present a some~ what shiny or soiled appearance before it is much worn, and long before the thrifty and careful housewife feels that she could discard certain garments she is conscious of their need of reno- vation. ' A while ago a scientific magazine published a method of cleansing cloth clothing which is So simple that all can avail themselves of it. An old vest, coat or pair of trousers that needs to be cleaned should first be carefully and thoroughly brushed, then plunged into strong warm soapsuds, and soused up and down thoroughly. and vigorously. If there are any especially smled spots "He is J'U-St the 011% mil“ F they should be rubbed with the hands. 1 If once putting into the suds is insuffi- cient the garment can be put through a. second tub of suds. Then it is to be rinsed through several waters and hung up on the line to dry. When nearly dry take it down. roll it up and leave it lying for an hour before press- An old cotton cloth is laid on outside of the garment before it is [ironed and the iron passed over that So you : ! my grave. | tragedy in ! l l l l 2 ing. i That is the usual :510WIY- I hope he won't be half‘houf- _ I long-winded, or lachi'ymose, or anything f 81326: (11311 and SGI‘VB With hot Peas- I l “I shan’t eat him, if you mean that," l says Mr. Peyton. halfirritably. “ll-'hat 1 do you think I am going to say to him ‘1 I'Is thy father, an ogre. that he should do this thing ’1' But have you quite [made up your mind to this? step? Re l l until the wrinkles disappear. One must be careful to stop pressing before the steam ceases to rise, else the garâ€" ment will present a shiny a pearance. for while the steam rises it irings up the nap with it. If there are any obâ€" stinate wrinkles or shiny places lay a. wet cloth over them and press the hot iron over those especial spots until they are smooth or satisfactory. Some Good Recipes. Fricandeau of Vea1.-â€"-Lard thickly a cushion‘of veal. Place it in the oven on a. bed of vegetables. Cover with stock and cook slowly for two hours. then dish it up. Brown Sauceâ€"Brown one tablespoon- ful of butter and one of flour. Add to it the liquor from the pan which should measure a. half-pint. Stir until boil- Add a. halfâ€"teaspoonful of salt and a tablespoonfu! of Worcestershire 'sauce. and strain it over the veal. Baked Sweetbreads.-â€"Lard and parboil two heart sweetbreads. Place them in a. baking dish. Basie well with but- ter. Add a halfâ€"cupful of stock. Bake Baste almost constantly for a. When covered with a. rich Rolled Steakâ€"Cover a. skirt steak with finely chopped parsley. Roll and tie tightly. Place on a bed of vege- tables and finish the same as frican- - dcau of veal. To Can Applesâ€"Make a. syrup of sug- ar and water, in proportion of one cup- ful of sugar to three pints of water. -I . . . . . member, them win be no undoing it‘d] W hen the syrup is bonling hot. drop into "I know that. but I feel no fear." She ;has grown pale again. "I love him. 'How should I know regret when with him? I believe in‘him, and trust him; and I know he is worthy of all my trust." Mr. Peyton signs. Some words come to his memory. and he repeats them to himself,â€"-slowly. beneath his breath,â€" "There are no tricks in plain and sim- ple faith !" Truly her faith is pure and simple. and free from thought of guile. "I wonder what James Scrope will say to it all l" he says, presently. “He never says very much on any I l ! I it the apples cut into quarters or halves if they are very small. Put in at one time only as many as will float on top of the syrup without crowding. Let them remain in the syrup until they look clear. Some pieces \vill cook more quickly than others, and each piece should be skimmed out into the can the moment it is done. Continue in this way until the fruit can is more than half full, then pour in hot. syrup to fill the can and seal at once. The quantity of syrup here given is usually sufficient to fill a quart can; should it lack any. fill the can with hot water. For each subject. does he? If you are going over .‘ new canful make a new syrup. If the ,- v- s .1 2 fruit. is intended for pics only. just half 1 to the gmlgguglnga?;ofigrltfifl the quantity 0f sugar will do. 0 ther. in a curious tone. "There is the dressin -bell," Clarissa. getting up lazi y. "I don't feel a bit like eating my dinner. do you know ?" suit you. And dinner get pale. and lose all their pretty looks. Run away, now. and don't be long. I feel it would be injudicious to* put cook into a tantrum again tomight. after last night’s explosion. So go and make yourself lovely.".' " I'll do my best," says Clarissa. mod- estly. (To . continued.) ._.... .... ._...___. Expert’l‘ timony. f . Brown.â€"-They say twins are always alike in dispositionâ€"do the same things at the same time. .How is Jones? Jones who has a pair). I Wish they'd sleep a the same tune. Make Up Lost Time» Mrs. Muchblestâ€"l feel uneasy. bah has not cried all 'da 3 r. Mnehblestâ€"So do . It pro- bably cry all night. says 1 . l The Kerosene Queen Frittersâ€"To make the batter for queen hitters, which is the same as that for eclaires and cream puffs, put ltwo causes of butter and a half a pint “Nonsense! The love-sick role won't10f people who don't eat half a water on the fire. \Vhen it boils add pint of flour. stir and cook for just one minute. Remove from the_fire and break in {our eggs, one at a time, and-beat each in thoroughly before add- . ing the next. When all have been add- I I (2.! beat vigorously for about five min- utes. Then scrape the sides of the pan and drop the batter by teaspoonfuls into boilin fat. As it is necessary that it shoul cook thoroughly, however, do not make the fat quite so hot as for croâ€" qucttes and cooked meats. Allow the batter to swell and cook a little more slowly. and the fritters will emerge a delicious golden brown. Serve sprin- kled with powdered sugar flavored wtth vanilla powder. ‘ Chat of Household Matters. Variety is the best culinary spice. will brighten dull. tarn- ished silver. Economical squash pies may be made her unleavened cakesl 1 -~: It; substituting one soda 01! F: for each egg. ‘ as not to take up the fire with cooki 8; thus: in runningerrands on washin‘: ; y. ‘ I i If doughnuts do not take on a golden brown crust as soon as they are dropped iinto the lard you may know that it is not hot enough. ' " Never put away clean clothes without examining every piece to see if it is in {any way out of order. Stockings. es~ :pectally should be carefully darned. "The woman who fusscs digs her own :grave and she who is always worrying not only wrongs herself but every mem- ber of her household as well." The quiet workers are the ones who laccomplish mcst in housekeeping. The {slamming of oven doom and the rattle .and clatter of dishes tire and annoy. everybody about the house. If you have a white felt hat; which is pretty enough in style to be worn this fwinter, and its only fault is its lack of Efreshncss, try what pipe clay will do 1 for it. . A housewife who had banished a g marble-topped table to the attic brought ldown the heavy white slab the other day and now uses it in her kitchen to roll out pastry on. A pinch of powdered sugar and an- other of cornstarch. beaten in with the , yolks of eggs, will keep an' omelet from 3collapsmg._ Beat the whites stiff and 'cut them into the yolks. Don't apologize at the table. An ap- ‘ology for a dish which does not quite satisfy the cook is better left unsaid, for several reasons. and the guests re- cognize an insmoerc apology as simply a bait for compliments. ? The inside of jars can be cleansed by ;filling them with hot water and then stirring in a tcaspoonful or more of bak- ;i:ng soda. Shake well, then empty the [jar at once. and if any of the former odor remains about it, fill again with water and soda; shake well and rinse out in cold water. I If anyone has trouble in removing ‘stoppers from bottles, try threading a . needle with stout linen and pushing the needle through the stopper near one edge. then pushing it through again. leavmg all the room she can between the two holes, then leaving a loop at top large enough for a. finger to enter. tying well and cutting the long thread I off. I find this very handy. ~'â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"__._. THE CZAR’S CORONATION. gâ€"_- Next Spring‘s (‘eremonlws Will Cost Over $5,000,000. I The imperial coronation shortly to take place in Moscow will doubtless be one of the grandest State displays ever witnessed in Europe. Russian corona- tions are not numerous; an occasion of this kind comes but once in a life- time. and the policy of the Russian Im- ‘ perial family has always been to daz- zle the eyes of their subjects by mag- nificent court dramas, in which the i czar is really a czar. To this end- Rus- isian 'coronations have been made as splendid as the resources of the emâ€" pire could permit. The coronation of the emperor who has just passed away cost over 34,- 000,000; that of his predecessor consid- ,erably. over $5,000,000; but in each case a show was provided for the peo- ple of Russia that was vividly remem- bered until supplanted in the popular mind by the splendors of the next. The coronation is regarded as much more than placing abauble on the head of the first man in the State; it is a. series of gorgeous ceremonials, and the people of every nation that forms a. part of the greatest empire on the"earth are required, through their representatives. to assist, while the spectacle is made still more brilliant by the presence of ' the eml.)assadors of every power on the globe and of large num- bers of princes of the rci ning houses, for royalty always assem )103 on these occasmns to congratulate the newly crowned monarch. 5 The preparations for a Russian cor- onation are very elaborate, and com- prise, among other things, the laying up of great stores of provisions in Mos- cow, for the houses of that venerable city are compelled on coronation occa- stons to entertain from 500,000 to 000,- 000 strangers, who journey to witness the ceremonies. Every province in the empire semis a deputation; every tribe in the far-away districts of Siberia, on the steppes of central Asia, form the Khivans to the ESquimaux along the shores of Behring strait, senqu one or more representatives to pr ’30 t the hom- age of the tribe to the great with. Czar. Poles, la‘inlanders, Cossacks, Georgians, ,Bashkirs, Turksâ€"for the Bosnian cm- pire contains millions of Molizimnimlans, Tchcrkcsses, Ablation“. ('a'murks, Tar- tars, Karapipriks, Dngbistrin’s. Arman- ians, Kurds, Chinese from the districts conquered by Russia from tfl‘hina. Mon- gols, deputies from dozens of wandering . fifty languages :lll'l double tint number of dialects are spoan in (b: Ru 1' in Fum- inions.and the people of every lanmrigc must present their llllln'llt‘. 1.: th 1 ('23: in their own tongue. The iumcri'il cor- onations always take place in the. (‘ntlie- drai of the Assumption, one of the gmany in the Kremlin. -+~--'â€".â€"â€" Tricks of Mexican Picknccket'. 'l'wo German gentlemen were talking ‘at the corner of First l’latern’l street, just off the entrance of the Portal, in the city of Mexico, when suddenly one of than was roughly pudicrl by :i pal- ado. The German tried to rem net ' to and even made motions with his value the punish the offender. At this mo- ment his companion felt a stinging p .in at the back of his neck. Another. pul- ado had thrown a burning match in- ,slde of his collar and naturally .made him throw up his hand, and while so (loin the 'pickpricket grabbed the man's watc and chilin and ran away, followed by a policeman. The Intern. we, not .caught. The German's timepiece "x a lsilver one of little value, and what the 'Teuton felt moat keenly was we burn- 1ing of his neck. nations in the heart of Asia: for over ' «Wm-ma naeâ€"- ... mâ€" . m.......-...._. M-“ ~.0........ _..... W..-w. . ._. “an”... n...