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.3 Of course not, my child ; because now I hop n to be only your husband. A prophet, we now on the best authority, in not with- out honor, 0: meters, at cwtera. But I mean to nuke my mark yet for all that ; ay, and to mike money out of it, too, into the bar- gain." “Tn; not no sure as I once was, Hugh, that you'll ever make much out of your kind of poetry," II n. Mun-an an} mu phila‘ - kmnn-n nnm I Hugh waved his hands expansively open. When he went in for the sanguine, he did it thoroughly. "One thing at a time, my child,” he murmured low, “ First borrow ; then set your wits to work to look around for a means of repayment.â€"In the desk at home in London this very moment lies an immortal epic, worth ten thousand pounds if it's worth a penny, and cheap at the price to a discerning purchaser. Ormuz and Ind are perfect East Ends to it. It teems with Golcondas and Big Bonanzas. In timetheslow world would mostsurcly d i «cm-er that this Eczlandofoursstill encloses :sgreat live puet. The blind and battling must open their eyes and look at last piacidlv about them. They’ll then be glad to buy fifty editions of that divine strain, varying in character from the large paper edition de luxe in antique vellum at ten guineasâ€"fivc1 hundred numbered copies only printed, and ‘ Issued to subscribers upon conditions which i may be learnt on application at all libraries â€"to the school selection at popular prices, intended to familiarise the ingenuous youth of this nation with the choicest thoughts of a distinguished and high-minded living an- thor.â€"\Vinnie. I'm tired to death of hear- ing pee is say when I’m introduced to them: “Oh, r Massiuger, I’ve wanted to ask, are you descended irom the poet Maesinger?" 1 mean the time to arrive before long when I can answer them plainly with a bold face: “No, my dear sir, no madam, I am not: but I am the poet Massinger, if you care to be told so. 'â€"\thn that time comes, we'll pay off the mortages and build a castleâ€"in Spain or elsewhereâ€"with the balance of our fortune. Meanwhile, we have always the satisfaction of knowing that nothin on earth could be more correct or squirearc ical in its way than a genuine mortgage." “"-‘ nab .n .‘I-A as- I’ an-.. an- 11.....1. So, in the end. \Vinlired's objections were overruledâ€"since this wss not n matter upon which that young lady felt stronglyâ€"end the money for “ im- proving and developing the estate " having been duly raised by the aid. assistance, in- strumentnllty, or mediation of that fine specimen of oonvcynncers' English aforesaid, to which Hu h had so touchingly and pro- fessionnlly a lndcd, a fashionable architect was invited down from town at once to in spect the Hull end to draw up plnne for its renovation as 3 residential mansion oi the most modern pnttorn. The fashionable architect, after his klnl‘, performed his work wellâ€"end expeneively. Ho spared fiimeelf no peine end Hugh no money on rendering the Hell 3 perfect ex- emple on e email eoele of the beet Eli-ebull- en dome-tic erohitectnre. He deeetoyed “ But how dull we ever pay it back T’ Winfred naked, with native feminine cau~ uon. mplete without a History of England, a billiard table, and a mortgage. Unencum- bored estates suggest Brummagem : they bespesk the vulgar aflluence of the nouveau riche, who keeps untold gold lying idle at his bankers on purpose to spite the political economists. But a loan of a few thousands. invested with all the glamour of deposited title deeds, foreclosing, engrossed parch~ ment, and an extremely beautiful and elabo- nte specimen of thal charming dialect, conveyancers’ English, carries with it an air of antique respectability and county im- portance that I should be loth to forego, even if I happened to have the cash in hand otherwise available, for carrying out the necessary improvements." " Pooh 2" llu‘ 11 answered, in one of his heroicdly lwgu e moods, as he snh in the dinlugroom with his back to the window and the hsted poplar, and his two to the ground plnu and estlmsm upon the able beforehinx. “ 1 man to 0 up to town (or the sewn dwn n, and to a? up my jour- nalistic conneo on in n gonert wny; And in time, no doubt, I mu begin to get work at the bar tho. I thnll make friends nuidueus- y with whtt o loyful phrase absurdly esorihoo n " the we: bunch o! the pro- fession.“ I shell talk my nicest to every dull sou-3hr I meet on where, nnd do my polltest to the dull so dtor's ssupld wife nnd pinin daughters. I'll fetch them Ices nt other people I At Homes, and thower on them tickets for All the ‘firlvne views we don't care about, nnd on 0 first nights at uninteresting thsatreo. Thst’s the woy to ndvnnoo in the rocesdon. Sooner or later, I‘ll get on at e bu. Meanwhile, as the estate's fortunately unencumbered, and there’s none of that precious nonsense about entail, or reminders, or settlements, or so forth, we can raise the lmmedinte cash for our presont need on short mortgagee." “ Andev'orythinq else that begins with a B," Hugh continued, smiling a placid smile tohimself, and vaguely reminiscent oi “Alice in “'onderland." “ Vhy with a B 2" Alice said musingly.â€"“ Why not 2" said the March Hareâ€"Alice was silenLâ€"“ Now, for my own part, I confess, on the con- tarary, \Viniired, to a certain sentimentil likin for the mortgage as such, viewed in thee stract. It's a document intimately connected “ith the landed interest and the feudal classes ; it savours to my mind of broad estates and haughty aristocrats, and lordly rent-rolls and a baronial ancestry. I will admit that I should feel a peculiar pride in my connection with “’hitestrand if I felt I had got it really with a mortcage on it. How proud a moment, to be seized of a mortgage 1 The poor, the abject, the lowly, and the landless don't go in heavily for the luxury of mortgages. They pawn their watch. or raise a precarious shilling or two upon the temporary security of Sunday suits. kitchen clocks, and second- hand flat-irons. But a mortgage is an eminentl gentlemanly form of impecun- ioeity. ike gout and the lord-lieutenanoy of your shire, it’s incidental to birth and greatnessâ€"U on my word, I'm not really certain, Winn 9, now I come to think upon it, theta gentlemanlehhouso is ever quite “I hate the very name of mortgages," Winifred criodim atlenfly. "They suggest broken-9' men an ballub, and bankruptcy md bounty.” "HIE THREAD OF LIFE CHAPTER XXVII.-(oox‘nxmo.) Kata-m. SUNSHINE AND SHADE. One ortlon oi the house at least, Hugh suc ed in remodellin entirely to his own taste, and that was the room which had once been Elsie's. By throwing out a large round bay window, mullioned and decorat- ed out of all reoognition, and by papering, painting, and reiurnishing throughout with-1 ostentatious novelty of design and detail, he so com letely altered the appearance of t that hate ul room that he could hardly know is again himself for the same original square § chamber. Moreover, that he might never per- 3 sonally have to enter it, he turned it into‘ the Married Guest‘s Bedroom. There was! the Prophet's chamber on the Wall for the" bachelor visitorsâ€"a pretty little utlc under the low saves, furnished, like ti .2 Shunam- l mite's, with ‘a bed,’ and a tr- ‘.e, and a stool, and a candlestick ;“ and 'here was the Maiden’s Bower on the first floor, for the young girls, within dainty pale green Their intercourse nowadays generally ended in such little amenities. They were beginning to conjugate with Alarming fre- queno thnt verbtoneg. which oiten euc- ceede n becoming at last the dominant part of speech in conj ngel conversation. 0R. “ Nor mnde cages either, it seems,” Hugh answered with provoking calmness, as he sauntered of! by himself, cigar in hand, intgthg nqw smoking-room. “ You were then Miss Meysey," her hus- band answered, with a distantly cold inflec. tion of voice. “ You're now Mm Hugh de Carteret Mminger. It‘s that tnat makes all the difi'erence, you know. The reason there are so many discordant marrie es. says Dean Swift, with more truth t an politeness, is because young women are so much more occupied in weaving nets than in inching cages." “ Ah, that was all very fine then," \Vini~ fred answerei with a pout, arranging Hugh's Ssteumn jars with J spnneeqne irregularity on the dining room overmantel. " But you ace that was before I’d been about much in London, and noticed how other people smarcen up choir rooms. and formed my own taste in the antler of decoration. I was then in the frankly unsophisticated auto. I'd studied no models. I'd never seen anything beautiful to judge by." “I How? wove net- for you,” Winifred ori_9(!_mgrily._ “‘The drawing-loom does look so per- fectly lovely,’ you remember,” Hugh quoted quietly irom her own old let~ (era. “'We’ve done it up exactly as you recommended, with the s: e-green plush for the old mantel‘piece, an a. red Japanese table in the dark corner; and I really think, now I see the elfrct, your tuste’s simply exquisite. But then, you know, what else can you expect from a dis~ tinguished poet 2 You always do everything beautifully 1' Can you recollect. Mrs. Mas. singer, down the dim abyss of twelve or eighteen months, who wrote ‘thoae touching words, and to whom she addressed them 3" When the buildidg was done and the pa poring finished. they set about the furnish- ‘iug proper. And here, Winifred's taste began to clash with Hugh’s ; for every woman, though she may eschew ground~plans, eleva ‘tions, and estimates, has at least distinct ideas of her own on the important question ; of internal decoration. The new Squire was tall for oriental hangings, Turkey carpets, ‘Indian durrees, and Persian tiling. But Mrs Masslnger would have none of'these heathenish gewgaws, she solemnly declared ; her tastes by no means took a Saracenic turn. Mr Hatherley and the Choyne Row men would make fun of her, and call her house Liberty Hall, if she furnished it throughout with such Mussulman ab- surdities. For her own part, she re- nounced Liberty and all his works: she eschewed everything east at longitude ‘thirty degrees : inlaid coffee-tables 1were an abomination in her eyes ; pierced ‘ Arabic lamp: roused no latent enthusiasm : the only real thing in decoration was Mor- ‘ ris : and on Morris she pinned her iaith un- lressrvedly. She would be utterly utter. She had a Morris carpet and Morris cur- ‘tains : white ivory paint adorned her lap i sided overmantals, and red De Morgan ware r with opalescent hues ranged in long strai ht rows upon her pigeon-hole cabinets. o Hugh’s poetical mind this was all too plaguy modern ; out of keeping, he thought, with the wide oaken staircase and the punotilious Eiizibethanism of the eminent architect‘s facade and ceilings. Winiired, however, laughed his marital re- moustranccs to utter scorn. She hated an upholsterer's house, she said, all furnished alike from end to end with servile adher- ence t) historical correctness. Such puri- tanical purism was meant for slaves. Why pretend to be living in Elizabethan Eng- land or Louis Quinn-3 France, when we're really vegetating, as we all know, in the marshy wilds of nineteenth-century Sufl'olkt Let your house reflect your own eclecticism â€"a very good brass, picked up from a modish handboo of domestic decoration. She liked a little individuality and lawless- nsss of purpose. " Your views, you know, 1 Hugh," she cried with the £2: cat/mire con- viction of a woman laying down the law in her own household, “ are just the least little bit in the world pedantic. You and your architect want a stiff museum of Elizabethan art. It maybe silly of me, but I prefer myse'f a house to live in.” rntldeuly md r'poirod luiahl '. Ila pu mulliom b Iho windows and p llua to m: perch, And moulded coil“: to the chlol reception-rooms. sud onion bolustmdoo to slim: side of the wide old rumllin. Tudor chm-cue. [Io rebuilt whammy Inigo had deiaoul, and pulled down whuwve: of vile and ahnpoleu “soul“ cult-czar: Ind Imlidly added. 110 " ro- atorcd"tho building to what It h‘d nova before bun: a fin oqnn old fashioned country munlon of the low whd-m Eu: Anglia: type, as Hon-o [bout ul evarywhuo. viuhona and whhln, and u unlike» pouiblo to the dis" Hull tau Hugh Maine: lud seen ad manually dlnoountenmood on the coon-ion 0! hi- fir“ visit to Whine-land. “You gin In voli- ‘ect money enough, ' my: Colonel 81:- hp- hnm in tl.o grotto-t tomâ€"bu onoâ€"b the Englllh lugnlge. “ and ho'll build you a fine house ova-y time." Hugh Innings: ave his architect money enough. or at out credit enoughâ€"which oom- us first to the name thingâ€"and ho t s flu house. at far a the menu at h‘ dhponl want, a; that uglvy corner of flu and, m n for- nken him-mud. rob; 3nd 'Monln cabinet} End The" Are sense and thought but parasites of being Did Nature mould our limb: to not and move. But some strange chenee endow our eyes with eeelng. Our nerves with feeling, end our heerte with love? Since all alone we stand. elone dimernin Sorrow from joy, self from the th nge. without; While blind fete tramplee on the epirit'e yearning. And floods our souls with doubt. This very tree, whose life in our life‘s slat/er, We know not if the lehor in her velne Thrill with fierce joy when April dew: have kissed her, Or shrink in nngnlah from October ulna : We search the mighty world above end under, _ Yet Eoghere find ohe soul we feln would a 3 Speeeh In the hollow rumbling of the When chaos slowly set on sun or planet, And molten messes burdened into earth : When primxl force wrought one on sea and granite The wondrous miracle of living birth ; Did mightier Mind, in clouds or glory hid- den, Brenthe power through its limbs to feel and know, Or sentieuce Ipring, ‘eponenneona and un- " Let me see, where had I got to 2" Hugh went on once, after her frequent and trying critical interruptions. “ You put me out so, Winnie, with your constant fault-finding] I con’j recollect how far [’6 read to yon.”_ “ ‘ 0r butard offspring of unconscious na- ture. Begotten nnnwnrea,’ " Hugh repeated pomponely, looking back with a loving eye at hie much-admired manuscript. “ Now listen to the max: good bit, Winifred; it's really impressive.â€" “ ‘ Begotten mawares :' " now go ahead," \Vinifred answered carelesslyâ€"nu though it were some other fellow'a poems he had been pouring gorbh t9 hgr. _ [ In such a self~congratalatory and hopeful mood. Hugh eat one morning in the new drawing-room holdinga quire of closely writ- ten sermon-paper stitched together in his hand. and gemng afl‘ectionately with par- ental pride at his laebborn Stat-ms. W ini~ (red had only returned yesterday from a shoppingexpeditionuptotownandwas idling away a day in rest and repair after her un- wanted exertion among the crowded bazaars of the modern Bagdad. So Hugh leaned back in his chair at his ease, and, seized with the sudden thirst for an audience, began to pour forth in her ear in his rotund manner the final finished introductory prelude to his Life‘s Philosophy. His wife, propped up on the piliows of the sofa and lollmg carelessly, listened and smiled as he read and read, with mmewhst sceptical though polite in- difference. Meanwhile, when the houstlwas all finished and decorated throughout, Hugh turned his thoughts once more, on lame intent, to his great forthcoming volume of verses. Since hemarried Winifred, he had published little, eschewing journalism and such smill tasks as unworthy the dignity of accomplish- ed rquiredom ; but he had been work- ing hard from time to time at polishing and repolishing his magnum opus, A Life‘s I’hfloaophyâ€"a lengthy poem in a metre of his own more or less novel, and embodying a number of moral reflections, more or less trite, on the youth, adolescence, maturity, and decrepitude of the human subject. It exactly suited Mr. Matthew Arnold's well-known definition, being. in fact, an exhaustive criticism of life, as Hugh Mas~ singer himself had found it. He meant to print it in time for the autumn book-season. It: was the great stake of his life, and he was confident of success. He had worked it up with ceaseless toil to what seemed to himself the highest possible pitch of artistic handicraft; and he rolled his own sonorous rhymes over and over again with infinite satisfaction upon his literary palate, pronouncing them all, on impartial survey, of mostexcellent flavour. Nothing in life, indeed, can be more deceptive than the pcet~ aster's confidence in his own productions. He mistakes familiarity for smoothness of ring, and a practised hand for genius and ‘ originality. It in his face always to 6 nd his own lines absolutely perfect ; in which cheerful personal creed the rest of the world mostly fails altogether to_agree with him, A ed Suflolk for him. The poplar. must gel 110 could never endure it. Life would indeed be 3 “Vin death, in eight for were! um debuted nnfi grinning memor- ial. For ill grinned n him often from the gnarled and hollow trunk. A human face seemed to hush out upon him from its shape lean haterâ€"s hum-in hoe, fiendish in its jug with n carbnnclod nose and grinning mouth. He hated to use it, in grinned so hideouely So he set his win to work to devise a Wiy for getting rid oi the pansr, no t and Emmott, without unnecessarily angering Wini- wu tlv- B no Rmm for b‘lo proapoctivo hair. whenevoruhu nypmhofioal yuuug gentle- mnn from puts unknown proooodod t;- rufln himself in Actual humaniny; 00 Hugh vu'nred to erect. the modem-d chamber not! to his own into u Married (luau R rom, whm he hl‘mul! mod novel-go ‘0 vu hi» soul with unholy Hm'ninmm When be ‘rqu look up M we Hull with 3 bold [am .from the gran plot hfront, sud no no Hanger thn donated oqnue window wilh ‘tho whistle (amal- null so luxurianily round tho oomon. hfioll ho mighfi really pertupl uh" nllllvo n Whimuwd. For the mm in. than grand old ulim'nor, with (h uhlok nun. wu ruthless! ncri flood; and In III place on thele so! the porch, Hugh plantod n furgrowing new lwod Anpolopdfi. mud quickly to 11an and mail. Ibo run “and surfaces. sad "DI further mom‘nrplmu the front of tho Hdl from who in bud once booth- whm dud Elsi. livul there. All was chuagod. wighoul and within. The Hall (hly on. 91er still remained to grieve And annoy him. The Whiteurand poplar yel hood sud untreated him wherever he: loo‘kgl." II turgod bi'n sick. I: poison- thundar, Words In the whloporlng wind. hidden, I With feeble steps and slow? CHAPTE R XX VIII. â€"Rnu£.uzsu.. 'now fit for A gantknmn to dwell XXXIV. XXX!"- XXX". muuler, J mob." The depth and tanderneu of the poet Goethe’ a heart, while he was yet a child, wrs evinced at the death of his little brother Jacob. The bot will be u {uhiomblo uncle of women’l mm do the coming ”non. both In («than um! Il‘. - To the surprise of his mother, Johann \Volfgang did not shed e tear over the and event, for he believed, with a child‘s simple trust, that God had taken little Jacob to live with Him in heaven. Hie mother. not understanding the cause of his calmness. asked him: "Did you not love your little hrother, then, that you do not grieve at his “All these I had written, " he said to his mother, “that I might teach them to littio loss?“ He ran up to his room and from under the bed drew a quantity of opera, on which he had written stories .nd canons. The short tims allotted to our readers for: their sojourn on this terrestrinl globe move us to cut this story short. â€"Time. “ And, oh, everything went on perfectly lovely. There wasn't a single hitch from beginning to end, although 1 was dreadfully nervous, and Will was so nervous himself that I was in mortal terror all the time for fear he’d drop the ring or make some horri- ble mistake when he came to saying. ‘ I, William, take thee. Annabelle, etc.,’ but he didn’t, although his voice trembled and lo did his hand when he tcok mine. It's a mercy we didn’t drop the ring between us 1 What if we had? What if we had? I’d have died 2 But we got through the ceremony without a single mistake. And, oh, the church was lovely I Then came the recep- tion and all thatâ€"and the congratulations. And it did sound too funny to hear Will laying ‘ my wife’ at firstâ€"he'd give my hand a little squeeze every time he said it, and I’d come awful near giggling right out, and what if I had! Then the upper I Oh. it was elegant 1 Everything went off perfectlybeau- $311 I And no for the presentsâ€"oh, oh o-oh ! Oyâ€"_â€" “ I shall malts it up mainly with that," Hugh answered, crest-fallen, at so obvious a failure favourably to impress the domestic critic. “ But I shall also eke out the title~ piece with a lot. of stray occasional versesâ€" the “ Funeral Ole for (humans, for ex- ample, and plenty of others that I haven't read you. Some of them seem to ma mlerably successful." He was growing modest before the face of her unflinching criticism. How interesting it is to hear an account of awedding from the lips oithe happy, chatter- ing little bride herself, as she recounts the whole affair to one of her intimate friends, who listens eagerly while the bride 3a a :â€" “ Ana r.‘n nunâ€"ub‘dnn nonâ€"L A- --_ -ALI“ “ You do violence to the genius of the English language,” Winifred rem u-ked curt- ly. “ I nny not be acqnahtad with Latin and Greek, but I talk at least my mower- tongue. Are you going to print: nothing butthie great, long. dreary, incomprehensible ‘ Lifg’s‘Ph‘iloaophy: in yonr‘npw whole ?‘f “ No, no,” Hugh answered, get ing warm in self-defence. " ‘ Unawerved ’ in pessiw ; ‘ unewervino ’ is active, or at least middle : the one means that they swerve themaelwx; the other. that somebady or something aha sweryee them,” “ Oh, thank you, so much. 'i‘hst is polite of you. Then if you went criticism, no matter from whom, I should say I fail to perceive, myself, the precise difference you mean to suggest between the two adjectivrs ‘ unswerved ’ and 'nnswervlng.’ 1‘0 the untutored intelligence of a mere woman, to whom classical allusion's an utter wank, they seem to say exmtly the same thing twice over.” “ There, Winifred. why. do you say to that now! Isn't thu: wealstod to who the wind on! at same of thus probation: fel'owa' ufilw 3 “'nnr. do you think of is 2" “ Think 9" \Vini"rm‘ Ann-AM‘ nnr-inw nn “ Think 2” Winfred answered, puning up herljpeintoan oxpreuion of ma utnw professional connoluourshi . “ I "link ”granito’ doesn't rhyme m the Enlist language with" plmebf and I could or‘ aondeuoa"isa horribly prosaic ward ofis'u sort to inzro duos into wrioua poetry. â€" Wuau'a that null abou: liquox too! ‘We know not if the liquor in no: scmething.’ I don’t like ‘Lquor.’ It's not good ; bar-room English. only fit for a public-flows prodnu'ion."__ “ Well. don’t be nasty," Hugh put in, half smiling. ‘l‘hia in business, you knowâ€" a matter of public apprecintionâ€"and I want your criticism : it all means money. Criti- cism from anyboiy. no matter whom, is always worth at least aomethmg." “I don’t like interrupting," Winifred annpped out savagely. “You told me not to interrupt, except for a. good and nuflicient reason.’ “ I didn't lay ‘h'quor.’” Hugh cried in- dignantly. “ I said ‘ ichor' which of com-u is a ver different nutter. ‘ We know not if the iohor in bar veina.’ Ichor‘a the blood of the gods in Homer. That'n the worst 0- rmyiing these things to women : classical all lueion'e an utter blank to themâ€"If you've got nothing better than that to object, have the kindness, planes, not to_i_nten_‘ups me." “Now, what do youto saythat, Winifred? 189:2 Murat '1!!ka “'Ihzy care not any whififor pain or pleasure That seem to men the sum and end of all. Dumb force and barren number are their measure: What can he, shall be, though the great world fall. They take no hood of man, or man's deserving, Rack not what happy lives they make, or mar, Work out their fatal will, unswerved, un- awerving, And know not that they are. -u- ..-__._v-.., uuuuu uv- w Annual-are ulc. Winifred clgsed m2: lip: with asharp snap while Hugh went on, nothing tbashed, with the same aonorous metre-marked mouthing. Ecol-n! bound. of formu- unsound la Dad laws for living gods. fountain, Gods on tho craggy heigh: or resting on We find but mullet: acquenoos of runner; [at linked to fact inadsmantum rods ; We )1 un for brotherhooi with lake nu mouumlu, Our conscious non! leeks con-dons ”In path! : _ _ N ya?!" mpho ooppioa, Nsimis In tn. (T0 m: caxnxnxn.) Tender Care. All About It. XXXVI. XXXV. I‘d! "Why are we like angels visit: 2" said a pretty girl on eeofe to er beehful lover, who was eltt ng lonesomely on a chair as the other en of the room. “ Reelly,” he ehmmered end blushed, “ I must give ltn . Wb are we ?" " Becenee," ehe aid signals on: y, " we no low end fer between.’ He deetroyed the Ilmlleflty elmoet III-hotly. Callerâ€"“ 1)»; Min De Guzzle live here 1" Bridgetâ€"“Yin, IOI'I'." Callerâ€""Ia she at home 3" Bridget (who bu received her in- structions md is following them)â€"" Yin, s. If, she’s at home. but she ain’t In." Mn. Ennuiâ€"" Did the ladies leave my message, Bridget, when you told them that I was not in? ’ Bridgetâ€"" No'm, not to me, mum : bud wan uv thim tut-mud to the other and on: "There, Nellie, didn't Oi say that. the font-leaf clover phwat 0! found his momin’ wud bring as luck 2' Enraged Husbandâ€"" Maria, I on endure this existence no longer. I am going to blow my brains out l" Wife (calmly)â€"“ Don’t attempt it, John. You have never 1nd any success in firing at small targets." A correspondent in the “ Journal of Horti- culture " calls attention to the dancer of a rubbish-heap in a garden, owing to the im- pure vapoure which arise from such during fermentation and decompositon. 'I‘o obviate ‘ this he recommend-s the followiu plan. A deep trench is dug «arose one of t e quarterl of the kitchen-garden. and the garden refuse as made is deapositm! ir it and covered with a sprinkling of soil. W men the trench is sufficiently full, it is ochrc-d in, leavin anâ€" other by its side: thi‘l in time is saved ike- wise. and so the operation continues fill the whole quart I- has been traversed. B] thin process the 6021 reoeivea it good dressing, and is thoroughly trenched into the bar aiu, the ground being cleared and croppm as the work proceeds, so that at no time will there be any great amount of land unoccupied. The plan answers mlariramy. and excellent crops result. After a poor mm has succeeded in climbing the ladder of fame nobody no- tices the patchu on the dome of his 'Mabel (a stranger in town)â€"" In Maude Hilly a girl who care: much for at lo?" Mamie- "Style? I should think so. \Yl’hy, they say the affected thing oats hot meals off .3 fashion plate I" It was complained at a child’s party- whore grown-up people were in the ma- jority: that it was too much adult, “ Your husband, Mn. Murphy. in suffer ing from a complication of dineuos. I must first make a dingnoainâ€"” “ Kin 0r mnko it out of ould muslin, doctor? I nven’c a bit of flannel in the house." Echelinda in a very pret name for a girl, but it shut: her out forever rom eatingbeans, unless she Ia willing to be an nuachroniam, or to eat her beans in solitude from the pan. try atleIf._ “So your name in Dorothy! Welt, Milo Dorothy, do you know thot you are the per- fect image of your papa 2" “Oh, yes 1 I am often taken for my papo." " So it is Mike Ilobe who made the people sick in Florida." exclaimed Mrs. McGinneaat “ ehure he must be a haste." A middle name does not do much toward making a man great, but it in the basis of us the chum to greatness that a good many mel 13°23": I mpeounioue Loverâ€"“ Be mine, Amends, and you will be treated like en angel." M sid- enâ€"“ Yes, I anppoee an. Nothlng to eat and less to wear. No, I thank you." ' Muskoka owes its p‘pularity to the salu- brity of it; air. It is a sort of millionaire that peep 0 go there for, particularly if they have marriageable daughters. mala, contains a volitile poisonous priiclgl‘o which is much more deleterious uhm the cnrbnnic acid it contains. Mr. Stookherdaol Leipsic has recently ps- tented a. process of treauug ordiusry soft wood so as to be fit for these purposes for wh'ch lignum-vilcs hos hitherto been almost uclusively used. The soft wood in question is first impregnated with oil, after which it is subjected to grest preuure. causing 3 con- uidemble increase in the density of the mo- cexiel. Thus prepared the artifi is! is said to have all the properties of good liguum- Vila). Tue CELLUIDGRAl‘u.â€"This beautiful style of photograph was lately exhibited before the New York Society of Amsteur Photo- graphers. and is made by Mr. C. Theo. Cain. of Owensboro. Ky. Aposicive is made on glass with collodio-chloride emulsion, toned in the usual Why. and then transferred on to in sheet of white celluloid. The process is quite simple. The resulting picture looks very similar to the well-known ivorytypes. The sheet of celluloid can be easily embossed, shaped, sud moulded into be Lutil'ul designs. It makes a very novel and durable picture. Professor Brown- (quard has recently been making experiments to determine whether the human breath was capable of producing any poisonous efl‘ects. From the condensed watery vapour of the expired air he obtained a porsouous liquid which, when injected under the skln of rabbits, produced almost immediate death. He ascertained that this poison was an alkaloid. and not a microbe. The rabbits thus injected died without convulsions, the heart and l e blood-vessels being engorged yith blfi. ‘I’h M. Brown~SequardvconaTdeFa it It“); liegeâ€"(i that the expired aif, 139th 9f man an}! unj- Then is no beltar mode of cleansing dirty glu- botden than by puiug a raw pot , cutting it into amsll bits, and putting I; m in) the bottle with col-l water. Shall it manly till he fur is quite gone, and 1: an the with elem water. A gentleman who has: made a ”mix cake eye an. for the bomfi: of people w o my To make Ina-do vunish fram gum-math. dismlvu the gum made in turpentine enough co nuke it of the proper oomhwnoy. Mes-a. J add 6: Co. of S’dcup. Eng" have inroduood . " oarbo-eucadypsio " alt for htha. ls produxsafngrant smelling bath, And is. maroover. uarfal when: the water avails-bl. for whine it very hard. “ Portions" and all ouruiu‘a mu: hue frequent uh-tkingl. or moths WI“ balm to lodge in their foldl. SCIENTIFIC AND I'SEIPUL , FA [.14 FOLLIBS. paper