The Cambrian

Swsnsea Race Meetings. Swansea, March 10 Those gentlemen who are friend. t:, the Swansea races are informed th: r a »/:et'.ng will be held at the Ferry House on Tuesday, the 3rd of April next, to tix the plates, etc. Dinner at 4 o'clock at 3s. each.—Robt. Jen- ner, E:o>q.. John Morris, jun.. Esq.. stewards.

King George's Recovery. | t London, Friday, March 2o. The recovery of our beloved Sovereign, which is now confirmed by the total cessation of the medical bulletins, is a subject of uni- versal congratulations and rejoicing The greatest calamity that threatened the nation- is now bv the biessir.g of Providence averted, and the dangers arising from the threats of our haughty enemy give scarcely a moment's uneasiness.

Products of the Taxes. In the House oi Commons yesterday. >n i bringing up the report of the Committee of Ways and Means of the preceding day. Addington, in reply to some observations by Lord Folkstone. that the produce of the taxes noted last year was considerably under the estimate. stated that, judging from the I amount of the property ta,x hitherto received, lie hu.d no doubt that when the whole was collected for the year. the produce would fall but little short of the estimate, \i* £ 4,500.000. He had also the strongest rea- £ 4,500.000. He had also the strongest rea- son to believe that the produce of the war taxes, estimated at twelve niiiions, would be at least ten millions and a half.—In an- swer to a question put by -Air. Fox, Mr. Ad- dington stated that circumstances still ex- I isted whijh precluded any communication to the Hou(' respecting the mediation of Russia between this country and France.—The Vol- unteer Bil! i;as iv. d a third time. passed, I and oi-lered to the Lords, after a tedious and uninteresting debate.

Emulator of Dick Turpin. A gentleman has engaged to ride from London to York in ten hours. He is to change horses on the road as often as he pleases, Thebetisfurone thousand pounds.

Raid on French Coast. [lie expedition against one or more of the enemy s ports, did not sail, it aopears. till yesterday (rrii.ay) morning. The squadron got under we-gh from Uungeness at 11 o'clock, accompanied by six vessels loaded with stones. A stroug detachment of the 52nd regiment and rme corps embarked, it is said, at the same time, from Sandgate- roads, in sew fa 1 armed cutters and gun- brigs. and is to accompany ihe expedition. The miiitarv are. we hear to storm the bat- teries. at the mouth or me enemy's ports, and are afterwards to re-en:oai«; and cover the retreat ot the crews from me vessel loaded with stofic-s.

Malta's Grain Exhausted. It is said that the granaries of the island of Malta were suffered to be nearly ex- hausted; and^ owing to the machinations o out active enemy, the poits 01 Bnrbary. ironi whence the supplies were usually drawn, have denied us the smallest assistance ;"1(' and we have been obliged to send to tne Black Sea for grain. ———

French Invasionary Force. An American ship which left the Texei on Thursday last arrived at Dover yester- day (Sunday), the captain and passengers on board which agree in stating that all the heaw .-mi fiery. stores, etc.. necessary for the invasion of England, were embarked, and the troops all quartered within a quarter °f a mile of the ships, ready to embark at a notice; the force was lour 74's. and about 80 transports capable of carrying from four to 500 men each there were also several g^.n-vessels and smaller craft ready to ac- Lvuipany then*.

i-rench Government's Severity, Recent ieiters from Bourueaux contain ac- counts ot tne rigorous measures of tiie French Government against the natives of England and Ireland, who, upon the faith of a gen- eral and I'be-af encouragement to foreigners igi to and industry to France, had sct-ed tnenisejveK in that coun- try Every persons of description has been "ompeikd to retire trum Bordeaux, end some were forced way under circumstances oi extreme crueltv.

Wellington's Operations in India. The two armies under (leneral ellesley and Colonel Stevenson, continued, at the date of the last aeeoiuAs, in toe neighbour- hood of Auriiniuv.-bi'.d. Tr.ir opponents, Scindea and the Berar Raiah. had adopted a new system of warfare, for hurnis-dng and wasting our armies. Thev have sent away their g,,in., and most of their infantry, and have divided their cavalry into Inrrje bodies. and by the rapidity of their movements, annoy and distress us -,i.Tn;izin v-Ihev avoid tii/htine. and are, in consequence, more for- midable than if they met us fairly.

French Toulon Feet. In addition to the account of the sailing of the Toulon t!eet, it is now confidently stated that other letters are in town from Syjain and Portugal, via. Lisbon, of the same date, namely 10th February, mentioning that signals were flying along the coasts of both countries, intimating th.èt, the French fleet was at. sea; and last nignt it was further stated that intelligence had reached town from the Continent, mentioning a report at Hamburg, and in the north of Germany, that an i-ction had taken place between the two fleets ctf Sardinia, and that the English had obtained a decisive victory over the French. Xo advices have yet been received at the Admiralty, br.t we understand that the re- port in not wholly discredited there.

Irish militia's Loyal Offer. me following message from his Majesty WitS Presented to the House of Commons is Majesty thinks it proper to acquaint the House ot Commons, that the oth- ctrs, non-commissioned officers, and privates of several regiments oi the militia of Ireland, have made a voluntary tender of their ser- vices to any part of Great Britain. His Ma- jesty has received with satisfaction this strik- ing proof of the attachment and zeal dis- played by his loyal subjects for the general defence and security of the United King- dom. Conceiving that this patriotic olfer may be attended with the most important ad- vantages at the present critical juncture of aita.ii>, hi» >iiu.jesty recommended it to his Common.? to enable him to avail him- I -LI self thereof, and to make provision for sj, h regiments as may have occasion to co-re into I till" country for such a length of time. and to such an extent, as they snail think proper and expedient.

Bishop of LlandafF's Rousing Speech. In the House of Peel's, yesterday, Lord i la.vkesbury moved the second reading of the Volunteer Bill, prefacing his motion with an exposition of the military force of the coun- try (which comprised, he said, 183,000 troops of the line and militia, and 530,000 effective Volunteers), and a general defence of the vol- unteer system.—Lord Grenville and other peers stated a variety of objections to the { measure (the same in purport with those urged by its opposers in the Commons) and were replied to by the Lord Chancellor, Lord !l Ellenborough, Rornney. Westmorland. Auck- land, the Duke of Montrose, Bishop of Llan- daff, etc. The Bill was at length read a se- cond time and ordered to be committd on Tuesday lie Bishop of Liandaff's speech was so truly patriotic and impressive, tiiat we re coniident it will be perused with | peculiar pleasure: The rev. prelate said that he had heard a profusion of reflections on the incapacity of the present Ministers. It was not his intention to inquire, nor was he well qualified to determine what foundation there was for such a charge. He thought the present a period of the utmost difficulty, re- quiring every exertion, and the firm and lUil- animous junction of every heart and every hand in the kingdom. The present system, so far from being absurd or puerile, he re- garded as noble, as difficult of execution, but one which, if persevered in. he had no doubt •would he a glorious and successful issue. We did not in the present volunteer system see assembled a tribe composed of the refuse of society the very olf-scoarings of the rabble. Our safety was not to be entrusted to hired slaves, interested by no tie either or love or gratitude in our safety. o. It was committed to the voluntary and mag- nanimous exertions of our fellow-citizens of every profession, and of every rank in the state, and eager to stand forward in defence of the crown and our lives and liberties. In such a cause, how could we doubt success"' Did we want an additional number of men? Let his Majesty execute that prerogative which, till the present night he had never heard disputed, and which he was convinced was vested in him. Do you want horses? Put in requisition every couch-horse and saddle-horse and train them for the pur- of Men must in such emergen- cies go about on foot Your lordships will I think it no hardship to walk down to this House; and I honour too highly the sex to suppose that they would complain of any ne- cessary privations in tne hour of difficulty. Do you want ships? Hire ail the merchant- men and small craft in your harboars. As for large ships, I hope the enemy will build them tor you, and that our brave seamen will show them the way to our own ports. Do you want money? That is a serious question, my lords, I admit; but in such times taxes must be laid commensurate to public exigen- cies. All property is the creature of civil society, and you should use it for the public good, and for the security of the country. I dread, my lords. the power and intrigues of I the enemy of my countiy, and more still that poltical paralysis which has deadened the spirit of every Cabinet on the Continent of Europe. 011. my lords. I had rathe- be reduced to the meanest situation, live on oat- bread and water, and wear the wooden clogs of Westmoreland, than exist. pampered with all that affluence could procure me. and see my country subjected to the- terrors of French domination. And. mv lords, give me leave to say that it gave me extreme consolation to hear his Majestv s message of last night concerning the ti I hope and trust that'Ireland sees the advantages of her union with us. and that she is disposed to promote and perfect it. I confess, my lords, that timid as 1 am. though 1 hope not per- sonauy. ft dvove ;UV.IV trom ,njnd the ter- lors of un hundred thousand Frenchmen in arms.

Cardiff Races. On Wednesday, the 20th of June, wi'l be ,,m for c^ Cardiff (.rent Heath, tiftv pounds, given by »ir Kobt. Blosse, for maiden horses, etc.. heed in the coumy ot Glamorgan, 3 years old. to carry /si. 4 years old, 8st. 61b. 5 aired. 9: "b- M-res geldmgs to be al- lowed 31b. The best ot three two-mile heats. On the day a sweepstake of ten guin- ea- each. for any horse, etc 3 years old to carry a feather 4 years old. 7st 41b.; 5 years old." 3st. 61b.: 6 years old, bst. and a^ed 9st olb Nominations to be made to Mr. Weatherbv. or th? clerk of the course, by the 1st of Ltv. 1804. Subscribers: Robt. Jones. R. Mansel Phillips, Robt, Jelirier, Robt. Lynch Blosse, Hobt. W. B. Drey. K. Mansel Philiips On Titursday. fifty pounds, by any l-oi*e, mare, or gelding that never won £50 at any one tim' matches and sweepstakes excepted- 3 years old to earr v7st. 4 years old. o;t. 6!b. 5 years old, 9st. 6 years old. Sst. 4iu: anc aged. 9st. 71b. Mares and geldings to he allowed oib. The best of three two-mile heats. On Friday, fifty pounds, by any horse, mare, or gelding. Any horse, etc.. having won a JS50 plate since the 1st March, 1804, to cary SJbs. extra; a. winner of two £ 50 plates 51b:. extra and a. winner of three or more £ 50 plates. 7!bs. extra. The best of three four- mile heats. Mares and geldings to be 3!bs. The stakes each day to the second best horse winning a clear heat A subscriber to pay one guinea entrance, and half a guinea to the clerk of the course, 07 double at the post. A non-subscriber to Pay three guineas entrance, and h;df-a-guinea the clerk of the course, or double at the and the winner each day to pay one for weighing.etc. horses, etc.. to stand at the house of a su scribing publican, of one guinea or up- uai s. m the town of Cardiff, from the day o. runnings, and to be plated by a subserib- ing blacksmith. i >. o less than three reputed running horses will be permitted to start for either of the above plates ;if only one enters, to be allowed ten guineas, and his entrance money re- turned if two enter, ten guineas each, and I their entrance money returned, unless it shall be determined by the stewards that two shall I start; and if either refuse lie forfeits his claim to such premium. All disputes to be finally determined by the stewards, or whom thev shall appoint. I 2so person will be permitted to erect a booth, or sell any kind of liquor without hav- ing previously paid to the clerk of the course hatt-agutnea ior a-lo. and one guinea for every other liquor.—Sir Robt. Blosse, Rowley Las- vscefls. Lso., Stewards Ordinaries and balls as usual at the Anfel Cardiff Arms Inns.

Swansea Trader's Safety. I Venus. Davies, from Swansea, with coais for Penzance. reported to have been captured by a French privateer (as mentioned in our last paper) arrived last week at St. Ive's, from which she sailed from St. Michael's Mount.

A French "Alabama" Taken, It is with peculiar satisfaction we announce the capture of the notorious French privateer Le Brave, the vessel, of all others in the French service, which has committed most depredations^ on our trade. She mounts 22 guns, has loG men on board, and was con- sidered to be equal in all respects to many of the French frigates. Siie was brought into Cork If arbour by his Majesty's ship La Loire, (':lpL Maittand at a late hour on Saturday hist.

Armament of Swansea Brigs. The Right Hon .the Lords Commissioners of tne Admiralty have been pleased to order the Morristown and Endeavour brigs to he taken up at this port for the purpose of convoying the trade from hence and the neighbourhood round land. They will L cacli ai med with twelve 13-pound carr >.ia les with small arms in proportion, and will be placed under the orders of Capt. Ne-v, He gulating Officer here.

Convoys to Swansea Traders. The Act ive. Dolphin, and Ranger are ap- pointed convoys to the trade Iron Plymo-i: Falmouth, and Penzance to tiifi Mdford.—-Orders have litiewise eon vc7n to Admiral Lord Gardner, to e f his cruisers toward the entran.-e < i itie Bris- tol Channel.

Storm Signals. Signs to be made for the infor.'t-ion of merchant ships, at the several statims viher. signal ports are erected. For an enemy's frigate or frigates, a, pend- ant flying, and a flag suspended by a. cross- supporter, with one ball above the flag. For the enemy's small cruisers, a pendant nnd flag, with two halls above the btter. For an enemy's ships or vessel close under th.1 land, a pendant and flag, with three balls above the latter. No signals made at the signal posts n:mt those above mentioned) are t.o be attended to by merchant vessels

Runaway Apprentice Captured. It is somewhat- remarkable that within half an hour alter oar paper of Saturday night reached Llaugharne, containing the advertisement ottering a, reward for the ap- prehension of Alexander Robinson, Captain Salt s apprentice (advertised in out last paper Ibi running away from, and robbing his mas- ter), he entered the town to exhibit his pan- orama, and his person exactly corresponding with the description given of him, he was taken into custody, and lodged in Carmar- tber Goal the same evening. He has under- gone two examinations; at the first he told the Magistrates a most, absurd story of his having been five years on board the Barrieur. of 93 gulls, in which ship, as assarted (like a true disciple of Barrere, of notorious "lying iitellvoi-yl. he had been taken by a- French privateer and sent to Rome, where he served seven years as a pastry cook. He. acknow- i iedged that he once belonged to the Flora. of Fowey. At his second interrogation, he denied all he had before stated, and related another taie equally ridiculous with the for- mer. pre\ aneating and contradicting him- self at every period.

Concentration of Local Volunteers This day (Friday), seven companies of the Wester1 Glamorgan Riflemen were inspected in a field at Forest, by Col. Warde, who was highly pleased with their military appeara.ico and the precision with which they exec: ¡,J their several manoeuvre*. Col.' Lascedes' corps of Olamorgan riflemen, about 360 stiong, are expected in Swansea in the course of ten days, having offered to assemble, for three weeks, on permanent duty, in order to acquire a greater degree of military protici- ency. 1 he Swansea legion and Glamorgan riflemen, we hellr. have offered to assemble f.-).tic like purpose; and several other vol- unteer corps in Wales, we understand, intend immediately to initiate these patriotic ex- aniples.

Cardiff Assizes New Sheriff. The business at Cardiff Assizes concluded 1 o i Monday.—There were only three prisoners for trial, two of whom were acquitted in con- sequence ot errors in the indictments, and against the third no bill was found. R. T. Picton, Esq.. having declared to undertake the office of Sheriff, Col. Warde. at the par- ticular request of the Judge, politely consen- I to officiate in that capacity at the. Assizes. We understand, however, that Thos. Mark- hom, Esq.. of Nash, has accepted the office of sheriff for this county for the present year

Horrible Discovery at Neath. A humanity revolts with horror, was made at Neath., on Sunday. morning last. The cries of a new-born in- i iarifc being heard to proceed from the privy of the Castle Inn. and no other means offer ing to rescue from destruction the innocent victim of maternal barbarity, a hole was broken into the wail, and a fine boy taken out, who had been prevented from falling to the bottom by a projecting stone. One side of the child's head was bruised,, ana bled iiii'ch, but it is expected to live, and has been christened by the name of "Fortunatus."— A maid servant at the inn, the supposed mother, is now in custody.—During the con- ft'sion which the circumstance naturally oc- casioned. a fire broke out in one of the rooms in the house (not accidentally it is thought), which destroyed part of the bed fui-!llt,ill-e i'nd which destroped part of the bed furniture and some clothes, before it could be extinguished.

Llangenoyd Farmer's House Burned. \Yc M'r sorry to state that on-Sunday morn- (usfc ''Ie house of Mr. Wm. Hopkins, at entirely buildings LtU'e', lu"ether witl1 f thc "Ut, n-iv < £ d large quantity of corn and the'ttamirbuff (:{ C]ltt.ie iliso Peri*hod 1,1 s-ed t the furniture was T'hi dtehJ1'?- without difficulty. 8 (.lre-jmst;mce. it is conjec- i'>e "bui'rmp"aS[one(l hy a boy dropping -orvevhm t rS in whicf, he s: u" H ;ir^3iu ent liekl for hte purport- ot tiiv <. 11 t/ice some rubbish co!- --=.-

The Standard of Highest Pwtty.THE LaNCET._ Gadburv's cocoa is the typical English Coooa..It is world-renowned for its absolute purity and its great invigorating properties. Gives energy and staying power, and tirmness to the musctes and nerves. CADBURY'S is Cocoa, and the best Cocoa only. Athletes should take care to avoid risky concoctions containing drugs or chemicals. CADBURY'S COCOA is perfect food, for allies and all seasoos. -t!' w-f{\; y I

FLEET STREET CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, SWANSEA. (By Surveying- the Whole Region of religious thought and activity, as pre- •suiied in the various sects of Christendom, it will be found there are in all the multiplicity ot seals and parties, two attitudes only—the tU t.ioiitatlve, and the anarchical. Two kinds o: men also; souls that lean on ..Sorae"Ilg, and souis that are self-contained. The Ionian Catholic and the Baptist are nearly perfect examples oLone class—one at- titude-Quuers and Lnitarians examples of the other between these extremes all de- nominations hover, in some authority, in others private judgment predoniipatjng. Tiiese two principles each strive for mastery al- ways. everywhere. The Chuich of hrghniu and the Congrega- tionah.st bodies are. in tt;e main, excellent ex- <in.ples mi the mean between those two ex- ironies.

Almost Forty Years Ago that the renowned Dr. Rees, then of Eben- ezer. saw clle need for providing a number of English chapels in Swansea, That was prior h -lie modern renaissance of the Welsh lan- gua.ge. The old tongue had fallen into dis- repute, and young people took to attending I the service of the Church of England, because the more fashionable lingo was employed there. Dr. tvees scheme included the erection of three citapels in as many parts of the town— Walter-road, Fabian's Bay. and Fleet-sheet j^benezer, then most flourishing.

Supported the Doctor | and up. within a few years, went buildings in j these three places. I At Waiter-roed. Rev. Thomas Jones, the 1 po:-t preacher, was stationed: at Fabian's Kay. Key. "Disestablishment" 'Matthews; and at Fleet-street, Rev. John Thomas. Hev. John Thomas was a "bit of a cliar- iicter in his way." so Mr. Wiiiison, a present deacon, informs me. 'He had a smooth word for everybody, and was a very good preacher, the t,f t.l,c tor Rev. Harrison Lochore. who knew e\. j John Thomas, ut Ferndale. lie gave devoted and self-sacrificing service in the Sandftelds till the day of his death, and | h■ memory is revered there up to thc present dav."—Mi. Wiiiison again. The Sunday School In Those Early Days would appear to have been the church's most ticlirishiig institution. Mr lJn, draper, Oxford-street, was its first president, and'for N-citrs this highly important office was held by Air. Julias Smith, sometime a di- rector in the "Cambria Davy Leader" Co. Cnder Julius Smith were some teachers who had been, or were to gecome, most famous, among tnem the late Principal Viriumu Jones (Cardiff Iniversity College), his sister (now Mrs Home, wife of the Swansea registrar), htst, by no means least, Mrs. Luke. widow of an English pastor. Mrs. Luke takes Place Among the Immortals, It was she who wrote the excjuis.iteiy beauti- fui children's hymn: "i think wiien read That sweet story oi old, When Jesus was here among men." Coming to lesser deeds, Mrs. Lake Was the author of several books ;one of them—"Fe- j male ,Jesuits"-created a stir on its publica- tion. The lady, who is now over 80 years tlf age. still lives in the Isle of Wight—gem of | the English Channel. Her sort, Arnold Luke, at Fleet-street, too, m these good old days. I is now minister of (tope Chapel, Clifton. Miss Mayne, of Caeparc, gone to Devon- is another well remembered individual- ity. llev. Joh.i Thomas was succeeded by Rev. Ch«.rles._ who came from Fcrndale. and went to Cardiff'. Mr. Wiiiison takes on now. saving "It was in 18SG that 1 cu.:e to Swansea, There had then been No Pastor at Fleet Street for two ,c".rs; J worked the place, finding i supplies, and occasionally tilling the pulpit myself. In '92 the Rev. Samuel < (wen took charge." The main thing that Mr. Owens is re mem- I be red for is that six weeks after his arrival he carried away the church Being only an iron building, this was a pretty easy feat ft was taken to a- site on the Rhvddings. wocre it still remains—a monument to the pastor's prowess. erv much to the annoyance of many of the members who had become very n u'll at- tached to the place. Twenty members re- .faseo to go, but held services on their own, in a small stone schoolroom behind. Rev' (nvens wanted to use that also, but an old woman who Had the Keys in Her Pocket delied him But 1 don't know if you ought t.) write about that V added Mr. Wiiiison. "There was a bit of a row there. "Oh. yes. Rev. Samuel Owens has since gone over to the Church of England. Then in '93 the present church was erected. In that year there was a split at the Countess of Huntingdon's in St. Helen's-road. Many meinbers thought an injustice had been done to the pastor. Hev. Harrison Lochore." "What was the injusticeV" "That would he to elaborate the story too much, and would trench on the history of an- other church. Suince it to say, Mr. Lochore Idr, and with him came 55 members. At the request of the Swansea Congregational Union, these, together with the pastor, went down to Fleet-street to see if the cause could not he resuscitated. "Those 53. and the stone schoolroom now7 form the nucleus of the present church. Very soon the school ti Was Filled to Overflowing1 and it was found necessary to build a new church. It cost £ 312. nearly the whole of which has now been paid off. The debt is about £ 70. "The church was opened in February. 1896. rdece of the pastor-Miss ita Taylor, pre- sented to All-. Win. Williams (Maesygwernen) who performed the opening eermiony, a. silver key. It was the tirst job of the kind that he had ever done. by the way. Some interesting financial facts are to hand. One member promised that whatever amount was cotiected at the opening service, he would add 25 per cent. to it. At a bazaar HI the Shaftesbury Hall, over £ 100 was se- cured; one anonymous donor sent L2 an- other £ 5. ["sent membership is a little over 100. <ii.c i?Ieet-street has about the same average tendance in the Sunday School. A Chris- | !n Endeavour Society, a Band of Mope, and a, Penny Bank--the latter founded two or U.ree years r institutions.

Five Decons Flourish There and. when the pastor, who is now getting to t)0, U1 !)'cr'v nian, cannot come, lie just mes- sages Key. S. Hiumnn, a retired pastor, who worships there, or Mr. Wiiiison. and the con- givnation are right tor a sermon. I tk Solidity and usefulness are the character- istics of the pastor, who, in Ins mountain home, ton of Constitution Hill, told me as much ;ts Fie thought well on Tue>driv. The old man has been 53 years in the ministrv- began at Paisley before he was 21 years old Paisley is a bigger town than it was"; "it u*ed o be all weaving shawls!" Alter 14 years at Paisley, the pastor took a long journey to Newport (Mon.), filling the pulpit vacated by Mr. MucAusland at Dock- street Chapel. Health failing at Newport,

He Came to Llanelly. where seven years were spent. "i was fifteen years in Haverfordwest, and then—here I am! ended up the pastor, as if he had told ail there was. But I reminded him that was onlv the out- side of it. Asked what he considered the greatest change that had come over the religious world in the last 50 years, Mr. Lochore remarked, "i don't think they have tie doctrinal train- ing they had. ouid you say that was the chief differ- ence ? "X aon t think the Sabath is kept as it wa.s, and as I should like to see. There were no bicycles m my young days; now on Sunday mormng Walter-road is full of them. "What about the Sunday trading prosecu- tions? i am sorry to see Sunday trading, bu'. I don't like to see it stopped. I don't see wnv sweet shops and tobacco shops should be open. out I would have the line drawn strictly at persecution "And you consider that 'prosecution' is scutlOn "I can't see any difference in tliciti was t],. witty reply. only a matter uf a let- ter." "I never see you at public meetings, fr. Lochore?" Another smile. done my share. 1 used to take part in political meetings, and they were veiny different then from what they are now. "You were a Liberal ?" "y<?hautobeaLiben:!or else a Tory in my young (lays." "Deacons are what ministers make them," the pastor afterwards informed me. "Some ministers are never satisfied ou get on weil with deacons ?" "\es. we have always got on comfortably I have been very happy in my work." ,,pi)v iii ii-y There was nothing, in his opinion, to beat | The System of Education. they had in Scotland when he was a lad, Mr. Lochore ODseryed, 1 having tackled him on the Education uil.1. 'Phere were no class distinc- tions, ana the cost in elementary schools was not moi e tan 4s. 6ci. a quarter For three guineas you got six months' in the university. "Next- to me on my form at Glasgow Uni- versity wtae a grave-digger and a soda-water mamilacLUier. ve don't want to put that in the paper "Oh, yeN 'ar, tint's thc verv thing I do want f'» put m"; j Further talk elicited the curious fact that Mr. Looiioie is both colour-blind—always has been, and mcliffercilt to music. "J dont n-now what you mean bv colour," he tola r.e. People talk of Green Trees and Tents. of the flow v-is-, and X,1V what a loss it must be to me not to ei-joy them, but I sav, how can it be a loss when h-e never had it't" "Quite so; but it is a deprivation." Prompted thereto by a storv told of another, 1r. Loehoie then related how at a Masonic e gathering, toe people sang. He knew it was not a p;lrt (11 Masonry. Continuing, the pas- tor said- presently someone asked me 'why don't von ta.(e your hat off" "No,' 1 'said, "why should 1 hike my hat 1 'said, "why should 1 hike my hat ra V" J "f' 1 x the National Antheni they're singing "Oh, is !t I said. The didn't knew it: On ]<a \lng, I \"cIltured, <.juite innocently I To Thank the Pastor. for his »Sandays sermon, remarking that it was oi a solid character. "Ye inu.s understand that when we reach 74, we're nhove iiattejy." said he. ):; (- .¡. "We t" f "y an experiment, namely, to i see if it possible for the preaching of the ,iillT)IC word of God to dtruct tlw masses, A'ltliout an.v operatic performances." So spoke KeV •n-i:m Lochore at Fleet-street Chapel -1 -In 1896. Tins is CJ-rued out—there arc no operative Performances in Castle Street. The eigh- or nine very little girls. and the two littler boy- ;n deep white collars, who form the choir. :sweet natural voices, but from the body oi chapel, on this blessed Sab- bath nioriimg carae chords that, grate on the Ear. that fin) the «ou] with all the grittiness of a scient'i.^ "^quisiticin. The mtln Lit organ attends to th-" i, ousi- ness alone; gives his whole attention to it. The building is an iron c)ne-i-igidly plain. The plath'rui draped f0;.e ;tIlc[ af+ with heavy crimson avapeiy. Xhe congregation small— most!v eidcj1?- solid t'olh.s—folks intensely in- terested, who have a Professed Belief in Their Pastor. Expositi"11 of a Bible chapter—the iast of St .John-tilled up ;i quarter of an hour. Each separate apl,e,-llU!('-e (,f to his disciples alter the redirection had distinct leutures and lesson* ,le first was amid the Solem- nities of the Lpper Room"; th.e next, while disciples we'e engaged in fishing—their ordin- ary occupat1!)n- needed Cfirist, not only in C¡mrcj¡< but, 111 our daily work—and in the home ciicle. "I am lot pf" g without the book when I say that- it is to be feared that in most of the families of thuse who call 1 hemselves Chris- tians the custom of family devotion is dying out. Many our Voung people Never Hoar Their Father Pray. Mother nev_ei t;dv?s ],cr g]t.) aside to speak oi spiritual thifloF- As parents we seem, in fact to be content, n 0ur children will only dress well, and avoid the gross sins of the world." The prayer was reminiscent of personal spiritual exptrie^ces. "We read in the Holy Word, of "cas divided, of lions tamed, but have we ourselves no record of tears dried, and difficult1*?8 overcome?" The ('n]!(!ll on the refuge of the good man from toal and los:

There ate. imleed, few that do not feel the system needs recruiting after the trying baro- metrical changes of the past season. With some it is ? a feeling of lassitude," with others, "not qalte up to the mark," "a .sort of all over sinlnng et'lhig," "too weak to do any- .n, thing about- the hoUse "tiie,.e reCurriiig head- aches," "no appetite for my food, etc. These j and a dozen owners, are common expression-, which all po»jt to the urgent need of some good tonic- AWnat a elsange of a;r can jG ful- you in a few months' tin"10, If you are no vvorse than you are now. a of some good tonic mixture, a w reliable nn'dicme of established reputation and of proved ntue, will do now. There are several tonic mi.\tuies |>e ]KKp bait none which have been s0 uniformly successful as Gwilvm Enlns Qiiiiiine Bitter- it has never been'known to fail. Above tl] see that, you get the right article, with the- n:un0 "CWilvm Evans" on the label, stamp, ottle. without which none is genuine. Kvans' Quinine Bitters. The ■e<rcta-olc ,)Illc- is sold everywhere in bottles 2s. 9d. and 4s. 6d. each-

V aten^oikg Commit tt.-e of the Swansea Corporation have adopted a nnnute resolving that notice be given to Messrs. The Hadfield St. el 1'Hindiy Compimy> Limited, directing their attention to the defects in the machi- nery. and informing them that the Corpora- tion will hold them responsible for the loss already incurred and any future loss that may Ive incurred by reason of their default to com- ply with the conditions of their differ.

(ALL ingiffs RESERVE). J A MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE. By MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of "Lady Evelyn, "The Unseen Dria.. groom," "The Heiress of Glen Gower, The Baronet's B/ide," Vow," 4c, CHAPTER XVI.—Continued. A cnrraTn or sea-green slilc Ming over the pillared archway at the further extremity. She lifted this lightly and passed at once to an inner room. A little bijou of a room, all cool white and paie green, lit by dim clusters of gas, in crystal cups, with frail exotics perfuming the air, and dim white statues gleaming against dusky green backgrounds. It was like a sea-nymph's grotto—an ocean cave—and the pale girl, with the floating yellow hair, who lay on a sofa in a cloud of green aerophane, lit dimly with milky pearls, looked not unlike some deep-sea siren. She was quito alone in her cool little nest, and started eagerly at the sight of her golden- robed visitor. "At last!" she cried. "Arl Iliad given you up. At last, Leonie. And how late you are "I could not help it, dear," jsiiss De Mont- reuil snid, sweetly, tnking her place beside her. Wo weut to hear the new tenor in 1 Lucretia B,)rgia., and stayed until the end of the opera. We ar on our way now to Clara Leesom's but, of course, disgracefully late as we shall be, I insisted upon looking in for a moment to see you. And how are you to-night, (IoEa,t- ? ".Better, but a little tired now. My illness hns ieft me weak as an infant. Leonie, I am d, to ask you if it is true about you and Mr. Rutherford ? "Your mother told ive you were," Leonie said, adjusting her bracelet. "If what is true, Ethel ? "Oh, you know well enough. It is the talk of the avenue. They say you are going to marry him." I "Do they ? I daresay they do. Well, and suppose 1 do ? "Oil, Leonie! And Alwyn Bar tram ? "My love, I have not seen Mr. Bariram for three weeks. What would you have ? One can't be faithful for ever to the absent. lIe shouldn't stay away so long if he wants to keep his memory green. And then, Mr. Rutherford -;lh words fail, my dear, to tell how devoted that poor old man is." She laughed, the sweetest of little tinkling lauchs, but, lioliow as a silver bell. Her companion looked at her almost indig- nantly. "And you are engaged to Alwyn, and yon talk like this I Are you heartless, Leonie, as they say you are ? Leonie shrugged her dimpled shoulders again. "Do they say so ? I dareay they arc riht. I daresay I am. As to being engaged to Alwyn Bart ram I am not so sure of ifiat,. We have been frightfully serious together, have exchanged pictures and rings, and all that-have talked more nonsense and vowed more vows than I care to remember. But still—there is always a but, you see, Ethel-one isn't Mrs. Bart ram yet; and—ah, well, the Rutherford diamonds are superb, and he doesn't know the depths of his own coffers. The temptation is strong, and poor little Leonie is pitifully weak." "That means, then, you intend to throw Mr. Bartram over for the wrinkled old millionaire and his family diamonds ? "How painfully matter-of-fact you are, my dearest Ethel. tHill, it iR be-I in theBe cases. Yes. my dear, in plain English I am very strongly tempted to throw Mr. Bartmm over for ilr. Rutherford. The one is young and handsome, the other is old and ugly but, oh my Kthel, he counts bis wealth by millions, and wealth is the glory and bliss of life! What a shocked and horrified face you wear! It sounds very mercenary and very horrible, I daresay, but. one may as well tell the truth. Yi;,i see, Ethel, I have known what it is to be poor and you have not, and that makes all the di 'rerence in the world. I will never be poor again, Ethel—never, never, never!" ■'i:o:j need not be, and still remain true Ie the man you love. For you do love Alwyn, dc yon nor, Leonie ? Leonie De Montreuil put out. one little, dark hand, all a-glitter with diamonds and opals, and laid it in that of her friend. "They say I am heartless, label, and I know I ::m not like you, and not in the least like those superhuman girls one reads of in novels who i,'ive up the world for love, but I do—I do li-ie poor Alwyn. If he inherits his uncle's fortune I will marry him gladly, although then h? will not be half so rich as Mr. Rutherford. If he does not I never will. :\0, Ethel, I never will. 1 cannot be a poor man's wife." "So need to he poor. lie has his art. He can win his way to fame and fortune." "Ah Bah When both our heads are grey! Xo, no, Ethni, that will never do! If he inherits a fortune I will be his wife if he does not then I must marry Mr. Rutherford. That is why L have remained in .New York. I am ready for either fate. I must make my own fortune. My uncle De Montreuil cares very little for me—cares less than ever since he has found out he has a daughter :dive." "A daughter! Is it -possi ble ? "Romantic, isn't it? But quite true, and here in America somewhere. When quite a young man, and foolish, as young men are a'pt. to be, he fell in love, after the mJst. approved hshim, married and ran away with a pretty, penniless Yankee bride. lie was Monsieur Ruoul. a teacher of music at that time, with ""1')' little hope that the family inheritance would ever ho restored to him. But it was, and with the rise of Louis ISapoleon, he rose too. He left his wife, and went back to Trance, and once there—who known how it was ?—he never returned to her. But when he cmie here with me this summer he sought out her friends, found .-he was dead, but had left, a daughter. That daughter the indignant, friends refused to restore to him—not in the least dazzled by his wealth and his title. And, as he could not remain to enforce his rights, he has returned to France without her. He told me the whole story, less the names of the parties, and ever since I have felt my position as his future heiress to be most doubtful. No, Ethel, I should like to please you, to please Alwyn, to please myself; but I cannot marry a sTugglillg artist. His fate hangs on his uncle's will, and that is speedily to he decided now. He is back in the city—Alwyn. I had a note from him to-day, and expect to meet him at the ball. The uncle i? very ill. He goes South to-morrow. As soon as the will is read I shall know, and then—-—" She paused, rose up, shook out her Hashing skirts, and laughed lightly. "I am a cold-blooded little wretch, am I not, my dear, enthusiastic Ethel ? I don't deviy it. Mr. Bartrain, after the fashion of lovers and bftiata, adores me now. If I fail him I shall sink to the lowest depths of infamy in hit estimation. And yet, I am neither so good not so bad as hs makes me out. I am simply true to the teachings of my life-to the doctrine 01 society. We won't talk of this any more. We will hope for the best. I may marry Alwyn. after all. And now, adieu and alt revoir My chaperon will think I am lost." d She stooped and kissed her friend, and floated, like the fairy she was, in a golden mist awa? through the sea-green curtains and out in o i< glare and Hash of the gas-lit drawing-ioom. Beautiful, elegant, heartless a ciea ure o drive mankind mad for love »nc| ,m'w the meaning of that sweetest word of all words herself. Haif-an-ho.r later, among the many beautie» ?'ining resplendent at Miss eesom s uthnight tall, she floated in the beauty of the season, eclipsing everything aroun ler as a meteor eclipses common stars. r She iloated up, in her sJ Iph-Ilke way, to the daughter of the ?,n. ,m,»ured sweetly her few words- of con3 a. iuation appropriate to the occasion. the occasion. We are terribly late, I know." she said, plaintively- went to hear the new Italian tenor, and then looked in at poor dear Ethel s. She is much better, and, of course, i. Hngereci for a chat. Everyone is hero ages nifo, no doubt J -Everyone, the young lady responded, laugoni0. Mr. Rutherford and Mr. Alwyn Bartram included. Air. Rutherford is absorbed in whist in the card-room, and Mr. Bartram lS-- Ifere said a voice at her elbow. °. stepped forward as he spoke, with a glow on is handsome face as lie held out his hand to Leonie. "It seems centuries since w« met. How lat« you are, Leonie. I began to think you wert not coming after all. Miss Leesom, with a conscious smile, hac srlided away at ODce. Alwvn Bartram flnIU tL-4 t gioved hall(1 of the little helle through nls arm with the air of one having the right. "Yeu received my note? You expected to meet me here ? he said, bending over her. "Certainly." responded Miss De Montreuil. She was infinitely calm. So flush had arisen to her clear olive cheek—no added sparkle tc I' her eye at sight of her lover. "How long you have been away, Alwyn ¡' "Has it seemed long to you, Leonie ? Have vou really missed me ? 'Of course,' with one of her Parisian shrugs. Are you not the best waltzer on my list? -d/wo/jos, I keep the first for yon to-night. And you positively go South to-morrow ? ithout fail. My uncle lies dangerously Ill. I should have been on my way now. I may not see him alive as it is. Btit, I cotild not go, I could not, Leonie, without coming nere to see you." Miss De Montreuil pressed her pretty little patrician nose into her bouquet, a bouquet of rares-. exotics sent her that afternoon by Mr. Rutherford, the millionaire. ,-v i!aU"ins, but very foolish. You risk your l hemance, do you not ? But perhaps you nave discovered that it is already secured tc. you l.'nfor;unatelv, no. The issue is still doubtful. J offended mv uncle bv rejocUns his business, and he still labours under the im- pression that his iavourite nephew, Robert Bartram, is alive. It is nine years now since Robert, broke wild and fled from home and ricnds, but somewhere in the scheme of flu 1_ <>t,11 £I'V"C" "£, iitiiversu ut; inu»j> suix xvij chance oC inheriting my uncle's fortune would be wretchedly slight indeed if he ever turned up.* "Very unfortunate for you," Miss De Montreuil said, coolly; tiltt inlieri. tance you have nothing bof your art ? "Nothing, Leonie; but that art shall yet win me wealth and fame.nd you—oh, m\ darling, yon will be equal to either fortune, will you not ? on will Lot lad we ( He looked down upon her for the first time with a pang of dn-ad and doubt. He had drawn her away from the ballroom into s dimly lit conservatory, where a wilderness of camellias and magnolias hid them, and the ai; was heavy with the perfume of rose and ja- It was quite dcscrted-only the pallid hn i. and Cupids among the rose and acacia trees gleamed about them like marble ghosts. Miss De Montreuil leant, lightly against a tali statue ol Ilebe, holding forth her cup o! ambrosia, with a smile on her stone lace. In t,he dilll light she made a rarely lovely picture, her robe Hashing like spun gold, her opals glimmering, her graceful little head drooping forward, her dark, velvety eyes fixed on the frail blossoms she held. A rarely lovely picture—one any man who loved her might never forget—one that haunted Alwyn Bartram for wtary years to come with a pang more bitter than death. "You love me, Leonie, do you not ? Oh, my dariing, say it a,aiii I Nothing will ever make you false to the vows you have plighted ? No loss of fortune will ever make you false tc me ? My Leonie, my own, tell me once more that you love me "1 love you I she answered, faintly, li. lifting her eyes. "And you will wait for me ? I may not lose this fortune, but if I do you will wait ? The waiting shall not be long. I feel that within me which tells me I am destined to achieve success. And if this fortune comes to me at once, then, Leonie, you will be my own with- out delay. You will bless me through life with this dear hand ? He caught it fast, covering it with rapturous kisses. "Yes," Leonie De Montreuil said, "if this fortune becomes yours, Alwyn, I will be your wife. Oh, surely—surely your uncle will make you his heir "1 hope 80-1 trust so. But still, if not— still, if it becomes Robert Bartram's—still you will be faithful and true—still, my dearest, you will wait ? For how long ? -"} "A year, perhaps—two at most. In two years 1 will have a name to offer my peerless Leonie of which she will be proud, or I will iiurn my easel and never touch paint-brusb more. Two years is not long to eighteen and seven-and-twenty. My own dear girl will be true to her lover ? She locked up suddenly, boldly, her great black eyes Hashing with a look that was almost defiance into his impassioned face. "Alwyn," she said, "I will never marry a poor man. 1 do love you—and I hope to be your wife But I am not what you think me— what your enthusiastic fancy has made me. I also love wealth and luxury, fine houses, fine dresses, rich jewels--all the glory, and bright- ness, and luxury of life I should go mad, or die, as a poor man's wife. Look at these hands —were they made for labour ? Look at me- am I of the clay (hey wake household drudges ? Inherit your uncle's fortune, Alwyn, and I will marry you and love you all my life. Tail, and Her voice died away; her eyes fell;. the colour that hnd flushed for an instant into her rounded cheeks died out in ashen pallor. She dared not meet the earnest face above her. He stood gazing down upon her, the truth slowly coming home to him for the lirst time that the woman Ile was cold-blooded, selfish and mercenary to the core of her heart. "And if I fail," he said, slowly—"if I fail? In the hour I lose my fortune, do I also lose I tny bride ? "Don't let us talk of it Leonie broke in, hurriedly. "Don't lot us think of if We will hope for the best. You will inherit, this dying man's wealth, and Leonie wiil be all your own. Take me back to the ballroom, Alwyn I shall be missed." She took his arm and drew him away, looking up with the piteous, imploring face of a naughty child. "Don t wear that rigid scowl, please. Don't be angry! If you go to-morrow, let us prut friends. You will write to me at once, wii'l you not ? You know how impatient I shall be to hear how events turn out. There is our waltz. Come. Alii,yzi-coilie *1 shall not dance to-night," he said, moodily. "I only came hero to see you, and it is time I was gone." "Then let us say good-bye where we are, and part," Miss De Montreuil responded, readily, holding out her hand. "Bon voyage, and all mccess! I shall count the hours until I bear from you." He oaught her suddenly in his arms—a fierce, passionate, straining clasp. n "Leonie, Leonie, ne true to me! he cried. UI love you more than iny life! If I l'^e yon --great Heavens, I should go mad You will not, be poor—I swear it! I will woik for you .ike a galley-slave! I will toil ,ny fingers to .he bone! Oh, my love, my bride, be true "I will be tr a D-if I can, a' le added, men- tally. "For pity's Ahvyn. let me go. Someone comes She let him kiss hei then she flitted out of his arms like spirit, and was gone. Back to the ballroom bacs the crashing mmic-10 the lights, the spiendour, the admiration-all that life held that was worth living for to her. And Alwyn Bartrain stood for an instant alone, amid the tropical plants and pallid statues, with the same dull sense of despair at his heart that had filled Estclla Mallory's not many days before. u "If I lose my fortune, 1. lose my bride!" he thoght, with that dull sense of horrible pain. She loves me, but she loves wealth better. And if I lose her .I,fe could not finish the sentence. Ten minutes later, when he came to say farewell to "is hostess, she almost screamed 'aloud at the sight of his white, drawn face. "Good Heavens! Mr. Bartram, you are ill 1 You look like a walking corpse! "Yes. I am ill," he said, hoarsely. "Pray etcnse my hasty departure, and—good-night." He turned abruptly to go. As he did 80, he caught a last glimpse of his idol—not waltz- ing, but leaning on the arm of old Rutherford, the millionaire, her exauisite face luminous with smiles. He ground his teeth in jealous rage, and a second later was out undor the ghill morning sts.rs. CHAPTER XVII. MISS UE Dl'CIDKS. •ihe October afternoon was closing down lainy and raw as Alwvn Bartram sprang from ie cab that, had conveyed him from the station, und ran„ the door-bell of his uncle s house. t- Jt was a dull old house, in a dull back street, with thc noises o{ 1he city coming f°i' and faint —doi.b.-v dull this wet October twilight. The whole front of the house was closed and da k and the young mail s impatient ring had to h., reared thrice before an answer Came. Then the door swung back, and an elderly woman looked out. "What, do you m,is)i ? was her sharp query. "Mr. Wylder ie vacv sick, am! can ece no one. If it's a letter, "ho dmtor don't allow him to rt-ail — I ( It It- isn't a letter, madam, and Mr. Wylder will see llle, Be good enough to tell him his nephew, Alwyn Bartram, has come." He made his way resolutely into the dim hall, despite the WOIUn 's resistance. Biit,. at the announcement of his name, she suddenly sub- sided into civility. "I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure, but 10m Mr. Wylder s nurse, and I only act up to my directions. So many gentlemen try to see hi in on business, you kn-nv, sir, and he isn't equal to business now. Please walk in he expects you, I believe." She closed < door again, and Mr. Bartram found himself in a long, dully lit, entrance hall, bare and bleak. with a wide, carpetleas atairca.se at the further end. "How is Mr. Wylder ? he askod. "Any better ? "No better, sir he never will be better again in this world! He is sinking fast; lie will hardly last the month out. If you will wait here, I will go up and tell him you have come." She left him in the dark, chill hall, and ascended the stairs. In ten minutes she re- appeared. "Mr. Wylder will see you at once. lOll know his room, sir—please come up." Thc young man ran up the s'aira, along a second half-lit hall, covered witli a faded carpet, and tapped aI, the door of a room at the remote extremity. A weak, shrili voice callcd "Come in," and, opening the door, he found him-elf in the pi-es,-nce or i.iie, iii,n; ,polltiat tne happiness or misery of ins whole future life depended. it was a large room, but chill .<nd draughty, and lit by a shaded lamp. A wood fire burnt dully on the hearth, a threadbare carpet covered the floor, cane-seated chairs stood primly round, he walls, and in the centre of the floor was the large, old-fashioned four- poster, whereon the sick man lay. A patch- work quilt covered it, a round table stood near. strewn with medicine vials, glasses, and gruel bowls, and a slippery, leathern-covered arm- chair stood beside it, close to the bed. Alto- gether, the chamber looked dreary, aud comfortless, and cold, and impoverished, and betrayed, in every thread of its worn carpet, in every creaky, time-worn chair, that its occupant, if a rich man, was a miser. lie half-sat up in the bed now, supported by pillows. In the dim liht the old face looued gaunt and pinched. wit.n sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. But the hollow eyes burnt keenly still, and the thin lips were firmly, obsi i nately compressed. "So you have (ome, he said, fixing those glittering eyes sharply on the handsome face .3 of his nephew; "you have come, Alwvn Bartram, and in time. You see, the old man is down at, iast. never to rise again. I knew you would be here, and in time for the dettli 1 11 "Let us hope belter things, uncle," the young artist said, gently, bending above him, and taking the (-old. limp hand lying loosely on the counterpane. "You are far from an old man yet, and people do not die with every ill- ness. Let us hope a few weeks will see you restored again." "Sit down," responded Mr. Wylder, harshly, "and don't be a hypocrite! I am going to die, and you know it, and you wish it." Alwyn Bart ram dropped his hand, and recoiled as if he had been cut with a whip. His dark face Hushed a deep, angry red. "I do not wish it!" he said. "I liavo never wished the death of my worst enemy. Illness gives many privileges, but it gives you no right to insult me. Mr. Wylder." "Well, sit. down-sit down!" Mr. Wylder said, testily, but not displeased. "Howtriuchy the boy is Like his father before him-proud and high-stomached. If you did wish for my death, it would be nothing unnatural—nothing out of the ordinary course. The heir's feet always ache to stand in the dead man's shoes." "1 have never looked forward to your death or your wealth, Cncie Wvlder," Alwyn said, rather coldly. "Your generous allowance has amply sufficed for every want, and I am not ambitious—in that, way, ct least. Live a score ot years it you can, and enjoy the money you have earned no one will rejoice more heartily than l. well, let, us talk about it. We will speak of yourself. What have you been doing since I saw you last ? "l\fuGh the H\P :¡S ¡¡-"nal. Nothing of any great importance. I am afraid." "And our wonderful art—our divine pro- fession-in which we were to achieve such miracles—what of that ? The young man reddened again at the sneer, this time not without a sense of guilt. "The miracles are still unachieved. I paint, but my paintings are rejected. Yet still I hope I shall one d fy be a painter." "A modern Raphael, no doubt," the old man said, with bitter sarcasm. "Permit me to offer my congratulations beforehand. With such brilliant hopes of speedy fame and fortune, old Wylder, the money grubbing, miserly stockbroker's wealth can matter little to you. It sets my mind at rest to know your future is secured, and leaves me free to follow '.ny o\n inclÍlwtions." "Yon are always free," Alwyn Bartram said, though his heart, sank within him. "Tha wealth you have amassed honourably in the course of a long life is certainly yours to dispose of as yon choose. You have been very good to me. Leave it as you may, I have no right, to be anything but grateful." "Ah! philosophic, I see. How coolly the young men of the present day take the ups and downs of life Mr. Alwyn Bariram will scarcely miss what he "aiues so. lightly." "You are determined to misunderstand me, uncle," tiie young man said, repressing Ins anger by an effort "but you always misunder- stand me. I suppose I am to conclude "— looking him full in ? the eyes "that Robert Bartram is your heir ? c. if Robert Bartram be alive," the old man said, slowly yes. Alwyn Bartram turned very pale, but his dark, resolute eves niet those of the old man on the bed wituout if inching. I "Your fortune iri Your onvii, Mr. Wylder. YOLI have every right to leave it to your favourite nephew. As for me, I am hardly 8U«VnSe 1!,int eipected this." ihers is still a chance," the sick man said, eagerly. "I can make a new will, and Robert, -barer,mi was never my favourite nephew. Give up this nonsensical art; make a bonfire of your easel and paint-brushes take to my business, fc He stopped short. His nephew had made an imperious gesture with his hand. "I will never give up my ai-r, I It is dearer to me than anything eise in the one. I can never take to your business. 1 should be, indeed, what you called me when I entered this room-a hypocrite—if I promised that. Let Robert Bartram take your wealth, if Robert Bartram be alive, but I will never give up my profession whilst my fingers can wield a brush The dogged resolution. characteristic of the race they sprung from, looked invincibly out of the detian t eyes of both. "Be it so, th'Jl!" cried Mr. Wylder, setting his teeth. "Yon have chosen. The will that; gives all to Robert liar: ralll is made: that will shall stanch As for you, you lose everytlill, your yearly allowance and all." Alwyn Bartram bowed, still with that fl.ed. teaolui* face. —r—-

"And if Robert never appears? lie askec. "In that case," said Mr. Wylder, coldly, "the wealth shall not go out of the family. For the space of one year rigorous search and inquiry shall be made for the missing man. If. at the end of the year, he appears, all shall bp his. All If he fails to ?PPBaF\ then, Alwyu Bartram, having no other living kin, it goes t() you, undeserving as .y°u are'| n°t of the sort that found asylums and endow hospitals. But Robert Bartram will be found." "Have you any reason tor thinking so ? "None, except the old axiom t.liat bad shilling? always come back. And now, as I see by 1 hi clock yonder it is lime for nrr supper ard composing draught, you will be <;ood enough ring the bell lor the nurse, and leave me. Your old room is prepared. How long do you mean t.) stay t t, IJ III all is over? ?<tO i tJ Umi! 3'°" ^e better, or Dead. I understand. Very well; but remember, itiy it-ill is made. No act of your., t?°^ t.nrV> n<4^'rig, no devotion—can alter it. I ° ,cr JcU!ra,|t takes precedence of you. I leave yon nothing—nothing—not the price of a mourning ring." are eice('dinS1y candid. Still, I will the bell. The nurse enpeared. Good-night, uncle," he said, kindly, pausing an instant, by the bedside on his way- out. "I wish you a good night's rest." But, the sick man turned away his head sullenly, and his nephew quitted the chamber .& .fto: 1.0 (To be continued.