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r nrm‘wVv on». . _wM._’wW -'-v. t: f: if Eu. e r~ I CHAPTER XIV.â€"-(Continue-d.) "London is uninhabitable to me. if I 'do as you ask." he said. She looked up. the tears escaping from her eyes. ‘Ah. and the world to me, if you don't!" George sat down in an arm-chair; he abandoned the hope of running away. Neaera rose, pushed back her hair from her face, and fixed her eyes eag-z‘ erly on him. He looked down for an inâ€" stant. and she shot a hasty glance at the mirror. and then concentrated her gaze on him again, a. little anxious smile coming to her lips. "You will?" she asked in a whisper. George petulantly threw his gloves on a table near him. Neaera. advanced. and knelt down beside him. laying her hand on his shoulder. "You have made me cry so much," she said. "See, my eyes are dim. You won't make me cry any more?" George looked at the bright eyes, half veiled in tears, and the mouth trembling on the brink of fresh weep- ing. And the eyes and mouth were very good. “It is Gerald," she said; "he'is so strict. And the shame, the shame!” "You don't know what it means to me.” "I do indeed: I know it is hard. But you are generous. No, no, don't turn your face away!" George still sat silent. Neaera took his hand in hers. "Ah, do!" she said. George smiledâ€"at himself, not at Neaera. "\Vell, don’t cry any more," said he, “or the eyes will be red as well as dim." "You will, you will?" she whispered eagerly. He nodded. "Ah, you are good! George: you are good!" “No. Iam only weak." Neacra swiftly bent and kissed his m--. -..â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"'â€" God bless you, hand. "The hand that gives me life," she said. ’ “Nonsense,” said .George, rather! roughly. .. "Will you clear me altogether?" “Oh. yes; everything or nothing." "Will you give me thatâ€"that charac- fer?" llires-ll She seized his reluctant hand, and kissed it again. ' “I have your word?" “You have." She leapt up, suddenly radiant. "Ah, George, Cousin George, how I love you! “here is it?" George took the document out of his pocket. Neaera seized it. "Light a candle," she cried. George with an mnused smile obey- ed her. "101} hold the candle, and I will burn it!" And she watched the pa- .r consumed with the look of a glee- :ul child. Then she suddenly stretch- ed her arms. "Oh, I am tired!" “Poor child!" said George. “You can leave it to me now." “However shall I repay you? I nev- er can." Then she suddenly saw the cat, ran to him, and picked him up. "We are forgiven. Bob! we are for- given!" she cried, dancing about the room. George watched her with amusement. .She put tho cat down and came to him. "See. you have made me happy. Is that cno‘ugh?” “It. is something." said lie. “And here is something more!" And she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him. "That’s better." said George. “Any more?" . “Not till we are cousins." "lie gcntle in your triumph." "ho,_no; don’t talk like that. Are you going?" “Yes 1 must go and. put straight." "Good-bye. Iâ€"l find it very hard. "I have been paid in advance." Neacra blushed a little. "You shall be better paid, if ever I can," she slid. . George paused outside, to light a cig- nrcttc; thcn he struck into the park, and walked slowly along. meditating as he went. “'hcn he arrived at. Hyde Park Corner, he roused himself from his reverie. "Now the woman was very fair!" said he. as he hailed a hansom. things ‘hope you won't CHA ,trrimâ€"x v. Mrs. Pocklington sat with blank amazement in her face, and a copy of the Second edition of the Bull's-eye in her hand. On the middle paginin type widely synced, beneath a noble head- line, appeared a letter from George Neston. running thus:â€" "To the Editor of the Bull's-eye. "Sir. . _ “As you have been oodenough to interest yourself. and, Fhopc, for- tunate enough to interest your readers, in the subject of certain allegations made by me in respect of a lady whose name has been mentioned in your co!- unins. l have the honour to inform you that such allegations were entirely baseless the rcsult of a chance resem- blance between that lady and another person. and of my own hasty conclu- sions drawn therefrom. l have with- drawn all my assertions. fully and un- reset-verily, and have addressed apologies for them to thine who had a right. to receive apologies. "I have the honor tobixsir. "-Your obedient servant. "George Neston." And then a column of exultniion. sa- tire, ridicule, preaching. praying. pro- ying. moralising, and what not. he pen flew with wings of joy. and Ink was nothing regarded on that day. Mrs. Pocklington was a kind-hearted woman: yet. when she mad at sister's vindication. she found nothing better to my thanâ€"- "How very provoking!" And it may be that this unrest-norms FATE’S lNSTRUMEN TS. feeling. if only public feeling had been mdeoent enough to show itself openly. ’ A man shown to be a fool is altogetheri too common aspectacle; a. woman of, fashion proved a thief would have been ; a more piquant dish. But in this worldâ€"and, indeed, probably in any ‘ otherâ€"we must take what we can get; : and since society could not trample on Neaera “'itt, it consoled itselfby cor-l recting and chastening the misguided spirit of George Neston. To - Myles shook his empty little head, and all the other em ty heads shook solemnly in . time. Isa l Bourne slid she knew she was right, and Sidmouth Vane thought there must be something behindâ€"heal- ways did, as became a statesman mthe raw. Mr. Espion re-echoed “his own leaders, like a phonograph; and the chairman of the 'l‘hemis thanked fitgwen they were out of an awkward jo . But wrath and fury raged in the breast of Laura Pocklington. She thought George had made a fool of her. He had persuaded her to come over to his side, and had then betrayed the colours. There would be joy. in Gath and Askelon; or. in other words, Isabel Bourne and Maud Neston would crow over her insupportably. l l "I will never see him or speak to him again, momma," declared Laura. p88- stglnately. “He has behaved abomin- a y " jl‘his announcement rather took the wind out, of Mrs. Pocklington's sails. She was just preparing to bear ma jesti- cally down upon her daughter with a stern ultimatum to the effect that,for the present, George must be kept at a distance, and daughters must be guided by their mothers. At certain moments nothing is more annoying than to meet with agreement, when one intends to extort submission. “Good gracious, Laura!” said Mrs. Pockliugton, “you can't care much for the man." "Care for him! I detest him!" "My dear, it hardly lo-ikw. like it." “You must allow me some selfâ€"re- spect, momma." hIr. Pocklington, entering, overheard (host words. “Hallo!” said he.‘\Vhat’s the matter?" "Why. my dear, Laura. declares that she will have nothing tosay to George Neston." "\Vell, that's just your own view, isn't it?" A silence ensued. "It seems to me you are agreed." It really did look like it; but they had been on the verge of aprettyquarâ€" rel all the same; and Mr. l’ocklington was confirmed in the opinion he had lately begun to entertain that, when paradoxes of mental process are in ques- tion, there is in truth not much to choose between wives and daughters. _ Meanwhile, George Neston wassteadâ€" 11y and unflinchineg devouring his humble-pie. He sought and obtained Gerald's forgiveness, after half an hour of grovelling abasemcnt. He listened to ’l‘ommy Myles's grave rebuke and Sidmouth Vane's cynical ruillery with- out a smile or a tear. He even brought himself to accept with docility a letter full of Christian feeling which Isabel Bourne was moved to write. . All these things, in fact, affected him little in conip.u'ison with the great question of his relations with the Pock- lingtons. That. he felt, must be set- tied at once, and, with his white sheet yet; round him and his taper still in his hand, he went to call on Mrs. Pockâ€" lmgton. . He formd that lady in an attitude of aggressive tranquility. \Vith careful ostentation she washed her hands of the whole affair? Left. to her own way. she might have been inclined to consider that George’s foolish reckless- ness had been atoned for by his manly rctractationâ€"or, on the other hand, might not. It mattered very ‘littlc. which would have been the case; and, if it. comforted him, he wnls at liberty to suppose that she would have em- braced the former opinion. The decis- ion did not. lie with her. Let him ask Laura and Laura’s father. They had made up their minds, and it was not in her province or power to try to change their minds for them. In fact, \Irs. Pocklington took up the position which Mr. Spcnlow has made famousâ€"only she had two partners where Mr. Spcnlow had but. one. George had a shrewd idea' that hcr neutrality covered a favorable inclination towards himself, and thank- ed her warmly for not ranking herself among his enemies. “i am even emboldened," he said, "to ask your advice how I can best. over- come Miss Pocklington's adverse opiu- ion." “Laura thinks you have made her look foolish. You see. she took your cause up rather warmly." "1 know. She was most generous." “You were so very confident." "Yes; but. one little thing at the end tripped me up. I couldn’t have forc- sccn it. Mrs. l’txrklingt on, do you think shc will be very obduratc Z" "Oh. I've nothing to do with it. Don't ask me." "I wish I could rely on your influ- encr." "l haven't any influence," dcclarcd Mrs. Pocklington. “She’s as obstinate as aâ€"as resolute us her father." George rose to go. He was rather dishcartened; the nice he had to pay for the luxury 0 generosity seemed verv hi h. . )lrs. .‘ocklington was moved to pity. "George," she said. “I feel like a traitor. but I will give you one little bit of advice." “Ah!” cried George. his face bright- ening. “\Vhat is it, my dcaers. Pocklington f" ' “As to my husband, I say nothing; but as to lfluraâ€"" “Yes, yes i" “Let her aloneâ€"alsolutely." _ "Let her alone! But that's giving it u )." \ ' “ on't call, don't write, don't be known to speak to her. There, I've done what I oughl'n't; but you’renn old friend of mine, George." “But I say. Mrs. l’ocklington, won’t some other fellow seize the chance i" “If she likes you best. what does that matter! If she doesn'tâ€"" And airs. Pocklington shrugged her shoul~ ers. George was convinced by this logic. "I will try." he said. “Try '1' I “Yes. try to let her alone. But it's difficult." 5 "Stuff and nonsense. Laura isn’t in- dispensable." "1 know those are not your real views." "You're not her mother; for which exclamation fairly summed up public_ you may thank Heaven." "I, do." said George. and took his leave, rather consoled. He would have .n even more cheerful had he known that Laura’s door was ajnr. and Laura was listening for the hang of the hall * door. When she heard it. she went. down to her mother. “Who was your \‘isrtor, me i" "0h. George Neston." “\"hat did he came about 3" "Well. my dear. to see me. I sup- m-ID . {find what did he find to say for himâ€" se " , "Oh. we hardly talked about ’that affair at all. However, he seems in very good 5 irits." ~ "I'm sure e had no business to be." "Perhaps not, my dear; but he was." “I didn’t know it was Mr. Neston. I'm so lad l didn't come down." . Mrs. ocklington went on knitting. "I emect he knew why." Mrs. l’ocklington counted three pearl and three plain. . “131d he say anything about it, mam- ma " "One, two, three. About what, dear?” “\Vhy. aboutâ€"about my not coming!" 1N0. I suppose he thought you Were ou “Did you tell him so?" "He didn’t. ask, my dear. He has} other things to think about than being attentive to young women." “It's very lucky he has," said Laura. hauglitily. ‘ “My dear, he lets you alone. \\ hy can’t you let him alone i" Laura took up a book, and Mrs. Pocklington counted her stitches in a, brisk and cheerful stone. It. will be seen that George had a good friend in hits. Pocklington. In truth he needed some kindly c0unten-' ance, for society at large had goncl mad in praise of Neaera and Gerald. They were the fashion. Everybody tried to talk to them; everybody was coming to the weddinggeverybody rav- ed about Neaera’s sweet patience and Gerald’s unwavering faith. \Vhen Nee/era drove her lover round the park , in her Victoria, their journey was a triumphal progress; and only the bur- den of preparing for the wedding preâ€". vented the pair being honored guests at every selcct gathering. Gerald walk- t ed on air. His open hopes were realised, . his secret fears laid to rest; while Neaâ€" era’s exaggerated excuse for George be- trayed to his eyes nothing but the ex- ceeding sweetness of her disposition. Her absolute innocence explained and justified her utter absence of resent- ment, and must, Gerald felt, add fresh pangs to George’s remorse and shame. ’i'hese pangs Gerald did not feel it his duty to mitigate. Thursday came, and Monday was the Wedding day. The. atmosphere was thick with new clothcs, cards of invitaâ€" tion, presents, and congratulations. A thorny questibn had prison as to who- ther George should be invited. Neaera’s decision was in his favor, and Gerald himself had written the note, hoping all the while that his cousin's own good sense would keep him away. . "It. would be. hardly decent in him to come,” he said to his father. “I darcsay he will make some ex- cuse,” answered Lord Tottlebury. "But L hope you won't keep up the quarâ€"i rel.” . “Keep up the quarrel! By jove, fa- ther, I’m too happy to (u:l.rrel.” “Gerald,” said Maud cston, cuter- ing. "here’s such a funny letter for you! I wonder it ever reached." She held out a dirty envelope. and road the addressâ€"- "Mr. Neston, Esq, "I-l'is Lordship ’l‘ottilberry, ” London.“ “\Vho in the world is it?" Maud, laughing. Gerald hid no secrets. _ “I don't. know," slid he. "Give it to me, and we’ll see.” He opened the letter. The first thing he came upâ€" asked on was a piece of tissue paper neatly . folded. Opening it, he found it: to be a ton-pound note. “Hullo! is tilts a wedding present?" said he with a laugh. “Ten pounds! How funny!" exclaimâ€" ed Maud. "Is there no letter?" "Yes, here's a letter!" And Gerald read it to himselfk» tain ecccntriciiics of spelling which need not be reproduced:â€" "Sir, _ "I don't rightly know whether this here is your money or Nery’s. Nor I don’t know where it comes from, after what. you Siid when you was here with her Friday. I can work for my llV- ing, thanks be to Him to whom thanks is due, and I don't put money in my pocket as I don't know whose pocket it. come out of. -. “Your humble servant. "Susan Hort." "Susan B0171!" cxrla'ima-d Gerald. "Now, who the deuce is Susan Burt, and what the donor. dor‘s she mean?" “Unless you tell us what. she says -â€"â€"" began Lord 'l‘ottlebury. Gerald read the «letter again, with a growing feeling of uncastness._ He no- ticed that the postui-irk was Liverpool. It so chanced that he ll'ld not been to Liverpool for more than a year. And who was Susan Hort? He got up, and, making an apology for not reading out his lctter. went to his own room to consider the matter.- “’.\'ery?"' said lie. "And if I wasn’t. there, who was?" It was generous of George Neston to shield Ncacm. at. 'l.iverpool. It was also generous of Ncaera to send Mrs. Bert. ten pounds immediately after that lady had treated her so cruelly. It was honest of Mrs. Bort to refuse to accept money which she thought might be the prorecds of burglary. To these commendable actions Gerald_was in- debted for the communication which disturbed his bliss. "I wonder if Ncaera can throw any light on it," said Gerald. "It's very queer. After lunch, I’ll go and see her." (‘H A P'l'ER XVI. Mr. Blodwell was entertaining Lord Mapledurham at luncheon at the.The- mis Club. The Marquis was not in an agreeable. mood. He was ill. and when he was ill he was apt to be cross. lIis host's calm satisfaction with the issue of the Neston affair irritated him. "Really, Blodwell," he Slid. "1 some- times think a lawyer's wig is like Sam- son’s hair. “'hen he takes it off. he takes off all his wits with it. Your similicity is positively childish." r. Blodwell gurgled contentedly over a basin of soup. . “I think no evil unless I'm paid for it," he mid, wiping his mouth. 'George found he was wrong. and said so." "I saw the girl in the Park yester- day," the Marquis remarked. "She's a pmtty girl." "Uncommonly. But I'm not aware , course he went, to look forâ€"â€"â€"' , Something wil iappen to you." .your father, Mr. ;“You must allow me to shake 'to the natural child. Egatf being pretty makes a. girl a. re ." “No. but it makes a man a fool." "My dear Mapledurham!" "Did he ever tell you what he found out at Liverpool?” "Did he go to Liverpool?” "Did he go? God bless the man! 0f Loni anledurham stopped. to see who was thmwiug a shadow over his plate. . ' "May I join you!" asked Sidinouth Vane. who thought he was copfcrrmg a privilege. "I'm interested in what you are discussing." "Oh, it’s .Vou, is it? liStening'l" . _ "No, but everybody's discusstn it. Now. I agree with you, Lord .\ aple- dui‘ham. It’s a put-up job." “I expect you thought it. was a .put- up job when they baptised you. didn't you?” inquired the Marquis. “An-:1 looked for oison in your hot- Ha‘ve you been L tlei‘" added Blodwel . Vane gently waved his hand. as if to scatter these clumsy sarcasms. "A man may not be sixty and yet not be an ass." he languidly observed. "\Vait- . er, some salmon, and a pint of 44." “And may be sixty and yet be _ an ans. ch?" said the Marquis, chuckling. “Among ourselves. why do you sup- pose he let her off?" asked vane. . The Marquis pusth back his chair. "My young fr'uid, you are too Wise. "Hallo!" exclaimed Vane, “Here's Gerald Nestonl." Gerald came hastily up to Mr. Blod- .wcll. F'Do you know where George is?" he asked. "I believe he's in the club some“ where," answered Mr. Blodwell. . g "No, he isn't. I want to see him} on business.” 1 Lord Mapledurham rose. "I know, Neston," he suid.l hands { with you. and congratulate you on your approaching marriage." . Gerald received his congratulations with an absent. air. “I must. go and find George," he said, and went out. i i "There!" said Vane, triumphantly. "Don't. you see there’s something up. r now?" The older men tried to snub him. .but they glanced at one another and! 'silently admitted that it looked as [fl he were right. . _ Mrs. Burt '3 letter had stirred intofac- ,tivity all the doubts that Gerald her:- to had tried to stifle. and had at last: succeeded in silencing. There was a; darkly mysterious tone about .the doc-1 ument that. roused his suspicions. laiâ€" ther there was a new and _a more unâ€" scrupulous plot against. his birde, or. else Gerald did not finish his train‘: of thought, but he dctermtncd to seeg Ncacra at once, as George could not be? found without a journey to the Tcm- pie. and a journey to the Temple was twice as far as a journey to Albert. Mansions. Nevertheless. had Gerald known what. was happening at the '.ljcmâ€" ‘ pic, he would have gone there first;; for in George's chambers, at that very; momcnt, George was sit ting in his chair, gazing blankly at Nottcra \Vitt, who: was walking restlessly up and down« "You sent. her ten pounds?" he gasp- ed the creature starve." (To be continued). A FRENCH IDEA OF JUSTICE. An Interesting and Suggestive ('linngc Just dlxulc in French Law. A law which changes radically the legal position of children born out of wedlock, and which, in the eyes of its, opponents, threatcns the existence ofi the family in France, was passed, al- 1 most; without attracting notice during the last session of the French parlia-l nient. It was not discussed at all in the Chamber of: Deputies, and met 'with only faint opposition in the Sen- .ate. An illegitimate child who is re-l The letter ran as follows, saving ccr- ' cognized according to the forms of law by his father may now inherit, or rather cannot be disinheritcd under normal conditions, a share in the pro- perty the father leaves. l-Iis share is to be one-half that of a legitimate child, where one exists; three-quarters ._ week that SKIN GRAFTS CURE BURNS. Brave Flam for the Life or n Little Girl “In lelll Been [under the Knife #3" Sleuths. . 1 Skin grafting has saved the life of Jeaie Proudfoot, an elevenâ€"year-old girl in San Rafael. Cal. July 3 year ago she was playing around a bonfire in the yard when her clothing caught fine. In an instant. she was envelop- ed in flame, and before the fire was extinguished she was very severely burned. and it was not thought that she could pwsibly live. She was a frail. delicate child. and large areas of her body were roasted. and the skin and flesh sloiighcd off. leaving the mussles exposed and cans- ing much bleeding from the scared veins and arteries. The worst burn she received was on the hip, It was sixteen inches long and averaged nine inches wide, cover- big one hundred and forty-four square inches of her body. There “usa burn on her shoulder three by four inches. one six by six on her side and other smaller burns about her body. Despite the fears of her relatives and the docâ€" tors, Jessie clung to life, and finally Elbe despair of her mother changed to o c. 'thce months after the accident the smaller burns on her arm and side had healed, but the deeper and largcr burn on the hip rciusud to heal. The surface was too tar re for the, skin to bridge the. seared flesh, and Du. .\\'. 1“. Jones decided to try skin grafting: . Smce then there has teen hardly a patches of skin have not. been taken from other people and at- tachcd to the burned spot. on Jessie's thigh. 1n many instances the new skin has sloughcd olf or dried up and re- tuscd adoption by the new owner, but the progress of covering the burn has been steady and the wound Will be cov- ered within a few months. In the. mean tune Jessie is able to be out of bed and she does not. have to remain on her right 'side, as she did for . so many weeks after she received the burn. 'l‘wnce the entire wound has been covered by Dr. Joucs, but; the ccntre of the burned spot rc- fused to let. the new skin grow, and now new patches of skin are added around the edges More than eighty people have sub- mitted to have small pieces of lllt‘ll‘ skin removed to aid the brave lilt.lc_in- valid, some going from San ls‘rancisco to did her by their self-sacrifice. llcr lbrother Joe, six years old, has (on timcs contributed from thrcc. to four square lllt'lli‘s without a murmur, and ll'Jl‘ sislxer Ethel has givon twenty-three inches of her cuticle altogether. {l‘lie mother and aunt. have given of ‘lheir skin until they have little more to give, and neighbors and friends now are dcpcndcd on lor the material that Will make J 985.10 a well girl. "Yes. yes," said Ncaera. “I caul’t lct MAN'S 130ng To ENDURE HEAT Two Hundred and l‘lt‘ly llcgrt-cs Emlnrcd by a French Savant. ‘Many people have recently been heard to declare that they arc. sui‘c thcy will die if the hot weather in sunnucr continues. Therefore the statistics be» low, showing the highest and lowest temperatures which man can cndurc, may prove intcrcsling. To begin with. the difference between the. highest and lowest limits is cslimatcd at. 25!) (log. Fahrenheit. la'rencli troops in Alg- iers must frequcntly march and man- ocuver at a heat of 122 deg. above zero. A French professor has, during a stay in the Sahara with a tribe of 'l‘uarcgs, observed a llcat of 153 dcg. Attendants in Turkish bath estab- lishments Work ten hours a (lay in rooms where the air is artificially lit-at.- ed to 155 dog., 175 deg., and oven to 195 deg., Fahrenheit. A scientific gcn‘ tlcman in l.’ari.s not long ago spcnt fif- if there are only uncles. aunts, and neâ€" . ton iuinutcd in a. hot air room of the phews left, while, if the nearest rela- tivcs are merely first. cousins of the father, the whole inheritance (les_'.:«.:n(l:-;1 The provxsionsl of the French law of inlicritam:e. which ‘ secure to legitimate children a certain proportion of their parents" property, inalienable by fathcr or mother, are made to apply to illegitimate children also. Moreover, the father may leave to his natural child a portion of that part of his property of which the law allows him the free disposil, provuled that portion is not larger than the por- tion left. to the least favored legiti- mate child. _ llei‘ctoforc the law has forbidden lug-i notes to illegitimate children, so that, the only way in which a father could I make a bequest of his natura1_childg was by refusing to rcco nize him as; his, thereby placing him cgally in thc ‘position of a stranger unrelated to him. . i It will be interesting to watch the effect on French society of this at- tempt at a solution of a grave socuil problem. The measure is not'so sweepâ€" ing as it seems to be at first sight, for it affects only a part. of tho l'hll- drcn born out of wedlock. The {am-- ous section 310 of the Code Cryil: _ Ail recherche de la paiernite cst mlerduc, which many Frenchmen look upon as: one of the main bulwarks of sot-Lil 0P! dcr. remains in full favor. The .fatlu-rl who refuses to acknowledge his illc- gitimate child cannot be compelled to do so. If either mother or child were to try to force an acknowledgment, the case would be thrown out. of court. Another class of children born out of wedlock, which is not affected by the law, consists of those who have become le itimate. as by the French law the su‘ivsequent marriage of the parents legitimizcs their children already born. The number of persons to whom the modified law will apply must, therefore, be small when compared With the total population of . France, much smaller than might be inferred from the prom- inence given to their tic-called wrongs in literature and on the stage. lt is large enough. however, to give value to the results of the present experi- ment. whatever they are. It is not ex- pected that French .fathcrs will host- en to assume all their moral responsi- l..ilities simply becaum the. law now l mite them to do so. _ > Paris Hamniam, in which the dry air had been licatcd by his order until the thermometer registered :55!) deg. Foli- rcnheit. Issuing from this room, he plunged immediatcly into a bith filled with water of about 53 degrccs, a dilfcrcncc of 200 deg. l“.‘i!ircnhcit, which his body passed through in less than a nilnuue. Un thc other hand, man will stand greater cold than any of the otl‘u-r main- inals. For instant», during tlic jour- ney of Prince Henry of Urlcans through the Central Asiatic highlands lb.- party had frequently to withstand a tem- pcraturc of All) deg. bclow zcro. ’l’bc (wickâ€"silver in the flicrmomctcrs bad frozen solidly at. this lclmmraturc, and even the alcohol in the ulcohnlc ther- mometers bt-czunc thick. 110er and .camcLs (liml from cxposure, while “one of the men in the party suffi'rcd in the lcast. In North America intense cold is frc- qucnt. A (.‘apt. Burn out-u lllt‘ilHlll’t'ti at lr‘ort Reliance a tcinpvrature of 7!! deg. below zero, while (.‘apt. Dowron, at Fort. ltzw, saw the tlicrmumt-lcr down to 88 deg. below zcro in the month of April. The lowest temperatures known however, have (xxturrcd ir. Siberia, win-re a tempt-nature of 50 dog. below zero is not uncommon, while at \l't-r- Chojansk a temperature of 93 dog. be- low Zero has boon observed, It awn-am, lhercforo‘, that nu-n can stand a cold of 90 deg. lit-low zcro, “llllt‘ a heat. of llill dog. and 18!! zit-g. Fahrenheit. appears to be the (‘X‘il’ltln‘fi limit in tho opposite direction. No animals is known which is able to resist such changes of tum- pcralure. 'l'lll'i ’l‘llU'l‘lll'diL CHILD. )L’imnia, the rector ant me why you didn't come to church. “'liat did you tell him, Bobby? I said you were aâ€"kmeping all your good clothus clean [or go to 'h‘ sca- shore. . AN iMPossmm'rY. l My part in the amateur theatrically could not have barn a complete failure, declared Alice. 'l‘hcyylid not bias me Of course not, replied lfl't bind girl per. friend. Home cannot'yawn and him at the same time. J