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W‘- , brokcnly, "a p t n I - lb ll Sillllllll HAVt BEEN. "Is It good-by, my sweet-heart!" ask- ed Philip Desmond, sadly, tenderly rais- ing the face of the girl he loved until the sweet brown eyes, wet with the bitter beats of farewell, should have fixed upward into his own, "is it good-by, my darling ?” For answer the lung curling lashes drooped still lower, the pale cheeks grew paler yet. But the red lips, won- derfully pathetic in the new curve taught them by grief, were silent. Helen Grafton was a courageous girl, and she strongly objected to any outâ€" ward show of feeling. So, as she knew that to manage her voice successfully and steadily would be an impossible feat, she made no effort toward speak- ing, and allowed the mournful qeustion to pass without audible response. But the lashes and cheeks and lips alluded to above made eloquent answer and touched the heart of her lover as no words could have done. Only an in- nocent girl dares to be silent at such moments, only a thorough coquette knows the power of such silences. Helen Grafton was no coquctte, but her silence effectively tightened the bonds which held her lover so closely. Now, with a smothered exclamation, he gathered her into his arms, pressed her face against her own aching heart and laid his cheek tenderly against the coils of soft, wavy, golden-brown hair which crowned her head. For a mom- outâ€"a long, long, happy vmomentâ€"nei- ther stirred, then Philip groaned. "How can we part?" he ejaculated, breathlessly, “how can I leave you alone? Tell me once more dearest, will you not change your mind? Is it really good-by 9" This time Helen answered in words. The pain in his heart had echoed through his voice, and like the true woman she was, she felt willing to bear more suffering if, by so doing,she could but shorten his. Her eyes, steadfast and unfal-tcring were very bright now and the tears hung in a glittering row upon her eyelashes and gleamed when she moved her head like diamonds or dewdrops.. The red lips were pressed closely together and as she parted them a short, gasping sigh escaped her. But she did not falter or turn aside from her purpose. She must end the mat- tor for his sake. "Yes," she said, as gently as decisive- ly, "it is goodâ€"(by, dearest. It is good- by." "Then good-bye forever!" he exclaim- ed thrusting her from him so suddenly and harshly that her little, clasped hands fell sharply down from their resting plaice upon his breast; "good-by for good and all. You have broken my heart, and all for a foolish whim.” "Not for a whim, deares ," she an- swered as gently as ever, "not for a whim, dearest, but for a principle." "Principle, nothingl" he retorted harshly, “it is a whim ,I say» Because when you were a schild your mother must romise that you should marry that od man whenever he asked you, you must sacrifice- botlh your own life and mine." . “How can I help it,” she questioned romise is a promise, and you know that all through his long journey, all through his struggles for the. wealth he has earned, he has thought only of me. He says that the remembrance of my face has upheld him in times when death seemed the only possibility, and that but for the love of me he would have gone. mad many times." "011. 'esl [He says, he says," inter- rupted hilip, still angry, but molified slightly by her evident suffering and the. tears which ran slowl down her smooth cheeks, pale now or the. love of him, "what; he says is all very well â€"for him, but what of usfi \Vhat of my heaart, what, my dear one," draw- ing her toward him once more, and gaz- ing down steadily into her face, "what, my dear one, of yours?- Do you love him. this rich old man to whom your mother promised you i" A quick sob hindered Helen's answer for a momenta When she spoke. the sob had been vanquished, but. the sound of tears still rang through her voice. "You know that I do not. love him,” she whispered,hulding one of his large strong hands in her own small, icy fin- gers. "You know that I love on] ' you of all the world, But, as I sai , a promise is a promise, and it would break mother's heart, if I broke the froth she made for me.” "You ought to have lived several cen- turies ago," he broke in, hotly. “A medieval mind in a nineteenthâ€"century body is a curious anomaly. What have you to do with your mother's promise? Vhy should she have given any such ridiculous promisci’ And why should wo- suffcr for her conduct?" His voice. was hot with wrath. his face flamed and the hand which rested on Helen's shoulder gripped it with such force that the tender flesh was bruised. The girl shrank a little away from his eager intensity and be, seeing this. winced and rclcasad her. Then llclcn spoke. "Wait a little before condemning my poor mother," she said. drawing him toward the sofa. "Let me tcll you the story 0 fmy betrolhal to Mr. Van Lippe." The young man made an impatient movement and the drapery of the door behind the sofa stirred a little. Was it the win dor the result of his ( nick clung.» of posture! Ilclen wondered sloui this vaguely. but her mind was upon the subject of her story and shc h-irdly gave the matter anything hm tho incsi casual alluvial. " '1‘” inc teu you.” she nxpeaied. lier carwaiiig tunes soothing him into some- tliin: like acquivswncmaltbuugli he still (“iii-ti his iiiusizicbc impaticnily. "lot "to tell you all alum it. “'lmu my (a- llwl‘ died. and for many months before, he was in grui f.;::inci.il difficulties He had left England sorely against the wishes of his parentâ€"as he had mar- ried my mother against those wishesâ€" and good luck was slow in finding him. Before it reall%came he was on his deathbed. hlr. an Lippe, who was an old and trusted friend of both famtlies came to his aid, and my poor mother often says that, but for his_kindness, my father would have died in sorrow and distress. Money matters were made all right soon after and we have always been comfortable,as you know, but who could repailhe sympathy and assistance Mr. Van ippe gave to my mother in her time of needb \Vhen she no long- ?er needed him, when her own mother or needed him, when her own mother was with her, he bade her good-by, and for several years she saw nothing _of him. But when he thought that asuit- able and respectful time had passed be sought her again and offered her his hand in marriage. She told him that this was impossible, that my father had been her only affection, but, sorry for pain, she promised him in ' hand if he cared to wait. for it. And, hilip, he has waited and I am his by right of that long probation: I am yours, all yours, by right of love, and had I'knowh that I was not free Iwould never have listened to you for a moment. But un- til yesterday I did not know; Ithought that Mr. Van Lippe was but a dear and. klind griendbmAls snoth loge him dear- . y, ut, ' ipâ€"‘u ge y your own heart how hard itils for me to so. this â€"he has thought differently and must do my duty and try and forget you. I hardly know," her voice losing its per- ilous steadiness and sinking to 3.501)- bing whisper, "I hardly know how .I shall do this, but do it I must: It is my duty." . "It is not your duty,” Philip inter- rupted angrily; “how can you talk such utter nonsense. Your dtuy is to mar- ry me, and let Mr. Van Lippe look to your mother for the fulfillment of a promise made without your know- ledge or consent." . “1 agree with you, young man," said a. grave voice kindly, and Mr. Van Lip- pe walked slowly from behind the trem- bling drapery: “Ldid not mean to 115-- ten, young pcople," he went on quiet- ly, "but I entered the ball just as you began to talk and was arrested by the sound of my name. The servant know- ing that Miss Helen was in here, and that I was expectedâ€"I was about to propose, in fat "â€"with: a grim smile-â€" “did not consider it necessary to an- nounce me. So, as I removed my overâ€" coat I heard a portion of Helen’s story and my conscience does not smite me in the least that I listened to the rest. On the contrary, I am thankful. I did so. 1 hardly think you could have de- ceived me into thinking you loved_me as. a wife should, little girl," turning, With a. kindly smile, to the weeping Helen, "but your too sensitive ideas of right and wrong might have caused both you and your lover no little suf- fering if 1 had not happened to hear. Believe me, dear child, I should never have. dreamed of asking you to marry me had I known of your ignorance of your mother's promise or suspected the existence of this young man. Forgive me the pain I have already and un- wittingly cause you, both of you,” ex- tending a hand to each, "and accept my congratulations. I am a lonely old man, but I love you Helen, as dear- ly as I loved your mother years ago, as searly as I love her now, and Iwish you every happiness. I think I shall send a. card up to your mother now," and With. a. smile he retreated from the room. For a. moment until the sound of his feet on the stairway which led to Mrs.’ Grafton's boudoir had grown very faint, and far away, the lovers were Silent. Then Helen turned a smiling, blushing, glorified face toward Philip and be bent to kiss it raptur- ously. “How would you like Mr. Van Lip- pc. for a. step-papa?" he asked mischiev- ously, and an answering twinkle in Helen's eyes pushed Mr. Van Lippe very far into the background of his mental scenery. Ten minutes later ‘both of them had forgotten his existence. ._._,...__°__.._.. DIVO CE, THEN SUICIDE. Itcunllrul Mrs. 1c Champion Wrote : “ I Am Sorry to Go Unforgiven." Never was there a. sadder tragedy in the higher classes of English society than the suicide recently of the beau- tiful Mrs. Le Champion. She was only twentyâ€"three years old, was the daughter of a noted soldier of an old family, and married two years ago' Loftus Le Champion. the son of another old soldier of equal birth. The two 'had been friends from childhood. The best man at the wedding was young Lieut. De Crespigny, an officer of the Guards. the son of Sir Claude. a famous sportsman and a direct descend- ant of a Norman chief. Mrs. Le Champion last mohth sued for judicial separation on the ground of her husband’s cruelty, and got it, but her husband accused her of improper relations with young De (‘respigny, and their child was given into the charge of a third person. But a fact known only to a few in London and not disclosed to the public is that the husband and the alleged lover had a fist fight last. summer at the fashionable llurlingham Club be- hind an aristocratic fringe of men and women spectators at a polo match. . The wire was found dead a fcwmoru- lugs ago with an empty laudanum botâ€" tlc beside her and two letters. One let- ter contained her pee:- liltlc will. leav- Ing her diamond necklace to her babe. anotlier‘necklace to Lady De Crespigny. and a diamond ring to Claude De Cres- pignv.the son. 'l‘hcotherleiterleft un- finished, was to her husband. There was only this sentence: " Llch Lofiusâ€"I am sorry to go without your forgiveness." At her funeral, liesiqics the members of her family and all the De Crcspignys. Mr. Le Champion. dressed in deep mourning, drove up and stood with a friend at a little distance from the oth- er mourners. A GENUINE MARK-DO‘VN. Mrs. Sh..~pper-â€"Do you believe that any of lllv-su mark-dorms are genuine? Mrs. Seizemâ€"Somc of firm are. I know. My son got one of them. Mrs. Stopperâ€"“dint was it? ‘BIIS. Somaliâ€"ml wife. ll:- married a girl in a combination Store. She was i\\-eni_\‘-fourâ€"-niarkcd down from lli'r- tit-nine. :13 EAiTHlâ€"W FRUITS AND HEALTH. By most persons fruits are consider- ed wholesome. but the reason of this wholesomeness is not generally known. Fruits, as a class, are of comparative- ly slight food value. They are never- theless wholesome. and from the very fact of their containing little nutriment, they may usually be eaten in consider- able quantities without harm. Of course reference is here made to per- fectly ripe fruitâ€"ripe. and not over ripe. ' Practicale all our cultivated fruits; including the strawberry, the rasp- berry, the blackberry, the apple, the plum, the peach and the orange, conâ€" tain large Quantities of water, with but a small percentage of nutritive sub- stance. Such nutritive matten as they do contain, however. supplies admirably one element of a perfect diet, namely the whoâ€"hydrates. I The flavor of fruits, which gives them a. pleasant taste. is due to certain volaâ€" tile oils and to the acids wfhich they contain. Sugar is found in fruits in varying proportions, and is the chief substance which is changed during the fermentation of their juices. ’l‘hesubstance which gives firmness to fruit, and which. upon boiling yields the different fruit jellies, is called pec- tose. Vegetable fibre is found in vary- ing proportions in different fruits. The quantity of oil, albumen and mineral salts in fruits is small, but doubtless they have some slight food value. It Will thus be seen that fruits are chiefly valuable for the water they con- tam. and for their appetizing nature. lmost all ripe fruit may be freely al owed to convalescents, their action on the liver and kidneys bgpig favorâ€" able rather than otherwise. Raspberries and strawberries have been especially recommended for bilious- ness and gout; plums, for gout and arti- cular rheumatism. Dyspeptics should avoul eating hard skin, seeds and hard- fibred fruits. The best fruits for constipation are fresh apples. figs, prunes, peaches and berries. . Of all fruits the most nutritious are bananas, dates, figs, prunes and grapes, chiefly because of the sugar and starch which they contain. In general, then, we may conclude that fruits are useful for the nutri- mernt they contain; for the water which they furnish to the system; for their various salts and acids which react favorably upon the blood and the score- tions; and also for stimulating the ap- petite, improving digestion, and giving variety to the diet. TREATMENT OF ULCERS. The successful treatment of ulcera‘ tions depends upon three things: 1. Rest. There is scarcely any form of ulceration but will begin the process of recovery of itself if kept free from every form of irritation. This does not mean simply ’that the leg or other part of the body upon which the sore occurs is to be placed in a position of absolute quiet, although this is of prime importance. Many ulcers, like those knows as varicose. are caused, or certainly are hindered from healing, by the quantity of blood which stagnates in the adjacent flesh. Means must be taken to remove, if possible, the cause of the stagnation, and allow Uhe ulcer to be bathed with healthy and nutri- ment-be-aring blood. In certain persons. especially in wo- men of forty years and over, a form of ulcer is often seen which is comimon- ly termed "irritable or painful," and which is due solely to an irritation of the smaller nerve-branches. This ir- ritation of the. nerve produces conges- tion and stagnation of the blood. That. the ulceration is due to nerve irrita- tion alone is proved by the fact that recovery takes place under the admins nitration of opiates. " :2. The. ulcer must be kept clean. in the surgical sense of the word, that is. aseptic. _Ulceration is always the re- sult of microbic infection of parts which are undergomg the processes of inflam- mation. The microbes must be de- stroyed before the sore will take on a healthy appearance. Not only this, but all articles of mortified flesh and bloo should be washed away. Their presence favors the formation of other Similar particles. besides givmg rise to foul odors. After being properly cleansed the sore should be protected by aseptic dressings from all danger of reinfection. For this it us better to use old pieces of soft lint. which can be burned afterward. '3. Care. should be exercised to )l'o- Vlde a. suitable dressing for ulcer. 1!" any sores, especially those of long sland- mg. need to be stimulated to renewed activity and vitality. while other forms require simpler and more soothing ap- plications. In these latter cases are embraced those Ulcers v. hicb have an "angry," red and swollen appearance. It is needless to say that the nature of the drtmirng which is best for each case can only be determined by a phy- suuan. . MEDICAL HINTS. One of the most effective and pleasant applications for Leadzmhe is ten cents worth of carbonate of ammonia and spir- its of lavender, to be had of any good druggistâ€"keep in glass stoppered bottle, for smelling as often as needed. Just the article to keep in the room for in- valids. ’ . If you accidently pound or punch your finger badly put the injured member into water as hot as can be borne. It‘ will relieve inflammation the quickest: of anything. ' 'l‘lic. "forty winks" taken by ourj grandfailiors after slmm-r has linen in-l creased to a hundred or more with even larger lam-fit. Afir-r a_ hearty meal the stomach requires entire rr-posc of the body. espé-rzally of lb» brain. for its perfect work. and there is no be!- t.'-.’ way to secure this ni-edml bodily nâ€"iuanon than byahealthful sleepaf- fer the noon hour. Especially is this easemtial‘fto us as we get along “the shady side of life. It is precious time well employed. ilUSTRlLllN £01.11 sip our min; when you drink it aha ENGLISH CAPITAL IS BEGINNING it wil not With you. It will then more easrly mix with the contents of the stomach and so prevent the curd- ling, which is the cause of the trouble you experience. Much is now written about "Beauty bath" for babies, but. the very best is a cold bath thoroughly rubbing the flesh to a low after it. The appli- cation of a wide lavender spirits before dressmg imparts a delightful odor and freshnem to the skin. Few persons as yet understand the value of nuts as nourishment. Es eo- ially the chustnut which is excel cnt boiled or stuffed in meats, or eaten with milk, ground and mixed with flour into bread, or served hot, with currant jelly. for dessert. There is great. healthful nourishment. in chestnuts. and so easy of cultivation every farmer ought to have a hundred trees planted forty feet apart. like an orchasd. It makw z beautiful shade tree. â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"_â€"_ HOTEL DEATH TARIFF. fl What It Costs to Die at an Innâ€"Curious Consular Reportâ€"A Newqmpcr Man Investigates. At what price should a. man be alâ€" lowed to die at alhotel? There is a fixed tariff for most things at hotels. but some of the British consuls abroad declare that this item wants schedul- ing. The consuls at Naples reported re- cently to Lord Salisbury :â€"" Mr. 'Y' died in an hotel of an absolutely non- infectious disorder, and the claim. (for damages only. and apart from the ho- tel bill) was upwards of £80, which. af- ter a strong remonstrance from the consulate, was reduced to something un- der £60. There can be no doubt that these questions are constantly aris- ing in other consulates, and I take this opportunity of bringing the mat- ter before my colleagues, because I think some rule might be arrived at. by which the amount of damage claim- ed should be graduated according to the price charged for the room (1) in infectious cases, and (2) in non-infec- tious ones. If an influential society like the Hotel-keepers’ Association were to agree upon such a scale, it would practically be enforceable in all cases. and save consuls the extremely UN PLEASAN T TASK of coming into contest with: hotel-keep- ers. It (will be remembered, no doubt, that aprominent hotel company in London put up a notice in their bed- rooms tlia-t a. uniform charge of £40 would be made to the executors of any person who died in the hotel. This proâ€" voked so loud a remonstrauce in the public press that the notice was re- moved. It forms. however. a useful basis for such? claims, as one can quote it as the tariff of a first class London hotel, which should at all events never be ex- ceeded in a. foreign provincial town. 1f we could agree upon a. max- imum, of. say, £50 in infectious cases and £20 in non-infectious ones. for rooms charged 103 and upwards per diem. and half that amount for rooms charged under that amount, a just set- tlement might be come to on the mer- its of every case." I 'went out yesterday afternoon, writes the London Daily Mail repre- sentative to inquire into this matter. It. rather takes the gilt off a holiday to think that if you should die the hotel-keeper will step in between you treasure and the excited hopes of your relations. If these extortionate charg- e_s. I reflected. should prevail in Eng- lish) hotels, one’s relations would hard- ly ever permit one to stir away from h0me_and holidays would have to be kept in the back parlour with an ex- pectant relation mounting guard at the front door, I first called upon the manager of one of the. loading commercial 'hbtels in London. Very few death's indeed had occurred at his hotel, he said. The gentleman from Manchester, Sheffield and Birmingham who honored him with their patron- age were altogetlhlcr TOO BUSY TO DIE, and besides. they were very careful of the quality of the liquids they drank. But supposing a Birmingham or a Manchester man were to die in his hotel. he would just cbamm the ox- ponscs Incurred and no more. It would be no good trying to make a penny out. of the rcsiduary lcgalccsâ€" especially if Birmingham were the hab- itat of the executors. I next called upon a high official of a. great hotel company, whose palnccs are Iii-many lands. 'l'li"s gentleman. discarding more general allusion, in- vested the interview with a pleasingly personal character. "Our charges." he. said, "would be governed by air- cumstancos. Suppose. now you. for in- stanccn died at one of (fur establish- ments of delirium tromasns. fits, or any other. of the inevitable ills that flesh Is heir to. If before your do:in you had created a disturbance. screeching and all that kind of thing. and the occupiers of the adjoining roor'ns left the hotelâ€"you see what I mean ?â€" Well. we sliopld charge your lcgatcea. Su pose. again. that you died of some Int-(slums disorder, such as warlet fever, or cholera. and the hotel em- pill‘flâ€"Vfl‘ll, we should try to rm-oup ourselves: Could we be blamed 9" "Certainly not. You can do what I l l l l TO LOSE CONFIDENCE. ~â€" The Boon of the West Anni-alum Gold lllnes Described as a Great Swindle. A recent letter from Broad Arrow. IVest Australia, slumâ€"13m compara- tive figures of the \them Austral~ ian Mining Company registrations for last August. show a very striking de- Cline1 as compared with August, 1895, but it must be remembered that the mining market activity of the earlier. period was very exceptional. For the month of August. 1895, the number of companies registered was sixty-eight, and the total capital £7,019,610. In August, 1896, the number was fifteen; total capital, £1,875,753. But if we take the eight months end- ed at August. of the present ymr and compare them with lost year, we shall find that the mgistmiions are more than £9,000,000 greater, the capital for 1895 being £19,229,215, and for 1896 no less than £3,829,126. Tho totul‘cnpilal of registered 'minc ing companies in Western Australia is $274,176,925. The. population of west- ern Australia is 120,000. The Registrar General's office supplies the following statistics of the gold declared for ex- port from the. colony for the last nine months: ' GOLII EXPORT. Month. Ounces DtVt. Gr. J an nary ...... . .............. 16,350 0' 11 February, ..... ....... 17,922 5 21 March ..... ............ 11,084 17 ‘5 April ............. . .......... 16,772 12 14 hhiy........... ........... .......‘.’.2,26(i 1 0 June..... ............ 27,933 14 0 July ..................... . ..... 16,2158 8 19 August ....................... 29,516 19 22 Scptcmber......... .......... 8o,301 6 15 Add to the 193,400 ounces already pro- duced 100,000 ounces for the rest of the year, and we have, say 300,000 ounceu valued at £1,200,000, as the returns for £75,000,000 of invcsted capital, 20 per. cent. of which is working capital. An average of 50 per cent. of the working capital, or £7,500,000, [has been expend- ed and £1,200,000, or a. little over 2 per cent. of the invested capital, 0108 been (returned. In consequence tfho London public has paid western Aus- tralia run 8 per cent. dividend instead of receiving one of 20 per cent. from Western Australia. as was expectch Yet the speculators and boomers herd cannot understand wlby London's com fidence in western Australia begins to flag. 'l‘1boy utterly ignore the lists of assessments, and are eager to attributd tlie'vacillation of Britain's capitalists to other causes. . i I There never was a mining region so‘ prolific of calls and liurmn ol‘ diviq (lands as \Vcstmlia. During October. calls aggregating £0 108. were made and not a dividch declared. During the lust your calls averaged £12 pen month, dividends were 6 shillings pen month, and the Elli?th affected by each call and dividend averaged 110,000. London was thus £1,330.000 out and £127,500 in every nwmtlr. Nevertheless Australians ascribe the diversion English. capital to South Africa to the reduction of ininors' wa‘gms in tho lat- ter place. \Vagus‘ could be wiped out) in western Australia, and still the coun- try wo-uldn't pay. If rigid retrenchment were necessary the companies would be wiser to commence with their chief of~ ficials. The salaries paid here are as exorbi- tant as those in South Africa. Take, for instance, the princely my of managers in the. employ of the \ cs'tcrn lAuustral- ian Exploring and ‘Mining Corporation and the London and Globe Finance Cor- poration, the joint capital of which cons cams is £4,000,000 Salaries, per nnnum. Charles Kaufman (consulting elngincer) ........................ . . . . . £10,000 Jas. C. Dwyor, (uninagcr l’ad- dington Consuls) ..... . ............ 6,000 Jas. O. Divyer (manwgor Rei- son’s Reward Co.)...... .. 1,“) II. C. (.‘nllaba‘n, (Trianilgor Lake View Consuls) ........................ 5,000 Capt. lhrney (manager \Vcaltli of Nationsb. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.000 Jonathan llra‘y (manager Gold- en Crown) .............................. 2,500 \V. L. “lobster (manager Golden lroup) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2,500 ll. 1'). Richards (Haulage-r Golden 'l‘ rcasrn re) .............................. 2,500 ll. 11.. Harrington {manager Mainland Consuls) .................. 3,500 Clyde Osborn" (manager \Vluiltli of Nations Ex. ........................ £2,500 Minors receive £1 per week. The above. mmprtnivs employ 1.000 men. by reducing wugcs ‘10 £3 per Wl‘l‘k tho corporations would save 1:50.000 per your. but by reducing salaries one» hull they would sivo 0.20.000, without} the exminsi-s of o strike. M:niioulation is everywhere evident hero. Vast I'Xpfll’ltliflll‘l‘fl mark every movement of communion. 'l‘lu- roads are ground into powder by teams lmul- int: Iiiricliinnry which will be put up on "mini-s" flint. have no ore. . South Africa in its worst nspm-ls is more alluring to t'tlpilnl than this imâ€" nmnsilv of fl’ll'k promises. Here, wilt-Io no edible life exists. and no water that can be drunk without condo-rising. the roofs will not. yit-ld as mriny grams as South African rwfs will yic-Id penny- weiglits. (,‘npiltil invested lll'fl‘ “illuth prudence now seeks not to recover what it lost, but to ltm-p wh-it ll Hill has. A few months. will prov-- this mining boom the liiggwd swindle of the cen- tury. . W SURE TO Slif‘CEEI). Professorâ€"\Vbat make-s, you think that your son is likely to r-xrrl in on like with my relations and you' ' . , . 'rmllomaln-s? have my best “lb‘ln‘fi.”â€"“ But there isi x i blackmailing of this kind poem on. It does not pn-vail in England. and one may din. in on English bowl. happy in the knowledge thal his llx'lIS and. :w- sigug will no: I»! lien-l“! of any Kub- stantial portion of liz'iir inlwrilanw bv on-‘vrclmrizrs of the kind lb.) Nag;th consul mentioned." (no quoslion of the fact that in very o nrod succmsfully 10 is” M” 0 many of the smaller Continental hotels ‘ and study. s l I l Fatlu-r-dlwausr- be has ifl“‘fl;'fi fig; \vur ’l‘l'lN'lJlCR IIl‘IA ll'l'l‘ll'). l.ai.vllzul_-.'â€"‘i‘ou look 71!. that coffee as if yru'd Eikr- to "Low W ml! of (he ‘.’.lll'lllW. ' rirvaâ€"O, no, 1 never » abuse the «rib;