Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 16, 1897, Page 6

BY MAORICE H. HERVEY CHAPTER XI—(Continued.) “J may be as daft as they say I am,” “he muttered, “but that lady is dafter than ever I was! Making for the bridge, too! Easy to guess what that means. But you don’t do it, my lady— not if Daft Bill can hobble up in time to stop you!” Yana walked on to the bridge—that bridge which has offorded a last foot- hold to so many miserable beings—in- tending to take the fatal leap from a spot, and so strike the river m. But, after the solitude ef the cmbankment, she was unpre- pared for the still considerable trattic -and nun:bers of persons passing to and fro. Above all, she desired to accomplish “her purpose unseen; yet how could she do so in sight of all these people? She must wait; later on they would dis- .perse, and she would have the bridge to herself. She noticed a stone seat which would afford her a convenient -step to the parapet, at the right mo- ment; and she walked aimlessly up cand down until she should find herself alone. Twice she was accosted by be- lated wayfarers who bade her “Good night,” but receiving no response they pursued their way without further mo- Jesting her. It dreary work, this waiting to compass Death unseen; but Zana did not heed the time. She knew that, sooner or later, her opportunity would come—it mattered little at what hour. Not until Big Ben’s distant boom “Now, See Here,” Panted Her Res- cuer. had given forth 1 o’clock did she dis- cern a chance of mounting the parapet unnoticed. She made out dimly the huddled up figure of a man, apparently asleep in one corner of the stone seat, but her swift movements would be lit- tle likely to arouse him. “Father, forgive me!” she once more prayed. “Forgive me, as I forgive him!” And so, her last thoughts cen- tering upon her recreant lover, she stepped lightly on to the seat and ‘thence sprang on to the parapet. So swift and agile were her move- ments that Daft Billy, keenly as he was on the alert, was within an ace of being too late to save her from the death she sought so eagerly. But Prov- fidence so willed it that his trembling arms were clasped round her knees ere she had taken the fatal leap, and that she was half-dragged, half-fell to the ik, ee here, lady,” panted her , “I've got you hard and fast, and if you don’t promise me faithfully . to go home and give up this idea, I'll give you in charge of a policeman, so help me, I will4” And he retained a trembling grip of Zana’s arm, await- ing her reply. “You are like all the rest,” she re- torted bitterly. “I sought to do you good, to make your life happier, and you repay “me by cruel ingratitude. Man, man! Why could you not leave me alone to find peace and rest at Tasty” “Because I don’t hold with girls, whatever their errors or misfortunes may have been, ruining their souls for all eternity by self-murder,”’ was the cripple’s reply; and somehow the poor distorted face seemed to light up wit a fantastic kind of beauty as he spoke the words. “I’m but a miserable, daft sort of chap,” he added, “and I can’t think of most things. But I know that syou were about to do a wicked and ac- -eursed thing. Here! You gave me swhat I daresay is a heap of money, avhen I only asked you to buy a half- penny paper. Take it back. I’m nota deggaf, and I’m not a thief—if Iam a bit queer in the head. Take it and promise me you'll go home.” Something ‘in the words and manner of this outcast newsvendor touched Yana as the eloquence of a Westmin- ster canon might have failed to do. Conscience whispered to her that he was right, that she had, in sooth, been about to commit a crime in the eyes alike of God and man. Had she ef- feeted her purpose her body would now be lying in the Thames mud; but was it certain that even the Divine mercy extended to self-destruction? In the action of her half-witted, un- couth companion she seemed to recog- nize the guidance of an Almighty hand stretched forth to save her. He was Joyal, too, and honest, this human «wreck; he disdained to accept what to ‘him would mean a large fortune, be- -etowed in the recklessness of contemp- plated death. His words were those of principle and his deeds those of an honest man. Therefore, she felt that -she could trust him, despite his almost «repellent exterior. “I have no home,” she said to him; at least none that I can return to.” “That’s odd,” was his comment, “very odd. Plenty of money and no hhome—you can return to. It’s clean beyond me; but then I’m duller-witted than other folks. But, anyhow, will you promise not to do that again?” And he pointed significantly to the par- apet. “Yes,” answered Zana wearily, “I ie. “Come, that’s better!” the said, releas- fng her arm. “Now put these purses in -your pocket and try and think where * you'd better go. You can’t stop here, nor yet in the streets all night.” /? Finding him invincibly | resolute about the money, Zana replaced it in her pocket, as ; but where to procure lodging f e night she did not know. On no sideration would she return to Mrs. Ratten’s. Alone and without luggage she could not seek shelter at that hour in the Craven street hotel, much less in any other hotel. “I don’t know where to go,” she said, with a weary sigh. “There are strong reasons why I cannot return to my last lodgings, and it is too late to se- cure others.” “Then,” rejoined Daft Billy, “what do you say to Snaggs’ Rents?” “What are Suaggs’ Rents?’ queried Zana in hopeless bewilderment. “Oh, nothing very genteel, you may be sure,” he explained apologetically, “since I live there; but better than nothing on a cold night, and Joe's mother will manage.some sort of a shake-down for you. She’s a rare one, is Joe’s mother. Why, what’s the mat- ter? You're all of a shiver!” A sudden deadly chill had struck Zana. “I am yery, very cold,” she re- plied. A sudden, deadly chill had -struck Zana. “I am very, very cold,” she re- plied. “Then wrap your cloak well around you and follow close on my heels,” counselled her new adviser, shuffling along at a fairly brisk pace. Ever and anon he turned his head as though to assure luuself that she was behind him; and presently he halted near a coffee stall. “You look perished with cold,” he said pityingly. “A cup of hot coffee will put some warmth into you, and if you'll wait here in the shadow I'll bring you one.” He might have added that he him- self was both cold and hungry; Yat having only twopence halfpeify tn his pocket he kept these facts to himself. He brought Zana the coffee and a slice of not very appetizing-looking cake. “And yourself?’ she asked, with a wan little smile. “Oh, I'll do well enough till we reach the Rents,” he answered hastily. “There's plenty to eat and drink there. You'd be surprised how well Joe and his mother look after things.” Simple as she was, Zana could not help seeing through this harmless falsehood; Daft Billy’s friend Joe was, in all probability, as ragged and pov- erty-stricken as he was himseif. For the second time she placed Ler purse in his hand. “I gave you this: before,” she said earnestly, “because I saw that you were in want, and after all it contains only a little gold and some silver. I gave you the pocketbook, which con- taizs a much larger sum, as an after- thought—because I had, as I believed, no further need of it. You have taught me that it is my duty to live, not to die; and to do this I must have the means of living. But the purse you must and shall keep.” Daft Billy paused awhile in thought. dy,” he answered at le h, “have it your own way.” And having so decided he gave practical ef- fect to his words by making a hasty but rapid meal himself, and by pur- chasing a large paper bagful of pro- visions for home consumption. They then resumed their way. Onward through dingy, narrow, _ ill-lighted streets, through slums and_ alleys, characteristic of that mysterious re- gion which lies between Holborn and Fleet street, until they arrived at a large, dreary-looking tenement house. s is Snagg’s Rents,” remarked Billy. “There are four flights of stairs to be climbed and you'll have to be careful, for some of the steps are bro- ken.” = Scarcely able to repress a little shud- der of disgust, Zana followed him up the stairs, dimly lighted at each land- ing by evil-smelling lamps. Finally her guide reached a door situated, as he had said, upon the fourth story. “You won't mind waiting here a min- ute or two, will you lady?” he inquir- ed nervously. “You see, I'd like to give Joe’s mother a chance of tidying the place up a bit.” And taking her assent for granted, A Worn, Poorly Clad Woman Con- fronted Her. he entered the room, half-closing the door behind him, Zana heard sounds as of a ‘hurried, whispered conversa- tion, and then a worn-looking, poorly clad woman confronted her. “Pray, come inside, miss,” she said, kindly. “I caunot quite understand what Billy has been trying to explain to me; but it is enough that you are in trouble and need shelter for the night. Our accommodation is very rough, but you are heartily welcome to share it, such as it is.” The tears welled up into Zana’s eyes. I feel weak and ill,” she-answered, faintly, “and I know not how to’thank you for your hospitality. Please do not let me cause you any unn trouble. I think if I might le down for a few hours—anywhere—I should be well again.” “That you shall, miss,” rejoined her hostess, “on my bed, in the next room. But your hands are deadly cold, and you are shivering from head to foot. We must see about getting you a bit warm and comfortable. Joe! Wake up and see to the fire. 'Phus adjured, a wizen-faced lad arose from a rough shake-down of matting, in a corner, and proceeded, with lavish disregard of a scanty stock of fuel, to coax the smouldering fire in- to a blaze. His mother prepared some cocoa, which, supplemented by the con- tents of Billy’s bag, formed a banquet of rare excellence in that humble. men- age. Zana, installed upon the least- ricketty chair, beside the fire, forced herself to drink some cocoa, but she could not face the saveloys and mut- ton pies. “Must have done rare business to- night, Bill,’ remarked the lad, eyeing the spread with hunery appreyval. “You may well say that, Joe,” as- sented Billy, with a significant glance in Zana’s direction. “I just saved a lady from—a nasty fall, and she re- warded me handsomely. Here, Mrs. Sims, this purse was given to me, and I pass it over to you, same as usual.” “Why, Bill!’ exclaimed Mrs. Sims, after inspecting the contents of the purse, “the lady ‘nust have made 2 inistake; there is close on six pounds here!” Whereupon Zana felt herself called upon to explain that she was the lady “Oh, I Daresay I shall Grace Him Kasily Enough.” in question, and what. se far from hav- ing made any iaistake, she owed Billy a debt of gratitude that no gould possibiy Yop en pride has but strait limits, and, thas assured that this handsome windfall had been honestly ccme by, Mrs. Sims demurred no longer to profiting by it. Upon one point, however, she insist: ed with invincible determination: Z: na must and should occupy her bed for the remainder of the night. Too weak and ill to dispute the matter, Zana yielded, little suspecting that the de- mon, Influenza had seized her in its dire grip, and that she was destined to remain a close prisoner in Snagg's Rents for many weeks to come.. ’ CHAPTER XII. Josinh Finds a Fresh Job. Meanwhile the “Mystery of Ernest Norton,” as it came to be called in newspaper paragraphs, had, so far, de- fied the efforts of Scotland Yard and of Mr. Josiah Skinner to unravel. The missing porter had, indeed, been traced to an unsavory den in Clerken- well; but the evidence elicited from him merely proved him to be a liar as well as a drunkard. Driven into a cor- ner, he had to confess that he had torn up the telegram intrusted to him, and had subsequently lied to the station-, master to save himself from reprimand or dismissal. “Well,” remarked Josiah to a Scot- land Yard confrere, “this absolves the missing man from what looked like a clear proof of treachery, at all events. As he never got the telegram, he could not have known the girl was following him, and so, of course, he didn’t mee: her.” 'That’s so,” ass-nted the other one, Wicks by tame, “end jit doesn’t exact- ly favor the voluntary disappearance theory.” “No,” said Josiah, “it doesn’t. In fact. I pretty well g..ve up that theory when I found out he had been person- ated at tne bank. There’s a strong fia- vor of foul play about the case now, Dick.” Two cabmen had called at Exeter street, each claiming to have driven a gentleman corresponding more or less to the description given. But much troublesome inquiry as to the subse- quent movements and identity of these gentlemen merely proved them both to be total strangers to Ernest Norton. Assuming the latter to have reached Waterloo, all further trace of him yan- ished at that station as though the earth had opened and swallowed him up. The only possible conclusion at which the detectives could arrive was that he had not quitted the station at all, but had proceeded by. rail to some destination unknown and, apparently, undiscoverable. As for the man with the piercing gray eyes, who had ‘successfully hood- winked the bank manager, the chances of tracing him upon a more general de- scription, were too remote to be seri- (ously entertained. The only reasonable possibility of ever obtaining a clue to his whereabouts seemed to lie in the contingency that he might, sooner or later, seck: to negotiate another draft. Upon the whole, therefore, the case bade fair to take its place in the limbo of insoluble mysteries. Scotland Yard shrugged its shoulders, and Josiah Skinner would probably have done the same but for the arrival one day at his office of a portly dame, who announced herself as Mrs. Martha Baxter, of the George Hotel, Southampton. “I- know from Miss Zana’s letters.” said the worthy landlady, proceeding straight to business, “that you have been helping her to find that scamp who deserted her, and the very last time she wrote she confessed that her eyes had at length been opened to the man’s real character. That is all very well; and I was glad to hear it. But what ‘thas become of the girl herself? I have fretted and worrited about her until I could stand it no longer, and I’m come up to London to find her. Where is she? She left the hotel in Craven street weeks ago. Where has she gone to?” “Ym sure I don’t know,” acknowl- edgéd Josiah. “It was no part of my business;to watch her movements, al- though I confess I was a bit surprised at the suddenness of her departure.” “Well, instead of wasting your time looking for that wretch,” gejoined Mrs. Baxter resolutely, “you must find her for me. I'll pay your charges, what- ever they are.” age te » “On, 1d y I shall trace her easily enough,” said Josiah; “and, as you seem anxious about the young Jady I will put the matter in hand at once. Leave me your London address and [ will call or send you word.” “I am staying at the same hotel L recommended Miss Zana to,” answered Mrs. Baxter. “Do ind her as quickly as possible, like a good soul. You've no idea how things go to rack and ruin in the hotel when I have to leave Bax- ter in charge.” e “All right, Mrs. Baxter,’ assented Josiah good-humoredly; “I'll do. wm best, never fear.” * é Zana’s thin device of taking a cab at the station caused the detective but small delay; and, well within twenty- four hours, he and Mrs. Baxter were deposited at Mrs. Ratten’s abode. Mrs. Ratten was at first disposed to be sulky and uncommunicative. She knew no such person at Miss Zana; she doubted if she would receive a lodger bearing such an uncouth name, inasmuch as she prided herself upon the respectability of her house. Upon this last point the detective’s trained perceptions. at once led him to have serious doubts—doubts which a more careful observation of surroundings and further questioning of the land- lady by no means ‘tended to allay. Then he showed bis teeth. “Possibly you knew her by a differ- ent name,” he remarked gruffly, “but you certainly let rooms here to a young lady, of whom I am in search. To save further trouble let me tell you at once that I am a detective, and that any evasion on your part may have un- pleasant consequences.” Women of the Ratten stripe entertain a very wholesome dread of the secret police, for a variety of obvious rea- sons. “A young woman calling herself Miss Clifford did occupy my drawing rooms,” she admitted with evident re- luctance. “She left quite suddenly and without notice nearly a fortnight ago. I have been expecting she would re- turn if only to fetch her clothes and portmanteau; but I have seen nothing of her since.” “Have you no idea why she left thus suddenly?” demanded Josiah sternly. “No,’’ was the reply. “She and an- other young lady, also a lodger, went out together and Miss Clifford never returned. That’s all I know.” “Then I must see this other lodger,” said Josiah promptly. Daisy Fitzclarence was accordingly interviewed. She and Miss Clifford had dined with a friend at the Maison Doree in Soho. She had left them to- gether after dinner and had seen noth- ing of Miss Clifford since. “Did Miss Clifford’s failure to re- turn here strike you as suspicious or strange?” queried Josiah. “No,” answered Daisy, with a hard little laugh, “I can’t say it did. I have heard of that sort of thing before.” It was with some difficulty that Ju- siah Skinner succeeded in persuading irate Mrs. Baxter to hold her peace. “We can do nothing more here at pres- “I Fear I Cannot Move Yet.” ent,” he urged, “and our next inquiries must be made in Soho.” Little more was to be learned at the Maison Doree. The head waiter told them that he remembered the gentle- man who bad been compelled to retire to rest owing to sudden indisposition shortly after dinner. The dark woman had taken a hansom to Charing Cross. Did he know the gentleman’s name and address who dined with the ladies?, No; he knew him only by sight as an occasional patron of the house. He left carly in the morning, and had not since visited the establishment. Waiters are a discreet race. “So the end of ail these inquiries is that we get back to Charing Cross no wiser than when we started!” exclaim- ed Mrs. Baxter in bitter disappoint- ment. “What is the use of knowing where Miss Zana has been? I want to find out where she is now.” “See here, Mrs. Baxter,” replied the detective gravely, “what we have seen and heard to-day means more to me than it probably does to you; and, to tell you the truth, I don’t like the look of things at all.” “What do you mean?” faltered Mrs. Baxter, alarmed at her companion’s serious manner. “Just this,” explained Josiah. “Miss Zana went into, or was inveigled into, that house at Hammersmith, which, from many unmistakable signs, I am quite certain is of a very shady de- scription. How she allowed herself to be persuaded into dining with a gentIe- man at the Maison Doree is quite unac- countable. But, depend upon it, her eyes were opened to the existence‘of | some foul treachery at that dinner, and that is why she never revisited Ham- mersmith, even to remove her belong- ings. She probably drove to Charing Cross as being the locality with which she was best acquainted.” “Poor lamb!” wailed Mrs. Baxter. “Oh, sir, is there no hope of finding her?’ And the kind-hearted woman fairly broke down. © “Yes,” answered Josiah, “there is— a very good chance, too. Luckily we know the date of this dinner and al- most the exact time when she must have reached Charing Cross. She is the sort of a girl to attract notice, and the waiter gave me a description of how she was dressed. 1 wish I felt as sure of tracing Ernest Norton as I do of finding her”. “Bother Ernest Norton!” snapped out Mrs. Baxter, greatly’ reassured by the uggesti detective’s words. “He’s at the bot-| Yet when she was well enough to make tom of all the mischief. How soon do you expect to have news of her?” “Impossible to say,” was the reply. “Perhaps within a few hours, perhaps | not for days. Were I you, madam, I’d return to Southampton. I'll telegrauh when [have found her. No, thank you. | Never mind about expenses now. Be- sides, there is still a balance in Miss Zana’s favor to be worked out.” And so Martha Baxter returned to Seuthampton to await the issue of events. “This is a queer game of hide-and- seek,” soliloquized Josiah as he pro- ceeded to set his fresh inquiries afsot. “I expect I shall get lost myself neti nd leave Dick Wicks the job of get- ting on the trail. Good sort, the old girl; heart is in the right place. Snug business, too, a good hotel. Pity she’s not a widow.” CHAPTER XIII. Snage’s Rents. Great was Mrs. Sim’s dismay when she realized that her unexpected guest was smitten down with an illness ‘| and patrician patronymic vhorency, which made it an obvious impossi y for her to move from ihe bed upon which she lay. It was not that the good woman was grudging of her hos- uitality, or that she bemoaned the in- convenience (to say nothing of the tem- Zana Was Suilictently Convatexe: porary loss of her own bed.) What chiefly grieved her was the poverty- stricken appearance of Zana’s sur- roundings; for Mrs. Sims had known better days, and, like most women who have fallen upon evil times, she was very sensitive upon this score. Zana was gréatly distressed when she understood how helpless she had beconic in cne short night. She even insisted upon making a desperate ef- fort to dress herself and seek a refuge elsewhere, but her throbbing brain and aching limbs’ proved unequal to the task, and she was fain, at Mrs: Sims’ bidding, to sink back exhausted in the bed. “I fear I cannot move yet,” she said faintly, “and that it may be some days before my strength returns.” “You shall stay here as long as may be necessary,” answered Mrs. Sims, “and I shall nurse you as well as I ean in this wretched attic. I will get Dr. Smith to come and see you pres- ently.” Zana thanked her feebly but grate- fully. “In my pocketbook,” she whispered, “you will find some money—more than a hundred pounds, I think. If Iam to be thrown thus''on ‘your hands you must allow me at least to have my own y in the expenses.” ding her nervously resolute on this score and doubtless moved by a desire to make a more creditable dis- play in the doctor's eyes, Mrs. Sims yielded; and, with the assistance of Joe and Billy, procured a second bed- stead and sundry articles of furniture from a neighboring second-hand dealer, which speedily wrought a great-change for the better in the appearance of the rooms. Nay, when to all these invest- ments were added several pots of flow- ers actually in bloom, and a wooden cage containing a bird, reputed to be a thrush, the good woman's heart swelled with a proud satisfaction to which it had long been a stranger. Dr. Smith’s report was not of an alarming nature. The patient was suf- feriug from an attack of influenza, in- duced by a chill and attended by the usual feverish symptoms. She must be kept warm, have a light, nourishing diet and take her medicine regularly. He would look in again from time to time to see how she was progressing. And the time slipped steadily, if somewhat drearily, by until the mal- ady had run its course and Zana wis sufficiently convalescent to exchange her bed for a chair beside the fire dur- ing the daytime, and to take thought as to her movements in the future. Daft Billy’s behavior throughout her illness had been more than canine in its devotion. Half a dozen times a day he would desert his newsvending mis- sion to stea! back and inquire how she was, and whether his services as mes- Senger anywhere to fetch anything were needed. And he was neyer so happy as when Mrs. Sims humored him by sending him off hot-footed to buy fruit or some little delicacy to tempt the invalid’s appetite. “I de- clare, Miss Clifford,” she would tel! Zana, with a laugh, “I believe Billy is hopelessly in love with you, in his own crazy fashior.” And Zana would smile “Surveyed Himself in the Mirror.” back at the incongruous s ion. her appearance in the sitting room, Billy rarely came back until she had once more retired for the night. “It's e1 h to give her the blues to ses a SaTeCroe like me about the place,” he told Mrs. Sims in confidence. _ “Nonsense, ” was the good- tured reply. “ know you are 4 prime favorite oe Miss, ‘ord. She immensely.” eee oot really think she does?” he asked, with p! eagerness. 2 ‘Then, he weut to 2 piece of broken mirror and, haying surveyed himself therein, heaved a weary sigh, and hob- bled away to secure his batch of spe- cial editions. Who knows? Perhaps the deformed waif did love the ‘k- eyed beauty, whose life he had Saved, just as better-fayored men are wont to love beantiful women; for love is blind and strikes us all, handsome and ugly alike. But if so, simple as he » he had wit enough to keep his secret loc’ ed in his own breast. 3 Now, upon the third story, and im- mediately below Mrs. Sims, lived w family rejoicing in the high-sounding of Mont- or, at least, that was the name by which the head of the family had for years been known in minor theatrical circles as a ballet master, and: by which his three daughters we still known whenever they were lucky enough to secure engagemen\ In his Gay Montmorency pere had done very fairly well; but one dark night he 1 been run over by 2 runa- way cab, and so crippled for life; ana ant his occupation being thus gone he his davghters bad gradually drifted to a third story in Snags’s Rents. Be- tween them and Mrs. Sims there ex’ ed a sort of neighborly good-fe: common enough amongst the poor, which usually finds expression in » loan of domestic utensils or even at a pinch of small sums of cash. E ‘And it so happened that at this ticular time the Montmorency 1! sources were ata desperately low eb! whereus, thanks to Zana, those of Mr Sims v » nicest unusuatly ¢ Whence it came about tnat visits v exchanged with unwonted freque: and acquaintance ripened into thing like intimacy. Cathode Rays Reentgen © of as cathode ray though the two kinds of radi re certain relations to each ot! they a not the stune. Prof. Len: Who sor Owl, sd being the d coverer of the I stgen 1 holds that these rays are cathode er detlectibility tern intiniteiy Lenard includes under the the same rays, ean be made to pass out s of a metal pli ss of the tul ! the eff from a va photographic plate. letlectibility down to con paratively y, can.be prodaced in d The s “t produced by suum tube in work on a Cathode r the greater the elect upon the , the flectibility of the r smallest attaina reached by thi est electrical fo: and Roentgen properties of ma of facilitating the fermation of {oe and of facilitating the fermation’ fog, and of exciting phcsphorus and chemical action. ; Ss produced. deflectibility pplication of the . Both catho s have under Lieut. Hoursi to Europe from expedition afely returned ‘The party and then carried the sections an aluminum boat overland to the up- per part of sthe Niger. On reachi this river the pieces of the boat v put together, and two native boat: chased. In these the expedition down the Niger to Timbuctoo, whe! stay of ten months was made. voyage from Tinrbuctoo to Lokoja. the confluence of the Niger and Benue, seems to have been arduous, but from that point-the expedition was tow a launch belonging to the Royal company to the coast at Wari. How much fresh topographical information Lieut. Horst’s party has obtained is not yet stated; this will depend o highest point reached on th rs message states that th KXayes,” but that town is on the gal river. There can be no doubt. } ever, that much valuable scientific formation was obtained, for the exp dition traveled slowly and was admira- bly equipped. One novelty the use of a phonograph for reporting the na tive war songs. The expedition kept peace with the natives throughout the journey, in which it differs greatly from some of those previously conducted by SN a explorers in that region.¥Na- ure. Electrophone in a London Restaur- ant. A handsomely appointed restaurant in the heart of London has increased its attractiveness by having music on tap for its customers. Each table ha< two electrophones, by means of w the guests can listen to the progress of the Geisha, which is being perform in a Leicester Square theater. Printed! on the back of the bill of fare is 2 pr gramme giving the time at which the favorite airs of. the opera are to )) . This enables any one to hes: just the parts that he likes best wi in itself, it is found +o greatly light the responsibility of the entertain which may become trying 4en un the most favorable ausp’ and proves a famous stimulant of conver sation. A New Departure. “Julia and I hit it off beautigti> about the New Year?” t pietatee ‘She. all the sh thought I ought to Se an t same thing for her.”—Detroit * fre: