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UNDER A DISGUISE: OR THE IDIOT DETECTIVE. BY CAERWEKYDD RAFTER I. N THE TRACK. Alick Macpherson had not been long In the de- active force, but he was much respected at Scot- and Yard, and whenever a case of special difficulty trose it was entrusts* to him with a feeling of :ontidence that, if it were possible, lie would ichieve success. For some months a large quantity of spurious noney had been in circulation in the City, and, lespite all the exertions of the police, no trace had seen discovered of the source from whence the fictitious coin was issued. At length it was deemed necessary to take more active measures, and our lero was told off for the duty, with the assurance ,hat if he brought the felons to justice he would 'eceive tho substantial reward of JE500, which the Home Office had determined to offer. Macpherson received the announcement of his lelection with a look of doubt and uncertainty. 3is courage seemed, as it were, to be oozing out at lis finger-ends; but with men of his spirit and letermination these moments of despondency are seriods of quiet cogitation, from which are evolved ,he germs of sanguine hopes and powerful resolu- tions. He remained for some time in a state of anguid abstraction, and then he rose from his seat, left his office, and walked quickly along Whitehall and the Strand, humming to himself a lively air. On reaching the —— Tavern he turned into the snug, and took his seat amidst a motley urowd of drinking, debating, and swearing men, one of whom greeted him with a familiar smile and nod. This was the landlord, James Williamson. "Well, Alick," said he, what brought you here ? IVe get angels' visits from you now, my old general." He called all his friends general," and with him it was a homely term of endearment. I want a word with you in private, James," mswered Alick. Oh! that is it," said the landlord. All right, my old general, this way." He ushered Macpherson into a private room, and :here they had some conversation together on the subject of the spurious money in circulation. Macpherson asked Williamson-who, as my readers will have surmised, was an old chum of his—to keep his weather-eye open. A large number of persons visit your house svery day, and through the agency of some of them you may be able to assist me in this matter." "All right, my old general," said the landlord. Come and see me again in a week's time, and then I may have some news for you." Macpherson soon afterwards went to his home. At the end of a week he called on Williamson igain, but with no result; and although he made extensive inquiries he was still, apparently, as far iff success as ever he was. On the following day, liowever, he was walking along the Embankment, watching the arrival and departure of the boats that carry passengers up and down the river, when lie was accosted by a tall, sleek individual of scant but orderly attire—a typical member of a frater- nity of the shabby genteel, who, with a polite How d'ye do," asked to be allowed to have a word with him. Macpherson assented, and the stranger began. I know you by having met you before at Bow- itreet. Williamson, of the ——— Tavern, sent me to you. I called at Scotland Yard, you were out, ind I have now the good luck to meet you here. You want to find out a gang of coiners who are at arge. I can lend you a hand, and will do so on conditions." Macpherson brightened up when he heard this, ind with some eagerness he said— How can you help me, and what are your con- iitions ?" Well," continued the stranger, I was acci- dentally thrown into the company of one of the jang, and when under the influence of drink he told me where his chief lives, and how the work of coining is carried on." Go on," said Macpherson. No," said the stranger. You see I can help you, 3ut before I tell you more you must consent to my conditions. The reward offered for the capture of she gang is JE500. I must have one-third share, C50 to be paid in advance, and the remainder as soon as the leader or any members of the gang are tinder arrest." Macpherson was silent for a few moments, and then he said, If you will allow yourself to be put ander police surveillance for a week, I will agree to four terms. I do not know you, and I have no guarantee of your honesty." The stranger proceeded, I shall not object so long as there is a legal bargain struck between us. But of my honesty you may be assured. I know the leader of the gang. I was in search of him when I ascertained his address. He is an old snemy of mine; he betrayed and ruined the girl who was the object of my first and last love, and years ago I vowed I would have revenge on him. I would have achieved my purpose long ere this, but that residing with him is one whom he called his daughter, and who, from the resemblance, I suspect to be the issue of his wicked amour with No, I won't name her. She is dead—he killed her; if I dare, I would kill him." The stranger spoke with great earnestness. [ Macpherson was surprised. He has seen better ) days, poor fellow," he murmured to himself, and then he spoke out, You have been unfortunate. But tell me, how did this man, whom you call your enemy, come to take to coining?" Like myself," said the stranger, he has seen better days. After tho girl to whom I have alluded died, he appears to Imve been driven to desperation by remorse, and from a respectable silversmith he became a reckless, good-for-nothing sot. He disgraced himself in his native town, came to London, and took to coining as a means of earning a livelihood." "Well," said Macpherson, "I believe you are honest in your statements, and if you will assent to place yourself under police surveillance, I will agree to your conditions." The stranger expressed his willingness to comply with this request, and after arrangements had been made for a meeting on the following day they sepa- rated. The meeting took place, and the conditions im- posed on both sides were complied with. Mac- pherson was furnished with the address of the supposed leader of the gang, and as soon as cir- cumstances would permit lie set off to reconnoitre. CHAPTER II. IN THE STRONGHOLD. Macpherson found that the house to which he had been directed was a dingy three-storeyed build- ing. in a narrow thoroughfare, open only at one end, and occupied by a middle-class population. In nearly all the houses there was a ticket in the window announcing Apartments to be let," and Macpherson knew from his experience of London that this cast a grave shadow of doubt on the seeming respectability of the street. Such places, he reflected, are generally open to lodgers of any description but this may be a reason why a man who is engaged in a nefarious business should reside here the fact that people come and go, and that his own house is ostensibly open to lodgers, might be assumed to be a circumstance that would avert suspicion. Macpherson had been informed that the man did not carry on the operations of coining in this house, but he thought that if he obtained access to it he might find out all the rest. He believed that the ticket in the window was a mere blind, and after he had surveyed the place and made a few inquiries, he was in doubt what further steps to take. After a while he recollected that when a youth he was clever at disguises, and more parti- cularly the disguise of an idiot, and the idea struck him that under this disguise a friend might obtain for him a domicile in the house if a high rate of payment were offered. He hurried back to the city, sought out his friend Williamson, and laid his plans before him for his approval. I am indebted to you for the discovery of the residence of this man. Will you carry your kind- ness a step further, and adopt me as your idiot brother." No idiot brother for me, my old general. I object to it, it ain't respectable. Ah, ah!" "Ah, ah!" laughed Macpherson. "Then not brother-r-a friend, a servant. Now I have it—a servant. Adopt me as an old servant, who, through grief or disappointment, has become insane." That's better, my old general," the landlord of the Tavern went on. Brother, I could not think of it—not respectable; but servant, ah! ser- vant, I don't mind. In that case there is no rela- tionship, and it cannot be supposed that the idiocy is in the blood—in the family. And now that is settled, what am I to do ?" You are to go to the house," said Macpherson, and say you have come from the country- No, no, not country-I hate country, my old general. Keep me in the city, and then I don't mind." Macpherson laughed again. Well, well, Wil- liamson," he said, I know you are proud of the fact that you are a citizen of London. Suppose we put it that you have been to the country, and that you have brought back to town with you your old servant, for whom you want a home, pending such a time as you can put your own house in order for him." That will do," Williamson said. "I'll go to the house to-morrow, my old general, and if I don't pass you off as my mad servant, may I be blo %d Mind you say I am a quiet, harmless idiot," sa.id Macpherson. Right, my old general- On the following day Williamson went on his errand, and on knocking at tho door. was ushered into the house by a girl of comely, graceful appearance. He was left alone in the sitting-room a few moments, then a man of middle age, with deep-sunk lines on his face, and a rather care- worn, besotted expression of eye, joined him. Williamson explained his business, and although the man pondered and hesitated for a long time, he was at length induced, by promise of a hand- some payment, and by the assurance that it was "only for a week," to receive the demented servant as his lodger. It was arranged that he should come into the house at once, and Williamson, in high glee, set off to find Macpherson. Our hero was at his own home. He had assumed the dress he was to wear during his week's exile, and this, with the aid of a wig and a few touches of paint on the face, completely changed his appearance. He heard the news of his friend's success with delight, and he proceeded to rehearse his part in a manner which caused the jocund landlord to roar with laughter. "Capital, my old general," he said, "you'll never be found out if you maintain that disguise. But, by the way, how natural you seem in it. Ah! ah "Ah! ah!" laughed Macpherson. "I once put glue on my grandfather's seat, and when he found himself stuck fast to the chair he threw a prayer- book at my head, and said I was a born fool." Williamson laughed again. Remember," he proceeded, I did not tell them you were a born fool. I told them you had gone mad through disappointment." They then got into a cab, and in less than an hour they found themselves at the door of the house. Williamson led Macpherson in by the arm, and placed him in a chair in a sitting-room in the second storey, which had been prepared for him. Our hero said nothing, but gazed around him with a vacant stare, and maintained such an expression of helpless idiocy that the girl who had accom- panied them into the room was moved with com- passion, and with tears in her eyes, said— "Poor, poor man! How sad Williamson wrote out a cheque for the amount to be paid for the week's lodging, asked the girl to be kind to his "old servant," and then went away with a promise to call in a couple of days. When Macpherson found himself alone, he made an examination of the place. There was nothing in the room but the furniture, the lock of tho door was without a key, and the window had been secured by large screws, which could not be removed without the proper tools. The screws were new, and he came to the conclusion that they had been put there just before his arrival. It is evident," he reflected, that I am to be kept under control; but then, there is that girl-if she is to wait on me, the monotony will certainly be relieved. Who is she ? She must be the coiner's illegitimate daughter—the person referred to in such terms of attachment by my strange informant." Macpherson was alone for about an hour, and then some supper having been given to him, the supposed coiner, whose name was Job Smith, con- ducted him upstairs to his bedroom. The door of the bedroom was locked on him, and with the thought that if his movements were to be thus controlled, he would not make much progress, he lay down and soon fell into a deep sleep. He remained in bed the next morning till his door was opened, and he was told by Smith to get up. Get up, you idiot; get up, or I'll empty the water jug on you," was the polite and affectionate language in which he was addressed. However, he arose at once, and with a silly laugh said, Good morning, master." "Don't laugh at me, fool," said Smith. Macpherson laughed the more, and Smith went downstairs, ejaculating "He's all right; mad as a March hare." One point gained," said Macpherson, his con- fidence. Perhaps I shall not be locked in to- night." During that day Macpherson was allowed to wander about the house a little, but he made no important discovery. At night he was sitting in the room allotted to him, when the girl before mentioned entered without any apparent object; Macpherson had heard her called Frances, and this was her name. She was a young and pretty maiden, moderate in height, slender and graceful in figure, and pleasing and attractive in face. Her golden hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders, and her pensive blue eyes bespoke sweetness and pathos of disposition. When she entered the room Macpherson began to tear the paper he had in his hand into pieces, and to smile with a vacant ex- pression of face as he scattered the remnants on the floor. Frances looked at him with an air of tenderness. Poor man," she said, how I pity him." Then she commenced picking up the pieces of paper from the floor, and as she did so she went on speaking. And yet he is better off than I am myself. I knew no mother; he who calls himself my father has some affection for me, but he often has his fits of passion, and then he abuses me. His com- panions are men of low character, and when he is with them I often hear them using horrible lan- guage. Oh my lot is a hard one, but beyond my father there is no one who cares for me." She turned to Macpherson, and with a longing look asked, as though not expecting any reply— Had you ever a friend, poor man ? Ah yes. I know you have a friend now, for it was he who brought you here. I have no friend. How I long to love and to be loved." Macpherson seemed not to understand, and lie remained stolid and silent. lIe was engrossed in thought. The being before him he felt constrained to pity. So young, so innocent, he thought, and yet immured in this prison-house, with no one to love her. She says she has been abused by her father. She is dissatisfied with her life here. Dare I trust her ? Shall I tell her the truth, and ask her tD help me? Frances had walked to the window, and then she turned to Macpherson again, placed her hand on his shoulder, and looking him straight in the face said, with sweet simplicity- Idiot, do you love anybody ? Does anybody love you?" Then she kissed him on the forehead, and said, Poor fellow, I'll love you." This was almost more than Macpherson could stand. He was a single man—not yet 30 years of age-and the pity which he before felt for this tender-hearted and lovable girl seemed now to be- come a living fire, with all the elements and attri- butes of a deep and real love. "Surely I can trust her," he said, "and I will but how ?" He thought a moment, and then in a kindly tone of voice he said— Frances, will you love me ?" The girl started, blushed, then turned pale, and at length said— Do you understand all I say to you ?" Yes, I do," said Macpherson, rising and throw- ing off the wig he wore. I am not what I seem I am not an idiot." He placed his back against the door, and Frances stood silent and trembling. She could say nothing. May I trust you ? This father who you say has abused you is the leader of a gang of coiners. I am a detective, and I am here to bring him to justice. Will you aid me, and I will take you away from this place." Frances gave a faint cry on hearing this, and sank on the floor in a state of unconsciousness. Macpherson rushed to her, placed her on the couch, and bathed her face with water. When she opened her eyes she shuddered, and with a frightened look said— "Where am I? Ah! I see. Oh, leave this house. My father and some of his companions will be here shortly, and if they discover you dreadful things will happen." Just then there was a knock at the front door, and Frances rose in haste and said— I cannot betray my father you must leave this place." The knock was repeated, and the girl left the room to answer the impatient summons. Now Macpherson felt that he was in a difficulty. He resumed his disguise, and after some reflection resolved to remain in the house. "Surely," he said, "that girl will not have the hardness of heart to communicate what I have said to her to her father." Frances did not return to him that night. His supper was brought to him by Smith, and he had no sooner finished the meal than he was conducted to his bedroom, and the door again secured. He had not observed any alteration in Smith's demeanour towards him, and he threw himself down on the bed with the feeling that his disguise was still a secret, and that he was safe. CHAPTER III. A NIGHT OF ADVENTURE. Macpherson did not sleep. He assumed that the companions whom Smith had brought with him were the coiners, and he was determined that he would dare much that night rather than lose the opportunity of obtaining the information for which he sought. He examined the lock, and found that it could, with very little difficulty, be forced open from the inside. He was about to make the effort when he heard a light footstep on the stairs. He listened. It came nearer, and then there was a gentle knock at the door. A voice whispered, "Fia I, Frances." A key was put into the door, and it was opened. There stood the coiner's daughter, with a candle in her hand, the light of which showed that there was a look of anguish and fear resting on her face. I ha.ve come to warn you," she said duty compelled me to put my father on his guard. He was gpiet for a time, then he began to drink whisky, and this inflamed his worst passions. He has told his companions about you, and the last words I heard them utter as I listened near the door were-, We will kill him this night.' They are going to murder you. Oh! sir, escape, for they are all desperate men." What are they doing now," asked Macpherson. "They have been balancing accounts," said Frances, "and I heard one of them say that he knew the police were on their track." Then they are the gang ?" "Yes," said Frances "but you must escape at once or it will be too late." But tell me," said Macpherson, what is to become of ycu ?" Never mind me," she said, they will not injure me. My father does love me much, and it is not often I am subjected to any abuse." Have you lived with your father all your life," said Macpherson, anxious to know more even then of this strange girl. "No," replied Frances, "I was for some time with a well-to-do relative of his, who is now dead. But you must leave here at once, or you will be murdered. Come with me quietly." She led him down stairs, but before they had reached the second storey the footsteps of several men were heard approaching. Frances said, Oh! they are coming. Hide yourself anywhere, but make no noise, or you will be discovered." She entered her own room, and locked the door. Macpherson had just time to conceal himself behind the open door of an adjacent room, when the head; of the party appeared above the landing. There were four of them, Job Smith and three companions—men of his own ilk, unshorn and uncouth, and apparently excited by drink or passion. They passed his hiding place, and in a few moments he heard them trying the door, which Frances had had the good sense to lock. Macpherson ran down stairs as lightly and as quickly as possible, and entered the room the coiners had left. On the table he found several pyramids of spurious coins, and an open book, in which tho accounts of the party were evidently kept. These lie seized, and then he made for the front door, which, with some difficulty, he unlocked. As he was about to sally forth he heard shouts of disappointment and rage proceeding from the gang of coiners, who, on bursting open the door of the room in which their victim was supposed to be secure, found that their bird had taken to himself wings and had liown away. Macpherson ran to the end of the street, and blew his whistle. He was determined that the coiners should not escape, and then lie made up hid mind to remain until the policeman on the beat came to his assistance. Fortune was on his side, and in a few moments a constable appeared. He recognised Macpherson, and expressed his willingness to act on his orders. Come with me," said Macpherson. There are four men here whom we must arrest. Have you any weapons?" Only my staff," said the constable. "Then give me your belt," said Macpherson. They are all under the influence of drink, and if we are resolute we can capture them." They returned to the house, and found the door still open. The screams of a female were heard from one of the bedrooms. They are taking their revenge on Frances," said Macpherson. Come, be quick." On the stairs they met the coiners, and a struggle ensued, in the course of which Job Smith, in trying to escape, fell over the banisters. This placed him hors de combat, and the other three were soon disposed of. They had no weapons, one of them was felled by a blow from the policeman's baton, and the other two, bleeding from severe wounds, gave up the fight, and allowed themselves to be handcuffed. Having made the four men secure, Macpherson went in search of Frances, and found her lying on I the floor in her room in a state of unconsciousness. After a while she recovered sufficiently to be able i to speak. I have been brutally kicked," she said. Take me to a doctor." Soon afterwards further assistance arrived, the coiners were removed to a place of safety, and Macpherson himself drove Frances to the nearest 1 hospital, where, in consequence of the severity 0 t her injuries, she was obliged to remain. The rest of my story is soon told. The coiners were convicted and transported. Macpherson obtained his reward, and carried out his bargain with his informant, who now boasted of having gratified both his avarice and his revenge. The excitement of the occurrence over, MaC" pherson bethought him of Frances. I love that girl," he said. She probably saved my life, and if I can tinJ her I will make her an offer of marriage. If she reject me, then I'll offe1- her my friendship." He did tind her; they were married, and now there is no happier household in Great Britain than that of which our hero, Macpherson, is tile founder and the head.

AT FAULT. BY IIAWLEY SMART. Author of "Breezie Langton." "Broken Bonds/' "Social Sinners," "The Great Tontine," &.C., &C-, &c. CHAPTER XXIII. BKSSIE'S CONFESSION. Dr. Ingleby. the next morning, half repented him of this promise he had made. He was exceedingly fond of Bessie Hyde, and he recollected the girl's distress the last time he had spoken to her auout her knowledge of Foxborough. True this was somewhat different, he was only going ask her this time to trust in him and let him be judge whether tliere was reason the happiness of two lives should be wrecked. If she really loved Philip, and he was not the man to say she had made that admission without due and sufficienl grounds for so saying, surely she would be anxious to clutch at a chance of clearing away the obstacles to her marriage. At all events, thought the doctor, if I am somewhat overstepping the privileges of an old friend, it is on behalf of two young people whom I sincerely desire to benefit. It may not b9 quite a pleasant business. I am afraid it won't; it; seemed so painful to Bessie before to touch upoiif that it would be absurd to suppose it will prov< otherwise now; still it's got to be done. I'm not going to have Bessie Hydo and Phil Soames drift apart if I can help it. She's just the wife for him he's plenty of money and lots more to come. Oh, no! I'm not at all above doing a bit of match- making whan I think it desirable, and I'll have the bells ringing at llaurnborough about those two, of know the reason why. No matter this to be put off, and the doctor de-* termined to go over to Dyke and have the thing out at once. Unlike Philip, he knew he should have no difficulty about a tete-a-tete with Miss Hyde. Bessie undoubtedly regarded the doctor as a trusted friend, and he was of that age she might look upon him as not likely to misinterpret her confidences. He called next day upon the two ladies, as was his custom, about tea time, and after such desultory conversation as was usual, and having quietly informed Mrs. Fossdyke that nothing fresh had transpired concerning her hus- band's melancholy end, said as he made his adieux, Miss Hyde, walk to the gate with me, please. I have something to say to you." You wouldn't deceive, me, doctor ?" cried the widow. "Surely there can be no more terribla news coming to me f" Not in the least, my dear madam. What I hava to say to Miss Hyde concerns herself alone, and iSl a thing she need feel little misgiving about listen- ing to. Will you come, Miss Bessie ?" Yes, of course my hat is in the hall. I feel half frightened, doctor," she continued, as they passed the hall door. I don't know what you have to tell me, but I can never forget the night when Phil—Mr. Soames sent for me into the study and told his terrible tale." I have nothing terrible to tell you, nor you me, but Bessie I want you to comprehend that I con* sider I stand to you in the light of him who haS gone. You know how intimate I have been at Dyke, and it has always appeared to me that poor Fossdyke looked upon you more in the light of » ward than his wife's companion. I was, as you know, one of his most intimate friends, and aia now his executor. I want you, Bessie, to regard me in the same light, and give me your confi- dence." The girl's face looked a little troubled for a minute or so, and then she replied, gravely, It is only too good of you to take an interest in nie. As for confidences—" and here she indulged in a little nervous laugh—" what should I have to con- fide further than it was I upset the cream, and not the cat." To begin with," said Dr. Ingleby, "PhHip Soames has acquainted me with all that has passed between you." Then I think Mr. Soames has been guilty ot much indiscretion," retorted the girl, as she reared her head proudly. "He might have relied on my lips being sealed, and though I have nothing to reproach myself with, still I did not anticipate 0UI?j affairs becoming common discourse Bessie, Bessie," replied Dr. ingietjy, gently. please don't meet me in that spirit. It was in DO braggadocio vein, believe me, that Phil told me tba story of his wooing. It was the wail of a rejected lover—rejected, forsooth, as he honestly ave5j and believes, for some shadowy reason that coula he but come by it might be swept away in an lll-, stant." Mr. Soames did me an honour, which, reasons good and sufficient, I felt compelled to de* cline. He has told you that he has asked me to be his wife, and, further, for his own sake, I waS obliged to refuse his request. I think Mr. Soames is not treating me generously. I told him frankly I could marry no man to whom I had not first told my story, and that I had not courage to do that; if I had loved him less it would have been easier, but I could not bear the dismay on his face when he learnt who I really was, or to have him stand by his offer from a pure sense of honour. I could not bear," she continued, passionately, to embroIl him with his own family, or that people should whisper and point to Philip Soames's wife as a. woman with a shameful story attached to her- No! Dr. Ingleby, you are very good, butllo^01 Philip too dearly to be a millstone round his neck> or to have him at war with society for my sake. If poor Mr. Fossdyke had lived the decision would have rested with him. He knew all about me, and' I told him what had passed between me and Philip, but his advice is lost to me, and I believa I am acting for the best, doing what is right, J[1 adhering to my original decision." Bessie ceased speaking, but it was evident she was deeply moved, the long, dark lashes of her eye? were wet, and the girl's whole frame trembled slightly with emotion. Dr. Ingleby was not a little nonplussed. There could be no doubt that Bessie honestly loved Soames. and that it was entirely for his own sake she refused him. She certainly W¡13 a better judge than either he or Philip could pre- tend to be of the circumstances was it fair to wring this girl's story from her on]y to endorseh-1' own view and acknowledge that the obstacles she deemed insurmountable really were so? Then, again, was it not better for Philip that thing!' should remain as they were, and he be free from what might probably turn out an unfortunate marriage, so far as connection went ? Society in country places is even more intolerant than in big cities; in London, for instance, who you are ¡g not so much consequence now-a-days, as what you've got per annum, and can you keep clear ot the law your iniquities arc not counted against you, provided your cook and your wines are unim- Reachable but none knew better than Dr. Ingleby that if the ladies of Baumborough once decided the antecedents of a new comer, made her admission within society's pale inadmissible, it would be a gigantic task to break through the taboo. Give me a few minutes to think, Bessie," hE said, at length- "I want to give the best advieff I can, to think what is best for both you and Philip." And as they strolled slowly on it occurred to the doctor that Philip was in very genuine earnest about winning the girl for his wife. and was llOt likely to rest passive with things as they were that whether he inLerferetl or nut tile chances were that. the young man sooner or later would come at the truth, and take his own wav then without much reference to the opinions of friends or rela- tions. It would be better, he thought, if he could induce Bessie to yield him her confidence; ha should be judge ot" the case now while he had yet opportunity to tender advice to both the young people. Bessie, you admit. the decision of this affair would have rested with poor Fossdyke had ha lived. Do you not think it would bo best to look upon me as standing in his place. True) in one case, unfortunately, you have a painful story to tell which would have been spared you iI1 the other; but you know I am sincerely attached to Philip. I have known him from achild, and know his character thoroughly—a man very reso- lute, and difficult to turn from a tiling when his mind is once made up, and he is terribly in earnest about marrying you. It will be no light thing that will stop him, and, Bessie, remember by your own confession he has friends in the garrison should ha press the place hard." The girl smiled, as she said softly, Too true; I've never denied it, but I'll bØ staunch to Philip's real welfare, never fear." Can you not trust an old friend of his, a tnan. like myself, who knows the world well, and .vb) would be a much clearer and more dispassi0™}*^ judge than himself, and who would not abet him in doing a foolish thing, to be the judge of tha case ? It may be I shall pronounce your scruples groundless it may be I shall say, Bessie Hyde, if you have any real love for Philip, run away from the place, and don't bring social rUIn on the man for whom you profess affection.' The colour came and went in the girls face afl she listened to the doctor's speech, lIe had struct the right key he ignored her and affected to bd only anxious about Philip's welfare. That wllg what she wanted. Would anyone decide between them, thinking only of him. If hor marriage waf! pronounced possible she should bo only too happy and thankful, but if for Philip's sake it were besS she should go she would depart without a naur" mur. Dr. Ingleby," she said at length, if you will promise to do that, to think only of Philip and never of me, I can perhaps muster up courage t tell you my story; but, mind, I am never to lIe cause of reproach to him. Tell me honestly if 1 am right in my view and, friends in the garriso notwithstanding. I'll take good care he never h;)9 chance to carry the place." My dear Bessie, I want to do what I deem best for two young people, of whom I am verv fond. but my first consideration here, I think, ought be Phil." Yes," she faltered, must "ot mind

3aade preparations for their departure, conscious the I Miile th. u the Cast'e was in a statu of siege. I "Well, gentlemen," laughed his Excellentr. "we have entered upon stirring times, indeed. Lit us pledge Ireland and her new Government Rath- let us pledge our own headj in our wills," suggested Colonel Tomlins, for," he added, "if what I hear be true, we are to receive upon them a pledge of the new period of order on which Ireland has entered." Don't you think, my dear Tomlins," asked Lord Fitzclarence, the equerry, that we had better drink to the life-buoy makers, and fellows of that class, for, if what I hear be true, we are to be driven like sheep into the sea." "And pray what arrangements are to be atad-5 for the ladies ?"as.kedth< Countess of Stirling. "Are we also to seek refuge in the slender sacurity of the life-buoy ?" Oh said his Excellency, there is not a word ttbout the ladies. I believe the rascals are an:ious only to see our b^ck. Just at this moment a secretary entered hur- riedly and banded a dispatch to the Viceroy. Humph-hum. Thing3 seem to be taking orioud turn," said his Excellency. Htra i. Sriton counselling immediate flight, fears a ruin* if the people, and inability of the handful of troops remaining in the country to quell it. Very annoy- ing that Childers recalled the cavalry." Really," exclaimed the Countess indignantly, • really, Colonel Briton ought to couple to hi* ad- juration to go the order of our going. Perhaps he would wish us to fly through the back door." Colonel Tomlins, the Military Secretary, however, protested that Briton was a gallant officer; and for himself, he counselled an immediate departure. '•No, by the blood of the Losries, I will not fly exclaimed the Countess. "Never shall it be said that a Lossie fled from before an Irish rabble." "Spoken like a queen, dear Di." cried Lady Stir- ling's .<i.ster. My lord, order up a brace ot Wool- wich infanta,' and let us die; like English ladies in front of the enemy." Discretion overcame valour, ho-versr. In ths gloom of a night which was conveniently dark for :n enterprise dependent upon secrecy for its suc- cess, the Viceroy, his wife. and the members of his .suite quitted th-j Castle, and proceeded in hot iiasto for King.town, -71 ¡ out", for England. Tlint night Mr. Parnell slept in the Viee-reyal cnamber of the Castle, whilst in the banqueting fiali down stairs a number of his adherent? cele- brated the triumph of disorder. When da-.rn ,ert-d itself the light revealed the rscumbent a<ures of sererol Irish gentlemen. Some lay h*c»- I in their chairs, their feet amid overturned decan- iers, while others, still clutching empty »iassss, lumbered noisily beneath the board, or at th* icet of their own chairs. These gentleman had succias. fully celebrated the night of the Saxonj in thi. axons' own wine. The Boers of the Trans?a*l were eclipsed by the Boers ot the Emerald Isle by universal acclamation Mr. Parnell was nomi- cr.Ud for the post of Prime Minister of the Irish Parliament. The elections proceeded rapidly, ami uoioily. The qualifications of membership wore loud voice and a strong arm. Ireland was ble.«*ed with manhood suffrage, which, as a "Vit remarked, was the cause of so much suffering manhood in [reiand. Briberv at elections- not having bean da- clared illegal, did not flourish in Ireland. Ah, bad cess to ye, and it's yer own fault, entirslr- Shure now, fin' if ve'd make a law agin bribery we'd bribe. But, bedad, an Irish r.Iecthor's an honeet boy, an' he'll do nothing that's not agin the law!" Mr. Parnell having been designated for the Pre- miership, acknowledged this act ot grace by desig- nating his colleagues in the English House of Commons to posts in his Cabinet. When thes* appointments were made the Irish Ministry was omposed as follows :— Prime Minister Mr. C. S. Parnell. Chancellor of the Exchequer -Alr. T. P. O'Connor. Minister of Public Order lIlr. X, Al. HeaJy. Secretary for War Mr O'Kelly. Secretary for Foreign Affairs Mr. O'Doniidl. Lord Chancel or )fro O'Counnr Pow!,r. President of tiio Local Go- vernment Board Mr. T. Sexton. Lord Chamberlain Mr. C. Dawson. Champion of Ireland The O'G-orman Mahon. Both Mr. Dillon and Mr. Justin M'Carthv declined office. The minor posts in the Administration were distributed with equal discrimination. Mr. Philip Callan was appointed Chairman of "Ways and Means," a post for which he possessed special qualifications; Mr. O'Sullivan, the tallest man in the benighted Chamber of St. Stephen's, was ap- pointed Serjeant-at-Arms |in the mor» enlightened House in College Green. Some diffit ilty was ex- perienced in finding a place suitable to the man-, sided genius of Mr. Biggar, and ultimately the hon. s<-ntLman wa3 appointed Speaker of the Irish Parliament. He was caparisoned a la Brand in a lowing silk gown, with shoes and buckles, a wig, tnd a cocked hat. The mace was the original "bauble" of Charles's Parliament, and was brought from the West Indies, where it had done duty for century. The spectacle of the Goliath-liko 4");Sullivan, with mace on shoulder, preceding little Mr. Biggar, was a scene for a pantomime, or a cartoon worthy of Hogarth. The new regime was inaugurated by the Prim. Minister with imposing state, the horse.) and car- riages of the Vice-regal Court, annexed for tlu purpose, together with the "liveried minions" If the Castle, giving a grandeur to the procession which it might otherwise have lacked. There were fully a hundred thousand stubble-haired elector* ai College Green. The enthusiasm, which had been gathering in volume as each of the members ofth. House and the Cabinet arrived, burst in dtafenin,? roars on the approach of the Prisident," ad the Republican party persisted in designating Mr. Parnell. Th° right f on. gentleman was taken out of his coach and carried by the nJob shoulder high, wluL- a number of more utilitarian patriots got ■nto the carriage and (1rove off with it, stripping •■he lacqueys of their gold lace, and carrying th: h->ses to the nearest horse fair. In ten second; or tit" "Saviour of Ireland," as he was called b- "c:ne, The uncrowned King" as he vrau. named by others, had changed shoulders a score of times, finally, when he entered the Chamber his hat was gone, a coat tail hart disappeared, a portion of hio collar had surrendered to patriotic hands, and his •watch and guard were carried off trophies of th* active affection of his friends. Mr. Parnell took his seat smiling. It is needless to say that the appearance pre- sented by the House was imposing. Everyrepeater Inokpd like business. Indeed, the majority of the members still bore about their darkened eyes and swollen noses relics of the lively period known a„ the •• Irish Elections." After a scene of riotous emotion, occasioned by the eagerness of the mem- bers of the Legislature and their friends to shak- hands pell mell with the Premier, Mr. Parr.ell read the following M: VISTKRIAL STA TEMENT. Gentlemen of the Irish Parliament,—I have great pleasure in meeting you, and I have to congratu- late you upen rhe crowning success of our long struggle—the h11 of the Act or Union and the surrender of our country to its people. (Great enthusiasm, cries or Down with the British JOV. rnmenfc.") Gemleuien, we have severed our won>:c- .:«»n Will I-aJand—(cries of "Mav ye nc. r new it ;—und we have regained our inde- penuen e. I haw little fear that what ha. been conceded as in xperitnent will not bj per- >etuated. nut although we have severed the bonds which bound to a vampire this nation of warm impulses, historic patriotism, and glowing aspirations —(cries of The land for t-i-i tinantry ")-it is not intention to hesitate even now to exact from itish Government that which has become the recompense of centuries of wrong. wiv juoginent, I have thought it desirable to a.-siniilate our institutions a, nearly as convenient to those of EngLind, and to construct my Govern- ment upon a superstructure of departments identi- cal with those which overshadow that artery o' corruption. Downing-street. I have, therefore, created a Foreign Office to embody my foreign policy, which is to leave England to fight hor own battles with her own levies and at her own expense. I :,h,dl, however, claim the right to levy taxation upon all goods exported into England from Ireland, and for this purpose I have created ny Chancellorship of the Exchequer. To this im- portant office I have designated my friend and faithful follower Mr. T. P. O'Connor, who has ong had experience of the truth of the old saw— 'Tis a very good world ve live in, To lend, or to spend, or to give in; But to beg or to borrow, or get a man' own, 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known. This mournful condition of life I hope to see set. right through the fertility, the courage, and tho unselfish genius of my Chancellor of the Exche- quer. (Loud cheers.) It has occurred to me that amid the vicissitudes attendant upon the rehabilitation of an old country, torn from the grasp of a dominant Power, we may find it necessary to resort to menace for the recognition of our rights. With this possibility before me, I have founded a re- sponsible department, and confided its control to the hon. member for Roscommon, whose military career has qualified him to organise such expedi- tions by which we may usefully harry the shore* )f our common enemy. (Enthusiastic cheering, .vith cries of English gold shall ba ours," and • Go on, yer; Majesty be jabers yer doing well, inyway.") f have also appointed my Lord Chancellor, who shall be responsible for the law of our country; my Minister of Public Order, who shall be respon- sible for the assertion of freedom of speech in our nation ("That's one for the Cloture—down with the gag'"); and my President of the Local Govern- ment Board, whose duty t will be to provide food and raiment for all who feci themselves superior to the debasing necessities of manual labour. .Great enthusiasm amongst the public behind the ..railings, witlifcries of Sexton for iver," He's the man for the Irish," Long life to him," We're ah J too good to work." Hoorah!") | I am glad to be in a position to announce to m\ Parliament that we shall levy taxation only upon the properties of the Saxon and that amongst the 1 Hills to which the House will be invited to give its I attention on an early day is one for completing, < upon a purely Communistic principle, the reform of the Irish Land Laws. (Cries of The land for the people." "Three cheers for Michael Davitt.") ] It is my intention to make Ireland an example r(,. to the remainder of the world, and reproach to all despotic Governments. With thut object before me I shall issue invitations to the heads of several I of the Great Powers to visit Dublin and inspect I niv institutions. Amongst the eminent persons whom I hope to have the honour of entertaining in my capital are Prince Bismarck and the King of ( Dahomey, a potentate of much distinction, who 1 wears his "Lincoln and Bennett" upside down, .nel his coat tails before. (Cri"s of "Hoorah for j the King of Dahomey !") Gentleman, I thank you for your attention, and now I commend you to your labours. May the genius of Ireland guide your deliberations. (Loud ',md prolonged chcering, with cries- of One more ( for the genius of Ireland.") The House now proceeded to business, and aotice of the following Bills was given Mr. Parnell: A Bill to popularise the tenure of Und in Ireland. The Chancellor of ths Exchequer: A Bill giving Ireland the power to levy taxation in England. Mr. Gray: A Bill to abolish imprisonment for ■Thatsver oiTence when committed by a member of tho Irish Parliament. Mr. Leamy: A Bill to legalise the payment of 11"i 'h members. Mr. T. D. Sullivan A Bill to mak? it compulsory to advertise in the patriotic newspapers. Mr. Shiei: A Bill to abolish capital punishment sare in the case of murderer. not natives of Ire- land. llr. A. O'Counor: A Bill to abolish prujecution for <mall debts. f" Three che-trs for the member for Queen's County Mr. CaHan A Bill for abolishing tho duty on whisky consumed in Ireland, anc* for increasing it on that exported for sxle in England ruch duty to be levied Kt the port of shipment. Mr. Dillon A Bil1 for conferring upon tenants power to evict their landlords. Mr. Sexton ± Bill for placing the Bank of lu. land at the service of the country. At this juncture a "row" broke out amongst a party of active "upporter.: of the new riyimc. These gentlemen wer-x quite agreed that the Bank of Ireland should b& placed at the service of th» country, but the question naturally arose whether the term service of the country would permit i of the people at large drawing upon the funds of the bank. An attempt wai made to collar the Premier 3nd induce him to explain whether tht, money in thi bank wa" tc bo the property of tha country generally, or merely of the Parliament but the right hon. gentleman contrived to elud? the vigilance of his friendi. The tumult becoming serious, th?- sitting of the HOUAS was hurriedly suspended. And so ended an eventful day. THE IRISH CABINET ANT THI PROGRESS OF HONJ: RULE. The fir-t meeting of the Cabinet wa» a momen- tous gathering, as well as r lively event. It was heid ir the building in Phccni* Park formerly known as the Chief Secret-try's Lodge, and now th» official residence of the Right Hon. T. P. O'Connor. The regenerators 0: Ireland were evi- dently in the boat of spirits, and there was a full aiU-ndanc: Mr. Parnell: Gentlemen, T hav* summoned you on this, the second day of our official existence, to con-sidsr a subject of vital interest to our .jcheme*. We must have some money. IVIr. T. P. O'Connor: Hear, h- ar. Mo. Pnrnell: But the difficulty is thi.>—Whert n iu to coMC from ? Mr. Haalj: Send to England for it. Kr. T. P. O'Connor Exactly. But Wh1't mmt. h: your indignation when I tell ye that I have written to the British Treasury for a loan of a few pobry millions, and have been euphemistically told to—go to blazes Mr. O'Kelly 'with deep emotion): An' who tould 1. to go to blazes Mr. T. P. O'Connor: The Saxon Chancellor of the Exchequer himself. Hereishisteleyam. I har» ;pok?n of its terms as euphemistic. -p ".From I | "To I Hugh Childers, "T. P. O'Connor, Esq., "London. 11 Dublin." -1 "We have no money for you." Mr. O'Kelly (vehemently): Can such things be! (To the Secretary for Foreign Affairs.) Declare war against the British. Harry their coasts with fire and sword. Mr. O'Donr.el!: How can I declare war without an army? (Confusion.) Mr. O'Kelly And how can I give you an army r. ithout troops ? Mr. T. P. O'Connor: And how can I give you troora without monsy ? (Renewed confusion.; Mr. O'Donnell: What's the use of you blethering there. How can I declare war without an army r Gire me bayonets. Mr. O'KoIly: Then gin me the troops first. Mr. O'Donnell: If you haven't troops what au jOll there fo~ ? Mr. O'Keily And if you haven't an army what's td. UM of your being Foreign Secretary? (The •,wo Mini.-tftrs shake their fist,; at one another.) Ivir. »arnell: >iow, gentlemen, do not let us quarrel. IT must hava money, that is certain, it is, of counts, ridiculous to talk of making war upon Znyl-ind. I have n. scheme by which I hope I{J obtain a loan from our friends in Washington. upon the security of the Irish land. Lord Donough- uaore his abandoned his estate at Koocklofty—a j; £ n, I thinlr, that the survivors of an ancient tyranny itri becoming alive to a sense of their J.uty to tho country which they have outraged and roo'oed. Colonft. Tottenham has shut himself up in his casrie, and ij advising all landlords to "kecp ft Di grip of their acres," but as Boycotting is on<-t> more in useful operation, I have no doubt that '3 who have von in so many struggles shall win; in t ilia. Let us dine. The proceedings in Parliament nowbecama gene- rally inharmonious. The House broke up into f*f-tion«. The popular branch began studiously to r:de-:t the proposal* of the Cabinet. The Cabinet itwj divided. Mr. Parnell's policy was consi- u'u-d too mild by certain of his colleagues. Yet p-opk began to think seriously of this state of thinj;. -.nd thought wis bad for Home Rule. Within a period of two months there had been fhre. general elections, and much nonsensical ion was, of course, passed into law, I. The frequency of the broils in Parliament soon diverted the attention of the people from the pursuits of industry. The ploughsharo was thrown aside for the shillelagh. The music of the foundry and the carpenter's shop was drowned in the hoarse harangues of tipsy politicians. The legendary battle of the Kilkenny cats, hitherto con. fined to the city of that name, became the prac- tical experience of Irishmen from Dublin to Gahvay, and from Cork to Coleraine. Dublin j became a city of broken windows, the landlords ] fled from their estates, seeking an asylum in England. Trade was paralysed, and bankruptcy stalked the land like a famished wolf. < HOME RULE DECLARED A FAILURE. ir»<sanT.rhil?, the impression, light as summer air ) sra* to pa-s over the land that Home Rule was .»ot. sc far a* l'_a^t,quite the success which its best irivnd.1 dcired. Another month deepened a sus- uicion into a conviction. The Irish newspapers] E"'> begaD to attack that which they had formerly ( aonroved. The Fret-man's Journal wrote :— ( Thres months since found us flushed with a j ersat victory. To-day finds us bankrupt, in po-:l:t and in reputation many of our best men have Wt our -hor<:s, our gaols are crowded, and ( ourselvw hava become the lllughing-stock of tho i uht-ion." Tho: lrLh Times Home Rule is an egregious failure. It has ruined our credit, and we are within measurable distance of civil war." ) Tht Xorthcm lVhi.'l: How much longer, w* ask. ill this period of folly and frenzy to endure ?" The y-itiof .—" Mr. Gladstone gave Home Rule to Ireland and then he hired professional assassin;! to defeat the ends of the Home Rulers." It i-juuired but these expressions of the Irish National prcs-i to precipitate a reaction in favour oi Kafland and the revival of the Act of Union, to- gether with the return of the Vice-regal Court to Dublin. A few desperate men in Parliament endeavoured to arrest the reaction, but the Parnell Ministry was impeached, notwithstanding the violenct and intrigue of its few remaining adhe- r<ntt. A motion in favour of a petition praying Mr. Gladstone to defend Ireland against itself, in othw words to restore the old state of things, was actually carried, and it was upon this motion that the division which I described at the opening of my story took place. The collapse was complete. The Cabinet broke up, and its members, but latd!' the idols of the nation, became objects of derision. Mr. Parnell admitted his failure, and retirsd into the seclusion of his erewhile estates, sold for the benefit of the Land League. Rejecting all companionship he lived the life of a recluse, and a :ew years later was known to English guide-books f the anchorite of Avondale. Mr. Healy and Mr. Michael D»vitt repaired to America. Mr. O'Donnell t;ave up political life, and devoted himself to thosu literary pursuits which he had abandoned in Lon- don in ordar to assume Cabinet rank under an impwisibia Irish Parliaafcnt. Mr. T. P. O'Connor he Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Parnell I Ministry, became a successful dabbler in Egyp- tians." Mr. O'Kelly returned to his allegiance on tho Xew York Herald, and when last heard of he had beeu sent by Mr. Bennett to find Stanley." Mr. Sexton obtained a curatorship in an English museum, married the daughter of an English clergyman, and was known for the suavity of his manner and the tepidity of his opinions. Home Rule in Ireland failed because the Irish have not yet acquired the virtue of self-govern- mant. The Iriah are an imaginative people, and they are indehted to their imagination for many of their blunders and all their miseries. Imagina- tion is the curse of the country, snd political «' carpet-baggers" have proved its ruin. But there ij little doubt that the Irish have received a lesson which they will never forget. They will have no more" Parliaments for the Irish;" no more P*,rndli.sm they will dally with no mora Communistic doctrines. Lord Donoughmore may return to his Irish estate, and Colonel Tottenham may leave his castle, which no longer is in a state of sisg-s. The absurd notion, invented by Michael Daritt find inculcated by Mr. Parnell, that the soil of Ireland is the property of the Irish people, has iieon formally abandoned by the people themselves "rith whom" fair rents" is no longer a synonym for no rents at all." As I walk up Sackville-street, on my way to the Imperial, or what remains of that once excellent hostelry, I notice two persons in eager conversa- tion. They are Terence O'Flaherty and Biddy Malone. "Well, Mister Terence, savin' yer honour's presence, an' maybe yeli agree now that we'll be iwoighty glad to have the Saxon back agin." Be me soul, Biddy, yere right. The thing's a regular do any way," is the frank confession of this cue-enthusiastic repealer. "The Evening Praia*. is blown up, lock, stock, and barrel, and we'r* going to raise the Morning baron out of its asher Never mind, Biddy, my honey, Ould Oireland '11 be *'1 thc better for this brief touch of Home Rule. V. hon she asks for another touch there'll be two moons in the sky. Hur::ah! The Saxon for ever By curious twist of fancy my thoughts suddenly reverted to a scene in the Irish Parlia- »«nt. We thought our mutual friend, Joseph CriHej Biggar, was i;t extremis. He had been draggsd from his chair as Speaker, and three or four burly ruffians, who had accused him of partisanship, were endeavouring to make him •ailow hi* official wig. Starting into wakefulness nay vixiori vanished, and I found myself sitting complacently in the British House of Commons, at the fag end of a dreary debate on Grand Committees." The writhing form of Mr- Biggsr straightened itself into tho dignified person of Sit H> nry Brand, who W, gravely putting the vrords, The Hou*e is now adjourned.