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"I know what it is," he answer "this honey is made from euphon flowers, which are very poisono This explanation made me feel exce ingly uncomfortable; but I elic from him th. there was not m danger, as tl. "maass" taken it would neutralise the effect of poison. Directly he mentioned pois I dived into the packs, and pulled a a bottle of ENO'S FRUIT SAL and emptying a quantity into t pannikins, filled them up with wate and several times repeating the do in a few hours we were consideral better.' -Zululand and Cetewa (p. 139), by Captain W. R. Ludi 1st Batt. R.V. Royal Warwicks Regiment.

"What on earth shall I take t Zululand ?" asked my friend Jim La one day at Aldershot, when he ha just received orders for South Afric to start at forty-eight hours' notic I replied, "If you take my advice and it's that of an old traveller you'll not budge without a few bott of ENO, even if you leave balf you kit behind. I never am without the

THE GREAT DANGER OF DELAY.

You can change the trickling stream, but not the raging torrent.

WHAT EVERYBODY SHOULD READ.-How important it is to every individual to have at hand so

simple, effective, and palatable remedy, such as ENO'S FRUIT SALT, to check disease at the onset! F this is the time. With very little trouble you can change the course of the trickling mountain stream, but the rolling river. It will defy all your tiny efforts. I feel I cannot sufficiently impress this important informatio upon all Householders, or Ship Captains, or Europeans generally, who are visiting or residing in any hot foreign climate. Whenever a change is contemplated, likely to disturb the condition of health, let ENO'S FRUI SALT be your companion; for, under any circumstances, its use is beneficial and never can do harm. When y feel out of sorts, yet unable to say why, frequently without any warning you are suddenly seized with lassitud disinclination for bodily or mental exertion, loss of appetite, sickness, pain in the forehead, dull aching of ba and limbs, coldness of the surface, and often shivering, &c., &c.; then your whole body is out of order, the spir of danger has been kindled, but you do not know where it may end: it is a real necessity to have a simple reme at hand that will answer the very best end, with a positive assurance of doing good in every case and in no ca any harm. The pilot can so steer and direct as to bring the ship into safety, but he cannot quell the raging stor The common idea when not feeling well is, I will wait and see, perhaps I shall be better to-morrow; where had a supply of ENO'S FRUIT SALT been at hand, and use made of it at the onset, all calamitous results mig have been avoided. What dashes to the earth so many hopes, breaks so many sweet alliances, blasts so man auspicious enterprises, as untimely death?

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BY JAMES PAYN, AUTHOR OF 'BY PROXY,' 'HIGH SPIRITS,' &c.

CHAPTER I.

MRS. BECKETT.

T is two o'clock in the July afternoon, and on what the majority

consider the pleasantest day in the week, because it is a half-holiday. Geronimo's objection to Saturday was founded, the poet tells us, on the prolonged wear of his shirt; but to the city toiler that is a small objection; indeed the greatest of all Londoners, and one who worked the hardest (though not, it is true, unless he was obliged), has left it on record, through his biographer, that he did not like clean linen.

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Hyde Park is crowded with pleasure-seekers, but the Row is empty. The Upper Ten Thousand have gone home to lunch, the Over Two Millions have just dined. Beside the mile-long garden that extends from the Marble Arch to Apsley House, the swart mechanic' lounges pipe in mouth admiringly; he gazes at the glowing parterres of wondrous shape and hue, and wonders how 'them colour beds' are made, and (especially) who pays for them. He thinks how his Missis and the kids would enjoy the spectacle, and is half-inclined to fetch them; but upon reflection, and finding his mouth a little dry, considers the morrow better adapted for their recreation, and, crossing to the other side of the road, drops into the public-house in the mews. As he does so, he

VOL. 1. NO. I.

B

bestows, perhaps, a glance at the stately pile at its corner, and expresses an opinion, mingled with tobacco juice, that the cove as lives there must have a sight of money'-in which he is quite

correct.

Of all the mansions in Park Lane, albeit there are some, though not many, larger, Beckett House gives the strongest impression to the passer-by not only of wealth, but, what is a very different thing (and much better), the possession of an abundance of ready money. Just as on illumination nights we see the lines of some public edifice picked out with fire, so all the summer long the balconies of Beckett House show, tier on tier, their glowing lines of flowers. Under the large portico there is a miniature jungle of tropical foliage, and when at night the opened door gives a glimpse of the interior to the passing Peri, it seems to her an Eden indeed.

Nor even in winter does this shrine of Flora lack its gifts, for in the centre and on either wing are great conservatories, to which 'the time of roses' is but a poetic figment, and May (for once) is happy in December's arms.

Mrs. Beckett, the owner of this palace, has a passion for flowers, which her wealth enables her to indulge to the full; nor is this the only proof of her good taste. She had once a handle to her name, but laid it aside by an act of voluntary abnegation. Emperors and others have done the like before her, but a woman -never. Her first husband was Sir Robert Orr, a city knight, who left her an immense jointure and her ladyship.' He had never been remarkable for personal beauty, and unless in the sense of years—he was three times her age-could hardly have been called accomplished. It was a marriage of convenience; but the old man had been kind to her in life and death, and she respected his memory. When she married her second husband, John Beckett, the railway engineer, she dropped her 'ladyship'; Sir Robert had been intensely proud of the title, and she felt that it belonged to him. The law, of course, would have decided as much, but she might have retained it by courtesy. She was not a woman to parade her sentiments, and, having some sense of humour, was wont to account for this act of self-sacrifice upon moral grounds; she did not think it respectable, she said, to figure with her husband in the Morning Post' as Mr. Beckett and Lady Orr; she left that suspicious anomaly for the wives of bishops.

John Beckett had been a rich man, though he could not have measured purses with Sir Robert, and he had ten times his wits.

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