The Syracuse Journal, Volume 1, Number 6, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 4 June 1908 — Page 7

■fl — * —1 (Rf LONELY GIRL I 11 5 I k * $

|= CHAPTER X. — (Continued.) f. . ■ ' “Now they belong to nobody,” says he, quite extraordinary pleading. In heart he knows they belong to Sir : ■tuciten, but' sometimes it is impossible ■ld be too honest. And that old miser ■sin wait for these until he .gets the rest. up out of thiy dismal place.” ■ Outside they part, ‘but when they have ■gone a step or two, he stops and comes her again. “It is nothing,” says he, uncertainly, a little while ago I said our acMpaintance was but a short one. I want take that back. I want to tell you I feel as if I had known* you for-ilfy^fluend"-—slowly—“and only you '.” rise in her eyes. She gives him hand silently. Raising his hat, he jjß stoops and presses his lips to it. Their ■ eyes meet. She is seeing him through a W misty veil—he is seeing her as he has ■ never seen woman before’ Oh! the dear, ■ sad, sweet little face I ■ He would have held her, but she shakes ■ ber head, and without a word goes swift- ■ ,ly from him. Her steps have turned t<y I wards her home, that bleak, melancholy I old house on the top of the hill. And I without so much as one backward glance, |a she disappears from his view. ■L “She might have looked, even once,” ■i says he disappointedly, when the last turn of the last corner has been passed by jlhe all too swift feet of his beloved. “It * wouldn’t have been so much 1” But how could he know that the tears were running so fast down her cheeks that she dare not turn, that she does not dare even t> raise her handkerchief to stay them, lest he read the action rightly and come back to her. CHAPTER XI. If Adare had not seen those sad tears running down Amber's cheeks, someone else did. A tall, dark man, coming out flOm the shadows of the ,few trees that surround the Mill House, quickly follows her, and now is at her side. “So that is all your new-found rela- ‘ tion can do for you” says Brian Deane. ?! “to make you cry your eyes out. What have eve* any qf your mother’s people done for you, but thit? Even your ’lady' mother”—with a. scornful emphasis on wirthe adjective. speak to me now. Brian. I ■ko be alove.” Her tone is heart- . ■la-.I to this man, who in his ow ■ligh :> ay loves her as well as even » ' fl* this gwitie answer fro;:: A:nhe has been expecting one of “shutting up" order, adds fuel fire of the passion that hr s been him ever since he first met j** ' “If it is his fault that you are crying now—if he has given you one sore tSjßfght. I’ll choke the life out of him.” -**if you are really talking of Captain Adare, he has had nothing to do with my rrying,” says she slowly, as if thinking, as if making very sure. “No, it is life flat troubles me. I’m tired of it al- - ready, Brian, and that’s the fact. There’s too much against me, too little for me.” “A strong thing for you is better than a few weak things against you,” says he gruffly. Then, after a pause, “I’m for you!” He has plainly great faith, in hi? own. powers. “Yes, I know” —indifferently—“I know. You are always very kind.” .. f “Kind! It isn’t that,” says he, swinging round to her. “It is you who‘ ; might be kind, for the matter of that, i’ll tell you the truth now, straight here. I worship the very ground you walk on. I’d ' ‘fled my soul for you ” “Stand there!’’ her voice rings out clear and calm. He had made a movement towards her, but now checks himself as if paralyzed. Her exquisite head is thrown back, her eyes are fixed on his. . There is no thought of fear in all her slight and beautiful body. “What do you mean,” says ‘ she, “by speaking to me like this? It is absurd. I do not wish for your love.” ’ “Is that”—he frowns heavily—“because you desire his?” • '■ “His? Captain Adare’s, you mean.” t She speaks clearly still, though her lips K whiten a little. “He is nothing to me.” are still free, then? If—if I”— Knocking round him, and sinking hi 3 voice K “if . I could clear your father’s «iemMkbry”— Amber, who has turned away, now !■ suddenly looks back at him, her eyes lighting—“if I could say where those ■ lost jewels are ” fl “Brian! You know. You know. Oh! I gay, say that you know.” B “I can know, if you will make it I worth my while.” says he, with a cold F sort of laugh. “You know what I mean, fl jJßee here, my ,girl, if I tell you where the ■■tones are—-if I clear your father’s memory—for that I know is what you are up to —will yon marry me?” There is a dead pause. To clear her father’s njemory. ’ The father who had been so dear to her in her early life—the father who had been kind to her to the end, whose memory now is the only thing on earth she has to reverence, to love —— V She hesitates here. Her breath grows quicker. Is that memory to her father all that indeed now she has to love? This sudden inrushing of a new thought upon the old one checks her, and finally steadies k her. The father who had loved her in fl the? old days, before time and grief had his senses, would wish her above ■brytbing to be happy, to be free! She ■rn.s to Deane. Not even for that.” As she Hnayr it She turns away from him, and steps out quickly towards the house. Straight to his sister’s sitting room he Esther Deane, small, fragile, a fragment of a woman, with pale ■ blu« eyes sunk in a face almost enficiat- ■ ed, looks up from the eternal patchwork ■ she is always employed on, to greet him. entrance has changed the entire ex■euaion of her face. Through the sullen ■bl ness that usually characterizes it, a ' ■

. gleam of honest joy now shows. On this brother she has lavished all the small stock of love that even the coldest creature must contain in his or her breast. “I want to talk to you,” says he, “about —thosg jewels.” “What!” She starts to her sept. “You have found them?” “Not exactly. I have made a discovery. however.” • “My letter to you, enclosing those papers. was of use, .then?” “Yes.” He draws in a little. “At least- " “I knew it,’,’ interrupts she triumphantly. “When/1 went over the old man’s papers, and saw those strange scribblings, with the arrow’s on them, and then noted his words, I felt there was something in them; something that you ought to know.” : . _ “Look here, Esther,” he says, “the give and, take system is the honestest all round —the one I hang on to. Come! I’ll make a proposition to you. If you will help me to marry Amber, I’ll take you and Amber and the jewels to Australia. It is a bargain!” Esther was silent. She ’■turns again to her writing tablei and thus conceals the terrible change that has come Over her face. He loves that girl! Amber ! He loves Amber! All her—Esther’s love for him; all her care; all the eager desire for his welfare that has led her (through these jewels) almost to the , verge, of crime, is now to be cast aside, forgotten—because of that girl’s eyes, or hair, or smile. “Well,” says he. gruffly, having waited quite a lopg time for her answer; “can’t you speak? Didn’t you hear? It’s an offer that j-ou ought to snap at I” “Well, so I do," says she as last, with a strange laugh. Laughter is so unusual a thing with her at any time that he stares at her for a moment, then lounges out of the room. CHAPTER XII. An interview with Miss Deane is gone through without so great a hitch as May had anticipated. Miss Deane, indeed, had shown herself not only compliant, but actually anxious that Amber should go and spend a week with her uncle. Esther had heard of Hilary Adare, of his meeting with Amber, both at the mill one' day, and at. Madam’s later on, and had drawn certain conclusions. If—her heart beat fast as she dwelt on it—if Captain Adare should fall in Jove with the girl, and she with him, there would lie a solution of the trouble that is worrying her. Amber once mqrried, Brian will be hers again to influence—to hold —to live for.! And she has so little to live for, so little to make life sweet! That Brian can greatly care! She has gone into this and has come out of it with the settled belief that he is incapable of caring much for anything—except himself. In this she wrongs him. So Amber, who had met May’s very charming advances with a -shy pleasure and Mr. McGrath’s all too genial advances with a touch of reserve, promises to go over to Carrig on Tuesday next _ —to-day is Friday—and spend a with het cousins. / . “We are all of us your cousins, you 'Wow. Alt of us,” says her hand at parting. “Yes, all of us,” repeats Mr. McGrath with emphasis. “And come early, come in time for tea,” says May, glancing up at Amber from the pony carriage in which she is now again seated. “Or perhaps—luncheon.” “Or breakfast,” suggests Mr.’ McGrath most hospitably. May gives him a withering glance. > “I shall corne as soon as I can,” says Amber softly. «. •“We shall be looking out for you,” nods May, brightly. “Good-by, Good-by, Miss,, Deane!” to Esther, who is a'so standing up above on the hall djorsteps. *’So good of ydu to spare Amber qfor a few days.” • ' i The ponies dash away down the grassgrown old avenue, as if wijd with a desire to be gdne; and as disappear, Esther Deane touches Aniber’s arm. “Not a word of this to —to anyone,” says she. “If ycu say a word to rhyone, you Won't be able to go.” “I am my own mistress,” says the girl proudly. Yet for all that she takes the lesson to heart, and it is nat'until she is well on her way to Carrig Castle on the following Tuesday that Brian I'arns of the invitation, the visit of May, and the gong of Amber! On that afternoon, after an unsuccessful search for Amber round the grounds and in the old mill, he enters his sister’s private room. “Where is Amber?” asks he quickly. There is no suspicion in his tone. Miss D'eane rises. The worst is before her now and she faces it steadily. “She has gone td spend a week with her uncle, Sir Lucien Adare 1” “What?” The man’s face grows ashy as he looks back at her. Nay, it grows dangerous. “I thought,” says she coldly, quietly, though her heart is beginning to die within her, “that it would be well for her to know something of her mother’s people.” “You thought that for her. What did you think for me? You,” he comes closer to her, “you heard what I-said the other day. ' You knew what I meant. I did not even hide from you that I loved her. When did she get this invitation?*.’ “Last Friday!” She answers him clearly, and still her eyes are fixed on his. And still she stands straight and firm before him without a shadow of outward »fear. “And this is Tuesday.” His face grows terrible now. “For four days you kept this secret. For four days you knew she was going to stay in the house with Hilary, Adare, the man who you think loves her —and yet ” He makes a sudden, swift backward movement of his arm. .( “Take that, you traitor,” says ■ i.

ing her in his blind fury to the ground. The room is alwost dark when she comes to herself again. Dragging herself to her feet by the aid of a chair near her, she stands, tottering a little, trying to bring back her senses whilst wiping, vaguely, the blood from her mouth. Then all too suddenly it comes back to her—the scene with him, the cowardly blow. “He didn’t, mean it,” breathes she through her poor, swollen lips. “He was always hot tempered, poor boy! ’ He is sorry now, I know. He —did not ipean it.” V Even in this woman—hard, cruel, unprincipled—the touch of the Divine dwells! Love! And the desire to pardon, ” “Forgive them that despitefully use you.” No. He had not meant it ! CHAPTER XIII. Amber, following the footman the great stone hall to the drawing room, is conscious that her heart is sinking within her. Why had she not told May the exact hour she would drive over? Then she would have been met by someone, by—at all events by May. Mrs. Clarence has come forward and made friends with her in a very charming fashion. It has occurred t® Mrs. Clarence that she may be useful. Col. Clarence is coming home within six months anyway, and to get rid of Everard before that auspicious occasion seems a good thing in her eyes. She had not failed 'to notice Everard’s intent glance at the girl as she came in. Everard is always intently 'glancing at some girl or other, and then —coming back to her; six months is a short time. She had better shunt him finally over this “new girl,” so as to have him off the grounds before the Colonel puts in his next most undesirable appearafice. “We were singing,” says Dolly, “as you came in. I hope it sounded like that.” “But—go . on, Dolly!” says Mr. McGrath, making signs to. his sister and frowning at her anxiously. “What we really, wish to say. Miss O’Connell, is that what you propose to say yourself, but —Go on, Dolly !” “I really shan’t,” says Mrs. Clarence, laughing, “It’s sometimes bad enough what you waht me to say is beyond me. You must not mind my brother, Amber. May I call you Amber? He. is not responsible always for his actions.” Even as they laugh the door again opens to admit someone. Someone who puts an end to the laugh instanter. In a word, Sir Lucien. It is so unlike him, to approach his guests at this hour, at indeed, any hour when he can decently elude them, that even Mrs. Clarence, who is equal to most things, stares as if 'a first-class, highly l ap-to-date spook stands before her. He advances up the room to where Amber is sitting near May, careless of the queer little silence that has followed his entrance. Everard and Hilary make a pretense at conversation, making vigorous efforts to get Mr. McGrath to join them in this attempt, but Owen scorns at keeping up appearances; he even frowns and winks; he waves them off, as it were. He is indeed Consumed With a fearful joy—an undisguised curiosity as to what the entrance of his. host at this moment may mean. ■ . The tall, grim old man, lean and cruelfaced, but singularly handsome, has now reached Amber’s side. He had taken no notice whatever of anyone else in the room as he walked up—and standing motionless,’looks down at the girl. “You are my niece”—he pauses; the pause is insulting-“I am told.” * Hilary makes a movement as if to go to her, but Mrs. Clarence lays her hand upon his arm. She is very clever. Amber rises slowly to her feet. Her face .is. always* so" clearly white that the little additional pallor that now upon it is not sufficient to raise joy -in the breast of the one who is bent on embarrassing her. “I really don’t know.” says Amber in slow, even tones. ,“You are my uncle —I am told !”—the pause is identical—“but how can I be sure?” (To be.continued.) /A Beauty Parlor. 'There-was a long silence. “Gerald,’ she said, breaking the monotony. “what is a ‘beauty -parlor.’?” “A ‘beaufy parlor,’ my dear,” he whispered, moving closer, “Why, this is a ‘beauty parlor.’ ” “TKb idea! Why so?” "Why, any parlor would be a beauty parlor if you were in it.” ~ .. And after that the rest was easy. She accepted him on the spot. Taking in the Soil. The automobile was going fifty miles an hour. - ■ ' “We are now passing through a beautiful payt of the country,” shouted the chauffeur in the front seas. The tourist swallowed another pint of grit and dust. “H’m!” he ejaculated between coughs, "it seems as though the country is passing through me.” Large Attendance Assured, “And now,- boys,’ said the teacher with a mild reprimand, “I suppose there is no way of getting you to attend school in cold weather.” “Dere is one way,” spoke up the big boy in the red jumper. “And what way Is that?” “Why, move the school house over the lake and give us skates instead of pencils.” Almost Congealed. Eva—And you really think he loves you? Edna—l know it Didn’t he propose on his knees? Eva —Oh, that’s nothing! Many lovers do the same. Edna—Yes, but he proposed while strapping on my skates and his knees were on the ice twenty minutes. True Test. She—Was De Plunk’s wedding a larger affair than the Sweelenis’? He—Yes. De Plunk’s had fifty detectives to watch the presents, whereas Sweelenis’ only had forty-four detectives to watch theirs.

■ '' - _ ip BMEWASMI®'

“Miss,” or “Mrs.”? ? A number of unmarried Englishwpmsn, who have reached an age about which it would be ungenerous to, inquire too closely, have been complaining in the papers of the rule that all, married women shall be called “Mrs.” and all unmarried women “Miss,” no matter what their ages may be. They point out the fact that a boy, who is ‘Master” in his early life becomes ‘Mr.” by, the mere lapse of time, whether he marries or not; but that a girl, who begins as “Miss,” continues to be “Miss” until she marries. ' This was not always the case, as the curious may discover by looking up the history of ’“Miss,” “Mrs.” and ‘Mistress.” . The, Englishwomen maintain that the title by which they are called, as spinsters, is not conducive to the deference which is accorded to married women, and 6 which they demand for themselves. The remedy they propose—that all women be called ‘Mrs.” after reaching the age of w—would be of doubtful efficacy. Mefi would , go on calling their women ac? jualntances “Miss” until they received what the newspapers call “official” notice that the age limit was passed. The old “darky’’ woman stated a fact of general application when she said that the happiest person is an old maid ‘when she has quit strugglin’.” The woman who cares whether she is called “Miss” or “Mrs.” when her hair is turning, is still “strugglin’.”—Youth’s Companion. Girl Deputy Marshal. Miss Beulah Reynolds is probably the only woman in the United States who has her name on the government

Tay roll ’as. a debuI ty marshal. “Beu- | lah Reynolds, depu- ; ty United States , marshal, in the ► eastern district of Oklahoma," is the way it reads. Miss ■ Reynolds is allowed carry a a sixshooter in her belt. Miss Reynolds ■came to Muscogee from Moberly. Mo., at the opening of , Oklahoma, and soon made friends with a number of poli-

1 Im MISS KEYNOLUS.

ticians. Their influence secured her a position as stenographer in the marshal's office, and she was later sworn in as a deputy. She is empowered to serve papers, and, if necessary, to go into the field and make arrests. If You Want tii Be Loved. Don't contradict people, even if you're sure you are right. Don’t be inquisitive about the affairs of eVen your most intimate friend. Don't under-rate anything because you don't possess it. Don't believe that everybody else in -tile world is’lnjppler than you. Don’t conclude that you have never had any opportunities-in life. Don’t believe all the evils you hear. Don’t be rude to your inferiors in social position. Don’t repeat gossip, even if it does interest a crowd. Don't jeer at anybody’s religious belief.—Christian World. Frcek of Pongee. ' 'd J VlsF—y ■ The accompanying illustration shows a model in pongee in the natural tone, with hand embroidery in Oriental silks In various shades about the yoke and on the sleeves. The skirt of the gown was in a gored circular and was in walking length and was without trimming. The bodice was laid in plaits and small tucks, and had a gulmpe and undersleeves .of filet lace. Linen in white with colored embroidery or in color embroidered in deeper tones of the same shade would also make up very attractively after this design. A« to Borrowing. A woman borrowed eggs of a neighbor when eggs were at 24 cents a do|r an. She returned the eggs, the same

number, when the pri/e had fallen to 12 cents. The quesjfion is, Has she paid her neighborly miebt? This problem is said to. be vexing a Kansas town, and the settlement of it involves a .great principle. Shall the borrower of a cup of molasses, tablespoonful of butter, a hod of coal return the loan in kin and quantity, or figure the equivalent in the market price? The satisfactory answer is that repayment should be made before the market has time to shift. Bid- the controversy will not arise if there is no borrowing. Some of the jauntiest of sjsirt models have ’just one wide band, which generally is ent biaswise. The three-inch girdle, With round pearl buckle at the front, is worn with the street walking costumb. One of the most popular materials for summer is dotted Swiss, and this year it is shown in all sorts of designs and colors. The big how with ends which is td be worn at the back has appeared in

TWO FASHIONABLE FROCKS. Irrk Vi; IhiJi Im \ \ '* v a 1

Paris and threatens to make; every woman look like the fireside cat. Tulle is chosen for the veil in nine cases out of ten. even when the bride can afford lace. It is soft .and becoming and drapes beautifully from the wreath of orange blossoms. . Reefer coats accompany most of-the smartest of the mohair and pongee skirts of the type and are certain to win favar with slight women who gaze enviously, after those to whom the natty cutaways; are so becoming. All-white dresses’’(Promise to be mote fashionable than evAr. The finer grades of mull are elaborately trimmed with insertion of all widths,, possibly four or five different widths Appearing in one skirt, often alternately placed with medallion insertion. The vogue for pale soft dove and mist gray, with brilliant splashes of color, sueh as are supplied by embroidery of almost oriental magnificence, will be pre-eminent. The alliance of slate gray with parsley green will also be in high favor. v Faced cloths are more beautiful than ever, soft, fine and finished with a satiny surface that gives an lidded charm by reason of the variety in shade and sheeu. for all these cloths an? required for draping purposes and mtist be of the finest quality. Belts of plaited tnfflas represent the latest addition to the smart taiWr-made costume of the moment, the ra'ffla being woven and interwoven in as many as nine or twelve strands and \ caught in front with a huge buckle ox the same shape, like the frame of a/ slate. Health and Beauty’ Ulints. \ A , Take exercise in the open\u r daily; air is all-essential. w Try washing the hands ln\ water to remove the uhpleasaffMmors, such as onions or fish. Nothing can be more refreshing to wearied limbs than a bath’ in which there has been thrown a tjablespoonful of dry mustard. As soon as the bath

> is over there is felt a delicious 1;low - asd a perfect refreshment of mind and body. ■ Ordinarily when the skffi of the face is in good condition it should be washed twice a day, morning and night before going to bed. d . Tight sleeves and tight finger , rings are a frequent source of red hands, and the only remedy for this is to remove the irritating cause. ■ No application is better for lusterless hair than salt. Rub well into the roots of the hair at night,tthen tie up in a large handkerchief or wear a nightcap. Brush out the salt-in the morning. The secret' of standing..and: walking erect consists in keeping the chin away from the breast; this throws the head upward and backward, and the shoulders will naturally settle backward in their true position. The skin taken out of an egg shell ; is a simple but good remedy for sore eyes. Just put on top ■of lid and bandage over it, and you will be surI prised how soon the swelling will go i down and the pain will leave the eye. Useful Tears. ! Tears have their use, apart from the ’ crying aspect, inasmuch as they re- ’ fresh and wash the .eyes of 1 animals and birds who live exposed to the dust. i The eye requires to be kept clear and i clean, and tears perform this duty.

A striking example of this is shown when’ the eye is hurt. It at once commences to water, and often this natural method of cleansing relieves the pain and removes the cause of the disnr The sailor is the favorite among hats. The one at the top of this sketch is a eream-colored straw, with a wide straight brim. Around the crown is a band of ’cretonne, cut in scallops and edged with deep yellow cord. Above the bands are folds of maline in a rich orange color. The bow at the 111 H side, is black velvet ribbon, which extends around the crown below the cretonne. The other hat is a navy blue straw, trimmed with matched quills and a scarf of folded, silk. A Home Duty. Wise —We are founding a home for neglected children. . ’ Husband —Well, you l can make a good start with the ones in your own house.—Afeggendorfei \ I

• < SOMETHING FQR E ir ERYBODY | I ' The Forestry Service lias administration over 164,000,000 ac>es of land. ■ Despite lower tolls, 1-he receipts .of the Suez Canal were greater last year than ever before. The Salvation Army l as a factory in Europe where musical instruments are made for its-members. In China the propertfy of the parent must be equally shared by the children, on the death es the former. ( The greatest daily change of tenJper ature to be found on ithe earth’s surface is in Arizona. Thyre Is frequently a change of 80 degrees In twelve hours. Ivy growing over ijhe walls of a house renders the structure cool in summer and warm In -winter. It also • keeps the walls dry. . It is, however, very destructive to woodwork, forcing the joints apart. The famous ruins of Tintern Abbey, Monmouthshire, England, are being restored ■ as far as the sous great arches are concerned...-and ifiore excavations are being made around it in hope of finding other’buildings. Bryn Mawr College was founded by Joseph W. Taylor, who began the erection of the college buildings in 1879. He died in 1886 and 14ft an endowment of SBOO,OOO for the continuance of the work he had begun —a college. so? women. Deep-water diving pan be carried oh with safety to a dept|h of 210 feet provided proper precautions, are taken and suitable appliances used, according to a report of the British admiralty committee appointed to investigate the subject. ; In the erection of a railroad bfldgi over the Susquehanna River,at Havre de Grace, the American Bridge Company will make use (if yrhat is probably the largest wood blocks ever made. II has been made especially for the work, and weighs. 1,350 pounds, measures ■ thirty Inches across the shell and is rated at sixty tons capacity. The shackle is a solid forging three and e half Inches thick. ' * “I don’t think ’jbsen knew inuct ibout dramatic arl;” said the blond* young woman who had joined an Ibser class. “I’ve just been to see The Master Builder*, and they* wore, the same costumes alt the way through.’ Her ; istoninshed instructor swallowed quickly and responded: “Don’t judge ibsen by one play. In ‘Hedda Gabler’ they wear morning; afteraooiji and wening clothes. It’s really ! quite , Iressy.” \ Celluliod is a plastic material com wsed of guncotton and camphor. The Suncotton, or nltro'cellulose, is made by . treating tissue paper with a mixture >f nitric aqd salphuric acids, (the jroduct is mixed with camphor and rations pigments tq produce the desired color, and the'materials are thoroughly by means of heatid rolls. It is subsequently submitted x> great pressure. It is afterward molded intb form by means of heated •lies, unddr pressure. It is very hard ind .Two principal theories have been ad- : ranced for the erection of the pyramids of Egypt. One, that each king, >n ascending the throne, began to build i pyramid as a tomb and monunent to blmelf. This was usually laid out upon ' i comparatively small scale, so' that If the builder bail but a short reign his tomb might be complete. As time passed successive layers werp added ind the size of the monu mept' was thus proportioned to the length of the builder’s reign. This theory is combated by Petrie, who believed that each pyramid was begun and carried out upon a definite design of size and arrangement The greatest riyer in the world in flood of waters is the Amazon, and it is one of■ the Ibifst useful 'owing, to the character of th<; region throug-h which It flows. What is classed as the longest system in the world Is the Missis-sippi-Missouri, Jvhich is also the most useful, as greaii cities have grown up along its. banks. The Nile, ranks with these, is one of the longest rivers in the world, but it is not especially valuable as a navigible stream. Its chief benefit'to the country is from the immense deposits of mud carried down in the annual floods and which have made the region Overflowed one of the most fertile in the world. More duels are fought in Germany than in any other country, ' anil Jena and Gottingen are the cities yffiich take the lead. It Is, said that a duel takes place In Gottingen every day, and on one occasion some years aj;o, twelve combats took place in the twehtyTour hours. Jena’s greatest numter for the day iis twenty-one. The German empire has abciut duels a year; France has abojit 1,000 combats which may be regardetl as such ; Italy runs to about 270 per • annum. In ten years it boasted of 2,759 meetings, of which 947 originated in newspaper articles or public letters,. The great majority of the duels were' fought with swords; only one with revolvers. —Pall Mall Gazette. i i .. ;l i— Shakespeare's Last Illness. According to A tradition handed, down by Ward, the vicar of Stratford, Shakespeare’:! Hast illness was a fever ' brought on by a “merry mpeflng” with Dra.'rton and Ben Jonson. Another authority, Halllwell-Phllllps, says that the great post died of typhoid, caused by the filth and bad drainage about New Place. Like nearly everything else about .Shakespeare, the question of the character bf his last illness can- be answered oily coniecturally. ... UM:'