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. “Mu-“mm. .uuvnv‘s’t . uuâ€"VAWWJniyrf32flt’2fl'l‘bhmfir’eflftn'.xv.” m.xu as». u .. . . < THE R f. i? Caprice i I ESULT OF A FANCY DRESS _ BALL 34 L__._____________.___,________________Jj .' hm ' l ' l l '7 f l ‘ '.f_|_1_.L."”LLl” h ..L' Wm" 'J.'_L.L“Lu" Al'lmfiilm” - I 0-... l ‘. CHAPTER I. rl‘o-day, that “gay philosopher,” has risen upon the world with quite solemnlyâ€"“create a sensation.” a charming air. Its .sighs are balmy and its smiles frequent. dcntly in a glad and glorious mood, It is evi-.M1‘s. Clifford. at a. fancy ballâ€"the only of my kind in the room. I, shall therefore ’â€" “You will do that anyway,” says She looks at her sisâ€" I disconten tedly. ' ‘I’m 1 ter a little as well it may be, having just beenfsure I don’t know what they will all highly decorated general, the sun, who marshals by that splendid:say of me. I us i tire myself, and brought you as Cm- That I went in silk atâ€" through most of our happiest hours, idol-elm.” and who is now shining with all hisI might upon the long, oldâ€"fashioned windows of Diana’s home. "What a day S” says Diana's sisâ€", ter, looking up from the pile ‘of lilac. “LC” calico lying on her knees. It is the kind of calico, both in color and tax- Moore told her she expected him on way of autographs are offered one’s the fifteenth by the late train.” ture, that one associates in mind with a servant’s morning work â€"â€"determined in its shade, but pretty for all that, and striped; little lines of dark violet running over the lighter ground. “Yesâ€"~heavenly!” says Diana, whose married namq is Clifford. She speaks rather absently, as if finding it diffi- cult to lift her mind from the makâ€" ing of the little mob-cap at which she is so diligently stitching. The glance she gives upward, as if answer to Hilary’s rapturous sigh, “To find a Prince ?” “Your Prince ! why, he’s fount." says Diana. “He is almost sure to be at the ball. Did I,” slowly you ? I met old Miss Kinsel‘afa yesterday, and she said Mrs. Dyson- “The night of the ball !” 'A startlâ€" Ied look springs into Hilary’s eyes. {But in a moment she recovers her- iseh‘. “The late train Ten ! He'will ibo too tired to go anywhere.” “He may wish to meet you.” “A girl he has never seen ‘2” “A girl he must. either marry. 01‘ lose £18,000 a year.” "What a. detestable will!” cries 'Hilary, springing to her feet, and inzbeginning to pace up and down the lroom. “lniquitous I call it. What m 40-.â€" ‘1â€" woij BIG FORTUNES. â€"_._ “â€" Priceless Autographs That Repose in London Safes. Some of the finest and most valuâ€" able collections of autographs in the‘ world lie in no less prosaic places than the safes of old-established banking firms, the signatures in ques- tion being either in the form of rtL ceipts for money or those made in special books for guidance and pur- ‘poses of comparison at. the banks in question. ‘ A In at 'least two in London these autographs are absolutely priceâ€" less, fcr they extend back for nearly 200 years, and they comprise speci- mens of v the. handwriting of every 'British monarch during that time, of many foreign potentates, and of near- ly every distinguished man, whether in war, commerce, statesmanship or art. For purposes of comparison evâ€" en now these oldâ€"time bank autoâ€" graphs arc said to be absblu‘tely inâ€" valuable, for it must be recollecth that these signatures are the very private and, so to say, hallâ€"marked autographs of their writers, having attached to them secret mark§hnown only to the writer and to the bank; and when saleroom forgeries in the now, these often faded writings are as precious as when they were made, to obViate bank forgeries, in times long past. Only quite recently a small trades- man of Portsmouth happened to look through a lot of what he had always been told by his parents was old lumâ€" ber. This tradesman’s great-grand- father had been a purser on various British war vessels during the Napoâ€" leonic wars, one of the ships of which he served having fought at Trafalgar . .' . - V. ' ’ - ‘ . . .‘. is purely mechanical, though she eviâ€"ion earth had 1 ever done to Aunt “1th hlmstlf {would “3 puer OSt‘ dently wishes it that she too acknowledges the heavâ€"l bringing en-sent glories that are lighting up the trim lawn outside, and rendering the garden an cartth paradise. But in a sccondher eyes fall to her task again. “The idea of your Wearing this E” says she, giving a contemptuous twirl to the delightful little temptuous pointing of her forefinger to the lapâ€"“at the biggest fancy-dress ball We have had here for ages, when at any moment you might be mistress of £18,000 a year.” "At any moment I might not, al- so,” says her sister with a. little laugh. “And even if I were the mistress of it, there would be a. masâ€" 1er too. That takes all the gilt off the gingerbread. In the. 'mean time”â€"smoothing out the folds of the lilac skirt with a fond handâ€"“II shall wear this. A housemaid’s dress is a fancy oneâ€"for every one except the bona fihe ho’usemaidâ€"and as it is inexpensive, and as pennies count, I have ChOSCll it. Providenâ€" tially, at a ball of this kind one can be as bizarre, as eccentric, as one, likes.” “Still,” says Diana, with a re- gretful sigh, and a swift glance at her lovely sister, “I had always imâ€" agined you 35â€"” “Oh, I know,” with amused impaâ€" tience. "Joan of Arc.” “Certainly not,” indignantly. “As ‘Morning.’ You would have looked beautiful as ‘lizlorning.’ ” “I shall look divine as Sarah Jane,” says Miss Burroughs, with calm conviction. She lifts the cali- co skirt with daintin careful lingers â€"â€"-it is as yet onlytacked togetherâ€" and regards it with an admiring eye. “Jim would have liked to give you something better,” says Mrs. Clif- ford, leaning forward, with her cl- bows on her kneeshand the cap he- twcen both her builds. I-ler tone is plaintive. “He says you are too absurd, too proudâ€"â€"” "Jim is the dearest ln'other-in-law in all the World,” says Hilary, un- reserved af‘f‘ection in her voice. “That is why I am not go- ing to let the chicks for me.” “What nonsense ! n A mere gown “Well, this is a more gown, too.‘ 'And I’m sure it will suit me. Do you know, lli,” flinging down the halfâ€"finished dress and going to a long mirror let into one offltlie walls, "last night an awful doubt arose within my mind. I felt that the dress would suit me so admirablyâ€" so altogether~4hat f beng to think that perhaps I was to the manner bornâ€"that Nature had meant me to be a real Sarah Jane.” She peers at herself in the glass, leaning a little forward, poised, as it were, on her toes, and with her hands clasped behind her back. 'The glass gives her back a very exquisite reflectionâ€"softly smiling eyes, a mouth a little quizzical, but tender too, and a strong, firm chin, a forehead low, broad, and earnest, nnd such hair !â€"â€"â€"hair that shines like burnished gold. Not the deadâ€"gold hair we know 01', nor the crispy hair that never seems at rest, but a. mix- ture of both these, looking as if half an hour ago it had come out of a-warm, sweet bath, and was growing bright er and through the sun rays that dried it. “No,' 1 don't look like it now," says she. turning away, and letting her slim figure drop once more. into her loungingâ€"chair. "But when I have the cap and gown on, I know I shall look the thing. Humiliatng thought !” "There won’t be a girl in the room like you,” “Ah! that’s my saving clause i" wilfully “Housemaids will be a rare quantity. have 1' expect I ‘shall be unique-I shallI perhaps be that astonishing thing lilac muss lvino‘ in flilarv’sl )leasunt . I?! -. him beggar himself and! (la rkâ€"blue - always , brighter , i I can. , you. says Diana affectionately. 2800 all the bonbons that are to be jgot out of £18,000 a year ?" misunderstanding her. ! ibut,” says Diana with some indigna- l inc into an affair of this .kind ‘2 Why could she not choose some other niece? Some other nephew and niece, who knew each other ‘2” “There would have been less wisâ€" dom there. People who knew each otherâ€"! That’s generally - fatal ! bilities.” I “There are indeed, and very un- oncs. I feel certain,” istopping short to regard her sister with an effective eye, "that Frederic Ker is the very last man in the world I should ever care to marry.” “Of course, if you have made up 'your mind beforehand ”’ “I haven’t made up my mind about ’ anything.” “Not to look. at him.” “You are wrong there. I’m dying to look at himâ€"from a distance i” “It is such a great deal of money 'to throw away,” says Mrs. Clifford with a sigh. Money with her is not too plentiful. ~ I “Who says I’m going to throw it iaway?” cries Hilary g'ayly. “Per- lhaps I am going to seize it. And perhaps it is he who will throw it away after all. He may not like ime ! Iâ€"Ieâ€"may reject me ! I-Ieâ€"” 'she turns once more to the mirror as Iif to gain support from it. “Im- fmortal gods ! what an awful ithought l” says she. “I confess,” fin a stricken tone, “it never occurr-- {ed to me before.” “Well, it needn’t occur now,” says Diana, her fair, handsome face lightâ€" ing. “And you needn’t pretend you think it." “But it’s so serious, Di. If I reâ€" lfuse to marry my cousin Frederic, or if he refuses to marry me, £18,000 a year goes to ‘The home for lost anâ€" limalsâ€"the dogs.’ ” “Well, it is in your own hands.” “Don’t let us think of it till after this dance, anyway,” says Hilary. “We have a little breathing-space left us.” “Not if he is there i" “Oh, he can’t be ! Coming by that late train !” She lets her hands fall into her lap again, the needle .stickiug up in dangerous proximity to one of her pretty fingers, and Ilooks at her sister anxiously. “If iho should come to the dance, Iiiâ€"of course,” with eager com'icti()n,d\fi_”he won’t; but if he should, promise‘ me ;you will not introduce me to him, or 'get any one else to do it.” “But if he asks me ‘P" l 1 I i “How can he? He doesn’t know you either.” ' “He could get an introduction. ers. Dyson-Moore. mightâ€"” i "Not she. She will be taken up 'with herself and her admirers. Now promise.” “Well, I promise. But is it wise ‘? ’Ought you not to meet him at once, l andâ€"” I “Marry him!” sarcastically. “No, g1 think not. I must have. time. 'And, inbove all things, lthis dance.” ; “Mrs. Mclntyre is giving another lfancy ball the week later; you will 'have to meet him there.” “Suflicient unto the day,” says illilary recklessly. “And who knows he may not have left long before .that ? I have made up my mind inot to meet him at this first ball, lat all events.” Diana looks at her sister with a. 'certain concern. i "I wish you would try to like fluim,” says she. “I-Ie means so ;‘ such to you.” ll “Exactly as much as I mean to ;him. Don‘t. look so forlorn,” with ran irrepressible laugh. “I’m going 'to try and like him as hard as ever Harder even, if it will please Do you suppose I too cannot “I believe you are as blind as a tion. (To be Continued. ) to be understood!Charlouc that She should insist on of the old lumber in Question was found to relate to this ancestor, and among it were scores of receipts and other documents written by Nelson, Collingwood and many other naval heroes of those days. One particular- batch of this old lumber was sold within a few weeks of its discovery for £50. In one account back alone cap. When strangers meet there are possi< were scores of naval autographs of “And that”â€"â€"â€"with an equally conâ€" the greatest interest and value. â€"â€"-â€"~â€"+ ROBS WAR OF HORROR. Hungarian Invents a Gasâ€"Charged Shell. At last it has been discovered how to make a military omelet without breaking the eggs. Hereafter war may be bloodless; ship’s companies, battalions, whole armies may be plac- ed horsâ€"deâ€"combat, but only tempoâ€" rarily. In the middle of the wildest charge squadrons of cavalry may be reduced from a state of heroic fury 'to bearific anaesthesia, and may in- stantly be precipitated, in most reguâ€" lar formation, into peaceful slumber. In a word, a Hungarian genius has invented a shell which, on bursting, liberates a gas warranted to stupef‘y all who breathe it without causing any permanent or serious effect. When such a soporific shell bursts and aWakc, perhaps, to find‘ them- selves prisoners in a hostile port. Let a number of such shell explode over a fortress and not the fortress but the garrison will fall‘â€"into coma. Scientifically speaking, it is entireâ€" ly possible that this gasâ€"charged shell will do all that its inventor claims. He is now in communication with the Japanese government, so it. is not improbable that Port Arthur and Vladivostok may be as quiet soon as the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The inventors Hungarian hatred of Russia, dating back to 1848, preâ€" vented him from approaching the czar, to whose pacific ideas such _a humane shell would strongly appeal. Of course, such a. shell would revoâ€" lutionize warfare. The hospital lcorps Would become the most imâ€" portant branch of the service, and portant branch of the service, and would need to be enormously increas- lwould need to be enormously increas- ed in order that prostratevd combatâ€" ants could be removed from the field and‘ restored to consciousness. The next Hague convention would have to agree that all who were as- phyxiatcd by this gas should consider themselves dead until the. war ended. And what would happen when opâ€" posing artilleries employed the won- derful shell? Each side would surely increase the charges of gas until some would be killed by an overdose of it. Thus the shell’s beneficent pur-- pose would be defeated. ._ _..- ,.__ 0 CUILDI’EN AS INCUBATORS. Pathos and humor are combined in I want to onloy a singular story from Russia, relatingr to a poor peasant woman living near Vilcika, who was left absolutely des- titute with six children to support. At last a luminous idea struck her. She suggested to the neighboring poultry farmers that she should re- lieve them from the trouble and exâ€" pense of using incubators for batchâ€" ing chickens and turkeys. ’1‘ hey agreed, and the eggs, carefully secured from. injury in wooden cases, and packed in wool, were placed in the children’s cots, which were constant- l_v occupied, day and: night, by the six little ones in turn during the three weeks required for incubation. As each of the cots contained 4-00 eggsâ€"â€" 200 on each sideâ€"the human incuba- tors succeeded in l1.atching~1,200 eggs at a time, for which they received 1 cent an egg, or 5512. Their earnings, therefore, for lying in bed‘ for tWentyâ€" one day's amounted to exactly 554 a man ir; the country districts. ' made a. hush among l wool, a sum for exceeding the averâ€" is cold age wage of a Russian skilled workâ€" .garment in which she was crowned. EiwiiéOEiEQEiEQS'iéQEi-{OBiEOKOEKO r. v. AWoman’s Love... merge sexeswéoseo CHAPTER XVIII.â€"-( Continued.) From the distance came the faint echoes of cheering and the dying sounds of music. . ’A little wind the leaves, and overhead the cold stars made more beautiful the beauty of the deep blue sky. . Thick dark lay on each hand, and in front stretched to the for wall a broad band of light in. which her shadow cut a dead black line. The air was cool, and seemed to bring some slight calm to her fever. For a moment she was caught out of herself, and, as from a. height, she looked down on Maddalena, the poor harassed Queen, as on some one she had never seen before. 'A tiny branch was blown against her face, and she noted shapely form of a cerâ€" tain green leaf. What sort of leaf was it ‘? How did its edge become so gracefully serrated? What intricate veining ! How impossibly perfect ! Curious, she thought, that at such a moment as this when she ought not to steal a moment from her lover, she should be standing here in the night, wondering at the shape of a leaf, at the magic of its venation. A moment from her lover ? All !â€"â€"-she turned. 4 She had been a moment only in the light; but the glare, where all had been blackness, caught the eye of Asunt‘a, and in the glare the brilliant whiteness that was Maddaâ€" lena. Asunta left her place. by the railing. Hector might pass a thouâ€" sand times for aught she cared. Yon- der was her rival, yonder the woman that had taken Hector from her, yonder the real object of her reâ€" \u venge. Crouching cunniiigly, she slipped through the covcrts of the garden like a wild woodland thing, beautiful and murderous. Maddalena turned and entered the room again. Hector was standing before her. , “The world is a wonderful thing,” she said; "the world and the night and the stars, and there is magic in them all. But one moment. with vou, my beloved, my Hector, is the world and the night and the. stars. l' am a. small thing, and my leve is a small thing, and together we are as nothing before you. This day you have made me a Queenâ€"there but three of us in the whole earthâ€"â€" and look i I tell you I am a woman prouder of being loved by you than I am of my people, of my throne, of my crown! What are they all but yoursâ€"yours ?” She lifted the simple gold band from her hair, and holding it in both hands, knelt and laid it at his feet. “Let this be for sign that I am yours. Say to me, 'Maddalena, my wife, come with me !"’ and I come. Say ‘Maddalena, my wife, stay here and let me have leave to go i’ and I stay.” "Maddalena l” was all that ,he could say, and that in tones broken and almost inaudible. “Maddalena, my wife l” She rose. ~ “Your wife, Hector. my beloved, now and for ever! My people will surely not ask from me that last tor- tureâ€"to wed another man. Your wife or no man’s. I cannot be yours, I, shall be no man’s l” “Maddalena, how you love me i” "There is no ‘how.’ Hector. I love youâ€"that is all. I love you.” Not yet had they touched lip to lip or breast to breast. That, by some secret concord, was kept for the last moment, and as a sacrament too holy to be used lightly. And now fell on their ears the first stroke of twelve, sounding from San Born on] ino. She rose and moved to him, her foot spurning the crown, not conâ€" sciously, but as if she knew not it were there. "We part now i” "We part now !" Lip to lip, and breast to breast, all passion of love throbbing in the embraCe, all the quivering wonder and trembling despair of love in the close holding of each to each. It is an eternity, that last long crush of life into lifeâ€"an eternity into which is pent all their days from the day] future I of birth to the day in the when'death must surely come: an eternity of happiness, an eternity of pain. “If. love you i” "I love. you E” And then again silence falls. And in the silence soul meets soul, and all about them spreads the kind dark, and each soul knows its folâ€" low, and is mixed with it in an inâ€" cf‘fablc ecstasy of despairing joy, a wild abandonment, an ,intolerable pain of happiness. “ foodâ€"bye for ever i” “No, llector, no. only goodâ€"night l” _ The silence is shivered by a laugh he knows and the crackle of a pistol. His eye. is aware of Asunta's face at the window. Maddalena. is a dead weight on his left arm, whole no longer. “Alasdair ! Alasdair !” Asunta is gone, but the faithful foster-brother is here aghast. ‘ "The Queen, Alasdair, the Queen !” Hector speaks in Gaelic. The bullet has passed through Hecâ€" tor's protecting hand and entered her side. Already a blur of red shows on the sliver of her robe. She and lifeless, white. as the G oodâ€"ni gh tâ€" "Tighearna !" f' at The great Highlander took hd from Hector, now wounded in bow arms, and laid her gently on of couch. . "Dead 2” Hector murmurs is. a' daze. . “Dead l” comes the echo from! Alasdair. “O ! God, why not 1', why not 1?”! -Asunta is forgottenâ€"she is nothâ€"l lugâ€"Maddalena is dead, Maddalenaf is dead, love is dead, the world is: at an end. There is no room to‘ think of aught elseâ€"this fills space. “Alasdair i" “H‘eckie l” They are standing, side of the couch where she lies. “You love me, my brother '2” "O ! my mother’s son, I love. you!"n "Your promise is sacred." “What promise '2” “Do you forget yon summer after-j noon in the Forest of Rothiemurchusfi when to the brotherhood of milk we added the brotherhood of blood?” . “I remember, Heckie, I rememberâ€"5‘ but do not ask me now.” "I do ask you now, I do ask you .1: no“. “I-Ieckie, 'I'Icckie !” “You passed your word l” "Perhaps she is not dead. Let me go for a sistance.” “Alasdair, will you go back on your word, will you be foresworn ? Must I spit upon you '2” “No, no, my brother, no! I love' you too well.” ‘ And with a cry that was madness of devotion and nnutterable sorrow, Alasdair gripped his dirk and drove it, halt-deep, into his brother’s ‘ heart, letting go only when the weight of Hector’s body told on his grasp of the steel. And as the blood spurted, and that which was Hector fell across the Queen with her name on its lips, langhter as of a fiend broke at the window. In the broad band of light fAlas (lair saw a woman flying. A lean like a stag's and he was after her, A . second it seemed, and his hand had gripped a neck. The frighted face we. Asunta’s and in her hand was a pistol. There was one swift snap, and as a dog shakes a rat. Alasdair shook Asunta, and revench had recoiled on itself. ‘ 6(- * +£- * * * lâ€"l'cctor lay on a great bier in thil' Cathedral. A poll of silver clotlf _covered him. And on it flamed :f single blood-red rose, a rose thaf looked like a. heart against the splen~ did white, a rose that was the heart of Maddalenaâ€"for Maddalena did not dicâ€"wo'uld to God she had ! At the foot of the bier rested the crown of Palmettoâ€"in homage to him that; had won it. On the altar glimmer- ed innumerable candles, the pale lambent glow of the 111an that burns continually shone down mysteriously the pallor of marble columns gleamâ€" ed, and to and fro went the dim figures of priests in vestments of rich hue. The organ pealed. And then, through a lane of the men of Palmetto holding torches, a. lane miles long, went Hector Chis- hohn Grant to his rest on the high- lest peak of the Monte, a. rare and most royal progress. Over against his bed is a rock on which they have cut Hector ,lrant, Palmetto Remembers ! (The End.) “~9â€" JAPANESE BABIES. How They Are Brought Up in the Flowery Kingdom.- Judging by Western ideas, Japanese babies have a hard' time; yet, there are no healthier children in the world. .The Japanese baby is dressed and iundressvcd in a frigid temperature in winter, and in summer no care is taken to protect its tender little eyes from the full glare of the sun. In winter the small head is covered" with a worsted cap of the brightest and gayest design and color. The black hair is cut in all sorts of fantastic ways, just liljc the hair of the Japanâ€" ese dolls imported into this country. The babies of the lower classes are generally carried on the back of the mother or little sister; sometimes the small brother is obliged to be the nurse~maid. The kimono is made extra. large at the back, with a pocEâ€" et of sufficient size to hold the baby, whose round head reaches the back of the neck of the. person who is carâ€" rying it. It is not an uncommon ‘sight to .see cliildren who are barely old enough to toddle. burdened with a ,small brother or sister sleeping peace- fully on their backs. At first one expects to see the child stagger and fall beneath the weight, but apparentâ€" ly none of its movements are. impedâ€" ed, and it plays with the other chil- fdren as nuconcerncdly as if it wore Jnot loaded down with another mem- 3ber of the family. At Nagasaki, among the women coalers who coal the ships. one. sees manv who carry; babies on their backs in this way. The mothers work all day in the rain or the sun or the snow, and the baby seems indifferent to everything. The top of its head alone is visible, while. the movements least hindered. and she accomplishes of the mother do not seem in the as much work as the men. -â€"-~«-â€"+ A CURIOUS PLANI‘. There is a plant in Chili, and a similar one in Japan. called thu “flower of the air.” It is so called because it appears to have no root, and is never fixed to the earth. lCaclf shoot produces two or three flo rcrf l .._. like a lilyâ€"white, transparent. and odorifcrous. It is capable of bring, transported (300 or 700 miles, we vogretates as: it travels suspended s: u twig. one on each irqw2)4b41«‘Mfi’m‘ m .9. M as» N x)?! - panel-ea@«fixflé’.‘9<;5«e¢‘~"-.~fi»5~ ~ .~¢.~-.-0»,4"-r'!~.‘=‘-.-'~‘: u. Drifi‘firg ‘ .,,‘,g;.\u‘,‘egle§fl5as.zz ~.. .