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ask a 2121‘,” “ There are others?” she asks. ‘ ‘_‘ Lilian Amyot and your cousin Paulynl Bnersly. You know on refused to invite any of your own fri s, so I was thrown l on my ovm resourcea." met him in Brussels about a. year ago, and yesterday in Piccadilly, came face to face with him again. He happened to mention Vynerl, so as he is an agreeable sort of fel- lowâ€"good connections and all thatâ€"I galâ€"ad LL. 1. A f“ {know this: ~vâ€"uv 'uv vasv wuu a likely to suit me. I allude to my brother’s wife, Mrs. Daryl. She Beems a. little crude, a little brusque, per- laps, but very desirable.” , “ I am glad you have found some one so much to your taste so near youâ€"so near Branksmere. ” “ Yes, it is an advantage. Well !”--care- lesslyâ€"“ who else is coming?” “ The Primroses, the Vyners, Mr. Halk- ‘ ett, Captain Staines, andâ€"” Lady Branksmere, knocking her arm in some awkward fashion against the elbow of her chair. her marrazinp fa": M .L- ______ :1 "_â€".-- â€"v-vo “ She is admihfible always. Her vgirlhood her womanhood, her widowhood, have beer alike without re_pt_oach. “ Talking ofrlâ€"ne‘z: reminds me that 'ioâ€"night I met some one else -who a likely to sni_t_ me._ I allude to “ You forget I have already learned to do that. Lady Anne isone of the few people I sincerely admire. She is such a distinct contnst to myself that, if only as a useful study, I should value her. There seems to be no angles about her; no corners to be turned. It seems to me in every phase of life she would be admirable.” “ All this is beside the mark,” exclaims Branksmere, abruptly. “ Why I drew you away from your book was to explain to you about. our guests of Thursday next. I hope at least you will like my sister-in-law, Lady Anne.” a 7.- ____- urn-Avast. uou usvacu nus. “ Few would lose themselves so entirely as you seemed to do, in a. recital of their grandmother’s ailments, even with a hand- some woman.” , - _- _. .uunuulVLV. w “J " Muriel, throwing back her head against; the soft crimson silk of the cushions, laughs aloud. At this moment it occurs to her how little she really cares. ' “ You are an excellent grandson," she says, looking at him through half closed lids. U [4‘1“â€" ._.._1.1 1, ‘ ,._°. "1 am 801' “ She has been with her, 03' and on, for believed the] the last seven years, I should say. She is V011 ThiI‘Sk w, quite an old friend with us all.” 01039 the lib!“ “ With your sister-in-law, for example?” “ N0: stay A sad shadow crosses Branksmere’s face. you Will let “ Of course, they have met, but not these people ‘ often. Ihave been so seldom at Branks- Lord Branksn mere, and Lady Anne rarely comes here in frown born of my absence.” “To consu “ She, too, likes this madame '2” Opening wide “ I really can’tsay,” impatiently. “ What 1y. there is my an interest you take in her.” " Who kno “ Well? Is not that what you desired a. ,- you have me moment since, that I should look after the l Branksmere, i afiairs of my household? A good wife,” be strangers ; with a curl of her red lips, “ should Ofanalysistha‘ follow her husband’s lead, and you crasies,tlleirv â€"By the bye, you seemed quite engross- and I want the ed with the conversation of your graud- satisfied Withf mother's friend, as I came up the balcony “ Still, it 3 steps a little while ago.” doesn’t it 2” 8.: "Did I? Probably she was telling me know these pet something about Lady Branksmere.” ter she 8110““ Il._,: , , , --- w"; u; uuuy oranxsmere 1 She , yet she resigns the world to take care of an old woman. It is a. mar- vellous devotion. ” A marvellous devotion,” repeats Branksmere, In a low tone. “ She seems clever, too. Has she ” (with a little sneer) “befriended your grand- mother 10 g?” 1‘ Q]..- I, a. grate triendship ! May and December do not, as a rule, lie in each other’s bosoms. Twenty years ago, Lady Brank‘smere must have been pretty much what she is now. ' wenty years ago, her friend must have been a. little girl of twelve or so. It is very charming, very picturesque, quite a small romance. And this friend : you pay her?” “Certainly not.” A dark flush rises to his forehead. “ Good heavens ! no,” he continues, in a. shocked tone. " She stays attention for a few minutes?” His tone this time is very much louder, and Lady Branksmere lifts to him a glance of calm surprise. A “ Ah, you wish to talkâ€"is that it 2” she asks in a bored voice, with an air of intense resignation, laying her magazine upon her knees. “ Well '3" She looks at him lau- guidly. “I wish certainly to interest you in the affairs of your household.” “ If that is so, you are fortunate. I am already deeply interested. I am, indeed, more than interested; I am curious. May I ask who is this womanâ€" this housekeeperâ€"this madamâ€"who has just quitted the room, and who a few hours ago welcomed me so kindly to my own ‘ house ‘2” “She is Madame von Thirsk. She can 1 hardly be called a housekeeper. She is a great friend, a very tender friend of my grandmother’s. ” 1 “Alrare friendship ! May and December I do not, as a rule, lie in each other’s hosoms. t Twenty years 380: Lady Branksmere must have been nrnttv Inna}. ...L_4. n1 , - CHAPTER VLâ€"(Coxrxxcnm) “ Y our guests rather.” No answer. ’ “ I hope, at least, you will like the selec- tion I have made.” “ I hope so,” absently. 16 “Next time you can make your own. “ I daresay.” “ I think, perhaps, it would be advisable that you should know who is coming,” says Lo I'd “Tallbnmn-n :_._2A- L1 Lord ' ._ -uvu.“ nuuw WHO 1 Brauksmere, irritably‘ u M 9” ‘n :a hum- t. It was an absurd time to with the season almost be- - -â€"-vâ€", ovrv‘nbfi Iere, in a low tone; seems clever, too. Has she ” (with sneer) “ befriended your grand- ong '2” has been with her, 03' and on, for seven years, I should say. She is All: :...'-_. .1 "I -- e. HIS HEIRESS; ., LOVE IS ALWAYS THE SAME. ‘6 'who paling, lde to a rule, L She complet 1°: per- marked ' most re: 3 one 80 man. ” so near “ We nothing '-care- H So 1 ‘6 An Halk- draws hi smile cm arm in he says, haw nf' 9, , "anger you in some way.” “ Pardon me. We have never should not know this Monsieurâ€"1 it not ?â€"if he were shown into t unann ounced. ” _- .‘ gunnvuo. .IJJGII first insinuatiou of it rests with you.” She leans toward him across the table, and with outstretched arm and fingers attracts his attention. “ Remember: a!” she" says,‘in~ ‘8. lowtone. " 8m} “As I have always done,” she repeats, slowly. Then, with a. change of manner swift as lightning. she flings herself into a chair, and draws toward her ink and paper. “Now for the names of your friends,” she cried. “ You forget I don’t even know so much. Lady Anne !” writing, as he dic- tates to herâ€"“ the Vyners, Primroses, George Halkett, Mrs. Amyot, Captain Stâ€"â€"-” She drops her pen and stares up at himâ€"“ Staines ?” she asks, incredulous- ‘ 1y. ‘ “Staines. Yes. Tall fair man in the lOLh; or was it the 10th? Do you know khan 9” “ Still, it appears insa degree foolish, doesn’t it '3” asks she. “ If your wife is to know these people later on, it would be bet- ter she should be made an fait with their dispositions as soon as possible.” She looks up suddenly. “ Where is she, then ? I knew she was out, but I believed you were with her.” “ You must remember she is as little new to everything,” he says, in a con- strained tone. “ And it is only natural that she should want just at first to see a. good deal of her own people. Let her rest her-‘ self so. You can help me to-day in her 2113- ‘ sence, as you have always done.” 1 yet a. fl, _---....u.J. .LU 'be strangers ; to you, with t of analysis that belongs to you crasies, their various desires, x and I want them to be comfor satisfied with the new regime. __ -- “by...“ “No, stay. As you are here, perhaps you will let me consult with you about these people who are coming to-morrow.” Lord Branksmere looks up at her with a frown born of anxious thought. , V---J .v uuvw umuurl believed the room was empty,” von Thirsk with a. little stai‘t, pr close the library door behind her uan -4--- A w‘v‘ 7 “Almost elevexll rToo discussion, however plea calmly. “ Good-night, 1r Cool and composed, she rises fr: seat and looks at the ormolu affair chimney-piece, that is ticking loudl: to warn them of the passage of time. “U until. ’ “ I should prefer a. rude one to none at all,” he exclaims, with a. sudden burst of fury. “ Your insolent silence is more than I can endure.” “ And I should prefer to make none,” re- turns sbe, smilingly. “ How shall we de- cide ‘2" _â€" v...» rut-v6 uuu. “Ididn’t expect to find it duller than any other place.” Her passion has died awa y from her, and the old msolent expres- sion has again crept round her lips. “Meztning it would be dull anywhere with me?” Muriel shrugs her shoulders, but makes no reply. “Is that your meaning?” “ Would you compel me to make you. a. rude answer?” asks she, looking full at him with a. contemptuous smile. Her de- fiance maddens him. “ As they are asked ”â€"stifl‘iyâ€"“ 1 hope yet} _v_vill make them welcome. ” am sorry to have disturbed you; I :d the room was empty,” says Mme. viva];- u-pi‘l- - 1:“! unfortunate enough \nn“ 3’ CHAPTER VII. alongs to you, their idiosyn- ous desires, will be known, to be comfortable ; to feel new regime. ” y. “ To her, they will , with the keen sense never met. :1, she rises from her a ormolu afl'alr on the is ticking loudly as if Too "lat-e for further pleasant,” she says, t, my lord.” me,” she repeats, change of manner flings iherself into -St-aines is this room eexpression Is. “ That you.” She e, and with uttracts ' his says,‘in- =3. ' . preparing to her again. ’here, perhaps “I think time will prove you wrong there, my lady,” returns Mrs. Stout stifliy. “Im- .. â€"-.. ”av-z “ Take care,MféZ’Sl;3ut,”' laugvhs carelessly. “I doubt your morals altogether sound.” ' 7 “ Well not exactly, ma’am. It was a. Cruel husband that time,” murmurs Mrs. Stnut, mildly. “ Husband!” . “Yesâ€"begging your Iadyship’s pardon ! There was a husband, sure enough, but it appears the poor creature didn’t. take to him much, but had‘h hankering like after an old lover of hers, as was most natural ” “ Apparently she does my lady. I have been here now close on six years, and no one has ever gone into them save madame herself or Mrs. Brooks. They do say as how it is haunted, but that, of course, is not for your ladyship to believe.” “Haunted! By what?” asks Muriel. “Ah! That is what no one knows, my lady. There have only been footsteps heard andâ€" screams at: odd intervals. But, . the story goes thata former lady of Branks~ mere flung herself from one of the windows in this :part of the house, becau e, poor lady, she was forbidden to see her youngâ€" :that isâ€"ahem !â€"the gentleman she fancied,” i Winds up Mrs. Stout, with an apologetic Con h. “gLocked up by the orthodox cruel parent, no doubt,” says Lady Branksmere. “ (Xi'an “AA. --.- An“ But there must be six or seven this wing ?” questions Muriel. ‘i‘;-Seven, my lady.” : ,‘fSurely, Madame Von Thirsk require them all ?” a I haven’t- them, my ladtgr. TL beyond belong to Madame Thirsk. is ever allowed to enter them,” rep Stout, “except Mrs. Brooks.” Mr: is the dowager’s attendant. impatiently-to, theiifiloaswé’kvéepz}: H 1 Lava-Jo- tk-.. _-,, 1 1 ofl‘from the rest of it, that 1 ha: longin it. ,, veaséange g to make myself acquainted with i But she is not. She has come back from her morning visit to the twins ; and is now making a. tour of the castle with old Mrs. Stout, the housekeeper, as cicerone. Mrs. Stout, who is as discursive as she is fleshy, is holding forth in a rambling fashion about all the Branksmeres, dead and gone. Her ‘ extremely engaging conversation brings ‘ them presently to the passage that leads to the apartments of the dowager. She makes j a. step into the passage. 1 “ Her ladyship does not receive to-day,” says the housekeeper, “ but no doubt if you, i my lady, desire to see her, sheâ€"” “ Not tocday,” says Muriel. “ But I should like to visit the rooms beyond. This l part of the house looxs so mysterious, so cut ofi‘from the rest of it. that T 1mm. 5 1....--“ “How you distort things,” exclaims he. “ The house that has been home for the first twenty years of one’s life is naturally home to the end. In time this place, too, will becomedear, andâ€"” His voice dies away. There is some melancholy in it. “ Ah ! So ?” murmurs madame. “ And she 13 there now. In the present home, eh?” “ Yes,” returns Branksmere, shortly. “ There is little wisdom in doubting one’s wife without cause.” Madame laughs. ‘ “ Ah ! you have been too long abroad !” ‘ she says, with downcast eyes. “ You would have me believe some- thing,” he says at last, in a. stifled tone. “ What ?” “ l have already said as much as I intend to say. For all I know the mischief may be past and goneâ€"andâ€"it may not ! And think,” with a sudden flash from her dark ‘ eyes, “ how it was she spoke of home; and where she placed it ! Rot here. Not here, I Branksmere!” “The keys,” she turns he, coldly. "As you will, of course,” throw- ing out her hands with a. little for- eign gesture. “ But there is much wisdom in the saying that ‘prevention is better than cure.’ ” e _ ““J unannuulllfilc “No. Not; one word,” she answers, de- liberately. “It was foolish of you, my friend, to presuppose the word was there ! Yet, hear me, Branksmere.” She draws nearer, and with folded arms looks. grave- ly up at him. “I tell you it is madness to ask that Ir_.a.n to_your house.” “I warn you !” he exclaims with a voice full of concentrated passion. “I desire you not to go too far. I will have no word breathed against Lady Branksmere !” ll‘T, \‘l' wifeâ€" . h1m ?” “It may be so. Yet gossip hurts. What if this gossip you so despise had gone further ‘3" “As how '3” He stops short and regards her threateningly. “What if it had been,” said she, “your wifeâ€"your wife, Branksmereâ€"had loved In‘... I)” v. â€"A My“ [11 ”In “It is illvmere gossip,” declares mere, walking impatiently up an the room. w..- .vrv u: vuc uuuubry. “I would not counsel you- to shut your doors on those who had loved her,” says Lime. voniThirsk, in a: low meaning tone. “ On whom then?” demanded he fiercely. “ Your wife,” she continues, “ is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She has grown deadly pale, but presently is calmness itself, and very nearly ‘ indifferent. “If this man once loved her why expose him to her fascinations for the second time?” she says, with veiled eyes and an extreme quietude of manner thatl should have warned him. “Your warning comes too late,” lightly- “1 have invited him. I expect him by the five train to-morrow. Tut ! you forget Muriel’s beauty !” Her face pales. “M en must see in. If I were to close my dooi's to all who bowed at Muriel’s shrine, I expect I should know but few 1n the country.” “T Dru-1A â€"“ ’ ‘ ’ "Was that so ‘3” he asked in a. terrible tone. “Is that all ‘2” he askes derisivelyâ€" “Poor devil !â€"why, What a mountain you would make out of your molehill.” “Don’t invite that man here, Branks- "mere,” says madame. “Be warned in tame.” “Did ‘he mention anytl penchant for Lady Brauk other things?” She har risen to her feet. He, too, has risen. “ Was that so?” he askel soil. When i asked him to come here he happened to mention having been here be- fore. That is how I knew of his intimacy with the Adairs.” ’ “Did ’he mention anything else? HIS penchant for Lady Branksmere amongst: nthm- +1.:......ou “Then you are unjust to him without reason?” “ Yes. But what have I said, then?” she asks. “ It is your manner, your whole air. As for Staines himself, I know little of him ; so little, that your innuendoes fall on sterile soil. 'SVl‘IED I asked him to camp, harp. he s, as wals most natural.” ;. Stout,” laughs Muriel, says, turning rather Thirsk does not The rooms ‘Sk No one replies Mrs. Mrs. Brooks are not clares Branks- up and down rooms in . ~ r~~ -~ -~ 5‘ “ Please hear me on pleaded the infatuated “ I’ll cut it down to 250 “ Iâ€"I must not listen to you, phead,” Willing to Gondense-i protested the blushing gi eyes downcast. “ You are only Mr. Capp- rl, with trifling, 'e _The Banks of Australasia at the beginning ’1, of the current year numbered twenty-six, many of them with agencies in London and r all over the world, together with an immense number of branches throughout Victoria, 3 I Tasmania, New Zealand, New South Wales, 9 ! etc. Within a. few months six of them have ‘ . failed, with the following amount of de- ‘ s ‘ posits : London Chartered Bank of Aus~ tralia ........... $33,934,410 1 English Scot and Australia 0. Bank. 28,793,340 Australian Joint Stock Bank ........ 54.201319 National Bank of Australia ........ 44,306,010 , Commercial Bank of Australia ...... 59,741,185 ’ Federal Bank of Australia .......... 9,789,230 Total ............................... _ $230,782,375 Out of this total of deposits over $80,000,- 000 was British money placed in the hands of London agents of the banks at high rates of interest during the boom. It is hard to say now when the troubles will cease. One failure naturally brings another, and each crash increases the distrust of depositors and accelerates the withdrawal of money 4 which in turn precipitates some further dis- ( aster. There were on January 1 of this year $774,000,000 worth of deposits in the banks of the Australian system. $200,000,- ,000 of which was from British depositors. _ Since then $230,000,000 have been subtract- ed by failures, and how much more by the c drain still going on it is impossible even to estimate. How much better it would have been if I some at least of this bountiful contribution a of the Australian and British public to a. “ period of boom,” had been placed in a stable and substantial investments such as H Canada offers in endless variety. I Financial affairs in Australia seem to be l getting worse instead of better. Banks are i going down almost daily, while the one-time l heavy export of gold from the Colonies is being strangely' reversed. No doubt this ‘ drain upon London banks, and the depletion of deposits in the great agencies of Austra- l lian banks in the Imperial capital is reacting ‘ upon the American situation. But sweeping and “squeegeeing” is not suflicient for our streets. Our artist has ; depicted the men in the act of washing a. London street in the neighborhood of Co- vent Gardenâ€"a process which can claim a. triple advantage. First, it takes away any lurking microbes which the broom or squee- gee may have left; second, the water ef- fectually flushes the sewers; third, the operation afl'ords an interesting entertain- ment to the great unwashed. Just then theccart was drawn into posi- tion, and the road sweepings were quickly ‘ lifted into it and carried away. Naturally ‘our reporter asked where this cartload of cabbage leaves and other refuse was to be taken. “Oh, it’s taken straight away to the barges and sent into the country for manure.” This waste from Covent Garden thus is made to help to provide the next crop for the market, and does not as some suppose, form the foundation for White- chapel Havana cigars. Truly street sweep- ing is a science. The Typical Crossing Sweeper an [mat cached Public Servant. Every one is familiar with the typical crossing sweeper, the unattached and ir- responsible public servant whose energies in search of pennies are far in excess of any other display of industry. But the cross- ing sweeper is only a supernumeraryâ€"he is . not the real actor in road sweeping. The l genuine artist may be seen in full force any I morning in the neighborhood of Covent 1 Garden. About 100 such men are employed. They are paid twenty-five shillings per week each, with a shilling extra for those who are called out for brief Sunday duty. “ Your men seem to work' well,” our re- ; porter said to one of the gangers. “ Yes, sir, ‘ they are well treated, and they do their work properly.” “Have you any club or society among you?” “ No, sir. If a. man is ill he goes before the doctor, and then if the doctor says he isill, why, he goes home and he is paid just the same. We have no stoppages. If man does do anything wrong, the suveyor will generally overlook itâ€"ex- cepting drink, he can’t stand that. But he’s a regular gentleman as understands his business.” happy road - sweepers. N o trade union. no grievances. l l l “I must then appi’ya to Madame von Thirsk for the keys of this wing ‘2” she asks slowly. - “Yes, my lady ; or to his lordship.” At this moment the heavy baize-covered door is flung open, and Mme. von Thirsk steps softly out into the corridor 1 She s'hhkes ofi‘Eh; gfévéisome feeling .that had made its own of her, and once more glances at the carefully guardggl door. (‘1' fl, “ ’Tis only known for certain that some- times, on moon-light nights, one can hear an unearthly yell that comes from behind the closed door. It is the cry the poor soul gave when falling.” “ Youâ€"did you ever hear it?” she asks. ‘ “ Once, madame," whispers the house- keeper. “But the dowager' lady is some- times a. little nervous, Brooks tells me, and I thought perhapsâ€"” She pauses embar- rassed. ' “ That the sound came from her, or else ‘ from a heated imagination, ” finishes Muriel for her. ‘ “ Well, the thought is unfunny, however it goes.” “ Who can 'say; my lady!” The house- keepgxf shrinks a. little as if terror-stricken. “A seconH ' Jezebel,” remarks Muriel. “ And now she walks the earth again, you tell me, in dainty raiment, as when she lived '?-â€"orâ€"n.s they picked her up from the staihed court-yard ?” â€" “My lord‘could tell you all about it far better thaniI can madame ; but the end of it was that the miserable lady threw herself out of one of the windows on a. starlight night, and her body was found next morn- ing in the stone courtyard beneath, all crushed and mangled,aml so disfigured that they scarcely knew 113:” mortality has never been attributed to J ane Stout. ”’ “No. One can quite understand thatâ€" poor Jane Stout!” returns Lady Branks. mere. “But to your tale. I will not be spared one ghastly detail. ” CLEANING LONDON STREETS- The Australian Ban KS- .uuanea young reporter. to 250 words!” (TO BE CONTINUED. ........ . -v-v-I That a young man a short time ago made his wedding tour from this city on a couple of scalpel-’3 tickets, sending his W33 one route and taking another himalf, thcfieby saving a few dollars and having M- a! fun with himself; That the paragraph which up recipe for washing clothes, mug: “ The copper is best when half full; applipation to the police for-cc. That some m go fishing befo ible he. en are so honest fie? have to re they can tell a good plaus- That the smallest thing about tho World’s . . 1 be the amoun t of cash you bring 1.113.]? 11 you wish to avoid defiling pure drinking water with ice you should boil the That while fresh air may be healthy it is a. little too fresh when it associates with a cyclone. That if you wish to firinking water with ic That if aman dean-1ft want to see himself as others see him he shouldn’t look too much in the glass, That forwardness is what enables the eerly strawberry to get into wealthy so- They Do Say That this earth would be very monoton- ous without womenâ€"or men. That the meanest thief in the world is the one who steals busy people’s time. l With a. White border 12 in. wide on either side. The total width of the diagonal cross is 3 ft., of which there is 18 in. white, 12in. red, and 6 in. white. arranged the broad :white uppermost in the first quarter and the narrow white in the others. With these measurements it should not be difiicult for any one to make a. proper “ Union Jack,” the only national flag which everybody has a. right to display; the white ensign, or apology for one, which we often see hoisted on churches, being as much out of ghee there as a Sailor would be in a nn'lnit AN ENGLISH FLAG COMBINING THE FRENCH COLORS SAID TO HAVE BEEN USED IN THE REIGN OF HENRY V AND VI. with a white border 12 in. wide on either side. The total width nfflm A;........-1 n--- THE ENGLISH FLAG OF THE CRUSADERS OR 81‘ GEORGE’S RED CROSS ON A WHITE GROUND. of the white cross is covered by the red [cross and its white border, but as the S. i Andrew’s cross represents the senior mem- ber of the trio in the union, the white is uppermost in the first quarter of the flag. Then on top of these, is a white upright cross one-third the ovidth of the flag, and on this again is the red cross one-fifth the width thus leaving the white cross showing as a. border for the difference in their re spective widths, or one-fifteenth the width of the flag. Thus. supposing the finial-3O ft. long'and .12 ft. wide, th». upright cross 3f red S. Andrew’s being introduced. The next and last alteration took place in 1801 when at the time of the union the red diagonal cross of S. Patrick was added. The flag (Union J ack) may be thus described: Its groundwork is blue, and on this is first placed a. white cross, diagonally laid, the twidth of which is one-fith the width or hoist of the flag ; that is to say, if the flag is 30 ft. long in the fly and 15 ft. wide in the hoist, the S. Andrew’s cross. is 3 ft. wide. On this cross is placed the red diagonal cross of 3. Pat- rick, one-fifteenth the width of the flag, with a. white border, or fimbriation, of one~thirtieth the width. Thus, one-half On the accession of J amesflthe I he order- ed a. blend of the English and Scottish em- blems the diagonal white cross known as nun; NATIONAL FLAG OB UNION JACK OF THE PRESENT DAY. on a. blue ground, whilst the English. made ; theirs a. red cross on a, white ground. By the middle of the fourteenth century this flag was bylaw made the badge of English nationality. It is possible that during part of the reigns of Henry V and Henry VI the French flag was also combined, for Henry at Monmouth was proclaimed Reth of France in Paris and this combiqation ls exactly what the present flag would be min- us the crosses of S. Andrew and 8. Patrick. THE NATIONAL Probably the origih ‘of the flag: \f 8. George dates from the Crusades, when the various contingents of the Christian inva. ders each adopted some distinguishing ban- ner, the cross being the common emblem. The French at that, time used a white cross rm: UNION JACK FROM 1603 To 1801. ing as much out of pho; would be in a pulpit. THE UNION JACK. is3ft. “ pavis ”â€"large slab from each other by an highâ€"and it is on t channels are cut to :11 into the bhsndnt, that m laid. Winn the ‘ Now, all this is i misleading. In the firs are not lofty tower: they are low, squat height rarely excet the diameter. Alth built practically on thl tual dimensions of the embly, the average measurements beingâ€"‘ twenty to thirty feet seventy to ninety feet. they contain no gratin to deposit the bodies. € the interior consists. i the “ bhandar ” or pit solid platform, the su some seven or eight f of the parapet. The a TO BE DENCD by those scsvengers of until the clean-picke the iron has info the this instance was sit: tree-clad eminence, a, Kharabsd. Some very mutakel the Parasees' towers q lieve. among the En} member seeing them 4 of an emlnent write! must have been wof subject. as lofty towe mantled round tower% at the top of which w ings. Upon these bu so says the writer I r? promises to reform, pertinucionsly of thel my resolution invarii portnnities, and he I in my service, alwayi tinct understanding 1 chance. But I regrel not reform; and aftq weeks, the same seen salts. would be gone ‘ One morning. early neas engagement VI Framji J ijibhni, whit: This occesioned me 4 as the Parsee was, a1 itself in all busines. fully an hour I had w messenger arrived to He had died that mom the “destnr ” or “mob even had time to repez dying. The Zoroastr short time to interve the funeral ceremony set that same day the was conveyed from h' of silence, his last r at Bombay, he and our connection long was, whenever be We of dishonesty, he :11 posing of such v3.11 was no concern of u: made no remark up I do not remembe: servant. was presem our conversation ; lead me to suppose 1 graent. or, at an} ipâ€"I don’t euppoa name, but it was th him layâ€"was the in His petty larceniel ‘ no! trouble to me; I the recollection tha strnmental in savi previously, during be conveyed along ‘1dokhma, " or town Vultures In strippin his bones might pen awayâ€"none knew highly romantic, it that this was a. very to him, and he 1 nature, the ring moved from his while the Pareee 3 our claret in the vi I ventured to rem: this ring; whereu] me how it had com had been given hiu Princess in return 1 culiarly delicate ne: ed her; and so the trinket, that orders that whe: finger must have some hundreds of foot of the Ghm Puna. : and here Mr. Framji J ijib most agreenble 11: near neighbors, t into contract wit ness matters, qui Unlike most of h hibited no great I never knew him trinkets save a. cez absent from the 11‘ This ring which ‘ most exquisite Ea. contained a lax-g beauty. I am no stones ; but the g1 the finest of its 1:11 and the adornme: passed nway- , aside, and proba. day yegein until drawer of an old think the facts 2. common to be" 1:: give the story ve words. I would time the events in the Hononmh‘ service. The :11 ‘ In 1850 I was It hap pened n in the fifties. I I the story; and 1 after his death I account of it. 1 dear old man 1'01 idle hour, inte: but when his use A Pnuee‘s 'l'cr: tum Wile ed his [Ate