The Aberystwith Observer

THE RUSSIAN NAVY, The Czar has a new hobby. Tired, apparently, of costly conquests in Central Asia, he is now turning attention to the augmentation of his naval forces. No longer shall a scornful Bismarck ridicule the idea of the Russian elephant fighting with the British whale. No longer shall Britannia boast that she rules the waves. Before many years elapae, the Vikings of the icy North will sail forth in scores of huge ironclad dragons," and the British tar, shiver- ing his timbers, may consider his occupation gone. Not only has a new armour-plated cruiser, con- structed at a Russian dockyard of Russian materials, been added to the Imperial navy, but quite a dozen of other craft are ordered to be constructed, all for the benefit of England and for the peace of the world. As one of the illustrious officers who were present at the launch of the Admiral Nakhimoff pleasantly remarked, England will never be Russia's true friend and ally until the Russian fleet is equal to that of England." Now we know, therefore, the price that we are expected to pay for the love of our Northern admirer. We have merely to cease ship- building, and the Czar will make all possible haste to equalise matters on the ocean. It is to be feared that our present rulers do not quite recognise the advantages of the bargain thus offered. In a spirit of downright cussedness they are laying down new monsters, hurrying for *arcT those in course of com- pletion, and in other ways largely increasing the fighting strength of the navy. It follows, therefore, that as we build very much quicker than Russia, we shall be farther ahead of her than ever by the time her new- vessels are finished. Clearly M. Lessar must again be called in to experiment once more with his patent ethnographical" specific for the creation of friendly relations between England and Russia. It is true that, ever since be left London, he has been boasting about the clever way in which he "diddled" British diplomacy over the Zulfikar affair. But we repose such perfect confidence in his capacity for adapting himself to circumstances, that we make no doubt whatever he would not be a week in England before he flattered our wounded amour propre by re- presenting himself as the diddled.- The Graphic.

INTERCESSION FOR FOREIGN MISSIONS. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York have issued the following address We desire to express our anxiety that the season for general intercession for missions having been finally agreed upon with all the Churches of the Anglican Communion should be observed as widely and earnestly as possible in all our parishes. There is a deep and just conviction that this intercession has been answered by many marks of blessing, and especially in the raising up of men devoted to spread the knowledge of Christ. It would be much to be lamented if the changes of the date, which were thought advisable, should be found to have produced any langour as to its united observance. The day now recommended in preference to others is the eve of St. Andrew's Day,' not being a Sunday. In this year it is Advent Sunday. Much of the spirit and force of the observance depends upon the sense of unity which the special day and its services awaken. We accordingly recommend that Saturday, Novem- ber 28r should be kept with special services as heretofore in a still more united and general manner than was possible while the date was still under consideration. Should the Saturday be an in- convenient dav in some parishes, we hope that Friday, the 27th, may be observed there. But we would point out that in order to give fullest oppor- tunities, the fortnight from the Sunday before Advent to the Second Sunday has been noted as suitable for the use of the service (1). The aspect of missionary work is everywhere cheering. Hindrances daily lessen, and much progress has been made everywhere in spite of them. Every step of mission progress is now felt, even by cold witnesses, to be a step in civilisation. We ought to pray for unitedness in the spirit with which all the work is done, and for fresh gifts of zeal and wisdom. The right development of native churches grows every year a greater and more pressing question; the maintenance of the primitive churches of the East, whose very existence is imperilled by lack of education and of independence; the keep- ing pace with the vast outspread of our own popula- tions over new lands, and our relations with the great cultivated races of the old world, as well as our in- fluence over uncivilised and semi-barbarous tribes, are all matters of fresh and increasing interest--matters in which we need the fullest Divine guidance as well as willingness and zeal. We ask the parochial clergy of both provinces to give to their flocks the oppor- tunity of united intercession, and to bring before them the duty and blessing of advancing by prayer, by gifts, by personal labour and mutual association the kingdom of God on earth. EDW. CANTAUR. W. EBOR." (1) Special forms of prayer are issued by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and by the Society for Promoting Christian Know- ledge. The form of prayer authorised for use in most of the dioceses of the province of York can be procured from the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (York, Durham, Carlisle, Chester, Manchester, Ripon)."

At one of Sheridan's dinner-parties, the conversa- tion turned .upon the difficulty of satisfactorily de- fining "wit." Forgetting that he was expected to hear, see, but say nothing, Master Tom informed the company: Wit is that which sparkles and cuts." 'Very good, Tom," said his father. "Then, as you have sparkled, you can cut!" and poor Tom had to leave his dinner unfinished. An American paper asks why Tennyson did not wait to bring out his two suns in one day" until the cold weather had set in. They were simply maddening in July, but they would be much appreciated now. Lord TenDyson will be delighted with the realistic effects ascribed to his poetic creations. When a Chinese boy is one month old his head is shaved and a bladder is drawn over it, and as his head grows the bladder bursts and the queue sprouts forth. The first shave is made the occasion of a magnificent banquet, and the guests are expected to make the host a handsome present in coin for the newly-shaven baby, with which a bank account is started to his credit. This is the most pleasant feature of the affair for the baby, as the razor always pulls.and he cannot take part in the feast-B

'.1 STRANGE FISH AT THE ZOO. Amongst the literally strange fish recently added to the curiosities of the Zoological Gardens at Regem'c- park are two excellent specimens of the Sly Silurus (silurus glanis). The name, according to Pliny, was butowed upon this fish because of its cleverness in sucking away the bait without being caught by the hook. Some twenty years ago there was a good deal of talk about acclimatising the fish in British waters, but fortunately for the indigenous tenants of our streams, nothing came of the project. Mr. Francis Francis in his grounds at Twickenham conclusively proved that the species would live here. Now and then small specimens are brought to this country as curiosities and put into the household aquarium. On no account, however, should these fish ba turned into any of our rivers. They are most voracious feeders and would devour not only the food required by our own fishes, but the fishes themselves. Commercially they are of little value. In some parts of Northern Europe, but more especially in the basins of the Volga and Danube, the flesh is dried and a kind of lard is made from the oil. To us the sly silurns would be neither useful nor ornamental. The pair of big ex- amples which may now be studied in alarget.ank in the new reptile house at the Zoological Gardens were brought from the Mirqnis of Bath's estate in the West of England. Thither they were placed, infants of sevtn inches in length, thirteen years ago. In the interval they have grown to ugly curiosities of some eight-and-twenty pounds apiece. They have more- over eaten up his lordship's trout, and have therefore been expelled. They are in every way a welcome addition to the interesting objects of the new reptile house. The only representative of the siluroid family in Europe, the sly silurus is also the largest of Euro- pean fresh-water fishes. There is a story extant of a specimen taken in Hungary with a woman's body inside; and the chroniclers aro always careful to state that the marriage ring was found on the finger, and a purse of money at the girdle of the unfortunate lady. In the too small fish-house which the Council will, it is to be hoped, some day replace with a worthier building; unusually bright samples of the salmo fontinalis, or American brook trout, have been recently placed. This is not a trout in reality, but a char, beautifully mottled. The fontinalis has been introduced into many English streams with dis- appointing results. When placed in lochs, or other suitable homes, it thrives well. Amongst the recent additions in the gardens, to which the term "strange fish" may be figuratively ap- plied, are the New Guinea Birds of Paradise in the parrot house. At present they are in perfect plumage, and therefore in a condition of health which warrants a hope that they may be preserved. ► Some rare eagles have also been acquired within the past fortnight. Very good work indeed has been done by the Zoological Society of late. The rearing:of Sally, the female chimpanzee, purchased at Liverpool when she was quite immature, is a subject of much satisfaction. The marvellously human attributes of this anthropoid ape were described in the Daily News soon after her arrival in the gardens in the autumn of 1883. Mr. A. D. Bartlett, the able superintendent of the popular establishment, has long studied these apes, and from his observations of number of speci- mens, both living and dead, he has come to the con- clusion that Sally is Lot a common chimpanzee. He has therefore classified her as Troglodytes caluus. A life-size portrait of her appears, with a fall textual description, in the "Proceedings of the Zoo- logical Society," June 16th, 1855. Sally, who is a general favourite, will not be found in the monkey house, but in the establishment set apart primarily for the anteaters. An anaconda, lately imported from South America, should be noticed by visitors who go to make acquaintance with the sly silurus. This fine serpent is 20 feet long. The new reptile house has proved to be a splendid in- vestment of the extra receipts brought to the society's treasury by the sale and departure of the late lamented Jumbo. The blankets with which the keepers used to conceal the serpents having been abolished, the reptiles share with the visitors the advantage of the change. They are tamer, in better condition, and always in evidence. Another strange fish of the figurative order is the rare animal called the Tasmanian wolf. Very few even of the in- habitants of that charming island south of Bass's Straits have ever seen it alive. A more correct, if less convenient, name for it is the dog-headed thy- lacinus, or zebra wolf. It is the thylacinus cyno- cephalus of science, and has the peculiarity of par- taking of the characteristics of both carnivora and marsupials. To this extent it differs from any of the Australasian marsupials, though it strictly belongs to them. Another house is to be opened immediately on the site of the old reptile house for the reception of the smaller cats, such as ocelots and tiger cats. The news of Jumbo's tragic fate was received naturally with sorrow by his human friends at the Zoo. The Council were perfectly justified in getting rid of him, but everybody regretted the necessity. Jung Pasha, the Indian elephant presented by the Prince of Wales, is now almost as big as Jumbo, and being only 15 years old, is still growing. He is a most tractable and clever beast. As for Alice, upon whom so much absurd gush was wasted, she is for sale for JE200, and in the interests of the gardens her room is more desirable than her company

AN EXCELLENT SUGGESTION TO THE POST-OFFICE AUTHORITIES. Miranda," in the Lady's Pictorial, writes as fol- lows One of the commonest questions of everyday life, Can you oblige me with a postage stamp ? is almost invariably answered in (he negative. Every- body seems always wanting a stamp, and nobody ever seems to have one. Shall I be accused of dis- loyalty to my sex if I hint that women are generally « worst in this respect ? Would-be funny men say so, at all events. But even if a lady can, at times, oblige a friend with a penny stamp, it is indeed rarely that a 11 halfpenny one is to bo found in the same place. Since the halfpenny stamp was increased in size from the tiny original to the same dimensions as its more expensive brethren, and, more especially, since the wise and beneficent puthorities at St. Martin's-le- Grand caused all the "adhesive labels" in use to be printed in colours sufficiently similar to be easily mistakeable, the difficulties cf distinguish- ing one stamp from another have been found many and aggravating. Mr. C. B. Harness, managing director of the Medical Battery Company (Limited), 52. Oxford-street, W., has nobly stepped into the breach and invented, a stamp which, if adopted, will obviate the necessity for carrying two distinct' articles altogether. The idea is simplicity it- self. The penny stamp is perforated diagonally from left to right, and Mr. Harness suggests that each half should be made available as a halfpenny stamp. It is only extraordinary that such a simple and at the same time effective expedient was never thought of before, and it is to the credit of Mr. Harness that he should have been the first to think of it. It is to 1 such men as these, practical, business men, with a strong infusion of inventive genius and an under- standing alive to the necessities of the public, that we «j must always Jo,k for FUCII useful reforms. a

A FIGHT OVER A GRAVE. 1 A most "lamentable comedy," which casts a | curious light on certain characteristics of French life, has been recently enacted in one of the suburban cemeteries of Paris. On the occasion of the recent annual visits to the tombs of the dead a young widow arrived at the monument erected to the memory of her dead husband, and, notwithstanding the notorious or unfaithfulness of her departed spouse, which bad often been a bone of contention between them in his lifetime, she prepared to place some fresh flowers and coronals on the grave. While engaged in this meritorious action she was suddenly surprised to see a young woman of about her own age and of rather prepossessing appearance, whom she afterwards dis- covered to be one of her playmates of infancy, approach the grave and also prepare to bestrew it with winter flowers. The widow, rising suddenly to the height of the situation, cried out, Ob you were the woman, were you?" and immediately fell upon her like a lioness. A desperate tooth-and-nail encounter raged for some moments before the tomb, during which the flowers and immortelles were scatteied to the four winds. The piercing cries of the combatants as they warmed to their work brought the keepers of the cemetery to the spot, and the two It rivals, who had in the meantime considerably damaged each other, were separated with some diffi- culty. They then left the cemetery by different exits, the widow protesting loudly against the bare- faced impudence of her detested enemy, who actually braved her at her husband's grave.

At a cheap restaurant. Will you have a 25 cent dinner, sir, or a 35 cent one ?" What is the differ- encebetween the two?" Ten cents, sir."

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, j CATHERINE'S MISTAKE, OB, A SECRET FOR YEARS. CHAPTER XXVI. PHILIPPE'S REVENGE. COUNT PHILIPPE was a frequent visitor at madame's house, open as it was most hospitably to all. But after that first night he never brought his young brother. Not that he feared to trust him within the charmed circle of Lina's attractions; he knew too well that the infatuation the silly girl had conceived for his own handsome person was sufficient to insure the boy from becoming the victim of her daintily-laid snares. Madnme was not uaeasy at what she could not fail to perceive. She did not much fancy the count; she liked Englishmen. She would have preferred that her darling should have fallen in love with a fine, dashing country gentleman, with a large estate, and fond of fox-hunting—in fact, a second George Ingestre, if he could be found; but if Lina loved a foreigner better, madame was not the mother to make her child unhappy by thwarting her wishes in any re- spect. So the count came and saw ma'mselle as often as he pleased, and all the household put him down aa the young heiress's most devoted lover. And one evening, when the two brothers were taking their ease after dinner, Ferdinand told his brother, with a smile, that he had heard that day Count Philippe de Résimont was engaged to Mademoi- selle Bernstein. At this Philippe looked up and smiled, not frankly and freely, as most other men smile, but with a subtle and meaning expression. And you wish to know if it is true, I presume ?" My Philippe, I beiieved 'ilot a word when I heard it. You are not the man to love a trifling girl like that—a pretty little doll, incapable of loving as true woman should. No, I did not believe it." 14 BLit, Ferdinand, men do not always marry where they love. Many motives compel them frequently to commit that action, marriage, beside love—self-in- terest, worldly benefits, hate, revenge." Ferdinand looked astonished. "Surely, brother, such feelings as hate and revenge would not cause a man to marry where he did not love;" 41 If ever I marry that girl, Ferdinand, revenge will be the cause-not on the child; I havo little feeling to Yards her of any kind; but on the mother." As he uttered the last words his eyes flashed with a red light, that even the younger brother shuddered to see. "Good heavens!" he cried; "how has that poor emple hearted baroness offended you ? Philippe, thou art cruel indeed!" "The baroness is not Lina's mother she is no rela- tion in the world. But madame little guesses I am aware of this. You look amazed. You will learn many strange things yet; the time is coming when you must be initiated into the secrets of the world, that, to your young eyes, looks beautiful and fair enough. In the dark stream of life, my brother, there is rsany a tide save that of pleasure many an eddy beside that of mirth. Man lives for a purpose, and seldom is that purpose a vain one. To live to make others lives subservient to our own—to enjoy the full, free tide of vital energy within us—to love success- fully—to hate intensely—to aspire-to rise-to wish, and to accomplish that wish-in one word, to be what we will-this, Ferdinand, is the purpose of such a man as myself, and to gain this he will hesitate at nothing. Believe in no one, my brother, and you will not bo deceived. That good, simple-lieai ted baroness acts a lie every minute cl her life, and knows it too. Her child-her dflrling-is neither hers nor the man's whose name she takes; and her mother is-" Here he stopped, and looked at the wondering, eager face of the young man, who had half sprung from the couch on which he was extended. Mon Dieu, Philippe-does man indeed live for no other end than that of satisfying the cravings of his worse nature? Is there no true nobility of heart, no religious purity of soul, such as one dreams must surely animate the men who achieve distinction for themselves ? And worse, is there no truth in woman -truth such as I have imaginedj '"Imagined! that is it; you- have spent your life in dreams and imaginings. Now come3 the time of awakening. The world is not such as your philo- sophy paints it, nor are men and women arrayed in the pure tints of angels' wings. Dream no longer, Ferdinand; the morning of your life is at hand— awake, and view the earth around you in all its light and shade." "But, Philippe, I would dream for ever rather than awake to see the death of all my hopes-my belief in life. Much that I have seen here in London has dissatisfied me. Pleasure is not the pure stream I would have it. Others drink there whose lips spread pollution; and I-yes, I begin to loath what they can taint. Is the reality of life and enjoyment so different from all my brilliant anticipations of it, brother ?" Philippe's lip curled. "Wait and see. Use your eyes, your ears, and learn the lesson of the world for yourself. For you the sun has shone as yet on a lovely morning landscape but there are clouds in the horizon, and charged, too, with death and destruction. I speak in metaphors, but not beyond your compre- hension." "No, oh, no," answered the young man, throwing himself back on the couch, with a dreary sigh. I j understand you, Philippe, too well; for already life seems scarcely to me all I thought it. Pleasure is not so sweet-happiness not so attainable. I am tIred-I am weary; and oh, Philippe, very sick at heart!" The elder brother looked at the youth (scarcely more than a boy) with a strange and almost malign expression in his deep, dark eyes-an expression which seemed a gloating over that last sad cry-an infinite satisfaction in the weariness of the sigh which I accompanied it. "What!" he said, "fainting on the threshold! Courage, brave heart! Up and do battle with your I craven spirit. Weariness! sickness! Is it my young brother who wails like a young girl over her lost love -Ferdinand de Resimont, young, rich, and gifted with the graces of an Adonis ? I have brought you up too daintily-fed you on hopes too sweet-philosophy too enervating. Say, my child, will you turn monk, and enter a cloister ?" Philippe Philippe retorted his brother, with a I' hot blush on his cheek, this is cruel of you. I can bear anything in life better than your irony; it crushes me. A monk, no Catholic as I am, a monk's life is not a noble one in my eyes. I will live in the world, Philippe, and do battle with the things and the people I am learning to hate! I am no coward. I will I have no more of the enervating philosophy you talk of. I will not pursue pleasure. I will strive for a higher aim. I will distinguish myself, Philippe. I will be a great man, yet!" And a good one, too ?" "And a good one, too, with the help of Heaven, was the reply. Ferdinand's bright steel-blue eyes glowed with a I broad flashing light, his delicate skin was tinged with a beautiful colour, his full handsome lips parted with I a smile of lofty expression. All that was noble and pure in the young man's nature glowed in his face II then, was warm at his heart, and earnest in his tones. Strange inconsistency of nature which could call those two men brothers Truth and honour looked out of the blue eyes of the one; the darkness of sin brooded in the intense black orbs of the other. Philippe rose and walked the room with a quiet, thoughtful step; but the calm was without only, a tempest raged within. These were some of the broken fragments of thought which were hurled through his brain, as the hot tide of his passion surged to and fro in the narrow channels of his veins:— And this is the soil I am attempting to sow with poisonous weeds. Is the culture of years to be overthrown by the abnormal nature at last ? I am training him for other aims than he dreams of. Such a life as mine has been I would have him suffer. Woman! your child shall be a fitting son for me to present to you. Ah you shall rejoice at the purity of his soul, the innocence of his life! At times I can believe he will be nothing better than the sensual profligate I intend him for; at others, as to-night, I doubt my power-the force of training, the very promptings ef youthful nature, to lead him into pleasant vice. And then to allow a foolish regret to cross me when I think of the life for which I destine him; for I have come to love Mm; mixed strangely ^ith the hatred I bear him, there is a stream of love. Every step he takes towards the degradation of his noble nature is a sharp dagger in my heart, though niine is the treacherous hand which leads into the dark abyss, Shall I not suffer as much as he when he fells ? And yet what a solace have I I-the eyes of the woman I love will behold that fall! George Ferdi- j Well," interrupted the boy, with a haughty | smile, and mine, Philippe, will bear the closest scrutiny. Am I not your brother ? and has my life of eighteen and a half years been such that it will cast shame upon me? While I have seemed only the careless and thoughtless seeker after pleasure and I gaiety, content to receive all that you in your loving bounty have given me, every better feeling in my heart was rebelling against the object fw which I seemed to live, and prompting me to become a truer and worthier character—a man fit to reflect honour, and not disgrace, upon the name I bear." I You bear, oh, Ferdinand I" Yes, brother, the name I bear," said the other, and yet with a quaver in his bold tones. You have no right to bear it," was the cruel reply. My Ferdinand, your mother was not mine." In spite of those ominous words-those ominous eyes, the boy had not the faintest clue to their f meaning. His brave, single-hearted nature was un- able to conceive yet the twofold signification they bore. I I cannot understand you, Philippe: you are talk- ing enigmas. Am I your half-brother, then?" I It was the last time his blue eyes ever bore that fearless and innocent look—the bold questioning of an honourable soul. I Philippe stood contemplating it for one moment, with one small, beautiful hand thrust in his bosom, to steady the fierce beatings of his heart; the other raised, as if in mute warning. I Tlxyounger man thought, as he looked, how noble how perfect was the beauty of the elder; how like some mighty Moorish king he stood, compel- I ling homage by the very power of his wonderful eyes; and it was with a sigh of regret he repeated the question- Am I your half-brother only ?" You are Then Philippe dipped his finger in the goblet of wine at his side, and wrote a single word on the polished table. Read," he said. And Ferdinand read.

CHAPTER XXVn. MBS. FAUNCE MAKES HER EXIT JUDGMENT was given in court; the Chancery suit was ended, and Rossmore passed into the hands of strangers. Ingram Ingestre had a bitter pill to swallow that day. His inheritance was gone; the house his forefathers had been born iiy. had lived and died in—the lands their feet had trodden, their hands had planted, had passed away from him and his for ever. The hope of his young life had departed-the impetus to work was gone--the maelstrom which engulfed all his thought, his time, his earnings, had suddenly ceased its whirl and How a stupor fell upon him, and he asked himself for what purpose he now lived. Rossmore was gone—Rossmore, to retain which he hungered a') er the wealth of his cousin-would have pursued hit. hunted and driven him through every law court in England, only to succeed in wresting that wealth from him. Money!" was the cry of his soul; money to feed the greedy maws of those men who can rescue my patrimony if they v/ill—give me back the old house, the old lands, jhe old home, if they but j choose." j But they did not choose law is not always justice, and Rossmore was adjudged to a rich man who had grown wealthy by plundering its late master. Thus, on the day of which I speak, Ingram stood in the office of his lawyer with a breaking heart. He had no tears to shed, or they must have fallen-no sighs to lift the weight from his soul, or they must have been heaved. His grief was so deep, so silent and hard, that it was tenfold agony to bear; and he suf- fered more in his stern, despairing calm than a violent man would in the first heartrending outburst of sorrow. He left the office, and walked away through the crowded streets, never casting a thought on the faces which surrounded him. His mind was fillea with many bitter reflections, and as he walked on faster and faster, their current changed. And another loss beside that of Rossmore slowly dawned upon him the loss of a hope, but dimly felt as yet—something in which his patrimony bore only a share—something which has grown up in his breast with marvellous rapidity, with marvellous strength and tenacity. What was it ? What caused that dull stupor when he pondered on something he had dreamed of, beside the old ancestral house? He asked himself the question, and it remained unanswered. His usually acute intellect was numbed; he could not reason; and it was not until he had left London far behind, and was walking along a green suburban lane, that the answer came upon him with bitter truth and certainty. His path lay along the edge of a little mill stream, and on one side grew a line of weeping willows, which every passing breeze caught, swaying the pendant branches into the rippling water of the brook. Now in the sunlight, and then in the shade, flashed the bright water stirred by the willows, and Ingram stopped and watched the beautiful effect with strange curiosity. Something in the sunny sparkle of the water, some- thing in the graceful tossing of the long green tresses of the willows, echoed an answer to his question- echoed it in the likeness it bore to a vision of his mind. The glancing water and the waving willows had given him back the face of a living girl, and the eyes he saw, and the gently flowing hair, were those of Lina Bernstein. He strode on faster than ever. The bitter know- ledge was dawning on him now that he loved her- had allowed himself unknowingly, unwittingly, to love her. He recalled the last two months of his life, and could tell now the source of their infinite bright- ness, their renewed hope, their joyful activity. He could account for the stream of sunshine Heaven had seemed suddenly to sow broadcast about his grim and sordid path. He knew now how a woman's face, and the hope of a woman's love, could bring gladness and joy beyond everything to a man, working alone in utter solitude and desolation of heart. He knew now that he loved her, but was ignorant as yet of the force and might of his passion. Some men, whose reason tells them they love hopelessly, yield up the bliss that cannot be theirs; they quietly relinquish their love, or keep it sealed hermetically in some forgotten region of their hearts. Other men, with the courage of desperation, deter- mine that the forlorn hope shall never be yielded up; that it must be victory or commutation-defeat is impossible. So thought Ingram Ingestre. He, a poor man, with a life of actual labour before him, loved the petted heiress of the Bernsteins. Loved, where he had never, to his own knowledge, received a solitary token of favour. Nevertheless, as he stood and watched the shadowy image of that face in the glancing water, he registered a vow that the love of it should stand him in place of all he had lost-that the pursuit of it should be the object of his life, the possession of it his one dream of happiness on earth. nand! dost thou think to escape and spare me this bliss!" As he thought thus he was standing close to the young man, and looking at him with those frightful eyes. All unconsciously his brother returned the gaze, little dreaming the evil it boded him. That shall be it, my Philippe; I will become a great and clever man, and worthy of the noble name I share with you." The eyes still looked, and could the other have in- terpreted their language, this would have been the meaning they conveyed- It must come. I will deal the death-blow to this, or you will be lost to me for ever." Then he said aloud- Ferdinand!" The tone was deep and full of sorrow. Ferdinand started. What now ?" he said, looking earnestly at Philippe's face. Distinction is not for you," was the reply. My r brother," laying his hand upon the boy's shoulder, the time is come when I must check these aspirations, now and for ever, and tell you why the name you bear must be left to others to distinguish." The look, the tone was so full of warning that Fer- dinand was well justified in the nervous alarm he felt on hearing it. He dashed back the curls from his forehead (a peculiar habit with him when startled), and cried out— Philippe, what do you mean ?" "Courage," was the reply. "Nerve yourself to hear a painful secret, which should have been hidden from you always, but that the revelation is forced upon me by the rash longings of your ambitious soul. Ferdinand, you must be content to remain in obscurity-remain always as my dearly loved and tenderly cared-for brother. You must not court fame, for fame leads to a widespread knowledge of the history, the birth, and parentage of the favoured one." And the vow made, he walked on, with a hard, reso- lute expression on his determined lips, which promised more for its fulfilment even than the hard, resolute words of the vow itself. When men of the calibre of Ingram Ingestre fix their hearts on the attainment of any one thing, no < matter whether easy of attainment or not, it is more than half won. Their dogged perseverance knows no diminution-their patience no flagging; obstacles which would daunt others, they do not even regard; end their whole force of character is bent on over- coming the mighty difficulties which lie between them and the possession of the thing they crave. Rarely do these men fail in their object; and when they do, failure is failure indeed: their hard natures are not pliant; they break, but never bend. So Ingram walked back towards London, a happier man than he had walked from it, for the thought of Lina Bernstein came softly and gently on his sorrow- ful heart. He did not dream cf asking himself whether she was worthy of this, his best and most devoted love; few men ask themselves that question, when the eye is perfectly satisfied with the fairness of the thing it has fancied. He saw what she was to him and to his sight, and he asked nothing more; so Vhis new passion he took into his heart, and hugged to himself as a treasure he had never even heard of before. New, strange, and wonderfully sweet it seemed. He returned home, and let himself into the house by means of his latch-key—that latch-key to which Mrs. Faunce had such a strong objection. His idiot sister was alone in the small front par- lour, seated on a low stool, and, as usual, tearing paper to pieces. He kissed her, and asked her for the housekeeper; but she only shook her head and laughed cunningly. Ingram wanted to communicate the news of his defeat to Mrs. Faunce, so he left the room and called for her at the foot of the stairs. The little servant-maid replied from the kitchen that Mrs. Faunce had gone out that morning at ten o'clock. And she took her boxes, sir, please; and I fetched a cab; and, please, sir, I don't think she ever means to come back any more, sir. She did go on, sir, at the place, and called.you lots of names, and said she was sick of the life she led in your house; you never had anything fit for a Christian to drink, and kep' the brandy under lock and key. And, please, sir, I think she was a little-I mean-" But Ingram stayed to hear no more. He walked back into the parlour, and shut the door after him. He took out his keys, and opened the cellaret-the only place he had for the consignment of his small stock of wines and spirits. The bottles were just in the order he had left them the previous day, and the contents undiminished. Still, he lifted the brandy-bottle, and eyed it narrowly to be quite certain. Then he took out the stopple and smelt it. His keen eye had not been deceived; the dark fluid in the bottle was not brandy it was cold tea; and the whisky was water. He left the bottles out, and surveyed them for a few moments calmly and reflectively. Humph! one thing is clear: the woman is a drunkard as well as an impostor. That accounts for many little things I have noticed in her manners. Now I must set about finding out whether she is a thief as well." It did not appear that she was, since he could ascertain nothing to prove it, save the loss of his brandy and whisky. So he sat down, and began to think whether it would be worth his while to find her out. He finally determined that he must not lose sight of her, but trace her out by some means or other; and we must leave him, pondering on those methods which seemed to him the most expeditious and sure. 'J** (To be continued J

SHOCKING NEGLECT BY A MOTHER, Dr. Danford Thomas, coroner for Central Middle- sex, held a lengthened inquiry on Saturday evening at the Crowndale Hall, Camden Town, respecting the death of Annie Maria Mills, aged one year and nine months, who, it was reported, had died from neglect and starvation. Catherine Mills, living at No. 3, Bishop's Head-court, Gray's Inn-road, the widow of a painter and mother of the deceased, stated that her husband, who had been dead eleven months, had left her with three, children, aged respectively 71, six years, and the baby, who was now dead. For the last five months she had lived with a man named Moriarty, and during that time be had not done much work. The Coroner There is a report that the chil- dren were generally neglec ed. The Witness It is quite untrue. They were very unruly, and when I went out to work I had to lock them in, but some one looked after them while I was away at work. On Monday the child was well and hearty, and in the night it woke up and asked for bread and butter, but as there was none in the house I could not give it. She was generally very ravenous, so I did not take much notice of it, but later on, as she seemed very ill, I took her to the Royal Free Hospital, and when I arrived there she was dead. In answer to the Coroner, the witness stated that she was compelled to go out to work, and earned a livelihood as a cleaner at King's College Hospital and the Olympic Theatre, and last week she only earned 3s. Charles Daley, landlord of the house where the mother of the de- ceased lived, stated that he had not seen the children for the last five weeks, that being at out the date they came to live with him. The next night (Sunday) the came to live with him. The next night (Sunday) the man and woman came home drunk, and were quarrel- ling and fighting all night. The next day the woman excused herself, and said it should not happen again, but he had noticed that both went out in the day, t locking the poor children up for eigbt or ten hours at a stretch. (Sensation.) He did not know whether they had food or not, and in consequence he went to the Hunter-street Police-station to give information, and a sergeant of police accompanied him home and spoke to the children through the keyhole. Food bad been brought them in the meantime, but they were not able to get it because they could not open the door. The constable then forced the door, and the stench was horrible. The deceased child had only been out three times in five months, and in his opinion the children had been generally neglected. The mother had been frequently the worse for liquor, and when so was very abusive. Mr. Henry W. Dodd, senior medical officer at the Royal Free Hospital, Gt ay's Inn-road, stated that the admitted at 6.45 on the morning of the 3rd inst., having just died. It was very thin and emaci- ated, only weighing 101b. 13oz., and according to its age should have weighed from 181b. to 201b. It was very cirty, and had evidently been neglected, the head was enlarged, the brain congested, the heart enfeebled, the intestines thin and ulcerated, and the stomach empty, the child evidently not having bad any food for about twelve hours, and previous to that bad been improperly fed. The cause of death was debility and exhaustion, accelerated by improper and injudicious feeding. The bad atmosphere might also have conduced to the death. Daniel Moriarty stated that he had been 14 years a seaman, but lately he had been running about doing odd jobs, earning about 8s. per week. He had torn up his discharges from the several ships he bad served in. He stated that everything had been done for the deceased and the other children, but the witness Daley stopped him by informing the Court that the children at the present time were locked up and had been so for several hours. The Coroner, addressing the mother, said if she did not know the proper duty of a mother she should consult some one older, but it seemed very strange that six months after the death of her husband she should pick up with a man who had no regular employment, and to support him she went out to work and neglected her own children. If she had not done so she could have obtained parochial and medical relief, and most likely that inquiry would have been avoided. The jury returned their verdict in accordance with the medical evidence, with the addition, That there was a lack of maternal care and attention on the part of the mother of the deceased."

SUGAR FOR CATTLE FEEDING' That excellent farmers' organ, the Agricultllral Gazette, gives the following summary information upon the above subject: The extraordinary depression in the price of sugar last year again brought to the h. d front the desirability of its use for cattle-feeding, and the experiments in this direction were entirely success- ful. Though the cheapness of cereals may interfere with the use of sugar, the light root crop gives a fresh opening for the use of saccharine materials for stock. The addition of sugar to cattle food has, hitherto, only been to a small extent, and is capable of vast development, for it has been calculated that the various domestic animals in the country could readily consume quite as much sugar as its human inhabi- tants. The public have a sort of hazy idea that sugar costs 2.Jd. or 3d. per lb,, and is very cheap at that, for table use. But, excepting among those con- nected with the trade, hardly any one is aware that black, but quite wholesome, sugar can be had at under Hd. per lb., and molasses at under f-d. per lb. In the following remarks molasses and sugar are used as interchangeable terms, the former being as a rule the saccharine material left after the extraction of table sugar, and containing about 40 per cent. of cane and 20 per cent. of grape sugar. As a relish alone j sugar would fill an important place, while it is known J to be most nutritious and fattening. This vear, with a light root crop, affords an opportunity for its more extended use, especially in its liquid forms. West India molasses or refiners' treacle, of course, vary in their constitution, but are, for the former's purpose, worth about two-thirds the price of sugar. Molasses is also convenient in use, as it does not require to be dissolved before mixing with roots, ohaff, hay, &c. At the same time sugar is very readily melted, and is, in some respects, more handy than molasses. All that sugar requires is a little more water than the molasses does, and possibly the smaller proportion of salts in the sugar would render it a better food for animals. Warm water mixes better than cold with either sugar or molasses. Apart from the feeding or fattening of store beasts or stock, it is stated that sugar increases the quantity, and improves the flavour of the milk. In a large dairy farm near London, sugar has been found an actual economy, by inducing the cows to thoroughly clear out every partiole of food from the manger, instead of leaving a good deal as they ordinarily do. It has been found to improve the flavour of the milk, and to increase its percentage of cream. Sugar also would be found useful when calves are being fed after weaning. A German stock- raiser wrote last year that he had tried molasses for cattle feeding, and out of 110 oxen treated otherwise, under identical canditions, the 60 which were fed with molasses increased in weight on the average 71 oz. more a day than the 50 to which 2 molasses were not given. On the Continent cattle are fed to an immense extent on the beet pulp, left after it has been pressed in the sugar factories. In this country some of the utility of beet (mangolds) in feeding isdue to the four or five per cent. of sugar it contains. The liking of horses for sugar is familiar to every one. Sugar or molasses will induce cattle to eat all sorts of foods which they would otherwise re- ject, such as indifferent hay or cut straw mixed with roots. Sugar-canes and their tops are found valuable for cattle and horses in India, in consequence of the saccharine they contain, and in Demerara cattle and mules are fed in crop time upon cane tops and cane loaves. They like this food very much, and do wonderfully well upon it, being always in good condi- 'I tion and fit for work. The flesh of pigs partly fed on sugar has been proved to be unusually fine. In the Midlands, where comparatively few roots are grown, sheep have also been very successfully fed with molasses, thinned down with water, and well mixed with meals and chaff. Horses thrive remark- ably well on sugar. It has been used with very good results for getting horses into condition for sale, and also for colts whilst wintering in the yard. In rear- ing colts there is a risk of their suffering from stoppage of the bowels if fed entirely on dry food, and to avoid this they are generally allowed roots of some kind in addition to their dry food; but this year roots are very scarce. Sugar not only improves the condition of the colts, but prevents any risk of the stoppage referred to. The way it is used is to dissolve the sugar in water and pour it over the chaff, taking care that the food is well mixed, and in a day or two the colts will be found licking the sides of the mangers long after the last morsel of chaff has been eaten. Sheep also can be fed in the same way, but if the mixing of the sugar and water is to take place in the field it appears to be best to use molasses, for if the shep- herd is impatient or careless in mixing the sugar and water, lumps of sugar will not be dissolved, and when poured over the chaff the sheep that want it least— viz., the strongest—are sure to get them, whilst mo- lasses mixes easier and quicker. For colts the quan- tity used has been from a pint per head per day, to begin with, to thiee pints a day, and for sheep half a pound a day. From some interesting experiments lately conducted by Sir J. B. Lawes, it appears that sugar should not be used in any quantity with such food as the cereal grains, maize, rice, roots, or meadow hay. All these substances are somewhat low in nitrogen, and to dilute the nitrogen still more by the way of sugar would tend to waste it. On the other hand, the leguminous seeds, especially lentils, tares, and beans, and such foods as linseed-cake, cotton- cake, and clover hay, contain a relative large amount of nitrogenous substance, which might be safely diluted with sugar." The above quotation is from Sir J. B. Lawes' article on the subject reprinted in the Sugar Cane from the Journalof the Royal Agricultural Society. Sir J. B. Lawes goes on to say that he considers sugar too dear at its pre- sent values to compete with barley at S4 10s. per ton, and Rangoon rice-meal at X3 to X4 per ton. In the case of animals which are off their feed, or to induce animals to eat their food which they would otherwise reject, sugar may probably be useful," even at present prices. It would appeir that Sir J. B. Lawes spoke of sugar, not of molasses, which is so much lower in price. It will be found that 1 lb. or 2 lbs. a head per day as a relish in the food of cattle, which eat (Sir J. Lawes says) 100 lbs. a day in all, would lead, for the 5,900,000 cattle in the country, to an average sugar consumption of 961,000 tons to 1,922,000, leaving out of consideration what the 1,413,578 horses, the 24,319,768 sheep, and the 2,510,402 pigs in the country (in 1882) might use. It should be mentioned that although that gentleman con- siders sugar too dear at prebent as compared to other foods, yet, at the same time, he thinks itan excellent food and the only questions are the way in which it should be used, and the price at which the farmers should buy sugar as compared with other foods in the market. Further, that though dry sugar may be too high in price owing to the recent rise, yet that molasses is not materially dearer than at the lowest point. The recognition of the value of sugar for stock food by one of our leading authorities is highly satisfactorv to the sugar trade. Sir J. Lawes, as shown above, also considers that it may, even at pre- sent prices, be of use to animals off their feed, or to induce them to eat food which they would otherwise reject. It is the use of sugar in this way as a sort of relish for stock which alone the sugar trade had hoped for, not its consumption by beasts to the extent of not far short of a third of their food, the propor- tion taken by Sir John B. Lawes' pigs when left to themselves. Even a relish the calculations above show that the domestic animals of the country might readily use 1,000,000 tons of sugar a year. The attainment of this result is simply a question of time and price. Various receipts have been given by well- known agriculturists and stock raisers from time to time, the usual quantities suggested being one quart of molasses a day for a store and two quarts for a fatting beast. This should be mixed with cut chaff, cake, mangold, &c., and turned over and over a few times, leaving it for a few hours to allow the sugar to be thoroughly absorbed, and in addition a slight degree of termentation to be set up. If dry sugar is preferred it can be sprinkled in small quantities over the prepared food. In some cases it has even been used by farmers when stacking newly-cut hay. The following is another receipt: 56 lbs. of hay, 56 lbs. of straw, 14 lbs. of Indian meal, 14 lbs. of bran, 14 lbs. of linseed-cake, and 7 lbs. of cane sugar. It is evident, however, that these quantities are open to improvement, and it will be noted whether the animal thrives on the mixture or not. It is only with sugar that the grocers can supply farmers to advantage, but with substances such as rice meal, barley meal, linseed and linseed meal, rough lentils, locust meal, beans-in addition to maize and other cereals. For instance, rice meal, mixed with a little sugar, or with molasses, as a relish would make a most excellent fattening food for pigs, and at exceedingly low price. If it were desired to build up flesh, &c., at the same time as fat, no doubt the addition of some nitrogenous substance, such as peas, beans, lentils, stale milk, &c., would be required. The grocers could also supply condiments such as cattle spice, or fenugreek, which substance has been lately recommended in the Field as a spice for animals.

INDIAN RAILWAYS. A Blue Book has been issued containing Part 1. of the Administration Report on the Railways in India for 1884-5, by Colonel F. S. Stanton, R.E., Director- General of Railways. Colonel Stanton prefaces his report with the following summary, dated Simla, May 27, 1885, and addressed to the Secretary to the Government of India Public Works Department:— I have the honour to submit herewith Part 1. of the third annual report, prepared in India for presenta- tion to the Houses of Parliament, relating to the administration of railways in India during the year 1884-5. It will be observed that the net receipts for the year 1884 show a decrease as compared with those for 1883 of Rs.50,88,840, and that the per- centage on the capital expenditure, excluding, as is usually done, that on steamboat services, suspense items, and indirect charges, gives a return equivalent to only 5-27 per cent., against 5'91 in the previous year. The detailed financial results of each line will be found in the report. The decrease in the net receipts and percentage earned is mainly due to the stagnation in export trade, particularly that of wheat, which has been a marked feature of 1884; but at the same time the increase in open mileage of 1084 miles, on which the traffic has not had time to develop, must have had considerable effect in lowering the total dividend. An examina- tion of the summary of commodities moving on the whole of the railways shows that a general develop- ment of traffic is taking place, and that although the financial results of the past year have not been as good as were hoped for, we are justified in considering' the depression only temporary; and a comparison of the approximate earnings for the corresponding periods of 1883, 1884, and 1885, printed as an appendix to this letter, shows the following satisfac- tory result: Approximate receipts, 1st of January to 4th of April: 1883, RsA,66,29,530 1884, Rs.4,56,56,100 1835, Rs.4,84,78,594. Between the 31st of March, 1885, and the present date 18§ miles have been added to the open mileage, consisting of the following lines: 1. Oude and Rohilkund Railway from Nagina to Najibabad, 13'86 miles, opened on the 1st of April; 2. East Indian Railway Branch, Bankipore to Digah Ghat, five miles, opened on 2nd of May besides a temporary 2ft. guage tramway at Ferozepore."