The Aberdare Times

^LAT SON; OR, THE FOUNDLING'S GUARDIAN. CHAPTER XVIII. RECORDS A MEETING AND A PARTING. It was a very soft and lovely evening towards the .ad of the mouth of September that Ruth and Hugh arrived at Arland on a visit for a day or two, aftsr a good deal of saving up for the purpose, and many a little piece of economy, both in selling and buying. This was when the child was about seven years of *ge, and, therefore, about three or four years before be turned out to seek his fortune at the inn. Claymore sat outside the cottage, with his old velvet eap on his head, and his hands—now very tr, ill bling- leaning on his stick. His wife was coming along with the visitors, whom she had gone to meet at the coach office, just as she used to do with her old man when he returned from London. Hugh ran on before the woman, on learning who it Was sitting in the little front garden, and soon had his arms round his grandfather's neck. There was nothing new to Claymore, for every child almost in the village had done it again and *gain during those four or five years that bad passed since he had seen his grandson. "Well, grandpa," said the boy, "you wouldn't eOme to see us, so Aunt Ruth and me were forced to come to see you." There was just a momentary change passed over his countenance as the old man caught the sound of the lad's voice. But that was all. He smiled down upon him exactly as he would have done upon any Arland boy, and stooped down to kiss his forehead. By this time Ruth and her companion had come up, *Qd were waiting at the gate for an ins:ant to see how Bugh would get on. Does he know him, Mrs. Claymore, do you t.hink P" said Ruth. Let's try," she answered but I think not." My love, here's Miss Wofield and our dear darling boy come to see us. That's Hugh—used to be little Hugh—sitting on your knee. Kiss grandfather, my boy." And the boy did, many a time. Ruth very likely would not be much pained by it, because 800 did not know that he received everybody tlow in this gentle, affectionate manner. But it was Very aad to the old woman, when he said not a word, tout merely looke > with his usual look of innocent, and low almost imbecile complacency, first at one, and then at another. We've had such a Dice ride, grandpa," said the "oy «< and it's done Aunt Ruth such good Doesn't .be look rosy ?" At last he tried to mutter something; and the smile was gone now, and gave place to a very serious and Uneasy expression. They thought he wanted Ruth to Come nearer. And when she did, he said, with great difficulty- behind Hugh's head, who still sat on his knee: You'd better go back, my dear, before the snow V,ts any deeper." Ruth understood in a moment how matters were; ad, giving a look towards Mrs. Claymore, turned Way and shed some very bitter tears as she marked one more victim of cruel wrong: one more sacrifice Oil the altar of Fashionable-and very Justifiable, because Fashionable—Homicide There was no more recognition than this all the **toainder of the evening. And when Mrs. Claymore Ruth went to sleep that night in one room, and old man went to lie down beside the boy on the £ tlier bed—"where Joyce used to be—if the grand- *ther lost some comfort through not knowing how him was his precious little Hugh, he was l-ared some agony in not remembering, more 1 vidiy than was common, what his mother had °°rne, and where she lay that night. After all, it was some satisfaction to Ruth that they met once again. However distressing she felt it, "at the mind had broken down bf-fore it should have *^De the ordinary course of nature, it was never- eless a comfort to her (and she did her best so to that he evidently suffered very little, Od was every day suffering less and less. There were tbany other forms his affliction might have taken; but this form, though as painful as any to lookers-on, "a.s, perhaps, as tolerable as any to himself. th an^ P01"8011 supposes that the Arland family, or 6 family at number nineteen, ever heard a syllable th° f1 latson Towers, in fulfilment of a certain promise, j person is much mistaken, and we have failed *9 conveying to that person our own estimate of the e-hapacter- of our hero. Ir, is well they never did hear anything. What would they have heard ? ton 2Uld you have Iiked tbat litt,e EuSh should have uched any of the rich man's gold ? Would you Ve liked that the poverty of the family at number ueteen should have been tempted into taking one ™l*Pence ? 4Hd, as to the Claymores, it was bard enough ji-eady to see that poor old h'art beating itself to pieces on the rock on which it had been «trcasfc—what wouid have felt if its last u £ gles bad been insulted by the gold of the de- w°yer ? There was, however, no fear of it. he promise had been extorted, not from repent- •t« but f.rom cowardice- if Judas had lived, in- J^fcd of going out to hang himself, in a spasm of re- k°fse, the human certainty is that instead of repent- he would have become the Jeader of the worst *?*secutors, and have stained his hands in the blood j^he servants when the Master was beyond his l& "th yet we are apt, for the moment, to pity Judas J 6 hour of his suicide as we almost felt inclined ee) for the rich man, in the agony of an avenging t» Let us guard against that. There are no sorrows so different from each other as the Kftir°w {or having uone wrong, and the sorrow for punished. g long as that scene was before bim w?*' beg pardon we are now at Arland, and we the i mer€,y saying that the old couple were spared shi» enomir,y a°y communication from the Wilt- 's squire. w ? Pillow upon which poor old Claymore's head had l0und>on the morning after the visitors' arrival, W,n° thorns in it, as it would have had if one uer had come from Latson Towers. tlih telgtIe bo, eivlt l t er loauy tugo gh fh ohr wiws isodgoke rme a&e nuwdtpfaiam, kthehe e eurab'ns cerwgosisailds ln ia nhtg oo is f tpo btuhrdet e iashbsttieus drwb liahthtnilildeefi fellow, waited for him to move. 6 move another day, when all that are in their *h~Ves shall come forth at the voice of the arch- 'Sel tJ "c Iiugh had lain there a long time, with his arm rOss his grandfather. «lb length he raised himself in bed on his other "9v, and leanea over the old man. to 8till he thought him sleeping. He was too young difference—so unmistakable to the eye of «W;rience-between the short and the long, long Jj ./se,s"nkly Ruth rapped at the door. j^h, sh said Hugh, in a loud whisper. 4t, as it was now quite late, the young woman y turned the handle and came softly in. k°y was lyiug as before, with bis arm over his ther s brea8t- I'ut he knitted his brow and the Hush," adding, He'a fast asleep, aunt. ^ll 1 get up ?" looked at the bed. 8een lbat sight before — she and the &ott°n pew-opener some years back—and was be deceived. She flew to the bed side, the old che^fe6' ^ie ber finge:s against touch no person living can ever mistake. ^ather was deep, deep in the snow now, and ii the shock, which no other enow ever gives, to th UQt aunt!" said the child, when he saw her run door> an^ cal' aloud for Mrs. Claymore; "is Pa ill ? What's the matter ?" ? the little fellow sprung up in bed, and looked .A tnto the white, pinched up face. then, he, too, knew the worst (ought we to say liUl^TBt ?), and his tears fell down, among his own tetjjj and he passed them up and down, in hin love, over the countenance the sleeper in <Jo^yer you should be near that little village church in Shropshire, it would be worth your while to *Ui<} °ut a certain quiet, shady spot, close under a V0yW ?n lbe right-hand side of the church. °*ier8 there see a grave that is still bound with 'n ^bose parts the dwellings of the dead r^on moi"e sacred than in cities. Above it there *ttle n as chief m°urner, a faithful willow-tree. g4r^ Ilugh planted it, a mere sprig from the cottage *etti,eu' 011 tbe d*y before ho left with his aunt on his ^to London. hosiers, we believe, have never but once been since then, and that was very soon after- lf have ever watched two trees for many '8rowing side by side in. a forest, and have known them to be blown down in a storm, you have, I hi observed that the other is very apt to begin shpjteQe away, and at last to die. It had lost the r °f companionship—it had every blast to bear » It :ne~~and so it died. 0 8 frequently thus with an old faithful couple. 6 the other is not loDg in following. °t>l^ osiers were thus disturbed once more, and l( °Ce- ^(3 |^as when the clergyman, who along with Ruth, i6 Hugh, and the poor tottering widow, had *od for delivering our brother out of the this sinful world," had, very soon after, to > w°rds with a slight change; and then tiuVrha<: "when we depart this life, we may as our hope is this our sister doth! CHAPTER XIX, EDUCATION. L»t.*tcbmeirt had long been removed from tho front ^tjon Towers. hung up in the church, a fit symbol of hlu tligb Places- Gaudy figures of red, yellow, • 11Q,e* °Q a dark background. And tho arms of >ch«ses of Latson and Blance blended on that f^e Q' deep, ostentatious mourning. jQ64the»llaris'on looked, in that lovely September j^ely as unconcerned at the Joss of its gentle, b>n8tress»M it! was ftbout the village funeral °»ues away. But there was one person within those splendid halls who was just as much concerned at the event as he was when it first happened. Latson ? No but a worthy retainer of the family, who had been a sort of mixed steward, butler, or valet for many a year before the present master was born. Grange—Ralph Grange-bad rejoiced exceedingly at Latsou's marriage. He didn't know the exact things that we know but probably he knew things quite as bad, and, at all events, quite enough to wish a fair trial to be given of a settled married life. The old master," he used to say, in the servants, hall, when none of the commoner household wa present. The old master would ha' turned out a vast deal better than he did, if he'd ha'married earlier, instead of when he was past five-and-forty; leastways, I make bold to think as much. For the fact was that the colonel's father never took kindly to domestic life, and never did much more honour to it than his son after him. Hence good old Grange rejoiced on the wedding- day and thoroughly he loved and devoutly he wor- shipped Ethel. So that although it would have been more than his place was worth to venture a syllable, either to husband or wife, on the state of affairs be- tween them, that was the solitary topic upon which he never used the license of his years and his long term of service. It was only downstairs, as he sat in the chief seat by the chimney-corner (a post of honour always yielded him in the hall) smoking his pipe, during the long evenings, with no one, perhaps, but the house- keeper present, or, at most, another old stager in the family-it was only then that he was wont to allow himself a little relief and, between the puffs, bemoan his bitter disappointment. Long and sad were the private interviews the old man had with Mrs. Glyde, Ethel's maid and very profound were the moralisings the excellent couple spent upon their mistress's woes and their master's faults. On this particular day, the old man was seated, towarjs evening, on his throne of supremacy in the corner, and Mrs. Glyde, who, after Ethel's death, was retained at her express request, to have the head responsibility over little Claude, was on the opposite side of the room, busy with some needlework. My dear," said Ralph, you talk nonsense, which isn't common with you—leastways if I may say it without offending ye. It ain't the fact; the company as visits this house doesn't make the master; it's the master makes the company." What do you mean, Mr. Grange ?" Why, mean! I mean that when there's no com- pany whatsomever, things is just as bad. It's been a comin' on and a comin' on from the very week of the funeral. Ah !"—and here the old man gave a great sigh —there was a touch of it long before that, my dear, if you'd only known it." Mr. Grange!" cried the other. I carried him upstairs "-here he spoke very low —" with these very arms, I can tell ye; and much as I loved him, I could ha' dropped him over the banisters, for a good sound lesson, right to the bottom, I can tell ye, I was so mad with him, I was." 01 And did she ever know it?" to Know it! didn't she ?-of course she knew it; and she thought he was bad, and was goin' for to send for the Lord knows who—doctors aud what not-but I stopped her." How ?" said Mrs. Glyde. if I told a plumping lie, my dear--leastways, if you'll excuse my saying so face to face. I told her it was a little fainting fit that he'd bad two or three times before; and if he was only left to himself he came round naturally, but a doctor had always made him worse." And she had no suspicion ?" No more than Master Claude, my dear. Bless your life, it was never like this, and I never believed it would come to this." And here the good old fellow's voice thickened, and he dashed his coat-cuff against his eyes very quickly, looking car,illy and shyly at Mrs. Glyde; for one of his aversions was against showing emotion before a woman. But did he hurt ye, last night, Mr. Ralph ?" she asked. Do ye think it would hurt you, my dear, if I took you by the throat, and scrunched it till ye were black in the face ? Hurt! But I'll tell ye what it is. If your pretty face hadn't shown at the door,with Master Claude, just when it did, Ralph Grange wouldn't ha' been sitting here smoking and jawing with Mrs Glyde." And the lady's-maid shuddered, and told him not to say such dreadful things. But it's very odd, Mr. Ralph, how the child keeps him a little in order at these times." Not at all, my dear. He dotes on the boy, and he's ashamed for the youngster to see what a father he's got. Why, last week, only last week, he was a sparring at me as usual, when Master Claude came running in unexpected, and blow me if he didn't turn it off as clever, telling the little chit that old Ralph was teaching papa to box. I never see such a thing in my life! And I, like a fool, took the hint, and there we set to work, pretending;to be a brace of fancy men. I wouldn't ha"beiieved in the thing if my 'own eyes hadn't seen it. But I can tell ye, I blessed Master Claude in my heart. For ye see, my dear, Ralph Grange isn't the man he was. Aye, let him ha' tried that game thirty years, yes, twenty years ago, and, master or no master, once would have been enough for him; leastways, to my thinking." And Mr. Grange puffed out the smoke, and lifted the tankard to his mouth, with a keen relish, as he thought of himself in the light of other days." Still, still, don't mis-hear me, my dear. I love him yet, as my own son; and he loves me in his way, I fully believe. This morning when I went to call him, after asking me to give him what he calls his razor,' that is. a glass of the confounded Hol- lands, first thing he said, says he,' Ralph, my boy, did I come my old pranks with ye last night, old fellow ?' Says I,' Fact is, sir, we must part if this goes on, though it tears my heart to say it.' gl so, says he, I'll never touch another drop of that brandy, Ralph; keep to Hollands, and I'm all right. J Forgive me, old fellow; you've got your revenge this morning, you rascal, for my head will burst, I do be- lieve. I was worse than usual, wasn't I, Ralph ?' So I told him—what's the real fact-that he was worse and worse every time. And then he began to talk, my dear, about his great troubles, and how it would never have happened if the Lady Ethel had only been living. And he said bad words, Mrs. Glyde, which far be it from me to tell in your ears, about Providence, and that sort of thing, till I was obliged to stop him. 11 All this while he was walking about his room in his dressing-gown, with both his hands to his head, and going every minute to the cold water and sousing his forehead in the basin. There," said Mr. Grange, "I tell ye, my dear. on my word of honour, that I felt, as I listened to that poor gentleman, as if I never could touch even my humble pint any more long as I lived." Just at this moment the bell rang violently, the library bell, and the man who answered it brought down word that the carriage was ordered round in ten minutes' time. The colonel would not dine at homo that evening. There it is there it is, my dear!" said Ralph, "we're in for another night of it now, mark my words!" And the old steward got up, and walked about the room in evident distress of mind. Is Master Claude in the library ?" asked Mrs. Glyde of the footman who brought the bad news. Yes," said the man, "and my opinion is,|there's the cause. Something has put the little gentleman into his tantrums, and master can do nothing with him." Presently the bell rang twice, which was the signal for Mrs. Glyde herself to go up. When she entered the library, the young scion of the house was sprawling on the rug in a terrible fit of rage. He instantly started up on seeing Mrs. Glyde, and ran shrieking towards h?r. Take my papa away," cried Claude. He says there's naughty people in the room, and they'll run away with Claude And the woman really thought the child would have had a fit as he ran up to her and hid his face in her skirts. The bottle was on the table, and the master of the house sat there, with his tumbler half filled, and looking as even he seldom did so early in the day. Claude!" he shouted, at the top of his voice, is come here this moment!" And then followed words which we are not going to write down here-words which, as the head nurse afterwards remarked, "chilled her to the very marrow. Leave the room, woman!" cried Latson. It was the child rang the bell, not 1. Leave us, I say. Stop -is the carriage ready ?" I think it is, sir; I'll inquire." And she went, and brought back word that the carriage was at the door. He went out; and it was two full hours before the servants could bring the poor little fellow into a quieter mood. He a a wicked, wicked man, Mrs. Glyde," he cried again and again. He said mamma would come and take me away before I got up in the morning and he said she was gone where all the bad people go Oh what shall I do ? May I sleep with you, Mrs, Glyde ?" Yes, my jewel; yes, to be sure Now, be quiet, there's a dear, and come and sit with me a little and let's look over the I Pilgrim's Progress,' shaU we Claude ?" And the poor child sobbed away upon her apron ILI I and was soon after deep in the never-failing story of the pilgrims getting out of Doubting Castle with the key called" Promise." < 11 And when Mrs. Glyde laid him down to sleep that night, she knelt down beside his bed (for she had learnt how to pray in the countess's family long ago), and she prayed aloud, while his little arms were fast twisted round her neck, that If little Claude might one day go out and be a pilgrim to the Celestial City, and find his dear mamma waiting for him on the banks of the rive!" CHAPTER XX. NOT ON THE BENCH. No one was up when the carriage returned, save Ralph and the men outside in the stablest Ralph took care of that. It was balf-past three, and Latson had been to the house of one of his worst companions five miles oif. It was well no one saw his master but the faithful old fellow. When the footman let down the steps, no one de- scended; and there was nothing for it but fcr the man to help Ralph in getting its occupant safely out, dead drunk, and carrying him at once up the stair- case into his own room. "Well," said the footman afterwards, when he went out to say. good night, or good morning, to the coach- man this must come to a finish, my hearty, before long, eh ?" But the coachman was in no humour for a joke. He had been kept waiting outside the house, at a dis- tance, for three hours and you have, perhaps, heard how coachmen are given to converse under these cir- cumstances. Before he was out of bed, the private bell rang Ralph into his master's room that morning. On going in, he found Latson in his dressing- gown, crouching down in the corner of the chamber, the lamp having been extinguished by an overturn, an hour or so before, while the colonel was moving about to find the bottle, which, however, he did not find. Old Ralph had carried it away. So you're come, are you!" cried the colonel; and I'm to be left here, am I, to be eaten up by these things, bit by bit, while you are laughing at me in your innocent dreams a mite off Our readers will excuse us from putting down the exact words that the colonel used. They must wit- ness and hear for themselves, which we pray they never may, before they can have a true picture of such a scene. Do you see him ?" shouted Latson. "Ugh; ugh! took he's coming this way! Ralph, I say keep him off, will ye!" J And the poor old servant went up to his master, and implored him to be assured that nothing was in the room, and no one but himself. But the cold sweat dropped from the wretched drundard's forehead and for one long hour a spectacle lasted in that sumptuous bedroom which some ignorant people look for only in the cellars of the poor, or the slums of the world's dregs. A larger dose than usual of a strong sedative, which Ralph always had near him, wrought, at length, a little quietness in the blazing brain of the colonel. But the man never forgot that night. And little Claude trembled as he heard the sounds, and remembered his father's threats, even in his nurse's arms. (To be continued.)

PEERS AS DIRECTORS. Membors of tho Upper Homo are of course quite as much entitled to undertake work of this kind (the Economist says) as any other set of people in the country, and, on examination, it will be found that their record in regard to successful companies is a very satisfactory one. It may be, of course, that this fact is largely attributable to the good selection which a Peer of the realm is able to make in the multitude of enterprises submitted to him; but, be this as it may, it is not to be disputed that mostof the members of the House of Lords are not connected with under- takings which would come within the scope of the Directors' Liability Bill, and that dealing with present conditions no personal Inotive therefore can have inspired the tone of hostility in which the measure ms referred to by some of the Peers. It is true that the most emphatic and most adverse criticism of the bill came from some of the law lords, and it will, therefore, be interesting to observe what im- provements in detail the Peers may make of a measure the principle of which they have approved. We find, from the latest issue of the Directory of Directors," that about 87 peers are directors of public companies, or rather over 17 per cent. of the House of Lords. The percentage is less than that} of the members of the House of Com- mons occupying similar positions; but it is still an important one. Peer directors have been fortunate in allying themselves with undertakings which have proved successful to a much larger extent relatively than those who sit and legislate "in another place." In- stead of being a great attraction to investors as it once was, the fact that the names of the junior members and other close connections of noble houses are found on the prospectuses of new undertakings can hardly be regarded as a point in their favour, although, ot course, it would be absurd to go to the other ex- treme of neglecting apparently sound enterprises because of the suspicion, which in very many cases would be quite groundless, that members of noble families have been secured as decoys. Out of 88 companies established before 1889, whose experience we have been able to trace, 51 are dividend-paying and 37 are not. Relatively, therefore, the statement cannot but be considered unsatisfactory, though in several instances the record is one of which the gentlemen concerned have every reason to feel proud. Averages, it is true, count for little in matters of this sort; but it can hardly be regarded as an encourage- ment to investors to rely upon titled directors that such a large proportion of the companies directed by close connections of peers have not yielded satis- factory results.

DICKENS AND HIS CLOCK. Dickens's quaint humour often found its way into the most prosaic channels, and Sir John Bennett was the recipient of a characteristic note, in relation to the repair of a clock, which is not found in the pub- lished letters of the great novelist. It was as follows: "My dear sir,—Since my hall clock was sent to your establishment to be cleaned it has gone (as indeed it always had) perfectly well, but has struck the hours with great reluctance, and after enduring internal agonies of a most distressing nature, it has now ceased striking altogether. Though a happy release for the clock, this is not convenient to the household. If you can send down any confidential person with whom the clock can confer, I think it may have something on its works that it would be glad to make a clean breast of.—Faithfully yours, CHARLES DICKENS."

CARRIER-SWALLOWS." Carrier-swallows instead of pigeons, have beea tested successfully at Roubaix by a trainer. Fifteen of the birds were given absolute freedom of wing for the first time. They flew in different directions, and in about 2'0 minutes one came back and perched on the trainer's outstretched finger. The others followed, and in half an hour every swallow was back. M. Desbouvrie, who trains these birds, is confident that in wat-time they would be ten times at least more useful than carrier-pigeons, as they are more intelligent, fly higher, and can obtain their food while on the wing.

STRANGE INHUMANITY. From Clignancourt, the famous ward which re- turned General Boulanger, there is reported a terrible case of cruelty to a boy of 12. The parents of the child, it is said, had shut him up in a wardrobe for two years and a-half, and bad starved him. The police were only apprised of this the other day, and on going to the house described to them they found the boy,who looked like a living skeleton. The parents were immediately arrested, and were hooted vigorously by a large crowd as they were being con- veyed to the station. The ill-fated child died on its way to the Hospital of the Infant J°sus. The parents were well off, and no explanation of their inhuman conduct is forthcoming. The mother of the boy has been sent back to her dwelling, where she tried to jump out of the window during the afternoon, but was prevented from carrying out her suicidal in- tention.

A PLEA FOR COLONEL MAIT- LAND. One who Knows writes to the Daily News: As first witness in the court of inquiry, Colonel Mait- land particularly requested that it might be placed on record that he had a statement to make, if necessary, but that he refrained from doing so, so early in the proceedings, as he did not wish, unless he was absolutely obliged, to rake up the past and the exceptional difficulties he bad to contend with on taking over the command of the 2nd Battalion Grenadier Guards. Later in the proceedings, evidence to damage his cause having been adduced, he claimed to make this statement, but was told by the president of the court that it was too late, and that if he had a statement to make he must do so to the military authorities through the proper channel. This he did, but, for reasons best known to themselves, it has been suppressed. Colonel Maitland, under great pressure, at last agreed to resign, and now his lips are sealed. He has completed 31 years of ex- ceptionally good service; his statement (which alone can prove how ho spent his time and energies in working reforms chiefly to benefit the men of his battalion, and clear his reputation) is withheld from the public. The worst crime he can be accused of is too great energy, for which, as it stands at the present moment, be is punished by a heavy pecuniary loss, and the stigma of being a man incompetent of commanding his battalion.

HER FIRST AND LAST CIGARETTE. Two little girls were recently playing together in Montreal, when one of them suggested to her friend that they should imitate the fashionable ladies of that city by smoking cigarettes. The smokes were pur- chased, and having secured some matches from a boy in the street, the two sat down upon a doorstep and started to learn to smoke. In a few minutes Louise dropped her cigarette and screamed out that her petticoat was on fire. Both girls endeavoured to ex- tinguish the flames, but the fire got too much of a start and i he wind fanned the burning cotton into a blaze. The shrieking child, with her hair and clothes burning, ran down the street and into her mother's yard, where, by wrapping her in a rug the fire was at lass extinguished. The poor little sufferer writhed in agony until death mercifully relieved her, at two o clock in the morning, with her last breath express- ing to her weeping mother her contrition at being a naughty girl and her hope that God would for- give her for disobeying her mother and smoking cigarettes.

MR. Poork: "is Miss Tiptop in?" Self-respecting ServantYes, sor, she's in. Oi towld her this minute tnat Oi'd risk me sowl no moore tellin' ye she's out when she do be in."

A POPULAR AUTHORESS. I hardly know how or why I am able to writs books as I do," said Mrs. John Strange Winter, is some recent confessions on II The Art of Authorship." I was a thorough bad lot at school—bright, I think, and quick, but with no perseverance whatever; n* pat ence, no application. And certainly now I have all those qualities in an extracrcii&ary degree. I don't know what changed me. I had an immense ambition to be a writer; and when my father died in '77, leaving nothing-well, it was that or something less palatable. At that time I was just 21. I had done a little. -I think I had made under £ 50. After that I went in for writing to the exclusion, of everyth'ng else. I was not well educated, for I never would learn but I had kived with a scholarly gentleman—my father was the Hev. n. V. Palmer, rector of St. Mar- garet's, York -and I had always been, from a little child, a voracious reader, and determined to get on. Up to that time I had cared only for men's novels- the Kingsteys, Charles Reade, Wbyte Melville, W. Collins, and Mortimer Collins; but after I had been writing a while I found myself gradually slipping into the Rboda Broughton school. Then all at once I awoke to the folly of letting myself drift into a first- person, present-tense style, which I thoroughly despised, and a lecture of Mr. Ruskin'sto art students put me on the right track. After that, how I worked! I have many a time written a story eight or nine times over before I satisfied myself with it. I used to take a novel of W. Collins and pick the sentences to pieces, note the crisp, concise style of them, and get them into my head, so to speak. Then I would go at my owa work, never using a long word when I could find a short one to answer the same purpose never using a Latin word when I could find a Saxon one to express the same meaning; never using two adjectives where one would do, or one at all when it could bp avoided; never describing dress if I could help it; never using a French word unless it was im. possible to find the Saxon meaning In English, and never quoting bits of poetry unless really necessary. Mind, I don't hold this plan up to others. I worried through myself, fairly groping my way, and always keeping before me that I must never write anything even bordering on profanity. A sentence of Artemus Ward's puts that so well: I never strain my writings with profanity in the first place, it is in- decent in the second, it is not funny.

I FISIIING WITH A CORMORANT. In my rambles (" Feather," writing in the Daily Graphic, says) the other day in the North, I came upon a party of ladies and gentlemen engaged in a sport which I had read of as practised in England three hundred years ago (for had not King Jamie I. his Master of Cormorants ?) but which I hardly ex- pected to see carried on in these days, and in my own country, common as cormorant-fishing may be in China. When I came upon the party, the scene was picturesque in the extreme. An old ivy-clad bridge, more adapted for the passage of footpeople and pack horses than for wheeled vehicles, spanned a mountain stream or burn. Through the single arch of the bridge the distant moorland could be seen and ivy and mountain ash clung everywhere to the rocky si;es of the stream, which, flowing over the big boulders, created here a shallow and there a pool. The bright dresses and laughing faces of the young ladies added vivacity to the scene. At first I thought they must be otter hunting, but where were the hounds ? What could it be which was creating so much merriment and excitement in this sequestered spot ? Two or three strong and able men were thigh deep in the water, and presently the truth burst upon my mind, for a large, dark bird came to the sur- face of the water. They were fishing with a cor- morant; and most amusing was the scene, for occasionally the bold waders missed their footing on the slippery stones, and got into much deeper water than they bargained for. From the advantage point of a projecting rock I had a good opportunity of watching the proceedings. The cormorant, so to speak, flew under water after its prey, using both wings and legs in the pursuit. When it had captured a trout by swimming it down, the pursuer rose to the surface, where it was at once seized by its master by the neck, and made to give up its prey, which it WM prevented from swallowing by a strap round its neck. After a few minutes' rest, to dry its wings, it was ready to try the next pool, where I left the bird and its owner enjoying what to me was an entirely new phase of sport, and one which, as I could see it, re- quired much skill and hardihood to follow.

A BURGLAR LIFEGUARD. The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has received a startling exemplification in real life, and Jack Williams, the most celebrated lifeguardsman on the Atlantic coast, to whose unselfish heroism more than 100 people owe their lives, turns out to be John Latta, who as "No. 3399" occupied a cell in row A in the Eastern Penitentiary at Philadelphia for a term of two years. All Atlantic City is dis- cussing the chain of facts which led to the discovery th&t the hero whose name was in every mouth was a Quaker City burglar. The gallant guard, who during the past two seasons has been risking his life in saving unwary bathers from watery graves, is accused of acting as a spy for a gang of sneak thieves and housebreakers who have for some time been working the island. At the first words of the charge a look of amazement overspread Williams' sun- browned countenance that finally gave way to a blush of shame. Gentlemen," he falteringly said, I've nothing to say except that I have been trying to reform. I have played straight and worked hard for you these two years back. Now what are you going to do with me ?" The answer was that he and his friends would be given until the following morn- ing to leave town under penalty of imprisonment. One of Williams' most celebrated deeds was when he, by a magnificent act of daring, saved three people from drowning. Three swimmers had gone out too far to be reached in time from shore, and their cries for help, growing feebler and feebler, sounded in the ears of the helpless crowd, who, transfixed with horror, watched the unfortunates slowly drown. Among the crowd was Jack Williams. He saw it was useless to waste time in reaching the drowning people by swimming out from shore. An iron pier was close by, and in a second the quick-witted guard had decided upon his course of action. Speeding to the pier he forced his way through the crowd to the end and dived into the waves, 30 feet below, amid a tre. mendous cheer from the spectators. Stroke after stroke he neared the struggling group, and finally brought up within reaching distance of them. To bring them all ashore unaided was, of course, beyond human power, but, cheering the ex- hausted bathers with words of encouragement, he conveyed one after another to the pilings of the pier. After he had safely conveyed the party to the pier he en our&ged them to hold on until ropes were lowered from above, which he tied about the waists of the bathers, and they were drawn up to safety. Jack himself was the last to be taken from the water, and when he reached the upper deck of the pier he fell back exhausted into the extended arms of the by- standers. _n_

AN EARTH MAP. One of the most original propositions that have been submitted for an attractive feature of the coming World's Show at Chicago is to be credited to a Utab editor, who suggests laying out a plan of the United S-ates in earta. It is to cover an area of 750 acres, which would give one square yard for each square mile of country. Upon this earth-map would be represented in miniature every physical feature ol tho United States-all the mountains, all the water- falls, all the t emendous gorges of the Colorado and other rivers, all the forests and prairies, the Mam- moth Cave, and the Natural Bridge. The water courses would show real water, and miniature steamers would sail on the lakes and rivers. Every city and village in the States would be shown, and the railroads would be faithfully represented. The electric light would be laid on so that the towns might be il- luminated at night. The aid of the toymaker would be called in. Miniature people would crowd the walks of the cities; horses, carriages, waggons, and fire-engines would fill the roadways. The meadows would be dotted with cattle and farming machinery, and game and wild animals would fill the forests. The cost of this stupendous toy is not estimated.

TELL-TALE DIALECT. Those Frisian pirates who gave so much trouble to our Anglo-Saxon forefathers and were lords over the country for the space of 30 years, have left their mark very strongly upon our language. Especially is this seen ia the dialect of East Anglia, in which part many of tbe Danes, tired of the rather barren country of their birth, and also of the toils and dangers of the sl'a, became permanent settlers. Eight hundred years have passed since good King Canute ruled the land, but the Lincolnshire farm lads still talk of the ch'tch of the chickens and the bretlwnng of the calves, and will show you the kittlings hyying on the seeks, or playiDg in the hecJc. You may find the shepherd, also, deciding the traye against lambing time, because at the fore-end of the year the winds are often hask and snyde. He will point with pride to his well-conditioned gimbers, and will tell you how many sheep were lost last summer through far- wetting, and how many tod of wool were produced by last year's clip. And in the common talk of the farm you will hear of the gare at the head of the field, the j,leaks in the gap-steads, the mondiwarps on the blackthorn, the gatrum that leads from the road into the close, the cattlc-rake upon the moor, the screed of grass-land by one side of the beck, aa i the car stretching beyond it on the other.

AT A Hop.-Chicago man to Chicago woman: • Pardon me; I hope I don't intrude. But are you engaged for your next wedding ?" Customer: "That sugar of yours was dreadfully tduJt rated." Grocer:" But, my dear sir, it grew that way—sandy soil," you know." Sthanger (entering): Can I get a bite at this notel ?" Stranger (departing): I guess you can. I stayed there last night, and I got several of them." AN Attribute OF Childhood.—Jack Matthews: How babyish Harry Guzzler acts Harold Bastings: It's not strange, as he UleI the bottle so sfteo."

GOSSIP ON DRESS. There is certainly a jaded appearance about dress when it has borne the brunt of a London season's battle, and Church Parade, or any other place where Society congregates, no longer offers spectacles of new fashions, or the charms of fresh costumes. Even- ing raiment is the first to look played out, but there is a roue, run-to seed effect in day-gowns, too. Dress has a limp, pick-me-up air, as if craving for the equivalent of brandy and soda, or the strychnine lozenges which it is said American women are in- dulging in largely. There are even parasols with cavities in the handles for the reception of these strychnine cocktails. Goodwood is the last expiring gasp of exhausted Dame Fashion, who will now have to rusticate for some months in order to make new tissue, and Goodwood's moJes are rathor those of tne survival of the fittest than such as offer new ideas. PREVISION is not easy, but a London paper (the English edition of the Sew York Herald), as long ago as February announced the novelty, and the career before it, of skirts cut with a mitred frontal seam. We were told it stood no chance, but as a matter nf fact very many gowns have been, and are so made. iS'ot tailor-built ones alone, but those that are dressy, as in a mitred striped costume worn by a London society lady, which garment was certainly a particularly becoming toilet e. A print shows, tco, a new position for the ornamentation of sleeves, and the way in which chemisette tops to Diana bodices are gathered into bands which are pointed or circlet. Waistcoats are also made full with these bands-or straight ones in Breton guise-at the chest and waist. Not that long baggy waists from unsecured folds are out of date, for such long-bodiedness, and the pointed belts or girdles, are a testimony to the Divine Sarah's influence, like the mail-patterned cloute done in steel for sleeves, gorget-yoke, &c., of Jeanne d'Arc robes. The Baronne de Rothschild has one of the loveliest steel clouts dresses that ha, been made at all. Better adapted, perhaps, to English figures are the less ex- aggerated length and hiplessness of gathered low bodices over a high one, as in a pretty country fete dress seen lately. A minor point that might escape notice in this model was that girdle sashes had the ends frilled with lace, chiffon, or of their own stuff if there is no lace or chiffon on the gown. Comma net on canvas is very effective, but trellis or chevron velvet, appliquo by being stuck on the foundation, is in great request. The Countess of Cromartie has been wearing a very beautiful gown with this trellis work, and it is shown to advantage on cuirass bodices, which is one form of the long basques that will be seen a great deal this autumn. A LONDON milliner is unique in what she is apply- ing to dress decoration, for the newest trimming she givts her customors (not many of them, as she avoids wearying by repetition), has shavings of Carrara marble as the plaques in passementerie. Some years ago there was a rage for fish-scale embroidery as fancy work. Why is this not applied to dress purposes ? We give the hint to searchers after novelty. Seeing how extremely beautiful have been the silks, em- broideries, and relief brocades of the season, it is amusing to find that many ladies of high position are having servant's lilac and lavender cottons-the genuine prints that cost but a few pence per yard- made up as elegant dresses. Bird's-eye spot is the pattern most approved, and next to that an in- finitesimal chequer, for it seems that after having in- dulged in plaids of outrageous dimensions we are to fall back on the tiniest. At any rate, shepherd's plaid in fine wool, which makes some of the best costumes prepared for touring and the moors, is so minute that at a very short distance it looks plain grey. CHEVIOTS and very rough hairy homespuns of dark serviceable mixture of stripes, are going North for the day of St. Grouse. One we saw was an inch wide stripes of Scotch fir, bark red, brown and black. Tho bodice was odd by being swathed from waist t o armpits with wide black braid, and a row of the braid finished off the plain skirt. But it was in what was hid from mortal eye that this costume, made by a London west-end house, was most curious and most useful, though the same advantages of warmth, freedom, and lightness are attainable by the unpre- judiced who will submit to a foundationless short akirt, no petticoats, and knickers of the dress material. This invention is not easy to make clear on paper, but it negatives all petticoats, and yet the skirt looks like an ordinary one, though it might be called a one-legged trouser. There have been divided skirts and dual garments of many kinds foisted or fostered on "advanced women, but never a uni-trouser that looks like an ordinary skirt. It is applicable to any and every stylo ci dress, but naturally Is of most practical value to tricyclists, anglers, mountaineers, and so on. It does not call for an advanced woman to wear it. Imagine the hem of a foundationless skirt or the hem of a founda- tion made very deep but only stitched part way up. Then fancy the loose flap piece above it run together from side to side all but a few inches near each end; these spaces with elastic in them are for the insertion of the feet, and long boots can be worn, or gaiters, or the stockings may be left uncovered, as no one could tell from external evidence that petticoats were dispensed with. It is a skirt enclosed. Slebves put on with an upstanding creve frill at the shoulder are general, and very often there is an escaping frill, or a puff from the basque edge. Both of these indicate a return to wider hips, so that it is quite possible the flat cuirass basques of the talked-of winter bodices will have three or more edges some- thing like watchman capes. Deep lace flouncing gathered on to a pointed bodice edge, leaving a space in front, gives a long cuirass or casaque effect to bodices of thin materials. One pretty dress thus made was of Sevres blue Penelope, with a bridal flounce utilised as the gathered basque, and a bridal veil corner as a draped front to the bodice, its point just being below where the basque parted. The blue skirts had clear rows of inserted lace, and the loose foundation skirt was white bengaline; sleeves of Penelope were tied in thrice with white ribbon, secured by old-fashioned piste buckles. It was a bridesmaid's costume, the four listers having shared a veil and flouncing of a married sister between them. Buckles are being used on the grille straps of full waistcoats, and also as clasp to the billowy lace or chiffon jabots which accompany some of the Pompadour vests, with long pocketed flap fronts, which are worn with green bodices and many Princesse and Juive gowns. But the latest freak is to have Princesse dresses, tea gowns, and cloaks, made tight-fitting by means of lengthway tucks instead of seam. It is dcne very cleverly, tuck within tuck to gain enough fulness below, and extra width is given to the skirt part, though to the unlearned there is no outward and visible sign of aught but the series of delicate little ridge tucks. Everyone who has noticed the way in which robes de nuit, blouses, and tea jackets have been tucked to make different shaped yokes, bretelles, &c., will understand how varied can be the whole robes. Tucking to take stay shape is the most liked, but it is capable of endless ramifications. THERE is still a liking for the trimmings of bodice- backs and bordering that goes up each side of central kilts to sheath skirts after filling the hem corner. This, or cascade robings, and other fore-part- behind effects often gives a most comical effect, especially as zouave, horse-collar, and such-like arm. holes trimmings produce such roundness of back that it needs a second look to tell it is not the bust. There is a music-hall poster depicting a contortionist who is turned from his own toes. He walks one way and his face is the other. It is a horrible contortion, but some of the fashionable dresses give a very similar appearance to women.

A MUTINY IN THE GUARDS IN 1820. The recent unfortunate occurrences in the Grenadier Guards impart a curious interest to a letter from Mr. John Wilson Croker to Lord Melville, describing an event which, in many respects, was singularly like the outbreak of insubordination at the Wellington Barracks. It will be seen, however, that the Guards in 1820 were let off far more lightly than they have been in 1890. The letter was addressed to Lord Melville, who was then the First Lord of the Admiralty, and was dated June 16, 1820. It will be found in the" Croker Papers," Vol. 1., pp. 175-76: "We were very much alarmed yesterday evening with the report that the Guards, the 3rd Regiment, had mutinied, and you may judge that at this moment such a rumour was very alarming. The truth, however is that this regiment (which it seems its Royal Colonel, the Duke of Glo'ster, has been endea- vouring to manage upon principles of what he thinks rational and philanthropic discipline), has been long in an unsatisfactory state and that they have been lately removed into temporary barracks in the Mews this removal from quarters, and a good deal of duty, are supposed to have disgusted them; and the lower orders of the people knew on Wednesday and yesterday morning that the regiment intended to strike work, as the tradesmen would say. The adjutant and non-commissioned officers either did not know of the intention, or did not report it (and either case seems very serious). As soon as the thing was known, measures were taken to get their ammunition, and some ten or dozen of the iren refused to give it up. It is not very clear to what extent of insubordination they went, certainly not a great way; far enough, however, to render their immediate departure from town necessary, and orders were given for them to march at three this morning. All last night thpy individually talked of not marching, and several of them removed their kits from the barracks, and peemed inclined to disband themselves, but all this came to nothing; and at four this morning one division was paraded and marched, one man only having dared to refuse to shoulder arms. They are now quartered about Hounslow, and the reports of their conduct are satisfactory. The second division is to march to-morrow, and in the meanwhile is kept in the Mews, with the gates locked. They are said to express shame and contrition for their offence. The people, who assembled in very small numbers, about the gates, seemed to take no part with the soldiers, but rather ridiculed them. The business is now, I hope, over."

THE typewriter girl wsn a menial in 1880. In 1890 she owneth the earth scd the fulness thereof.

MORGUES FOR LONDON. It is understood that the London County Council are resolved to apply for powers to provide and maintain two morgues in the metropolitan district for the deposit of unidentified corpses. The in- sufficiency of mortuary accommodation within the metropolis is a matter to which, says the British Medical Journal, we have repeatedly directed at- tention. The mortuaries for the reception of corpses to await identification and coroner's inquests, it is stated by Mr. Neville Porter, are far worse in most of our cities and towns than the public mortuaries for coffined bodies awaiting burial. Although good public mortuaries have been built in some parish's, there is still a lamentable deficiency in many metropolitan parishes. In Whitechapel there appears to be no public mortuary, although the attention of the sanitary authorities has been re- peatedly called to the grave deficiency, and the surgeon of the second division of the Metropolitan PolicA had on a recent occasioa to make a post-mortem examination in a shed. In the case of a post-mortem examination on the body of a person who died of malignant small-pox at Fulham the small dark dead- house had to be used. The parish of Bexley, in the metropolitan district, is without a public mortuary, and the police recently, seeking a place where to de- posit a corpse, found the only available structure to be a shed used as a fire-engine station, the doors of which, opening directly on the pathway, had to be opened for giving light during the post-mortem ex- amination. The inquest mortuary of the parish of St. Martin's is the end of a long vault in the church- yard near Charing-cross. In Spitalfields the body of a man who died in a common lodging house was allowed to remain on the corner of the kitchen table for three days and two nights. During this period about 350 persons slept in the lodging house. Bodies had previously been removed to the guardians' mor- tuary, but unfortunately that very day terminated the guardians'tenancy of the mortuary. STRANGE MOBTUAPIES. In Hackney an old church tower, very small and approached by a narrow winding staircase, is used as a mortuary. By far the worst public mortuary in the metropolitan area is said to be that for the parish of Wapping, which has been described by the coroner for the district as a cupboard in the churchyard." The bodies are placed in shells on the floor formed of gravestones. There is no convenience whatever for making po-t-mortem examinations, which are em post d to be carried on in this wretched old shed with scarcely a foot-space to spare. In Ratcliffe a railway arch is used as a mortuary, and in Mile-end thero is no public mortuary at all. A clause in the Sanitary Act of 18GG gives local authorities the power to erect cuitab'o mortuary accommodation. Out of the metropolis, the Local Government Board is em- powered under the Public Health Act of 1875 to compel a sanitary authority to provide a mortuary. Medical officers of health and Poor Law medical officers should have full discretionary power to order the removal of a corpse to a public mortuary. The arrangements for viewing corpses for the purpose of identificat on adopted by the Marylebone mortuary is said to be the best, where there is a viewing room, and the corpses are inspected through a glass window, very near to and sloping inwards. The post- mortem examination room should adjoin the inquest mortuary. For the purpose of keeping bodies unin- terred for a long time, to increase the chance of their identification, a cold air apparatus has been success- fully used in the Paris morgue for the last nine years.

VERY MUCH MARRIED. The divorce records of this term (says the Sew York World) will be enriched by the entry of a very peculiar petition from Mrs. Stella Weston, the wife of the Rev. Charles Weston, a Wisconsin minister, who will contest the petition. Mrs. Weston is 32 years of ago, and has been married nine times, all within the space of eight years, Mr. Weston being her first and her ninth husband. He is also her second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth husband, all her marriages having been solemnised with the same bridpgroom. According to her statement, the Rev. Charles Weston is a marriage maniac, that is, he is ever seeking to be married, never insisting upon a newbride, but being perfectly content with Mrs. Weston in that role. Owing to this matrimonial mania Mrs. Weston says her married life has been one long and harrow- ing honeymoon. They were first married at the little town of Millbrook, in Wisconsin, and according to the forms of the Methodist Church. Europe was selected for a honeymoon tour, and while in Dublin he told her he thought their marriage was not ecclesiastically perfect because the parson who united them had not been ordained by apostolic imposition of hands. He held that this was absolutely necessary and made arrangements for another marriage in St. Patrick's Cathedral, of Dublin. She thought him over scrupulous, but consented, and there was another wedding. On their return home in the steamer he discovered another flaw. He had learned that St. Patrick's Cathedral bad once been a Catholic cathedral; that the mass had been sung there, an 1 that the cathedral bad not been rededicated since it ceased to be used for Roman Catholic worship. This omission he held to be fatal, and another mar- riage was ordered. Then he forced her to be married on board ship by a Presbyterian minister, the Hov. James Munroe. Attendance at one of Ingersoll's lectures, where John Calvin was denounced, convinced him that this was illegal. Marriages by Baptists, Unitarians, Swedenborgians and Spiritualists then followed, and then, a year ago, his wife got weary, left him and removed to this city, where she is now living with her sister. She has had letters from her husband, telling her that he has ascertained beyond all possible doubt that a Congregational marriage is the only one that has the indorsement of heaven, and that if she will but consent to a wedding in a Con- gregational church he will forgive her flight and promise that this shall be positively the last nuptials he will ask her to participate in.

COULD HAVE SAVED LINCOLN. The one man in the world (says a Washington cor- respondent) who could have prevented the assassina- tion of President Lincoln is dead. John Frederick Parker, born in Winchester, Va., came to Washington some time before the firing upon Fort Sumter, and soon found employment upon the metropolitan police force. When in 1862 it was decided to strengthen the regular force of doorkeepers and watchmen at the White House with a squad of policemen, Parker was one of those selected. It thus happened that when Presi- dent Lincoln and party entered the old Ford Theatre on the night of Good Friday, 1865, they were accompanied by Parker as guard. He took his position at the door to the private box from which President Lincoln watched the performance, where be was expected to remain and prevent the entrance of every one except the members of the party. As the play proceeded, Parker, from his post, could hear just enough of what was said on the stage to arouse his curiosity, and it was not long before he left the door and edged his way towards the auditorium. He finally took a seat in the orchestra, or pit," as it was then called, where he had scarcely settled himself when the whole audience was surprised by the report of a pistol shot. The assassin Booth had stealthily approached the door of the President's private box, where, finding no one to challenge him. he entered unannounced and fired the fatal shot. There is no question in the minds of those who are familiar with the details, that bad Parker remained at his post Booth could never have taken President Lincoln unawares.

MARRIAGE IN EUROPE. It results from recent statistical tables that out of 1 a.ono inhabitants above 15 yearsof age are married: in Hungary, 6475 in France 5566 in England and Wales, 5398; in Austria, 5271; in Italy, 5270; in Denmark, 5191 in Germany, 5107 in Norway, 5065 in Sweden, 4952 in the Netherlands, 4940 in Scotland, 4678; in Belgium, 4634; in Switzerland, 4582 in Ireland, 4313. It must, however, be borne in mind here, that the age at which marriages are contracted varies very much in different countries. In Germany, more marriages are contracted in the east and north than in the south and west. The little State of Schwarzburg Sondershausen in Thuringia has the largest number of married in- habitants, and the lowest number of marriages are made in Bavaria and along the western frontier of the German Empire.

IN" TRF. Mr. Soalove (at his seashore cottage): « My dear, olease tall our dauehter to sine somethine less doWul." Mrs. Sf-»!ovf»: That is not our daughter, my love that is th^ frxrhnra

r UNION LINB FOR THE SOUTH AFRI- FJELps. Tlie Roy»l Mail and Intermediate ff K every Friday, for Cape Ports, rrlinS r, P1' and Canary Island*. Apply to tho Fnrt K^.fwfri^n jL £ °'' Cannte Road, Southampton, and Soil ill Af lean House. 04 to 93, Bifhopseato Street. London. n A j&TT.'F! WEEKLY SERVICE from LONDON VAArur a for THE LINE G0LD FIELDS of SOUTH AFRICA. For Information apply to tfu Managrrs, DONALD CURBfE & CO., 3^nAone;nc^rcTh^str^> r7.1 IMPERATRICE.-Perfect Table Water. ■n4 SAINT-JEAN.—For the Stomach and Difil- I cult Digestion. ^I PRECIEUSE.—For Bile, the Liver, Gravel. In every good Hotel, at every Chemist's, L "Ull Druggist's, and at Mineral Water §^►3! Dealers. One Bottle per Day. QAll information at 4, Rue Greffulhe, Paris. SHEFFIELD CORPORATION zC3 PER CENT. STOCK. Issue of Q371,320 at par. Forms of Prospectus, &c., and all information required will be supplied by W. FISHER TASKER (Iie.iUtrnr). Borough Accountant's Office, Bridge Street, Sheffield. December, 1889. Å J A ic; of ex"llent fla%rour, in the trcat- IN. ment of plithisis. Prescribed in stomachic exhaustion, chlorosis, antemia, and during convalescence. Recommended by the Faculty for aged persons, young married women, and children. BEWARE OF COUNTERFEITS. To obtain the only genuine Saint-Raphael Win" Apply to E. Gallais, 90, Piccadilly, W., London, PERPETUAL INVESTMENT BUILDING SOCIffY, Established 1S51. Moneys received on Shares or Deposit. 'WithdranaMe at th re* davB notire. Advances made upou Houses and Lmi.L Prospectus Best on application to .1. £ Tj:B!<ir>i>Kit. Seeretarr, 16. New Bridge Ktrcct. London. E.C. CITYof LONDON Established TEA COM PAN Y 1S61, THESE TFAQ 1TRAVANCORE (Pure Indian) 2/-a pound. ARP lCEYL0N{lnLeadPacket3) 2/" nmnmi.i FIRST RATE CONGOU I/8 „ UmliUUi. PEKOE CONGOU 1/4 „ Samples and Terms to Agents on application to 1J 2, & 3. Beer Lane, Great Tower St., London, E.G. WHITTING-TON LIFE ASSURANCE COMPANY. (Established 18!>5.) 5S. Mourgntc Street, Lindnn. LIFE ASSURANCE. LOANS. REVERSIONS. ALFRED tTTjOWSkil, Managing: Director. Agent* Wanted. WILLIAM 71. PERRATT, Seer<narr. IliOiS BUILDING'S and &003TING-, New and ;*ecoiid-baDd Churches, Chapels, Mieslon and yS School Rooms, Lawn Teniys, fl ♦ Criefcet Pavilions, Cottag6% ]5^Stahles,Farm Buildings, <fec. TX\ Bfiji fella fir Iron Buildings here on view. K if \Qrt tons of Iron Roofing in HARBROW'S WORKS. South Bermondsey Station. London, S.E. GERMANY (Freiburg iu Baden), near tho Hlnck Forest, Tension Vili:» Kossnrrk. Pli'jisnnt.alrT situation, garden, coo.) tttblr. ivntdish romfortr. Iiitriiost Knul-sh r"f»rence«. ALL INVESTORS SHOULD READ girl NANCIAL^j |TI M E S | ^ABSOLUTELY TRUSTWORTHY ( DAILY.fd. SEND FOR SPECIMEN COPY FREE TELEGRAPH STREET. lon^T -0-

THE EASTERN SOUDAN. The British consul at Suakim, in his last report, states that there has been a marked revival of trade in consequence of the peaceful policy which has been pursued during the past year, and of the reopening of the port of Aghig, and, towards the close of the lear, of the port of Trinkitat. The total value of unports for 1889 was very nearly double that of 1f:S, and there is ground for believing that this increase will be maintained, as elements of dis- turbance in the interior are disappearing, and there is a very general desire among the natives for settled government and regular trade. The greater portion of the import trade was absorbed in and near Suakim and the adjacent ports in the form of food-stuffs and native clothing, but there was at the same time an appreciable trade with the interior through Aghig. No doubt numerous caravans with dhjurra and cotton goods found their way from Aghig, through the Tokar Valley, to Kassala. Trade improved, more especially after the withdrawal of Osman Digna and other Dervish leaders to Khartoum in September. Later on an at- tempt was m..de to open up the rou te to Berber, but it was attended with small success. The caravans were always subject to the levy of blackmail and the risks of confiscation, and food-stuffs passing through a country where famine was gradually asserting it- self were naturally exposed to immediate plunder. Coal was the only article which went from England direct, other articles of British origin (provisions chiefly) going through Egypt. Fully five-eighths of the imports-viz., millet, rice, flour, and manu- factured cotton goods—went from Bombay in British vessels. This trade is almost a monopoly in the bands of the Banian merchants, who negiotiate in Bombay solely with their countrymen, and are con- tent with smaller profits than would suit a European. There was a considerable advance in the import of grain, due partly to the opening of Aghig, partly to an increase in the local population since September last, and to the fact that an English combination of traders made large allotments of millet and rice during the autumn to the cotton cultivators, with whom they are under agreement to maintain them and their families until the collection of the crop. The im- port of cotton goods from India has increased by f L6,000 under the same circumstances which favoured the import and sale of dhourra. Part of these are Manchester goods re-exported from Bombay. To a great extent goods sent into the interior have been bartered for gold and silver ornaments—a sure indi- cation that their owners are reduced to extremities. The value of silver ornaments exported by Banian merchants to Bombay is shown to be £ 19,409. There has been a marked decrease in the export of mother- of-pearl, and there are reasons which induce the Consul to think that the export will ceaie alto- gether. The passage of slaves from the Arabian to the Soudanese coast is very commonly effected in pearl boats. They are, in consequence, liable to be seatched whenever met by men-of-war; but finding that they are allowed more liberty in Italian waters- they prefer to spend the seasons in the south. More over, the Italian Government is said to pay a small bounty to pf arl fishers who bring their shells into Massowah for sale. They fetch a higher price there than in Suakim, and the freight to Trieste is cheaper by Italian boats from Massowah than by Egyptian boats from Suakim. The total value of the export is tenfold that of 188S. In at- tempting to forecast the future of trade in the Eastern Soudan, we are encouraged to take a hopeful view from the friendly attitude of all the local sheikhs and their eagerness to engage in trade with the English traders. This company com- menced operations last autum by inducing the Toker sheikhs and others to plant cotton, and the crop w'll bf gathered very shortly. The political conditions of the country are, however, such that it is impossible to form all estimate of the measure of success which will attend the enterprise until the cotton has been forwarded to Suakim."

.1. POET IN RETREAT. Joaquin Milier, the bard of the Sierras, whose works, peculiarities, and eccentricities are almost as well known in London as they are in New York, has (says the New York correspondent of the Manchester Examiner) become a complete recluse. He lives all the year round at Fort Hill, his place near San Francisco. He refuses to see any visitors, and does not come over the bay to the city more than twice a year. He does all his literary work in tho morning, writing while in bed until noon, when he rises and spends the afternoon in cultivating th" trees in his 50 acre ranch, or in long walks, lie owns three cottages, in one of which lives his mother, in the other his wife and daughter, and in the remaining one he himself lives. Owing to his belief that a man should not become on too easy terms even with his family, he only meets them in common at the table.

A colourku man in south (Jaroiina watched a white man's bee-hives pretty closely, and one day when there were sign" of a swarming he left his old mule with a bundle of hay on his back in the right position, and the swarm which settled on the bay was safely walked off with and hived three miles away.

MELLIN'S FOOD B w M poB INFANTS AND INVALIDS. Haslembki Lodge, KBw GARDENS, Suukby, 19th Februarv, 1889. The Honourable MM. Turnour writes She was a most delicate child, and I quite despaired of rearing her; she could not digest any milk food. I consulted a physician when she was frxir months old, and he told me to give her Mellin's Food. From that time until she was eighteen iescihs old she was fed entirely on it, and became perfectly healthy and strong." Samples, Pamphlet, and Prospectus Post Free on Application to G. MELLIN, Iffarlborol Works, PECKHAM, S.E.