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RACHEL RAYMOND; on, LOST AND…
RACHEL RAYMOND; on, LOST AND FOUND. BY THE AUTHORESS OF Allan Thornton," "Effia Batrd," "Almost a Criminal [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.} CHAPTER XV. ROME AGAIN. Herbert Temtlf/s voyage was not destined to end »8 cam ae it bad commenced. The soft, balmy j summer breezes gave way to raw gusty winds, • J in return, were succeeded by heavy gales from the j north-east, through which the Dover Castle battled her way stouclv, anJ, save for the loss of one of her boats, and some top gear, arrived at length safely in port, and landed her passengers at Liverpool. The weather they had encountered had been so severe and without cessation that Herbert had never resumed his conversation with the captain, whose ahry respecting the veilow-haired singer at the New York concert hail had so bewildered and distressed him Tlie voung man pondered long and deep1} o\ e wliat he hear>l, with a sick feeling of dread at heart, as he thought of what mbht be. heart, as he thought of what mbht be. "Could it be porsible," he thought, "that they had all been mi^tuken, and that his broth. r's first, Unhappy wife, poor Rachel, had survived when they ail thought her dead ?" A shudder passed through him at the bare^ sus- picion but no. he would not believe it He called to mind the abundant proof they bad received of her death-Lionel's prompt and searching enquiry, and came at last to the conclusion that this woman that he had seen was, perhaps, the same who had been enquiring after Isaac Raymond, and the retemWance he had fancied merely a coincidence. But then, again. the man Bossanquet—- he felt assured that he had not been mi&tak n there, and that the shabby hahiiue (,f the JTolian Music Hall was. in very dppd, !hA once dashing man of the world, to whom they all owed so much sorrow. The more he thought of it, the stronger grew his convic- tion that he had not blundered on this point, notwith- standing the vehement denial which the man himself had made. 1 Lionel was at Liverpool to meet him, and they shook hands heartily-wit h a strong grasp, indeed, but no more outward show of emotion-which is a thing the average Englishman rarely, if ever condescends to In. [ iulse himself in. By Jove old fellow," said the younger brother, we had almost given up all hope of seeing you. The gales had delved the Dover Castle two whole days beyond the time when she had first been locked for; and I was beginning to think I should have to return the eompliment you paid me, and go in for a suit of "Yes we had rather a ticklish time of it off tha Irish coast," Herbert replied. But all's well that ends well,' and I am safe. How's everybody at k°And so on—the usual running fire of questions and answers which always recur on such occasions. But Lionel was not s'o-.v to perceive that, through it all, his brother seemed to be preoccupied in manner, and at last taxed h m with it. You've got something on yourself, he said, and may as well disburden yourself at once. I shan't be able to get a word with you for a week at least after we reach home. Come, out with it." They were seated in a compartment of the night mail, for Herbert would lose no time in hastening on when he landed, and they had taken the first train which served. Herbert did not answer at once, for he wanted to think how much he should tell his brother, but at last made up his mind to say nothing to him respect- ing the singer with the fair hair, and eyes so mueh Wc e the dead Rachel's. If she were dead," he involuntarily thought. But it's time enough to bid good-morrow to a sertain old gentleman when you meet him," was his philosophic, objection and, after all, it was but a suspicion on his part. Still his brother's question remained unanswered Mid Herbert determined to tell him his suspicion regarding Bossanquet. Lionel listened in amaze- ment. I'm only sorry for one thing," he remarked when Herbert bad finished. "And that is?" -i.jp That I didnt meet the scoundrel instead ot you." "Oh, is that all? Well, I daresay I should wish the same if I were in your place; as it is, I can only remark that it is iust as well you didn't, as your impetuosity might have led you into danger." I should have killed him, I verily believe." Precisely and brought, no end of misery and what-d'ye call-it on your wife and all who love you." Ah. Herbert, you cannot feel as strongly on this Bub'ect as T do Can't T. old boy? Well, T don't know. I suppose you think I ought to have pitched into the fellow at fJPlcP-riven him one. two on hit3 face, and begged his pa-don afterwards, if I had found that I bad been mistaken, and he wasn't the man at all." Nonsense. You know I meant nothing of the tort." -1 Well. perhans not but, to tell you the truth, it was the course I was very nearly pursuing, so sure was I of his identity, notwithstanding the emphatic denial he made but it was not an over respectable Blare, and the scoundrel vas surrounded by a score fIIf desperadoes, who only wanted half a word to turn nponme: and so, under the circumstances I ex- ercised the better part of valour and apologised for my mistake." Apologised Well, yes yon spe T couldn't very well help my- self. and to give the fellow his due. if it tms he, he didn't take advantage of the chance he had to serve me out." „ 'f course I ran't expect you to feel as I do, sai I/onel again buf he may thank his lucky stars it was not I who met him. I'd have torn his lying tongue from out his throat, had he been surrounded by a thousand companions." „ Ah, Lionel! let the dead past bury its dead If it was rpallv ROlIRanflll'-t-and I am morally con- ▼Wd it was-tbinef; have not prospered with him, for anyone more seedy and disreputable it has seldom been mv lot to see." T I'll find out where he is. I'll write to Longhurst —he's in the War Office, you know. Perhaps he 11 be bl.. to tell me what's become of him." You'd better let him alone. It's not at all likely that you'll ever meet asain." "It won't be well for him if we do," was all the reply but th" tone spoke more than the words, and Herbert Temple thought, that it might., indeed, be well for Lieut. Bossanquet that his brother should never Sieet him. The subject was dropped between them, but Herbert could see that his hro'her was brooding over it, and almost regretted mentioning his suspicions. But, as time passed on. his home duties drove the recollections of his adventure in America out of his head, for his mother was growine sadly feeble now, and required more watching than was good for his delicate F.mih. whose health gave him great anxiety, so that, altogether, he had his hauds and his heart full. But still both these Cornish homes belonging to the brothers Wf'r" thoroughlv happy homes, and they often looked back at the nignt, which was so short an actual time air0. and yet so long in eventful history, when Lionel came over, as they thought, to Emi'y's death bed. Ids own heart heavy with the weight of one untold sorrow-one that he could not, at that time, share with anv of his kindred. And vet it was but four short years since Rachel s death, and his own supposed loss, and now ho has happily and prosperously settled in life, with a loving wife and prettv baby-boy and the squire rejoiced in his prattling infant, and the renewed life of his darling Fmily. .1 Miss Temp'e was still unmarried, and she declared that nobodv should ever tempt her from the place where she was s'i 1 the ruling spirit in both house- hold where her temper—for she had one—made it- self fe't at times; but all felt her sterling worth and respected her oddities. She heard from Lionel what her brother had told him, and counselled him to let Bossanquet and his wickedness alone but Lionel could not forget so easily, and he wrote to the fnend he had spoken of to Herbert. Lionel despatched his letter, but it was some few weeks before he received an answer, as the gentleman to whom it was addressed was recruiting his strength with a holiday, after the serious fatigue of sitting d" y in a m nil-padded chair from eleven till three but as soon as he returned he penned an answer', in which, after apologising for the delay, he Went on to say— You'll be subjecting yourself to an action for libel one of thftsp.l.'vs mT young friend. What do you S in'Sdnvin scoundrel/ villain/ of any man, in S f f, p„rh-ii>9 you'll answer that ita tho truth. .Wc^rt' Are ^not aware that 'the greater the innocei.t & J in tue purblind eyes of truth the greater tiie use such very plain the law. A ^mpoite!-tho genu jbout it. you ask if 1 term8 about is never liKUj to V-ll-not quite and. to tell know what has bourne 01 mm. lcn0i7 what did become of yma the 'ruth I don t waait t ^t,en courting him about two years back; ) proceeding, which or gettns marned-ov some otnif:,ters—you would lenders p.ople oblivious to fill 'M? ffair created some have kncM T, too I have no d. -nbt for the afta«^ .et little rtir in military circleR. though .tLnnuet wm, metA- J>osBible for the honour of the service, him to sell, phoricalli, kicked out <>f h.s corps they al 1]ncn at It's aiwa' g as well, i" those oases t-o wash your homo, you know but they wouldn t stand any hooe after tii.it btory of )ourB got afloat; particularly when-Ibope I'm not touching on a forbidden topic, but you Jr tell you everything I could-it was urrently reported hud s .irited away your wife and that in a manner wh Jx-rixl it. i]r:iK>s«]bl"o for any honourable man to A him, There were other little things against him, too tdtling to nieniiou such as lxsiug remarkably lucky in always turning p the kin" >'bell he required it and chicken hazard seenieu to have no'Vie-.i ? for him either at all events, he had to go. and, 1 have heard, 1 as sunk into just such a pickd-up of uncon. s^e'eti tr ees' a, You describe Auy way. lid has vanished from (lie hrUntc- of'men, and » very good thiisg for the men, I •he Jd V aid if 1 wero you I shouldnt trouble my lie,id f urtlitr"abcJut Wrn. He must be going to the dogs faet onou^la, a^ d if ,ho doMl bxsat ft'ready claimed bim toi h,e own c-eoe^l upon it that is only for the very wJdMit reason that he's a! \i iVft rea.lv to ba laid hands upon I don t know all the ni^bavs for ensuring «>. » Jon sav.' but. I iw^, don't; toucli pitch,Iffet jt the.. •' Yours very truly, A- H. liOVSHi'SST- This letter did not tell him much, but Lionel wrote back to his Irinnd. tanking him tor the information it contained, and telling him, also, the true circumstances respecting Iiachrl—he cou'd n"t bear to thmt a even in her grave h'S poor lost oarling s should tie held in sce.rn. and i-he whom he had loved should he held in sce.rn. and i-he whom he had loved so well, regarded as an abandoned woman and so he wrote with all the force and energy which tru. can give to repel the foul slander which Bossanquet ^Uon.Tas well as Mr Lot ghnrst. of course, deemed that their correspondence was private; but even in the sacred yrecn.ct* of offica .sm and rep-taps letters may be subjected to more eyes than the writers ever dream of. Attached to the place as messenger in Mr Lonehurst's department was a man who had once belonged to Bossanquet's regiment, and a devoted panderer to all that gentleman's vices, large and small. It was not a place of trust that Job Rawson filled at the Horse Guards but his sleek, respectable demeanour made him more trusted than he would have been had his real character been known; and things were spoken of, and names mentioned before this "worthy, in tho manner that people wi;l speak before their underlings who move about so quietly and never betray the slightest consciousness of hearing anything, but treasure up every scrap never- theless. Hear all, see all, and say nothing," is the maxim of the class to which Mr. Job Hawson belonged, and he stuck faithfuliy to the tenets of his creed. The names of Lionel Temple and Lieut. llossanquet, mentioned in his hearing by Mr. Longhurst, set him thinking. He knew where his old patron was to bo found, and was still in his pay, we were going to write hut as it was a labour of love as far as money was concerned, employment would be a better word; but it was hardly that even, though Job Rawson, with a lively recotlection of past favours, would often send scraps of information which he had picked up across the water to his old employer. He was perfectly aware of this feud which existed between Bos anqul-t and Lionel, and the mention of their names set him spying and thinking. He was not particular as to the means he took to acquire information, and a search in the pocket of Mr. Longhurst's office coat, that gentleman being very carelPES in his b. its, was rewarded by finding Lionel's letter, and she answer being entrusted to his care to post, was subjected to the steam from a tea kettle, by wh'ch means he arrived at its contents. H'm he said, pas ing his grimy hand over the stubbly beard which adorned his chin. That's plain talking-that is-I wonder how Iiossanky will like it; hawsomever, I'll write and tell him." Which he did, and in due course his letter reached Mr Bertie Grant, who, of course, was no other than the man Herbert Temple had taken him for. After telling him all the reader knows of the letters, Mr. Rawson added a few lines I heard more than this In the office, though, I can tell you 1 gathered from what young Tima 8Md, and he's a rare one to talk, he is, that they are determined to find you, over a more .>eiious affair than loaded dice. couldn't make vut what it was. but it's something hasn't long been found out—a word to the vise, you know, I thought you might like to hear-I hope you are quite well, as this leaves me at present, '• Your humble servant, "J. Rawson. «' p s. I think it must be something serious about it, for there was a letter went np to the Chief. I haven't been able to lav my hand-* on it, but I heard Tims say it was an extradition caise ;so if yon krow wlnt it means, and have any fear, I »hould t&y—m&i.e tracks." CHAPTER XVI. NEW YEAR'S BVE. Rertib Grant, to give him the name he chose to be known by, was alnnein his squalid lodging in the Empire City, and Job Rawson's letter lay in his hand; it was sufficiently alarming, and he read it over and over again with an evil scowl on his dissipated face. Hah at length he muttered. What can they know ? All the fellows that were mixed up in that affair are in America still, and if they were in England they could tell nothing to harm me. Be- cause an old fool took more than was good for him, and died in a fit of apoplexy at a gaming party are they to say that 7 Hfted my hand against him ? But I know who has set the ball rolling, and let him look out. for, by Heaven if ever I set foot on English soil again, it will be a black day for you Lionel Temple." Ho clutched tho letter, as he spoke, with a fierce grasp, as though it had been his hated enemy's throat. 11 I must alter my hand," he said, looking at the trembling fingers, which almost refused to hold the glass he lifted to his lips. "Xo more of this stuff, for a time at least. I have work before me." And. indeed, it seemed so for, from that hour, he made an effort to retrieve his fortunes. He drank less, and, as a consequence, played more steadily at the dens to which he still resorted for his unholy gains, winning more frequently; and, within a month, he looked an altered man. He stdl kept up the enquiries he h id commenced respecting Miss Amaranth, but continually without success no enquiry or bribery of any of the hangers-on a1: the .Eotean could give him satisfactory information of I her wlx-r^ahouts "Miss A ma' anth had left," was all that he could If-arn and no one conld say where she was gone. But Mr. Fiiote's servai. s did not th nk it necessary to toll him that it would be more than their p!acps were worth to give him the intelligence he sought for, though they were all perfectly aware that the poor girl waR 8a fA in another town, under the protection of their mistress. So at last Fertie Grant gave up the search with an oath, and devoted himself to one object—the obtain- ing enough money to pay his passage to England. "They'll never dream of my putting my head in the lion's jaws," he said to himself besides, while I shall be safer there for that very reason, I shall find an opportuning of having it out with that fellow -d-n him." And so be went on in his old courses, with the ex- ception that he was much more sparing in his use of liquors, and waited his opportunity. It came at last, as it will always come to the patient watcher, whether for good or evil, and hv a successful roup he made a lanre haul in one night in the gambling J hell to which he resorted to in the city; and, though there was more than a suspicion of foul play and hocussing, and people said openly that the affair was robbery, before the victim was roused from his drugged sleep, and could put the officers upon his track, Bertie Grant was safe on board a coasts 7 ship for Newfoundland, whence he took ship tc England, flush of money, which, though it was ill-gotten, caused no trouble to his elastic conscience. The whole city was ringing with all sorts of tales concerning him, and the amount of plunder he had carried ofT, end amongst others it reached the ears ef Mr Foote, who wrote to his wife and told her that the coast was clear, and that she might return to New York with her charge. That, fellow's grne—and. woats more, it won't be safe for him to return—so get back, and quieten that poor thing's fears the business is going to the deuce for want of her. The young fellows laugh at Maria's fat arms and squeaking voice, and won't have her at any price. Promise the girl what she likes, only bring her." And so it came about rnat Mrs. Footo and her charge returned to the ^Eolian, but no notice of Miss Amaranth appean o in any of the papers. Miss Dacia Brooke was tiie reigning star at Foote's nlace of amusement, a very handsome young lady, jut—she had red hair. And so the scene changes back again to England. It is the Eve of the New Year—not then, as in her northern sister, the time of all festivities, but still observed in many places with solemn rites, much opening of doors, and superstitious observances as r,, who shall lie the favoured mortal to fir*t cross the threshed alter the church clock has struck the hour which announces that the Old Year has departed from us, bearing with it many memories of joy and sorrow, both commingled. On this particular New Year's Eve the snow was lying everywhere, feathery and soft, clothing the hushed landscape with a pure robe of fairy radiance, which the soft clear moonlight lit up into millions of brilliant sparkles-snow lying in its purity on every tree and hedgerow, dropping in fantastic pendants from every drooping branch, whil3t everywhere reWied peace, and calm, and stillness. A fami:y party sat round a blazing fire in the drawing-room at TregartLen. Both households were assembled there to i.ee the New Yeiir in-- Herbert Temple and h s family Lionel, with hio fair young wife and child, as well as Lord and Lady At'lt washat the senior Mrs. Temple's request that this gathering took place. Sho was rapidly wearing away to another world by this time, and she petitioned her son to bring them all together once ^This is the last New Year that ever I shall see/ she had said; and Herbert, though grieving at the spirit which had prompted her request, was fam to comply with it, and bade his family to lregarthen, where all assembled; and the servants mademerry in the lower regions, while the family exchanged greet- MrsP Temple seemed stronger and better with the excitement, and exchanged many reminiscences with Lord Addeleigh. Her sons were pleased to see her so cheerful; and his lordship whispered to Lionel that his mother might live to see many New Years et. But the young man was not deceived by her tran- sient gaiety. He knew how Mrs Temple had been fa.il- ntrfor the last few months, and felt an inward convic- ion that hpr presentiment was true. There was no suffering in her d joline—nothing to cause any grief ■■o the spectators of her calm decay but she was id'ng visibly, though gently; and, while her family vould mourn her loss when the hour arrived which ivoijid remove her from them, their loving hearts would not he wrung by witnessing pain which they were powerless to alleviate. Emily's health was no longer the subject 01 uneasi- ness to them it had been-delicate she would always r>e but there was hope now of seeing her children ',w up round her. There were two, a second Emily, blithe little fairy sevt n 5'ears old> who to°k upon 'lf with all the gravity of womanhood, the r,f li^r baby eou"iu, Clare's nix months old haTter • and then theTe was the little heir, who Lbout upon his sturdy lege, in all the dignity rrw terbSers, a fair, attractive-looking boy, with ,t kmcberb which no one passed without .ritag flattery »»4 Herbert the second wM la a fair wav of being damaged, Altogether it was not a party full of boisterous glee, for adding to the failing state of his mother's health, Herbert himsplf had not hem very well —a cold caught In plodding over the ( State had k1 pt. him prisoner for a few days, but he was better and had joined the family circle now, and sat beside his mother, her withered hand lying lovingly and trustingly on his, and her af'e 'tionate eyes gazing into his manly face as though thev wnuld never have their fill. I never thought my last New Year on earth would be so happy," she said, hreaking the silence of a few i Moments. The Lord has been very merciful to us, | my children." I "To all of us," responded Lord Addeleigh. But you mustn't talk of dying for many a long year yet; we cannot do without you." I shall never see the roses, nor hear the nightin- gales again," she answered. My work in this world is done, and I thank Heaven for letting my last days be so peaceful." There seemed to be a strange and holy calm upon her this New Year's Eve. Could it have been a presentiment of what was to come that hung over her ? Who knows ? She sat and talked on, with her son's hand clasped in hers, till even the prattling children stopped their play, and looked up with silent awe at grandma, who seemed in such an unwonted mood to-night. Well, Turner, what is it ?" asked Herbert Temple of the butler, who had entered the drawing-room, and stood looking at his master with rather a curious look upon his face. I want to speak to you for a minute, sir, he replied, and Herbert rose and went outside. Weil, what's the matter ?'' he repeated. I didn't like to tell you inside, sir," before madam, seeing as she's so weak; but old Mr. Deacon is dying, and they've sent up to say that be has been asking to see some of the family." Mr. Deacon had been the lawyer to the Temple family for many years; and, more than that, a valued friend to the senior Mr. Temple and his wife -the silver-haired old lady who was even now passing away so quietly. Herbert was his godson, too, and the summons was not to be disregarded so dismissing Turner he went back into the drawing- room. What has happened, Herbert ?" asked his wife in eager tones. Hush hush my love," he answered, looking anxiously at his mother, but her thought were far away, and she did not notice that anything was going on. "Poor old Deacon is dying and has sent for me. I must go, dearest," he continued, seeing the look of anxiety in her eyes. "The summons of a dying man is not to be disregarded. I shall be back soon-in an hour at the outside." But, Herbert, dear, it is such a night, and you so i unwell, too." | » Nonsense, darling I'll wrap myself well up, and the cold won't get at me. Come, don't bo foolish, I don't want my mother to know what has called me away, she has been brooding too much over death and the grave to-night." He called Lionel on one side, and explained where he was going. The young man offered to ac- company his brother, but Herbert would not hear of it. »«I shall not be long away," he said, and kissing his wife, Herbert Temple hurriedly left the room, and was soon upon his road to the village, where dwelt the old lawyer. He was in time to take the hand of the dying man, but all was nearly over, and, within an hour from the time he left Tregar- then, Herbert Temple had closed the eyes of his dead friend, and was returning in a saddened spirit home. The Rev. Mr. Emberley, the clergvman at Polperro, accompanied him as far as the lodge gates when they stood talking for a few moments over the scene they had just left. then they parted, the minister to his midnight service in the little parish church, while Herbert Temple, passing through the gate, made for his house. They bad neither of them seen, under a elump of trees which faced the lodge, two figures who stood there. One of them was so muffled up that his com- panion, who was a tipsy reveller returning from the Kiddle-a-wink, a little public house upon the borders of the village, could not see his face, but he had the bearing of a gentleman. Who are these gentlemen ?" he asked the Cornish- man, as the figures of the clergyman and Mr. Temple appeared on the road from the village. n It's the clergyman and young Mr. Lionel, answered the bumpkin, unhesitatingly. Lionel Temp'e; are you sure ?" Sure! of course I am. Wouldn't 1 know him amongst a thousand ? There's no one hereabouts wears a cap or coat like that; besides, I know Mr. Lionel as well as I know my own brother." "Well, I told vou I'd give you half-a-crown if you showed me the house. You have done more, you have shown me the man I want, so here's five shillings for you; and now be off. You can get as drunk as a lord on that." Ay, that can 1. You're a rare good sort, and if you like to come up to the Kiddle-a-wink. I'll give you as good a tumbler of grog as you ever tasted. You won't? Oh, very well, if you prefers being out in the cold. all that I can say is, I pities year taste. Good-night." And he staggered back on the road he had come, leaving the stianger in the shadow of the trees, when he witnessed the parting between the minister and Herbert, who opened the park gate with a check key, and let himself in. But he was not alone within the park. The dark form of the stranger had climbed the wall, and was even now close upon his track. Haste, Herbert, haste! Your are in danger. Alas! No warning voice was near; and the bright moon looked down, as did the myriad twinkling stars, unmoved at what •^ # they were the only ones to see. I What a long time Herbert is gone," said Emily to her brother-in-law; they spoke in whispers, for no one else present knew of what had called the master I of the house away. "I am getting quite uneasy," she continued. Why, what harm can possibly come to him between here and the village ?" I don't know it's very foolish, I suppose; but I have such a strange, sad feeling I can hardly ex- plain what I mean, but as if there were some terrible misfortune impending." You are nervous, Emily," said Lionel. But will go and meet him if you like. "No, no; it's very stupid of me. Hark, eleven o'clock. Oh, I hope he will be back soon. I shouldn't like the New Year to pass without his being hel e. We shan't do that," broke in old Mrs. Temple, dreamily. Either in body or in spirit we shall be together, if not in this world in a better." Mother rambles a little," whispered Emily. "I wish that she wouldn't harp so on death and separa- tion to-night it seems almost prophetic." Superstitious, Emily ?" "No, not quite. I'm low-spirited, I fancy. Well, then, I'll make Clare sing something to liven you up. Herbert's absence seems to have given us all the blue3." Clare was by no means unwilling, and going to the piano rattled over piece after piece, but still Herbert did not arrive, and Lionel began to feel rather uneasy ^H^rk' what was that ?" cried Emily, in terror, and Clare suddenly ceased playing, while everybody started in alarm as a wild. mournful cry sounded in the air. and, as it seemed, close to the house. Fam and terror, an appeal for help and succour rang in it, and the hills seemed to echo it back upon the calm, Still air. »' What can it be ?" asked Clare, while Emily "airily strove to conceal the scream which rose to her white lips. Something must have happened," cried Lionel, throwing open the window nearest to him, and look- ing out upon the snow-covcred lawn, as lie had done five years before, to hear, as he fancied then, Rachel's voice calling on him for help. Hallo Is anybody there ?" he called but no answer came back, and the cry was not repeated. All was still, and calm, and quiet outside no foot- marks sullied the white purity of the snow, no sigr, of any living thing was to be seen. You'd better send out some of the fellows to see if anything is the matter," said Lord Addeleigh, who had joined him at the casement. Whoever howled like that must have hurt himself. I expect some poor devil has tumbled down whilo crossing the park" Nobodv would be crossing the park at this time of night except Herbert," said Emily, her vo'ce trembling very much. Oh, Lionel let us make hasto and see. I feel convinced that something has happened to him." Nonsense, dear-sit down," answered Lionel Nothing could happen to Herbert. But 111 go and see, if it's any satisfaction to you." It is the death wail of our house exclaimed the old lady, suddenly starting up from her chair, and pointing out of the window. "It was no morfal crv. I see her she is beckoning me! Look where she foes yonder, over the snow It was for mo she °a™nd indeed, it did seem that a white figure flitted along by the edge; and the gentlemen rushed out into the grounds, to try and find a cause for the cry th.y had heard. The whole household was soon alarmed, ana lanterns were called into requisition to search the park. Alas the search was not a long one asudden ex.-la- mation from one of the servant drew all to the spot where he stood, and in another moment Lionel Temple was kneeling beside a dead man. whose blood stained the cure snow with hideous splashes. It was his brother Herbert, struck down by an assassin's hand, within a stone's throw of the bright room'in which his wife and family were waiting him 1_within an hour of the New Year's morning. (To be ccntinmd.) 1iL.
[No title]
What do you want ?" exclaimed the woman of an Ohio house angrily, as she faced the tramp at the kitchen door, "breakfast or work?" Both," madam," said the hungry wayfarer timidly. Eat that said the woman sternly, placing a biscuit and a piece of steak before him, and you will have both The meal had been prepared by her daughter, who was teaching a cooking-school in the city. Now let's take a look at the sanatariura," said a tall Phlladelphlan who was showing off the Quaker Ohio house angrily, as she faced the tramp at the kitchen door, "breakfast or work?" "Both," madam said the hungry wayfarer timidly. Eat that said the woman sternly, placing a biscuit and a Diece of steak before him, and you will have both The meal had been prepared by her daughter, who was teaching a cooking-school in tho Now let's take a look at the sanatariura," said a tall Phlladelphlan who was showing off the Quaker cjty tb a Chicago visitor. I don t care if I do," was (the rfeply I'm just about as thirsty as I usually I gW."
GOSSIP ON DRESS.
GOSSIP ON DRESS. AT the wedding the other day of Mr. Levita and Miss Mary Constance Ellison at the pretty Kensington church of St. Stephen, the bride wore a. dress with a long court train of ivory duchesee satin. The bodice was simply arranged with a soft jabot of fine Brussels lace, the jupe made with rich straight folds of the satin and a cascade of deep Brussels lace flouncing nn left side. The train was trimmed to correspond, and edged with a full rouleau (,f s*»tin, lined with poult it zoic. The hair was arranged high, with sprays cf orange blossom and myrtle; tulle veil fastened with lovely diamond stars and a. magnificent bouquet of choice flowers, gifts of the bridegroom, completed the costume. Most of the new walking dresses (observes Myra's Journal) are of an exceedingly sensible character, being of cloth, tweed, or other strong woollen material made with some description of redingote, most ser- viceable this time of year, when we are sometimes surprised by a beautifully bright, warm day, on which oc casions a dress which is a complete outdoor cos- tume without an additional jacket is often found a. great boon. A very stylish model is in thick, soft woollen material with broad but almost invisible stripes of dark navy blue and black the redingota is double-breasted, turned back at the neck with a large Directoire collar over a small waistcoat braided in b nck; theredingnteisoppn from the waist, and is edged all round, including the revers collar and large d eket flaps, with a narrow roll of black astrakan; the cuffs are braided to match the standup collar; the skirt is quite plain, except for two broad braided box pleats in front. Another model in the same material has a similar redingote with a waistcoat, standup collar, and cuffs of black moire, and the braiding on the skirt substituted by a finely pleated panel of the moire inserted between the two box pleats. Mrs. Hixen Wood, writing of fashion's fancies, as seen in America, in the New York World, says: bracelets and bangles are worn in great numbers. I h t, full corsages of evening gowns are beautified with jewelled pins. A GOLD or silver bracelet, inclosing a small watch with an open face, is a novelty in jewelry. White or gray knitted woollen gloves or mittens are quite fashionable for outdoor evening wear. Lkhit c'leck mufflers on dark grounds are the latest fashion for gentlemen, though white satin and bilk grounds are still worn. The fashion of having a crease ironed in the trousers, back and front, is fall- ing into disuse. Viinr small gold chains are worn around the neck, to which is suspended as large a pendant of jewels as the wearer possesses. The absence of the bustle is conspicuous in ail Empire gowns, but the best dress- makers use one or two small steels to prevent the back fullness from falling in below the waist-line. The latest idea in material for bureau and chif- foniere scarfs is plain fine white linen damask, on which is embroidered in coloured silks any pretty design that may be fancied. Bonnet and hat crowns are lower, but the brims and trimming are as high as ever. Flowers as a street adornment for the corsage are out of date, as the fashion of making a flower garden of one's winter coat became too common. I The latest novelty in the decorative line is the half-sane quilt," wherein the squares are divided into Ion", slender triangles, one of them being made of dark velvet, and the other after the usual crazy model. All gloves for evening are made with plain backs and the tan shades still hold their own, while with the short-waisted Empire gown are sometimes worn long silk gloves or mitts, and these always match the shade of the dress. The latest fancy for lighting the centre of the dinner or supper table is the tall branch candlestick, with the sockets in which the candles are placed rising in a pyramid, while flower petal shades in silk, muslin or tissue paper sometimes encircle each light. A new and becoming fichu is made entirely of white silk, with a pinked-out silk ruching all the way around, while the double part is rounded at the neck, and is continued in long ends falling away below tho waist, and finished off with white bows. Giins of fourteen or sixteen wear short tailor iaekets for neglige, or dark-coloured beaver with vests ornamented with black braid, with revers and plain bell-sleeves faced with black corded silk, while there are many long ulsters and stylish black Astrakhan coats also shown for girls in their teens which do not differ essentially in style from those worn by their older sisters. CATzvrD amber and tortoise-shell combs, very small, and the tops stuffed with jewels, are simple and effective ornaments for the hair when dressed high. The tendency increases, however, to drop the hair to the lower part of the head and have a few soft fluffy rings resting on the forehead, and then the pretty fashion of wearing flowers in the hair is again the ra^e, and young women appear with a single rose in one side of the coiffure, or a small wreath of flowers, to match the corsage bouquet, is poised coquettishly on the top of the head. CREAM-COLOURED kid gloves should be worn with a white toilet. Suede kid slippers, in all colours, are the most fashionable ball shoes. Muffs of ostrich 1 feathers are carried with visiting costumes. Thick 1 ruffs of fringed silk are worn outside of the dress collar, and tied with moire ribbons in front. ] — i MANY gentlemen continue to wear black socks, ] though tan, suede, and gray are also fashionable. ] BLACK net veils with a lace edge, or real lace with a deep border wrought in scollops, are again in favour, and are worn with the smallest bonnets, care being taken to have the border drop below the chin. MUFFLERS are again in high favour, and for evening wear they are of white silk in twilled stripes, or pale pinkanet pale blue, while for day wear dark colours are better, and these show all kinds of fancy mixtures in colourings and patterns. KNIFE-PLAITED silk muslin, in white, cream, old blue, rosewood, or bright scarlet, is used as a turned- over frill to the neck and sleeves cf dress waists, and also to form the large jabot or cravat now fashionable for the front of bodices. DARK cloth gowns are trimmed with lighter silk panels, and have vests covert d with silk cord or pas- sementerie, while button molds, covered with the dress material, are embroidered with silk thread. The draperies of bordered goods are not hemmed, and many of the dresses made of these materials have a plastron, collar, soft belt across the front, and panel in ghirrings or plaits of plain silk, corresponding with the chief colour of the border, while jacket fronts, having wide Directoire revers, are fancied by the young ladies. DOUBLE box-plaited skitts, in plaids, stripes, or plain goods, have loose-fronted plastrons in plaits, falling about four inches below the waist-line, with a jacket basque, having two tabs in the back, and cut- away fronts with round or square edges, while the plastron may be of surah or plain woollen goods, matching the chief colour of the skirt. RED, blue, brown, and sage-green cashmere dresses, for little girls' best gowns, are made with three box- plaits in front, gathers in the back of the sldrt, shirt or' mutton-leg sleeves, and a high-necked waist, of velvet of the same shade as the cashmere, which buttons in the back, has a high velvet collar, and a vest of the skirt fabric smocked with contrasting silk. The backs of the skirts may be gathered or Shirred while tlie froots are plaited or gathered. Knrder eoods are made up with the trimming run- nins along the edge of the skirt, and the same lor the g -° cuffs, and bodice, pieces starting from the seam, and running to a point in the middle, front, and back with the waist above shirred at the nectr, or laid in fine plaits. Others, also, have the space above of velvet, 1-ke the sleeves, caps, cuffs, and collar with the full sku*' sieves, and bias fo'ds from the side seams of contrasting woollen goods. There hhs been no great, change in gloves this season, and tan in different shades is still the r^n- ing colour for evenng wear, while mcmquetaire Suede glove, ranging m length trom twelve to eighteen buttons, is the favourite evening glove For theatre wear, the Suede^ glove is shown in either buttoned or mousquetaire sty'es, and may bi> finished plainly or with four rows of s.uching on the backs, while perfumed theatre ^s are a noveiry of the season. Street gloves are usually with four lines of chain stitching on t.ie back, and all gloves for evening are made with plain backs, while any glove above eight-button length should be p'ain.
.-GARDENING FOR TEE WEEK.II
Neuvous passenger on a transatlantic-liner: And are you sure there is no danger, ofheer ?" Officer •' Not a bit The captain s just, gone to take a nap because it's too fog.y to s^anyth, Brown "You clout look well, Uobin.-on, whats the matter ?" Robinson: I too many cigars to-dav" Brown: How many have you smoked?" Robinson That one you gave me last night." A Rather Small Practice.—^ oung Doctor: "Yes, I expect th t it will go pretty slow when I first open an office, until I gft sitart, £ little. Old Doctor Well, you bet it will. hy, when I first hung out my Shingle, I sat in my offic e tor three months, and Svtefonoca. Vo»»S Ooctor •• Whew 1 That' pretty tough, *•■»'? m '■ what was that a case of ? Old Doctor A case of instruments." There is no stated rule for writing love letters. You should write on foolscap paper, and bear on it as soft as you can, using words of such burning love that they will fizzle on the poir.t of the pen. It is advisable to sling i" a bunch ?f pathos, such as "Dearest Augusta, IlovflYoU with a. love larger than an elephant. I think of you every day; and, by-and- bye, when the days grow longer, I shall think of ybu twice a dav." It is also well to Put an ink-blot in the corner, with the observation, Darling, I kisse4 this spot," cr I heaved a sigh in this GARDENING FOR TEE WEEK. II CONSERVATORY AND Greexhouse -Calceolariss of the shrubby kinds are now growing freely. All autumn-struck cuttings should be potted into separate pots without delay, or a weak growth and a. late bloom will result. Herbaceous calceolarias must never get pot- bcund till they are in their blooming pots, or they will throw up their blooms pre- maturely. If these are in a dry atmosphere now, j they will soon be smothered with green-fly and red- spider. Prevention is better than cure, so keep them moist and growing, and if any vermin, smoke at once, and make an end of them. Climbing PLANTS should have attention without delay, and be pruned and tied in as may be considered necessary. The strong-growing climbers should be well thinned out. AVhen the whole of the shoots of such things as passion flowers, coboeas, and tacsonias are merely shortened they produce so much new growth as to greatly perplex the cultivator, and it may be to injure the plants grown on the stages or in the borders under them. ORCHIDS needing a shift should have it just as they begin to grow. The orchid house should be carefully managed now as respects temperature generally speaking, the thermometer may safely range from 55 deg. to 75 deg., and the extreme maximum forthe sunny days should be 80 deg. Be careful to exclude the frosty air, or spot will follow, butgivealras much as possible, having regard to sa'oty, whilo bright weather continues. Another matter to be careful about is to prevent lodgment (f water in the axils of the leaves. No doubt in their native climes the channels of the leaves are irrigating machines to the plants, but the artificial circumstances we place them in do not admit of allowing them to serve such a use. Those starting into growth must be repotted at once. Use plenty of crocus to ensure the drainage being perfect. Throw plenty of water oa the floor, but the plants must not be sprinkled overhead yet. Shade when necessary to prevent the foliage burning. The external air is very cold just now: therefore what little is admitted should pass over the hot-water pipes before coming in contact with the plants. STOVE.—Such plants as have done blooming must be cut back, and have encouragement to break before repctting them. Those which especially need atten- tion now are Euphorbia jacquiniseflora, Eranthemum pulchellum, Poinsettia puloherrima, Geisstmeria longidora, Gesnera lateritia, Justicia coccinea and calytricha, Linum trigynum, Gardenia florida simplici, and G. Thunbergi. VINERy.-Vines that are in a poor condition should be allowed to carry nearly all the wood they make, or at least only those laterals should be removed that have no chance of a due share of daylight. Culti- vators often forget that when a tree is allowed to make a free head it will at the same time make a free root and, on the other hand, if we check the growth above ground by pruning and pinching, the growth below ground will be equally r. tarded and restrained. Vines with swelling bunches must have every needful care, an especially as to the thinning of the bunches -a matter in which every grape-grower should seek to become dexterous. For these the day heat may be 70 deg. to 85 deg., night 53 deg. to 55 deg. OUTDOOR VINES require a favourable position and careful attention to enable them to produce a satis- factory crop. A moderately fertile sandy loam will be found the best for the growth of grape-vines out of doors. As rules are easily remembered, a rule is offered here; the colder the position the "poorer must the soil {¡e. Rich soils and fat manures are not at all de- sirable for the growth of outdoor grapes; and in a cold wet summer the vines on the poorest and driest borders will do better than those on moist well- manured borders. It must not be supposed, however, that the grape-vine can live upon nothing; indeed it would be a folly to plant grape-vines on a worn-out, sour, or pasty loam, on which nothing else could be grown satisfactorily. Should it be necessary to prepare a border for vines, two feet depth of prepared earth will be sufficient, and this should rest on a dry bottom if on a stratum of stones or bricks all the better but this is not needful. It is needful however, that the border should be perfectly drained, either naturally or artificially; if water stagnates upon it all the winter long, the vines will become afflicted with disease, and to expect grapes from them will be absurd. Turfy loam, sharp sand, half inch bones, and clean building rubbish are the best of all materials wherewith to make a border for outdoor vines. If the mixture consists of one half loam, and the remaining half equal parts of the other materials, it will answer admirably. If the loam is not turfy or fibrous, or is suspeeted of being poor, some good manure may be added say in the same proportion as the sand, bones, and building rubbish. Generally speaking, however, the common soil of the garden can be made suitable for vines at a small expenditure of labour and money. Cucumbers require close attention at this season of the year. Where the growth proceeds freely woodlice will proceed freely too. Make them proceed more freely than they intended by watering round next the woodwork with boiling water. If this is done occa- sionally in the middle of the day it will prove an effectual settler. Plants fruiting to be kept well fed, and the temperature steady. If any need for linings, let there be no delay in applying them, for if the roots get a few degrees too cold to sustain the demands upon them the fruit will be lost. Always water the roots with warm water: the simplest way of ohtain- ing it is to keep a shallow can or pan in the frame, and fill it as needful. If any sun-heat, shut up at 80 deg. or 85 deg. ÛUTDoca WORK may be carried on most advan- tageously until stopped by frost or wet. Land ridged up to the frost will get mellow and fertile. As ample notes on outdoor work have been given during the past few weeks, reference may be made to them, and arrears must be made good by extra activity. Winter may linger with us far into March, which will per- haps be less injurious in the end than it appears.- Gardeners' Magazine.
VOLUNTEER ORGANISATION.
VOLUNTEER ORGANISATION. Sir Richard Temple, M.P., distributed, on Saturday night, the prizes gained by the E Company of the Bloomsbury Rifles, on the occasion of the annual com- pany dinner, under the presidency of the captain, Mr. Henry E. Millar. The chairman, in introducing the various prize-winners, observed that the Blooms- bury Rifles-which dates, it may be said, from 1789, being one of the old corps revived in 1859-did all they could to encourage shooting, efficiency, and drill, and they were one of the few regiments which offered prizes for volley-firing teams. Sir Richard Temple, having made the presentations, delivered a speech, in which, after congratulating the company on its suc- cesses, he alluded to the threatening aspect of foreign affairs, and said that Russia, by her railway to Samarcand, would be enabled to menace our Eastern Empire. In France General Boulanger was drifting into a dictatorship, and might be driven to war by the exigencies of his position. We might, therefore, find ourselves opposed to France and Russia in combination, in which case we should have to send every red coat out of the country, whilst our fleet would be actively engaged in the Baltic, in the Black Sea, and in the Mediterranean. It was in circumstances like these that invasion would be thought of, but an attempt would depend on the estimate the enemy formed-first, of the defensibility of London, and, secondly, of the organisa- tion of the volunteers. As to the efficiency of the volunteers, neither this country nor her enemies had any doubt; but he feared the organisation was far i from what it should be. and that if war came upon us, as it probably would, like a bolt from the blue, we should find that these 200,000 brave men-more than five army corps according to our standards- lackeu those necessaries of transport and commissariat without which no army can be put in motion. He urged volunteers and the public generally to press these matters upon the attention of the Government and the Legislature until the legitimate demands of the citizen army were complied with. This speech was received with loud cheers, and most of the speakers to the toast which followed-Captain Millar, Captain Hardcastle, Lieutenant Jones, and Lieutenant Birkett—addressed the gathering in the same strain.
TENANT RIGHT CASE.
TENANT RIGHT CASE. A crowded meeting of members of the Chester Farmers' Club was held on Saturday to discuss "the disastrous effect the recent decision in the Lambcote Grange tenant right case will have on tenant farmers The attendance included several members of kindred clubs in different parts of the country. Mr. Lattock, solicitor, of Chester, and deputy under- sheriff attended by request and gave it as his opinion that the decision of Judge Bristowe depriving Mr. Fawcett, the tenant of Lambcote Grange, of the full value of his tenant-right on leaving, he having given JE1500 for it on entering, was too good law to be dis- puted The action bv Mr. Fawcett to recover the valuc of his tenant-right was resisted by the mortgagee, whose sanction had not been obtained toSthe agreement between the landlord who had parted with his legal estate and the tenant. That was changed in 1881, but, in this case the mort- gage had been granted before that period. The Agri- cultural Holdings Act gave the tenant security as against the order, if the owner was in a position to pay, but if the owner was not in a position to pay the tenant got nothing. The club passed the follow- ine If sdution That this club has learnt for the fr-t time that a tennnt-farmer's claim for tenant- right is so seriously jeopardised by the existing law with reference to the claims of mortgagees as shown in the Lambcote Grange case. and that it is the opinion of this club that the law should be so amended as to render the tenants' just claims secure by making them the first charge upon the land he occupies."
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IT would be difficult to find a region where, in time of peace, the ups and downs of fortune have been so sudden and extreme as in California. In its early davs before its production of grain was equal to the j demand, wages of farm hands were high, but as pro- duction increased, the prices lowered faster than the duction increased, the prices lowered faster than the rate. 0t wages. A farmer employed an industrious I Irishman for five years, at the rate of 50 dollars Cabout £ 10) a month, and found "-board, lodging, washing, and mending. At the end of the term he said to his man rtI can't afford to pay you the wages I have been paying. Ybu have saved money, and I have saved nothing. At this rate you will soon own j my fariii." Then 1*4 hire you to work foy me/ eaid ( other. "Wand voo: cm get four farm back aiiatn,"
SIX WOMEN MURDERED AND MUTILATED.
SIX WOMEN MURDERED AND MUTILATED. The New York Sun puhlishes the following special despatch from Managua, Nicaragua, dated January 2-1Either Jack the Ripper, of Whirechapel, has emil,rateci from the scene of his ghastly murders, or he has tcund one or more imitators in this part of Central America. The people have been greatly aroused by six of the most atrocious murders ever committed within the limits of this city. The murderer or murderers have vanished as quickly as Jack the Ripper, and no traces have been left for identifica- tion. AH of the victims were women of the character of those who met their fate at the hands of the London murderer. Like those women of White- chapel, they were women who had sank to the lowest degradations of their calling. They have been found murdered just as mysteriously, and the murders point to almost identical methods. Two were found butchered out of all recognition. Even their faces "n wj-0 most horribly slashed, and in the cases ot all the others their persons were frightfully dis- figured. There is no doubt that a sharp instrument violently but dexterously used, was the weapon that sent the poor creatures out of the world. Like Jack the Ripper's victims, they have been found in out of the way places, three of them in the suburbs of the town, and the others in dark alleys and corners. Two of the victims were found with gaudy jewellery, and from this it is urged that tho mysterious murderer has not committed the crimes for robbery. In the cases of the other four a few coins were found on their persons, representing no doubt tho prospective consideration for the murderer or murderers. All of the victims were in the last stages of shabbiness and be.^ottedness. In fact, in almost every detail the crimes and the characteristics are identical with the Whitechapel horrors. All the murders occurred in less than ten days, and as yet the perpetrator or perpetrators have nit been apprehended. Every effort is being made to bring him or them to justice. The authorities have been stimulated in their efforts by the statements which seems to be generally accepted that Jack the Riper must have emigrated to Central America, and selected this city for his temporary abode.
AN UNDERGRADUATE DROWNED.
AN UNDERGRADUATE DROWNED. Much excitement was caused at the University torpid races on the river at Oxford on Saturday, owing to the upsetting of the St. John's College punt, used for the purpose of conveying members to the college barge. It was laden at the time, and the result was that all the occupants were thrown into the river. Several were saved with difficulty, and Mr. Montague, of Balliol, seeing Mr. Gray, of St. John's, sinking, dived down and brought him to the surface, when with the assistance ol several other gentlemen who had plunged in he was brought to the bank, as also was the waterman, Bragrove. Mr. Johnson, of St. John's, was missed, and search being made the body of the unfortunate gentleman was found a short distance below where the punt cap. sized. The body was at once conveyed to the col- lege. The deceased gentleman was a native of Peokenham, Kent, and was educated at Merchant Taylors' School, whence he gained a scholarship at St. John's. Avi inquest was held on Monday at Oxford on the body of Mr. Horace Lawrence Johnson, an under- graduate of St. John's College, who was drowned owing to the sinking of a punt in the Isis at the con- clusion of the second division of the Torpid races on Satorday afternoon. It appeared that. the boat was too crowded, and at the time of the accident it was thought all had been rescued, hut subsequent in- quiries showed that the deceased was missing, and on the river being draggpd the body was found. The jury returned a verdict of Accidental death," and added several recommendations with a view to preventing a of the sad mishap.
LIBEL AGAINST MRS. WELDON.
LIBEL AGAINST MRS. WELDON. In an action tried in the Queen's Rench Division on Saturday, before Justice Manisty and a Common Jury, the plaintiff, Mrs. Georgina Weldon, sued for damages for an alleged libel published of her in a weekIv paper called 3Ln and Jfomen, which was printed by the defendants, Messrs. Judd and Co. Mr Denman Benson and Mr. Milner Jones were for the plaintiff, and Mr. M'Call and Mr. Griffiths for the defendants. In the opening statement it was said that the publication complained of took place on the 15th of June, 1887 and was contained in an article uponM. Gounod, themusician. From 1871 to 1S74 M Gounod stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Weldon at Tavistock House, where they were then living, and the article contained the following passages It was during his stay in London that Gounod's inti- macy with Mrs. Weldon was commenced. He was very mmy months the guest of the Weldon family at Tavistock House. It was here that he composed 4 Polyeuete,' produced at the Grand Opera, Paris, 1878. It is hiirilly necessary to relate here the familiar story of how the warm friendship between Mrs. Weldon I an<! M Gounod was changed into bitter enmity. Mrs. Weldon retained the score of Polyeucte,' and M. Gounod brought an action at law against her in the English courts for its recovery, and occupied himself with the Herculean task of re-writing the entire opera from memory. Mrs. Weldon, on the other hand, had injuries real or fancied to allege against the maestro, and painful and protracted litigation resulted ia M. Gounod being condemned to pay a large sum of money by way of damages. The quarrel was of no particular interest to the general public, and it was only the celebrity of one of the parties in the various suits and the notoriety of the other which converted affaire Gounod-Weldon into something like a cause célèbre." The learned counsel contended that some of these statements cast rejections upon the moral character of the plaintiff, and added that others of them were not true. Mrs. Weldon stated that in 1871 she took great interest in musical matters, and in that year Sir Julius Bene- dict introduced her to M. Gounod. He came to stay with them, and he stayed three years. He finished 44 Polyeucte" there, and it was arranged that witness should take a part in it at the Grand Opera. He left England in June, 1874. She had I read the article complained of. Mr. Justice Manifty: There was nothing wrong in saying thtt in London M. Gonnod's intimacy with Mrs. Weldon was commenced. Witness She thought it was very wrong. The" familiar story" was that that had been going the round of the papers for 19 years. In connection with that she brought an action against M. Gounod in 1884 upon contracts, for money due. and for slander and libel. They allowed her judgment for C1640 upon contract, and £ 10,000 for the slander. She had never recovered any money from him. She had not retained the score of Polyeucte," and M. Gounod never brought an action against her about it. She sent him the draft score immediately, for they were to join him ten days after he loft. The celebrity of one of the partit-s naturally applied to M. Gounod, and as to the notoriety," she was not in the least known then. She had been very much annoyed at having to bring this action. Mr. M4Call submitted that there was no evidence of publication by Mr. Judd. His business had at that time been transferred to a Limited Liability Company. He was simply a member and a director of the company, and he was no more liable to be sued in this action than any other shareholder iu the company. He took no part in connection with tho printing. Mr. George Henry Judd said that, he was the defendant in the action, and he wa* a shareholder in G. H. Judd and Co. (Limited). The company were printers, and employed 700 pc pie. Fhey printed for the proprietors 14 or 15 news- papers. In the ordinary course of their business they printed Men and IVomm. They printed it for about four months, and then it died. It left Messrs. Judd and Co. (Limited) a legacy in the shape of a debt of JE45. (Laughter ) He attended to the financial busi- ness in the counting-house, and had nothing to do with the printing. Mr. Justice Manisty left it to the jury to say whether they conside-ed that the publi- cation in question was libellous and, if fO, what were the damages to which the plaintiff was entitled. The jury retired, and, having considered the matter for half an hour, they expressed their opinion that what had been published was a libel, and they assessed the plaintiff's damages at £ 300. Mr. Justice Manisty sa d that he would think over the matter before giving judgment.
END OF A MURDER CHARGE.
END OF A MURDER CHARGE. On Saturday, at the Norfolk Assizes, before Mr. Justice Field, Bannell Joplin, 30, described as a corn- meter, of King's Lynn, was charged with the wilful murder of Frances Louisa Green. Mr. M;nd, in stating the case for the prosecution, said that at eight o'clock in the evening of Jan. 21 the prisoner and the deceased were seen together at Lynn, going in the direction of the Staithe. Shortly afterwards the screams of a woman were heard from the quay, and the prisoner's voice was also heard. Boats put off, and the accused was rescued in a drowning state. At 11.30 p.m. the body of the deceased was taken out of the water. It appeared that the prisoi er had been courting the girl, but that her parents refused their consent to the marriage. This seemed to have greatly upset the defendant, and the theory of the prosecu- tion was that he bad caused the death of the de- ceased by pushing or throwing her into the Lynn river. Evidence having been heard at some length, Mr. Justice Field expressed his opinion that as no post-mortem examination had been made of the body there was no legal evidence forthcoming as to the cause of death. Mr. Beloe, coroner for Lynn, attempted to address the court on the subject, but Mr. Justice Field refused to hear him. After some discussion, Mr. Mayd said he should bow to his lord- ship's ruling, and retire from the prosecution. A verdict of Not guilty" was thereupon recorded,^ana the prisoner was discharged.
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Ax esteemed contemporary cautions its lady readers against sitting down on cane-bottomed chairs, when they are dressed in velvet. This remInds us of a remark of Mrs. Fanny Kemble, who. when she found such a chair orovided for her at one of her readings in the West, turned upon the lading ^committeeman & basilisk glance, AND e^olatmeds Mmi do you xrish tc give my velvet gowu tlie pJx
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Tub union b.s. co.'» kail.packets t*ii tnan Southampton ctctt alternate Fri<l*y tur 8 '«tb Atiieas Ports, calling Lisbon *b<5 MadeiReturn TkAeta Iesuo^ AFply to tbe Union Steam Ship Company, Oriental South- **nj>ton j or II. Leadeohall Sireet, London. CAteTLE LillVB (For the GOLD FIELDS of SOUTH AFRICA). JJOKDON and DARTMOUTH to CAPS COLOtTr, NATJLtJ MAURITIUS, MADAGASCAR, and BAST A-FSICA. THH CASTI.K COMPANY'S Royal Mail St*amer» tail from liOXDOK eT*ry alternate Wednetdax, and from Dartmouth on the Friday following. Return Tuknt. Handbook for Pa«*en*er« AmiJj to DGNAI.D CURR1E & CO., S, Feufhurch Street. Losixvs, B.C.: «>. St. Enorli Rqnare, Ci iseow 12, OaaUe Street! L1VUB.POOL; IS. Street, MAKCHKSTBH. »11 PruYincial Tows*. ARE THP- SstlUflMLls PLAYING CftRDS ABEST6 SOLD BT ALL BTATIOygag- 'HOPS HOPS I! HOPS! ENGLISH & FOREIGN. PrifM on AppHeatlon. SYDNEY HOWARD, n, Mark Lane. 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HELLIN, Marlboro" Works, Peokham, S.E. ■w s v. uA\.r\11.,1.LES AH Lhoac requiring New or Secun.hawd .} () Billiard work done, should, before going elsewhere, seid ft* S New price List, Cloth and Cushion ftabbv a? -^Ssamplee, to HTSNNIQ BROS ■ligtvSt.-w '■■■ £ Tot.,ion 1- lftg- II* A M P H k. t-'li lirery n»*u a | EJ S I And Advire and woman fj 1 ET shouM write withowi |& L jjf P E Mr.C.i;.MAR.\lSS g ■91 ■ V BB Co>isuttinf Mcdu+l S ■ H (President ot the British Kg B Association of Medical Electricians), » hjs J\'cw Mtdxcal Work, entitled j3 ^•Coratlve Powers o Elcctricitj 1 which will be seat post free to any address on gj ap; Lic^tion. T e treatise contains :ull particulars Sa of the treatment ot the various i.ls» that lirsh is jg heir to. It also contains a selection from the » thousan s of testimonial received ;n Uvor uJ » Sra"le?pp»S^^ P°P^eutUn this paper K MR. C. B. HARNESS iKr<? "fe I eras jgg a Note only address, and write t»-d »y, »r cad i< possibki. n 52, OXFORD ST. LONDON, W.I ICmrnrr o, RtlMtnt PInct W of the treatment 01 the various i.ls» that lirsh is jg heir to. It also contains a selection from the » thousan s of testimonial received ;n Uvor uJ » Sra"le?pp»S^^ P°P^eutUn this paper K MR. C. B. HARNESS iKr<? "fe I eras jgg a Note only address, and write t»-d »y, »r cad i< possibki. n 52, OXFORD ST. LONDON, W.I ICmrnrr o, RtlMtnt PInct W
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Conceit.—Conceit is like the natural ungunt ot the sea fowl's plumage, which enables him to shed the raiu that faiis on him and the wave in which be dips. When one has had all his conceit taken out of him, when be has lost all his illusions, his fettbeM will soon soak through, and he will fly no more. VON MOLTKK'S HousE.-The house in which Voo Moltkelivesm Berlin overlooks the KJnigsplatz and the Moltke Strasse. The great man on'y lives in two of the rooms, one bpint* used as a study and the other as a bedroom. The latter is furnish, d in the most un- assuming manner, and contains nothing but articles which are absolutely necessary, the only ornament being a photograph of the Marshal's dead wife, which is kept caref ally decorated with fresh leaves bymoitke's own hand. The study, on the other hand, is most elaborately decorated, the walls being covered with frescoes by the painter August Van Heyden, repre- senting the development of the Prussian army. The arrangement and furnishing of this room was under- taken by the Empress Victoria when she was Crown Princess. A long narrow table runs down the centre. and this is covered with maps of all kinds, and there is also a couple of large bookcases in the apartment containing nothing but books on topography. A branch of laurel adorns one of the walls, bearing an inscription dated March 9, 1888. It was taken from a wreath laid on the coffin of the Emperor William by the Empress Augusta, and given by her to Moltke. THE STORY OF A "WARRIOR'S HEART.—The great Marquis of Montrose, being much attached to hii nephew, the second Lord Xapier, and his wife, promised the latter that she should receive his heart atter death as a testimony of his affections. Accord- ingly, after the Marquis's tragic execution Lady Xapier obtained the heart, which she had properly embalmed and placed in a case made of the steel blade of Montrose's sword, then put in a gold filigree box, and finally deposited in a silver urn. The heart next came into the possession of the young Marquis of Montrose, by whom it appears to have been lost 00 the Continent. After many years it was J an accideRt. through a friend of the ami Th ing it in the collections of a Dutc gen BP.\t that we hear of the hear ,s Tnhn«ton hv oueathed to the mother of Sir Alexander Johnston by her father as almost the sole possession he could leave her he having forfeited his property through aBurpaHon. P^ntly Sir 41, ander's parents, he himself being a child offive,wrre on their wav with the Engl sh fleet to India when they were attacked bv a French squadron. The father, mother, and son remained bes de each other on deck throughout the encounter, and were afl wounded. Among other things the cherished filigree box was shattered by a splinter, but the beag itself in the steel case remained intact. But the heart was doomed soon afterwards to be stolen in India, where it was imagined to be a wonderful talisman. Presently, by another extraordinary series of co- incidences, Sir Alexander met an Indian chief, who had purchased it for a large sum, but who magnanimously restored it to the rightful owner. After so many adventures, it is grievous to record that the heart was lost a third time during the Revolutionary troubles in France, where the famUy then were, and this time it was not found &Pitt. But it would seem more surprising if it were lost tot ever. than that it should be recovered once mOM tp som«un«lreaxatk>f fashion