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« «‘V -_. ..._ .,. .I. a. ._.. _..._..- .._-..-I..c -... ...... .. . -. . .._._.â€"_.. ...___.â€"_â€"-â€"â€"â€"-_‘.____ _..__ .. o-â€"â€" .- ..._. v..__..__-_ -....._-.... .._....- -â€"â€"-â€"â€"-â€"-â€"» THE-- VICAR‘S Guyâ€"ERNEss. We, . HEALTH. - \ >~~ \ \‘s \\\\\\\\~. She . over to the window, andi (it; Be Continued.) M“..- - . , ' - v, w: mumps that i1ng than” tyegggeavilyl _ NEW POSITION non SLEEPING. mm. ER xx. ~ ‘- “ {I only knOw you hm no intentionwhatâ€" $5.3? gfigggfifig on the leaves am1.llthl..l.IOl‘IS 0F MEALS IN TIN. Another iconoclast! The rampantm‘ 10m h". ' hearts who“ mend. eveffofogoiiinaegpsp’fséym that over and "The up its”. earth soaks “1? me . g ' . fox-mar of the day has now invaded bed‘ Ship 81‘: t 0 as both so“ and over I dare say, shall'want iol mamas; fi‘fipfhp“ agomgeagafi-"li'ou Can Have a Course Dinner En- The orthodox. fashion In mak- Tbem thong. 8' ‘ n marry her."‘says Dorian. "There.lslto_day_u says emigiggul can flail tirely in Canned GOOdS- mg up the beds 80 as to .genuy Slam ; l toward the feet, and haying a good- fimd'; . m he a “s mama! nothing likoopposition fox-“thathkind 0th ' t w ~roo .v v. . ; - . . , . , . in t c ms , thing. you go and tell a fe on 6 can game of butaedom and BhutueJ No mum"! on! New 5m" Nowml”._ oily a sense of freedom. Clarissa. let us? mung anion; innumerable spring of-land shan't marry such-and-Such 9‘ gm- £0oka1 used to beat you at Brusselsfi sized pillow or two under the head is A prominent French doc.- .. “Owl” .â€"-â€"..~ KM.MW- . 1‘ _ ammw. feriugn. The whole place seems alive; with them. "The breath of flowers is! on the air." Primroses and violets shine‘i out from tiny Etruscan vases, and little; baskets of pale Bellek are hidden by ; clustering roses brought from the con-i sen'atory to make sweet the sitting- room of their mistress. "I am so glad you have come" says: Clarissa. rising with a. smile to welcomcl him. as he comes up to her. "The day; was beginning to drug a little. Come‘ over here. and make yourself comfort- able." "That will I, right willingly, so it pleases you. madam.” says Dorian, and straightway. sinking into the'dcsirable lounging-chair she has pointed out. makes himself thoroughly happy. A low bright fire is burning merirly upon the rug 3. snow-white Persian cat sinks blinking; while Biily, the Irish terrier, whose head is bigger than his body. and whose hair is of the shabbiest neclincs gracefully upon an ottoman nwr. Clarissa, herself, is lying back upon a. cushioned chair. looking par- ticularly pretty, if a trifle indolent. "Now for your news." she says. in the tone one adopts when expecting to be amused. Dorian, lifting his arms, lays them be- hind his head. “1 wonder if ever in all my life, I had any news." he says meditatively. "After all, I begin to think I'm not much. 'vVell, let me see: would it be news to say I met, and talked with, and walked with your 'lussie wi' the lint-white locks'i" "Georgie? You me all the morning." "So she told me." "Ah! And how far did you go with her?" ' “To the \‘I‘Jfll‘dge. As I had been there all the morning, I couldn’t well go inl again,â€" fact I felt and deplored." “I am glad you walked back with. her," says Miss Peyton; but she doesn’t look glad. “I hope you were nice tol her?" “Extremely nice, ask her if I wasn’t. And our conversation was of the fresh- est. We both thought it was the warm- est spring day we had ever known. until we remembered last Thursday. and, then we agrwl that was the warmestg spring day we had ever known. And: then we thought spring was preferable to summer.‘ And. then, that Cissy Red-i mond would be was with . She hadn't the cocked nose. Don’t look {so amazed. my dear Clarissa: it was Missl Broughton's expression, not mine. and a very good one too. I think. We say a. cocked hart; therefore, why not a cocked nose? And then we said all eduâ€"l cation was a bore and a swindle. and! their“. How old is she. Clarissa?" “ion mean Georgie?" l‘1'%.l1 ‘ "Neither nineteen nor twenty." “So much! Then I really think she is} the youngest-looking girl I ever met at that age. She looks more like sweet seventeen." “You think her pretty?" “Rather more than that; she reminds» me always of 'Maggio Lauderz’ { "Her face is as the summer cloud. whereon The dawning sun delights to mt his rays." 'And again. surely Apollo loves to "Play at hide-and-seck amid her gold- en hairs." “Dorian. don'tâ€"don't make her un- hap y.': says Clarissa, blushing hotly. " “’lsh I could." says Dorian. He; litu hs as he speaks. but there is truthI hldten in his jesting tone. Oh. to; make her feel somethingâ€"that cold inâ€"I different child! . "No. no. .1 am in earnest," says: Clarinet. a little anxiously. “Don't pay| her too much attention, if you don't‘ mean it." "Perhaps I do mean it." , "She is very young."--' noting his: last Slkmll altmether. “S e is a per-i feet bubv in some ways. It isn't kind! of you. I think." 3 "My dear child. what am 1 doing?” If I hand Miss Bmughton a. chair, or, ask horif she 'would take another cup! of tea. is that ‘making her tmhuppy'i‘. 1 really bogm to think that society is: too moml for mo. 1 shall give it up. and 'bctuke myself ,to Salt Lake City.” "iou _won't understand me." begins: she. sitting mom upright. as though (lo-i initrous of argument; but he interrupts er. "There you mistake me." he says. "My' motives are quite pure. I am dying tol understand you. only I can't. if youl would try to be a, little more lucid. nlll would lie-well; but why am I to be sat upon. and generally maltreated. be- cause i walked a mile or so with a. friend of yours. is more than I can guise" "I_don't want to sit upon you." says Clarissa. a little vexed. “ho! I dare say that chair is more comfortable." "I don't want anything. I merely ask you to be careful. She is very young and has seen few men; and if you râ€" ats uryour attentions she may fal in lo with you." . “I wtfll to goodness she would." says Brunscobibe; and than something in his own mindstrtkos him. and he leans back in his chair. andlaughs aloud. There is, rhaps. more-bitterness than mirth in is laugh; yet Bliss Peyton hears only the mirth. ._ * “I hope she won't," she says. seven:- ly. “Noth' w~ d cause me greater Lin. 0 th her childish man- ner .tbere lies 3 pastach unount of feeling that. once called into play. would be impossible to check: Amuse your self elsewbm. Damn. unless you mean to mart ' ." ' "\anli why shouldn‘t I muff! 139"" 's Dorian. - will no mfim why you shouldn‘t. 39d ten to 0”” h9 goes and does it| triy if you can beat me now." :1 directly." . "Don‘t‘ speak like that," says Clar- entreat'mgly; she is plainly un- aPPY- ' "Like what? \Vhat nonsense you have been talking all this time! Has it never occured to you that though. no doubt, I am endowed with many qualitnm above the average. still I am. not an ‘Adonls/ or an 'ApollO,’ or an ‘Admirable Crichâ€" ton.’ or anything of that sort, and that it is probable your Miss Broughton might be in my society from this llll the day she dies without experiencmg a pang. so far as I am concerned." "I don't know about 'Apollo' or ‘Crich- ton.‘ " says Clarissa; “but let her alone. I want her to marry Mr. Hastings." "The curate?" says Dom, for the second time to-dny. “Yes. Why should you be so amaz- ed? He is very charming. and I think she likes him. He is very kind-hearted. and would make her happy; and she doesn't like teaching." . “I don’t believe she likes Hastings," says Dorian; yet his heart dies Within him as he remembers how she defended him about his unlimited affection for the cup that "cheers but not inebriates." “I believe she does.” says Clarissa. . "Can’t you do something for me, Clar- issa?" says Dorian, with a rather strain- ed laugh: “you are evidently bent on making the entire county happy. yet you ignore my case. Even when I set my heart upon a woman, you instantly marry her to the curate. I hate curatesl They are so mild. so inoffensrve. so abominably respectable. It is almost criminal of you to insist on handing over to one of ‘them that y little friend of yours with the yel ow hair. She will die of Hastings. in a month The very next time I have the ‘good fortune to find her alone. I shall feel it my duty to warn her off .him." “Does anybody ever take advice un- less it falls in} with their own wishes?" says Clarissa. “You may warn her as you will." "I sha'n’t warn her at. all," says Dorian. \thn he has left Clarissa, and is on his homeward way, this thought still haunts him. Can that pretty child loci in love with the lanky young man inl the long-tailed coat? She can't! No: it is impossible! Yet, how sure Clarissa seemed! and of course women under- stand each other, and perhaps Geor ie has been pouring confidences of ten er nature into her ears. This last is a- very unpleasant idea, and helps ‘to de- capitate three unoffendin primroses. Certainly she had defen ed that fellow very warmly (the curate is now “that; fellow',’), and had spoken of him as though-she felt some. keen interest in him_. After all, what is it to him? (This somewhat; savagely, and with the aid of a few more flowers.) If he was 1n_love with her, it Would be another thing; but as it is,â€"â€"yes, as it is. fimv often people have advised "him to marry and settle down! \Vell. hang. Y _ . ,it all. 'he is surely :as good to look at! , , , wry Preuy 1f Shel as the curate. and his position is betterfi ClVlhtY. Clarissa! and only a few 'hours ago she had exâ€"l pressed a desire to see something of! life. \Vhat would Arthur think ofâ€" His thoughts change. Georgie's riantei lovely face fades into some deeperreceSS' his heart, and a gaunt o_ld figure, andl a, face stern and isappointed, rises beâ€"l fore him. Ever, since that day at Sarâ€"l torts. when the handkerchief had been. discovered. a. coldness, a. nameless but stubborn shadow. had' fallen betweenl him andhis uncle.â€"a shadow impossible! to lift until some explanation be youch-l safed by the younger man. ; such an explanation it is. out of: Dorum's power to give. The occurrence; altogether was unhaPPY. but reallyé nothing worthy of a, violent. quarrel.f Brans‘combe, as is his nature, pertinam clously thrusts the whole affair out of‘ eight. refusing to let it trOuble him.§ except on such occasions as the pres-: cut. when it pushes itself upon him um; awarcs. and will not be sup ressed. _Horace has never been to ullingham since the night of the ball, and his let-f ters to Clarissa. have been many and constant. so that Dorian's suspicions“ have _ somewhat l uishcd. and are now, indeed, almost dead, he being slow': 1 to entertain evil thoughts of any one. Ruth Annersley, tooâ€"though plain- ly desirous of avoiding his society ever. Since his meeting with her in the shrub-‘ hornetsâ€"seems happy and content, if very quiet and subdued. Once, indeed} coming upon her unexpectedly. he had‘ been startled by an expression in her; eyes foreign to their usual (calm; it was‘ a look, half terrified, half defiant, and1 it haunted him. for some ‘time afterward.i l But. the remembrance of that faded, 1.00,? and she never afterwards risked the.' chance of a tebe-aâ€"tete with him. C O i i O Meantime, Miss Peyton’s little 1.0-5 man‘co about the Brougbton-I-Iastings‘ affair rather falls to bits. Georgie,§ taking advantage of an afternoon that; secs the small Redmonds on the road to; a juvemle_ party. goes up to Gowrand and. makmg her way to the morning room, runs to Clarissa. and gives her a dainty little hug. ; "Aren't you gad I have come?" she‘ says, with the utmost naivcte. “I'm‘i awfully glad myself. The children have; all gone to the Dugdales'. and so I am my own mistress." l _ "And so you came to me," says Clar-i “Yes. of course." I "And now. to make you happy." says; Clar'mi. meditatively. ' "Don't. take any thought about thatl It is already an accomplished fact. I‘ am with you. and therefore I am per-2 fectly happy." “Still. you so seldom get a. holiday." goes on Clarissa. regretfully. which is a. ittlc unfair. as the Redmonds are the; easiest going people in the world. and? you?" says Miss Georgie. with an amus-l bnve a sort of hankering after the giving of. holidays and the armour-inge-1 meat of. idleness generally. The vicar. indeed. IS laden with a suppressed and carefully hidden theory that children: should never do anything but laugh and; sit in the sun. In his of hearts’ he condemns all Sunday-schools. as? making the most blamed dn one of} toll. and a wearying of the fies , to the' little ones. "\\'hyâ€"-why," said he. once. in an un- : dies. and tears creep to the large ball they g, . and, arm- ed with. battledores. commence their fray. Hither and thither flies the little wan bird. backward and forward move the lithe figures of the girls. The game is at its height; it is just the absorbing moment. when 199 has been delivered. and received. and returned, when (xeorgie, stopping short suddenly. cries "Oh!" and. 200 flutters to the ground. Clarissa. who is stand' with 'her back to the nail door. turns instinctively toward it, and sees Dorian Branscombe. ‘ "l have disturbed you. I have come in at the wrong moanent?" asks that. young man, fearfully. "Ahl you have spoiled our game. And we were so well into it. Your sudden entrance. startled Georgie, and she miss- ed aim." ‘ am very sorry my mere presence should reduce Miss Broughton to a. state .of abject fright,” says Dorian, to Clarissa, but looking at Georgie. Her arm is still half raised. her color deep and rich, her eyes larger, darker than usual; the excitement of the game is still full upon her. As Dorian speaks. her lips part ,and a slow sweet smile creeps round them. and she looks earn- estly at bun. as_ though to assure him that she is making him a free present of lt,â€"an assurance that heightens her beauty, to his mind. Gazing at her with open and smcere admiration. he tells himself that ‘ "Nature might no more her child ad- vance." “Your presence would not frighten me,” she says, shaking her head; “but it wasâ€"I don't know what; I only know that Ifor of myself for the moment and nusse my aim. Now, that was hard. because we were. so near our sec- ond hundred. “Why did you not come a. little sooner or a. little later?" “Because ‘a. thoughtless animal is man,’_' lquotes be. his blue eyes full of contrition. “And the door open, and the picture before me put all other thoughts out of my head. I wish I was a girl! I should do nothing but play battledore and shuttlecock from mornm all night." Then, reproach- fully. ‘I think you might both shake hands With me. especially as I can say only ‘how d'ye do' and ‘goodâ€"bye’ in one breath; I am bound to meet Arthur at three precisely." “What a. comfort!" says Clarissa. deâ€" voutly. "Then there is some faint. chance we may be allowed to end our afternoon in peace!" "If there is one thing on .earth for which I have a keen admiration it; is candor,” says Branscombe; “I thank 'you, Clarissa, for even this small touch of it. Miss Broughton,_ be candid too, and say you, at least, \Vlll regret me." > "I shall." says Georgie, with decid- ed-eand it must be confessed unex- pectedâ€"promptness. "Hal" says Dorian, Victoriously. "Now I am content to go. A fig for your in- At least I leave one true mourner behind." “Two,” says Clarissa, relentingly. “Too late now; a logy is useless! \Vell, I’m off. Can do anything for either of you?" . “Yes; bring me up that little dog you promised meâ€"«me of Sancho's puppies." “You shall have the very prettiest to- morrow. in spite of your ill treatment. And you, Miss Broughton, what can I do for_ you?" Hc_1s lookin tenderly at the small childish face, ramcd in gold, that is gazmg at him smilineg from the dis- tance. “hie?” she says, waking, as iffrom a reverie, _v1th a. faint blush. "Ohl give me my liberty." She says it jeétingly, but With a‘somewhat sad shrug of. her rounded shoulders, as she remembered the dismal school-room, and the re- straint that, however gentle, is hateful to her gay. petulant nature. Her Smile 1 into her eyes. - In another moment she is laughing again; but months go by before Dorian forgets the sad little petition and the longing glance that accompanied it, and the sigh that was only half repressed. "I like Mr. Branscotnbc so much." says Georgie, a little later on when Dorian had. disappeared. They have forsaken their late game. and are now in Clarissa's own room, standing in a deep oriel window that overlooks the long sweep of avenue on one side. and the parterre beneath where early spring flowers are gleaming wet with the rain that fell so heavily an hour ago. - _ “Every one likes Dorian," says Clarâ€" issa. pleasantly, but without her usual warmth when speaking of Branscombc. “Ho IS a. general favorite, and I think he knows it. He is like a spoiled child; he. says what he likes to everyone. but nobody takes anything he says scri- ously." This friendly hint is utterly thrown away. Miss Broughton understood it; not. at all. “Yet sometimes he looks quite grave." she says-"nearly as grave as Mr. Hast- "IFS when in his surplice, only not so socmn. That is all the difference. "I like Mr. Hastings' in his surplicc.” says Clartasa; “I think him very hand- some; don't you?" .“\V'ell-'-yes-. Only I‘wish his ears didn’t stick out so much. Why do they? He always, somehow, makes me think of Midas." "But you like him," persists Clarissa. feeling, however, a. lift e crestfallen. ’It doesn't sound promising. this allusion to Mr. Hastings ears. “liver. so much." says Georgie, en- thnsuistically; “and really. you konw, he can't help his bans. After all how much worse a. crooked eye would be!" "Of course. And his eyes are really beautiful." "You are not in love with him are ed laugh; and again Clarissa's hopes sink to zero. “No. But I am lad you are a friend of his. Does heâ€" ike you?" “Yes. I think so; I am sure of it. Clarissa."-â€"with hesitation.â€""if I fell you something will you promise me faithfully_not tell it again?" pit’omtse faithfully, darling, if you WIS 1 ." "it ismmething Mr. Ilastin said to me last night. and though was not was wide. 1’ of Them, Enough to Feed the ‘ 1'." Begum": Monmxâ€"The Men: Will Keep for any length’ or Time. That greatest terror of war. a starv- ling garrison and a starving town. surrounded by a hostile camp. ; yet able to see far-off fields of grain and Plenty. could not be repeated in this age' of canned goods, meats. vegetables, pudâ€" dings and fruits. all incased in tiny jars or boxa of tin. It used to be easy to beleaguer acity and starve it into submission with hard- ly an ounce of shot, for it was a fore- gone conclusion that if all avenues of lfood supply were shut off only a few weeks would elapse before both garrison and citizens Would have to capitulate. though they might eat ratflesh and horseflesh first. But now, so cleverly are provisions compressed and packed away into tins, and so long will even the foods that most usually spoil quick- ly keepâ€"for years in most. casesâ€"that no city or town could be starved out if it only had half a chance to pro- vision itself properly. The city of Paris has stored away hundreds of thousands of packages con- taining canned and compressed food en- ough to supply the entire. population for at least EIGHTEEN MONTHS. This outfit of canned food is not .per- mitted to be touched, though at times it is tested to see that it still remains unspoiled. . Other cities in Europe have built up stores along much the same lines, though Paris has by far the most im- ortant assortment of canned food held in reserve. _ Outside of these preparations the man- ufacture of canned articles has grown to be something enormous, especially in meats and vegetables. In many cases the canned goods seem_to be actually preferred to the ,ortgmal products. Nearly every ,wise housekeeper nowa- days emulates Paris in asmall way.for she keeps on her shelves any number of these little boxes and thus finds her- self always ready for any emergency should company suddenly drop in or the butcher or grocer fail to turn up. It is really surprising the variety of things to eat that are put into cans. .As a. matter of fact one can live, and live comfortably, on canned foods alone. ‘ I can stock your house," says a wholesale grocer, "so that you need nobmake an- other purchase of food for five years, and you shall have every day a perfect dinner of soup and fish, entrees, roasts, fruits, puddings, cheese and coffee, all canned goods." ' Canned goods, though, have proved themselves of the greatest value to trav- ellers from the fact that an enormous amount of nourishment can be carried] " in an exceedingly small compass. The l Arctic explorers first found out the val- ue of canned meats and vegetables, and in this way were able to travel with LESS HARDSHIP and to do things which would have been impossible had it been _necessar_y_for them to depend upon food in its original - form. ' ‘ When the Grecly expedition went away in 1881 a. large quantity of pen).- mican was put on board. A large part of it was not consumed on the trip, and, on the return of the explorers it was sent; back to the firm from which it was bought. “hen the Peary expedb tion was being fitted out ten years later iand the same firm was doing the. pro- ividing, they opened sample cases of this ‘pemmican and found it; to be m as good :cocmlition as if fresh made. So it was sent out with Peary, and on that ex- ,plorcr's return what was left proved to .be as good and as nourishing us it had been in 1881. V | i No expedition of recent. date has iplungcd into the Dark Continent With- ,out being well equipped With tin boxes , of all sizes and varieties. It is said that :there is no desert plateau in any part :of the earth where one is not liable to :run across an empty beef can. H ‘ Transatlantic steamers and sulllngi ships about to start out. on long voyages .use these goods in great quantities he-l ‘ cause they keep so well and because they I can be stored so easily. \Vhen prepared by askillfnl cook it is impssibla for the: diner to distinguish between fresh meats and vegetables and those that are com nod. ; In canning the meat is steamed, boned] :aml pressed into the boxes. which are then soldered up. It is estimated that a two-pound can of meat, sold at about "5 cents, contains as much nourishment. as 50 cents worth of meat fresh from} i the butcher. SILK MADE FROM WOOD. Title In the Industrial Phenomenon “'hlrh! In Said to Be l‘romlscd In France. Silk is about to be added to the list of 7 things made from wood. A Frenchman lnamed Chardonnicr first tried the ex- ;periment some years ago at Besancon,' gin France, and set up an’ elaborate‘ 3 plant in that town for the manufacture l lof silk, or. rather, an imitation of it, i from wood fibre. Some fine specimens iwcre made and exhibited. But it was found that the wood silk could not be woven in large pieces. and the works jwere finally abandoned. Further experiments and discoveries ' have recently been made, however. and la company has been formed, which has : taken the old Cbardonnier plant. It is ésaid they will be able to manufacture is roduct which will elm-rely resemble fsil from wood alone. which will be f much cheaper than the real articleand which can be. woven in largeâ€"sized _ loom. The prom of making is said to l similar to that of manufacturing paper from wood. The wood is first lground into a. pulp. steamed and chem- gusrded moment. bitterly repented of told in words to keep it a. secret, still‘ really prepared. The method of weaving afterward. "forbid than them rest on I think he would wish me to be silent. lhe Pull) ii the 58-’fl‘et from Which the the Sabbath day!" . about it forâ€"for a while. There can't Inventors hope to reap a. fortune. ' Parl- llu Stored Enormous Quantities l 3“ “Tong- tor. M. \‘ilhelm li‘ischer. is responsible for this statement. He asserts that after a long series of experimcnls he has proved conclusively that the slce in a bed prepared in the old-fashionc way is simply to induce ailments of all kinds. al of things. You must have your head on a level with or lower than your feet. If pillows am to be used they must be under your feet instead of under the head. The result, he claims. will be amazing. being a sum cure for insomnia, as well as a preventive for the nightmare. Dr. Fischer says furth- er that sleep in this new position "\vill nlwuysbe intellectual, because more pro found. the entire nervous system umev liorated, while people inclined to lung and kidney trouble will be vastly benc- fited by sleeping in this position." To prevent any incovenience by too sud- den a change the pillows should be graduallymeducod and finally placed under the feet. r GERMS IN CONDENSED MILK. Dr. Sargent says the general supposh tion that condensed milk is sterilized milk is by no means correct. There is certainly great difference in the pro- ducts of different nmnufacturers. Con- densed milk often contains microbes. which, if not actually growing in the milk, are ready to grow when the milk is diluted and taken into the stomach. \thn the condensed milk is slimy. cheesy or semi-solid in character. it contains germs which are actively de- veloping. These germs are from the sources which ordinarily contribute to the contamination of milk. The only safe way in the use of condensed milk is to sterilize it. by the same methods employed for sterilizing fresh milk. As a rule, condensed milk requires steriâ€" lization as well as ordinary milk. 111- though it must be said that generally there are fewer microbes to be found in condensed milk than in fresh milk as furnished by the nlilkmcn. THE VALUE OF DIETING. " In your instructions to your pa» tient," said a prominent physician to a young practitioner. “be particular in giving minute directions concerning diet. This has great effect, on the minds of old women especially, as their maladies are in a great measure imag- inary. Give a list of what is to beeat- en at breakfast, dinner and supper, and you may depend upon being made the subject; of conversation. and Will _be considered clever. l brought myself in- to notice and gained several prominent families by recommending to a wealthy old lady the left leg of a botlcd fowl. Once, when I was away on a short va- cation, this lady fell ill. and was oblig- ed to send for a neighboring medical man, who. by the way. was really a well-read man. On his attempting to persuade her that the left leg possessed no particular virtue. she became quite indignant and uncomplunentary." \VHAT SNEEZING INDICATES. The sneeze is not without its advan- tagcs, says M. Sobier. In some foreign countries sneezing is considered the height of ill manners. and yet how pre- valcnt was the use of snuff in England in the reign of the Georges. A_ sneeze is an alarm clock and gives notice that the body is losing its heat too rapidly and needs protection. A sneeze may announce the approach of .a cold. The wellâ€"wishing that one receives in some countries from the lower classes shows that its good effects are apprccmtcd. \Vhile a sneeze need not be boxeterous, it should not. be suppressed. IMPORTANCE OF SLEEP. Prof. Barnes remarks when a person is unable to secure from seven to ten hours of quiet sleep, something is wrong. If the trouble arises from the neighbors' cats. or the frolic-a o_f belated revelers, the matter is not serious. But if he finds his eyes wide open. his hrnxn in a whirl and his nerves tense afici- striving for awhile to woo the drowsy god in a comfortable bed, his condition is a. wholesome warning that be Is work- ing hard, worrying too much. is cut- ing something which disagrees With him, or is on the way to being attack- ed l)y some disease. . IIYGIENIC VALUE OF CRYING. The disposition of the typical young lady to have "a good cry " seems to have been found physiologically pm- Mcdical authorities assert that. per. . ' crying 1.5 the liest'cxermsc for youn children. One hos ital sumrmlcmlcn says that a. bcalt y baby should cry three or four times a day at. least, .nnd from ten to fifteen mimme at the time. SLEEPING ROOMS. Oil stoves and gas moves should never be kept burning in a sleeping room, for they are burned in the open air of the room. and having no connection with a chimney-flue, l.hl‘0\\' the poisonous carbonic oxide of combustion into the air of the apartment and make it unfit for respiration. - -â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€" Engllsh Books. In Great Britain the output of books is as follows: Sermons, one volume a day; novels. five a day; educational books. two a day; art and science. two each every Week; histories or biograph- ies. six a week. and law, one ovcry two weeks. He Had Heard. That new baby of Youngfathcr'd is a remarkably wideâ€"awake child; So I've heard. We hve next amt to it. He advocates a complete reverse .- i y l I l l