finely against the sky, the moon shimmering out bright upon everything, I said: "Maude, isn't it like Venice, those old tumble-down houses over there, and the great tower rising up from among them?" Maude smiled. "It isn't a compliment to Venice, but all the same it is beautiful. How calm and cold the moon is, and how clear its reflection in the river! How still everything is !" I looked at Maude. Her face looked white, and the eyes looked restless and miserable. It was a tired, weary face. Oh, how different from the one that I had seen pass the window a few days since on Valentine's arm! I sat thinking over it all and felt very miserable, when I was suddenly aroused by the noise of a carriage driving rapidly up the quiet street. It stopped at our door, and two men, which we distinguished by the gas-lamp's glare to be policemen, jumped out, and rang loudly at the bell. Maude and I watched them attentively, stretching our necks out of the window and gazing below. In a few moments Dr. Burton issued hastily from the house, and, together with the two men, jumped into the fly and drove rapidly away. Maude and I drew in our heads and looked at each other. "Some one must be very ill," said Maude. "Or, perhaps, they are taking him to the police-station," I volunteered. Our surmises were put an end by Mrs. Burton entering the room in a dreadful hurry, wringing her hands. "Oh, girls, fancy! there has been a dreadful railway accident between this and B- A special train is waiting to take the dear doctor, and he has just gone. How providentially you have escaped, my dear children-the very line you came by this morning!" "How dreadful !" said Maude, in a hushed voice. "Are many hurt?" "Oh, yes, several killed; but, of course, they cannot tell to what extent. The train ran off the line and tore through some plowed fields. They are preparing beds at the hospital; but I am sure they will not have room for them." A DAY AT CHISELHURST. THE PRINCE IMPERIAL.-SEE PAGE 412. A DAY AT CHISELHURST.- THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE. SEE PAGE 412. We talked on in awestruck voices, looking out into the pale moonlight, the white moon as radiant as ever. What a scene of horror and misery she was now illuminating miles away among those dreary fields! How many now were lying cold and dead who, but a few hours since, were well and strong! Where were they all now? Were they all safe up above in that clear, vaulted sky? Ah! who can tell? I could only wonder in my child's way, frightened and awestruck at this near approach of death. I opened my eyes to find it was eleven o'clock, and I had been fast asleep; the room was very warm, and lamps were burning on every table. Mrs. Burton and Maude were by the window, looking out. I joined them. The moon was nearly above our heads now, and a million stars were visible. I felt tired and stiff. "How are the poor people, Maude ?" "We are sitting up for the doctor, dear. He has sent us word to get some beds ready here, so we have prepared the dining-room. You go to bed now, dear." "No, let me stay with you. I will be quite quiet." Receiving no direct refusal, I retired again to my chair in the corner. Maude had run down-stairs on some errand for Mrs. Burton, when we heard the sound of wheels again coming up the street, driving slowly this time. "They are coming now," said Mrs. Burton. "You remain quietly here, darling ;" and she ran down-stairs. I rushed to the window, threw up the sash, and gazed out below. Some men were carrying a stretcher from the fly into the house, on which lay a form covered up. A thrill of horror ran through me. Shall I ever forget that hour? I hastily drew in my head and sobbed bitterly, with my face in my hands. Suddenly I was aroused by a piercing scream ringing through the house. Maude's | herself down upon the sofa-cushions, she burst into a voice. I rushed to the door and tore out into the pass- paroxysm of tears. age. NEXT day was a day of misery and mourning. Yes, true enough, it was our Valentine who lay pale and death-like in the hushed, quiet room below. But he was not dead, though unconscious from a fractured skull. An eminent doctor had been telegraphed for, and was expected that afternoon. Maude and I were too miserable to do anything. Neither of us had moved from the stairs all night long, waiting from hour to hour to hear if he had regained consciousness, or was to go out from us for ever without one word, one look, or even the knowledge that those who loved him were near. As the afternoon wore on and still the doctor had not come, Maude, from sheer exhaustion, fell asleep on the sofa in the drawing-room, while I sat on a stool at her feet, with my head on her lap. We were aroused by a servant opening the door and announcing, much to our profound astonishment: "Sir Frederick Lewis !" He came toward us hurriedly, while Maude started to her feet. "You are surprised to see me, no doubt, Miss Dacres. I have come, with Mrs. Walker and Miss Druce, as soon as we heard of this shocking affair. I have left them below. I could not rest till I had seen you and explained everything." "Simply this-that I helped you that day at The Elms to imagine what was false, instead of telling you the truth-that they were only rehearsing their parts for some theatricals Mrs. Walker was getting up.” Oh! Maude, my poor sister, my heart bled for you! She sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands, moaning, "Oh, Val, Val!" Sir Frederick continued: "I know you will hate and loath me more than ever now, but I can't rest till I have told you. Druce refused to act at all, but, in the absence of young Smith, consented to personate him and read his part, as you heard him. When I came into the drawing-room I thought, on my honor, that you were aware of the whole proceeding. It was only when I saw your astonished, horrified face, and heard you speak, that I guessed you were misunderstanding things. I think then Satan must have entered into my soul, tempting me to make the most of my op. portunity, and letting you quietly think him untrue to you. What will you say to me? Oh, Miss Dacres, forgive me!" I cannot tell what Sir Frederick would have done next, for the door opened to admit Mrs. Burton, accompanied by Valentine's sisters. She understood now in what relationship Valentine and Maude stood. Sir Frederick took the opportunity to slip away out of the room. "You must not give way so, darling," said Mrs. Burton, stroking the golden head that lay half buried in the cushions. "Mr. Druce is better. He is quite conscious now, and the doctor is with him." Maude raised her head and looked at Mrs. Burton, and as she read in her face the confirmation of her words, her own face changed, a look of sudden joy took the place of the intensely-miserable one that had possessed it. "Oh, is it true? Thank God!" So Valentine, before whose eyes the gates of the Eternal City had been slowly opening, was given back to us; the golden gates were shut, and he awoke, hour by hour and day day, to realize the glorious truth that he was to "live, and not die." The Angel of Death that had been hovering over us spread his dusky wings and left us; how happy we all were together then, and how far dearer he was to us than ever. It was a long, tedious illness, however, and it was not till the very end of November that Val could be pro, nounced well enough to return home. How well I remember the afternoon before that remarkable day. Maude and I had been into town to make some purchases; when we got back to the house it was quite dark, we went straight up to the drawing-room, where we knew we should find Val. Maude opened the door gently and entered. The room was dark, a bright fire was burning on the hearth, and before it was Valentine, laying back in a low armchair. He did not look round as Maude came in, but he knew she was there; he felt her presence, felt the sweet rush of outer air which clung to her clothes. "How dark it is, Val! Won't you have candles lit ?" "Not yet, love. Come." Val stretched out his arm and turned a face, haggard and pale from suffering, but full of love and entreaty, to her. Maude moved across to his chair and knelt down. He drew her soft head down upon his breast. "Darling, how soon shall we be married ?” "Whenever you like, Val." "I have a fancy that I should like you and I to begin the new year together, and I think, as I am an invalid, you must humor me in this. Will you, Maude ?” A pause. "Speak, love-say you will ?" asked Valentine, again. "Yes, dear, if you wish it," replied my sister, and I, feeling I was no longer wanted, rose quickly and left the room. A NIGHT ON THE BERGLI THE Geneva correspondent of the London Times writes, under date of November 19th: “A strange, and to one of the concerned a fatal, accident occurred a few days He sank on his knees beside her, his face-no mistake ago in the Bernese Oberland. On Sunday last the this time-looking haggard and miserable. Maude sprang away from him, her eyes flashing with rage. "How dare you speak of forgiveness! I would kill you if I could. Go, leave me ; you have ruined us both, and killed him! Oh, Val, my darling!" and throwing weather, as it has been for a month past all over Switzerland, being fine and abnormally mild, Herr Anderfuhrer, engineer, of Interlaken, set out from Grindelwald for the Bergli hut, which he has undertaken to reconstruct. He was accompanied by the guides Egger and Kaufman, and by a porter of the name of Schlegel. The first part of the ascent was accomplished with ease, but in the afternoon deep snow was encountered, and the progress of the party became slow and difficult. Then Schlegel fell ill, and half an hour before the hut was reached they were compelled to leave him behind. He thought that with a short rest he would be able to follow them; and it was agreed that after the others had cleared a path and opened the hut the two guides should return to meet him. A little higher up they had to cross a crevasse, which Schlegel could not have got over alone; and as soon as the hut was in view Egger went back to help the sick man over the obstacle, and to fetch the bag of provisions, some candles, and the lantern that Schlegel had been carrying. But when Egger neared the crevasse there was no sign of Schlegel, and, fearing that he might have become worse, and would require rather to be carried than merely helped, he went back for Kaufman. By this time night had fallen, and a light of some sort being indispensable, Egger knocked the bottom out of an empty wine-bottle which they found in the hut, and by putting a candle into the neck improvised a fair lantern. "Thus equipped, the two guides made their way to the crevasse, where they were rejoiced to hear a shout from Schlegel, and to learn that he was not so bad as they feared, and that he required only the help of one of them. On this Kaufman, after giving Egger a lift over the crevasse, returned to the hut, leaving his companion to bring up the porter and his bag. By this time it was seven o'clock and quite dark, and a few minutes after ward Egger's candle went out. Unable, for lack of a match, to relight it, he was compelled to grope his way partly on his hands and knees in the direction of Schlegel's voice, whom he eventually succeeded in reaching. Then the two men, seated side by side on the snow, began to seek for matches and trim their lanterns. Just as Schlegel struck a light he heard Egger call out that he had cut himself. It was too true; the poor fellow had severed the radial artery of his right arm with the jagged edge of his bottle lantern. After vainly trying to stop the bleeding, Schlegel set off for the crevasse, with the intention, if by any possibility he could make his voice heard, of summoning the others. But he had only gone a few yards when Egger called him back; he felt that he was dying, he said. EVERY good wife must work out the practical details of housekeeping for herself. We are at last gradually learning to admit the great influence our daily food, and consequently our digestion, has on our daily life. The next thing to do is to put this newly-acquired wisdom into practice. If you wish to be a good housekeeper, begin by realizing that, as in other trades, there is no royal road to success, and that, beyond certain hard and fast rules, you have several very uncertain tastes and wants to take into account. "One man's meat is another man's poison," says the old proverb, truly enough. You may draw up an ideally perfect housekeeping code on paper, and in practice it will break down hopelessly at the first start, because you have totally forgotten the warning given in that old saw. The list of daily and weekly fare occasionally given by some of the correspondents of the newspapers have possessed a deep, unholy fascination to us. How, in the name of all that is wonderful, were they carried out, not by mortal men, but by mortal maid-servants? The thing is, that every one may be right in his own particular case, but wrong in expecting every one else to go and do likewise. If your household is to be comfortable and healthy, you must, to a certain extent, study individual tastes and wants, and not insist on reducing all to the same orthodox level. Give a little real thought to your daily bills of fare, for nursery, kitchen and dining-room alike, and you will be amply repaid. A wise man once said that the road to people's hearts lay through their stomachs. Well, why not? Our temper undoubtedly depends a great deal on our digestion, and we are far more likely to be grateful to and fond of the people who study both, than we are of the good folk who stump along regardless of either. CHINESE METHOD OF SHAVING. CHINESE shaving is a slow process. The customer "All night long the two men lay on the snow, Egger seats himself erect on a stool or bench, with the knowbleeding slowly to death, and Schlegel, by reason of his ledge that an hour must pass before he is released. The illness and long exposure to cold, little more than alive. barber begins operations by carefully washing the vicIn the meanwhile, Anderfuhren and Kaufman remained tim's face, ears and head with very warm water, wiping in the hut, ignorant of what had befallen their compan- off the dripping parts with a wet towel. He then begins ions, and utterly unable to afford them any help, or even shaving the head, or rather around the crown where the to ascertain what had become of them. Egger had taken cue begins, commencing over the right ear and moving the only candle they had, the others being in the bag, along until the forehead and lower part of the backhead and the night was so dark that to have ventured forth are cleaned. He next passes to the face and afterward among the precipices which surrounded them, and the to the neck. The ears are shaved and carefully brushed rifts which in every direction intersected the track, would out and cleaned with delicate brushes and ingenious have been to court destruction. Toward three o'clock, instruments. The face, neck and head are then washed however, the darkness being by that time somewhat less and rubbed until the skin assumes a healthy pink. The intense, they left the hut, and, roped firmly together, second part is somewhat like the "Swedish-movement made with the utmost caution for the crevasse. This cure." The barber begins to turn and manipulate the they safely crossed, and, guided by the light of Schlegel's head and neck until every cord and muscle has been lantern, succeeded in reaching the spot where the two stretched, pinched and pulled. The shoulders, arms and men lay. Both were in a pitiable condition, and Egger's back are also scientifically pounded and pulled until the arm was still bleeding profusely. Herr Anderfuhren's victim expresses a desire to have the manipulator stop. and Kaufman's first proceeding was to take off their The cue is then unbraided, combed and cleaned, and flannel shirts and give them to their disabled comrades, again braided and put in place. Occasionally, when who had suffered terribly from the cold. Then, after a a barber desires to show great attention to a distinhurried consultation, they resolved to descend to Grin-guished customer, he rubs and pulls his fingers and even. delwald with all speed for more strength and a surgeon. I his toes, until the joints crack. A DAY AT CHISELHURST. BY SARAH K. BOLTON. An hour's ride from London brought us to one of the prettiest but saddest of English towns, Chiselhurst. As we walked up the smooth, white roadway leading from the station to the village, so like the streets of ancient Rome, an exquisite landscape lay before us. On either side, the high walls, which always inclose an English home, were matted with ivy. Above these were great hawthorn trees, covered with red, pink or snowy blossoms, and here and there a la burnum with its golden clusters. The houses, half wood and half brick, with large piazzas and broad lawns, looked restful and inviting. One, with its profusion of flowers, was so attractive that we ven tured to ask if three Boston women might walk about the grounds. With a cordiality that made our hearts warm toward the English people, Mrs. Powell, a descendent of the famous Mary Powell, bade us welcome, asked us to take re freshments, PRINCE NAPOLEON'S STUDY. As we sat before it on this exquisite June day, we remembered how' Eugénie, at one time the most beautiful woman in the world, had fled thither from the Tuileries in her waterproof and thick black vail, while the half-mad populace shouted, "A bas l'Impératrice! A la guillotine! la déchéance !" She did not come, however, by her own will, for, at the last moment, as she was almost dragged out of the palace by Prince Metternich, she said-being Regent while Napoleon was at the front "I have no more right to abandon my post than a which we felt would be too great a tax upon her hos- | captain has his ship when the tempest rages. Leave me, pitality, and sent her servant to cut us a bouquet of choice flowers. The large brick house in front and rear was covered with pink and yellow roses, while one end was as white with clematis as the ground after a snow-storm. Great beds of pansies, white and red daisies, brilliant tulips, purple rhododendrons, red and white azaleas and yellow narcissus and honeysuckle, scattered about the lawn, made a picture, rich in color, such as one rarely sees in a lifetime. prince. I know how to die; my place is here." Mr. Strode, the owner, who had long been the friend of the Emperor, offered Camden House to her as soon as she arrived in England. At her request he received rental, but expended it in making the place more attractive. Here Napoleon came in 1872, after the humiliation of Sédan and the captivity of Wilhelmshöhe, to die. Down that graveled walk, and across the common to the church, 30,000 persons followed the body of the fallen |
