Weekly Mail

Tea-drinking is the great feature of Japan. 1'r On the railroads tea is offered to first-class passengers at the stations. In travelling by private conveyance the little roadside inns are called-and are—tea-houses tea is about all they have to offer. When you go into the shops they bring you tea it is a part of the general courteousness of their way of doing even in petty trading. The tea you get in such way is, of course, generally in- ferior. Every house among the well-to-do I classes have as an attachment a tea-house—a little detached house, and in these tea-houses the social life of Japan is carried out.

JOHN RICHARDSON AND RICHARD COYLE, PIRATES AND MURDERERS. A more thorough-paced pair of scoundrels than these have rarely ornamented a gallows, and the adventures of the first-named of these criminals exhibit him aoS. a man possessing the most cMsummate hypocrisy and a disoo'si- tion of the very worst description. John Richardson was a native of New York, in America, where, at the age of fourteen years, he entered on board a vessel commanded by hk uncle. After a single voyage he took a dislike to the sea, and, loth again to trust him- self upon salt water, he procured an engage- ment in the service of a carpenter, by whom he was employed for five vears. when an intimacy having commenced with his master's daughter which was likely to pru..uce unpleasant coo- sequences, lie ran off. and once again selected the sea as the scene of his future exploits. The vessel on board which he entered was bound for Jamaica, and there our hero was pressed and put on board a man-of-war, by which he was carried to England. He subsequently attained the rank of boatswain on board a vessel trading to "die Baltic, but having, by means; of a forged letter, obtained the sum of one hundred rix-dollars from a merchant of Riga, he decamped to Amsterdam. At that 11 place he formed an acquaintance with a woman •• liiwe husband waR a. mate on board an East India vessel, with whom he cohabited during a period of eight months. His inamorata then informed him chat he must retire in favour of her husband, whose return she daily expected but he could not make up his mind to give up his connection without procuring some sub- stantial proof of his good fortune, and lie did not venture to depart until he had secured to himself booty of the value of about JR200 in goods and money. Rotterdam was the next point to which he proceeded; but from thence lie almost immediately departed for New Eng- la.nd. On his arrival there he deposited the wares of which lie had possessed himself in a commodious storehouse, and, assuming the character of a. merchant, he began to look out for a wife, with whom he hoped to procure a. fortune sufficient to enable him to live with respectability. As Christmas approached he became intimate with his neighbours, and he was induced to keep the festival with a Mr. Brown, who liadi a "family of three diughters and four maid-servants. A prolonged vL't at j "Wie.ted the Bluad-rbuss from lim. I the house of his host enabled him to ingral'.te himself so far with the young women as to procure from them mere than ordinary favours, and he did not quit the agreeable society with which he met until more than one or two of his fair friends had reason to regret the intimacy which had subsisted between them. Not long a.fter this he addressed him- self to a. young lady, the daughter of a magis- trate, whose hand he solicited in marriage; and her father making no objection to the celebration of the unpnals, the banns were published m the parish church, in accordance with the usual custom. On the first day no objection was made. but upon the publication taking plaee the second time there appeared no fewer than Seven Injured Women Who forbade the ceremony proceeding any further. The tim-e which had elapsed since the intended bridegroom had obtained the consent of the young lady and her father to the pro- posed match had been quite sufficient to en- able him to wM'lc himself into the good graces of the former, and, thinking it now quite time to depart, he packed up what few movables he stiil possessed and proceeded to New York. His residence there, however, was soon discovered by his proposed father-in-law, and overtures having been made by the old gentleman, he con- sented to return and marry the girl, whom he had debauched, upon the receipt of £300, The ceremony had no sooner been performed than his re-appearance at Boston having been dis- covered by the friends of the other girls, his apprehension was secured at their instance, in order that he might be compelled to give security for the maintenance of the progeny to which they were about to give birth. His father-in-law at once undertook that he should be forthcoming when wanted, and upon this assurance he re-gained his liberty but he had hardly obtained the possession of the promised dower when he once again bade adieu to his Boston friends and returned to New York. His improvidence speedily reduced him in that city to a. condition of the most abject misery and want, and he was at length compelled to ac- cept employment in the yard of a Quaker ship- builder. He was treated with the greatest kindness by hi- master, but the attention which he received appeared to excite only ingratitude in his mind, for lie not only found means to beconne intimate with his mistress, but he at length absconded, carrying u ith him about £ 70. which lie procured by breaking open a chest in his master's house, He now proceeded to Philadelphia, which place lie conceived would be well calculated for the concealment of his pa.st iniquities and a renewal of his schemes upon the unwary. A widow and her two daughters were the next new victims to his diabolical lust. Having become intimate with the mother, he subsequently, in turn, found1 means to seduce the daughters. The widlow was outrageous at the discovery of this tieble act of duplicity, and insisted that he .sin uId afford the only reparation vhi:li re- mained in his power. A difficulty, however, arose, for it became obviousl that he could not marry them all three, but at length a satis- factory adjustment took place, an arrange- ment being made by which one of the daughters was married to a former lover, the other being committed to the tender mercies of our hero, with a dewe.- of £ 600 and some plate. Affairs were no sooner settled in this wav, however, j than Richardson, already weary of his wife, absconded to South Carolina, and there ha obtained employment on board a vessel trading between that place and Jamaica. He was soon engaged in another intrigue with the daughter of his commander, and, having Added. Another Wife to his list, he started upon a new expedition to BarOacloes. But this voyage proved un- fortunate, for, the vessel being wrecked, be, lost all that he possessed. Being picked up, he was carried to St. Kitt's, ana from thence he proceeded to Jamaica, to Carthagena, Vera Cruz, and, finally, to England. The port at which he arrived was Chatham, and chance threw him once again into a situation in which he was enabled to impose upon the good nature of strangers. Putting up at the house of a publican named Ballard, his host became possessed of an idea that lie was no other than a brother of his who aad gone to sea several years before, but nad never returned; and Richardson, taking advantage of the good-natured creduiitv wine;1 the other exhibited, declared himssd to be his long-lost relation. Great rejoicings took place upon the supposed discovery being made, and our hero went the round of his newly-found friends, permitting his good nature to be imposed upon by the payment to him of a legacy alleged to have been left by his deceased parents. But ms vil.amies did not rest there, for, being introduced to two sisters, named Knowldmg, he so far i-ingratiated himself with one .A tnem as to obtain possession of the title-deeds of the small estate which she possesseJ, which he mortgaged at Gravesend for £800, anc*. then immediately sailed for Venice vith the pro- ceeds. It was not long before in that city of splendour he succeeded in disposing ot z, his ill-gotten spoil, and then he went to Ancona, where he became acquainted with Captain Benjamin Hartley, for whose murder he was eventually executed. (Japtiin Hartley, it appears, had sailed to that place with a cargo of pilchards, and, having discharged his lading, he was about JO proceed to Turkey upon a new trip. Being in want c a carpenter, he prevaiied up In Richardson to accompany him in mat capacity. On board the vessel, Coyle, the fe'.Iow-sutJerer with Richardson, was employed as mate. The vessel proceeded in one course to Turkey, where, having taken in a cargo of corn, she sailed to Leghorn. She had not advanced many leagues upon her voyage, however, before a plot for The Murder of the Captain and the seizure of the vessel was put into execution. Coyle, it appears, was the insti- gator of this foul conspiracy, and, having obtained the assistance of Richardson and a man named Larson, they all three pro- ceeded to the performance of their horrid project. On the first night of the voyage they went to the captain's cabin at about midnight, determined to despatch him as he lay in his hammock, but Hartley, being alarmed at their presence, sprang upon deck and ran up the shrouds. His pursvers were not far behind him, and he W-is rapidly fol- lowed by Richardson and Larson; but, driven to desperation by the dreadful situa- tion in which lie was placed, he flung himself from a fearful height upon the deck. Here Coyle was in waiting to receive him, and, raising a blunderbuss to his shoulder, he attempted to shoot him. The captain, how- ever, avoided the discharge, and, rushing to his antagonist, he wrested the blunderbuss from him and threw it overboard. By this time the crew had gained intelligence of what was passing on deck, and, rushing through the hatchway, Captain Hartley perceived from their looks that they were too little disposed to assist him in opposition to the" attack which had been made upon him. He at once gave himself up for lost, and, being stunned by a blow which lie received from Coyle, he was directly hove overboard. Coyle and Richardson now assumed the respective offices of master and mate of the vessel, and, after a long consultation, it was determined I that they should bear up for the Island of Foviniano, where it was hoped they would be able to procure supplies. Here, how- ever, their piratical proceedings were com- municated to the authorities of the place by two boys who escaped from the vessel during the night, and the crew, discovering the dangerous position in which tiilfy were placed, immediately set sail in the long boat for Tunis. On their arrival at that place they were carried before the English consul, to whom they represented themselves to be the crew of a vessel which had been lost off Sardinia, but, having been supplied with money, Coyle, while in a state of intoxica- tion, spoke so freely of their adventures that he was immediately placed under arrest. Richaidson, however, escaped to Tripoli, and from thence to Malta and Sicily; but on his going to Messina he was taken into custody on the representations of a friend of the deceased Captain Hartley. Having remained in prison during a period of nine months, lie procured his liberation by representing to the King of Naples that lie had been a servant to his father; and he then travelled to Rome and Civita Vecchia, where he was finally apprehended and sent to England. Coyle had only just before reached London, and they were immediately both indicted for the murder of their commander. The evidence against them consisted of the declara- tions made by the two boys to whom we have already alluded, and, having been found guilty, they received sentence of death. The wretched man Coyle, who was respectably connected in Devonshire, appeared sensible e' of the enormity of the crime of which he had been guilty, and professed the greatest penitence, while Richardson, on the other hand, exhibited an extraordinary defree of recklessness. They were hanged at Execu- tion Dock on the "25th of January, 1738.

In a report prepared by the Sheffield Water Ccmmifctee on the remarkable effect of the long frost it was stated that 212 streets were affected, 3,714 metal service pipes fractured, and cast- iron pipes repaired or re-laid amounting in the aggregate to 1434 miles. The total cost to the department of affording temporary supplies and special repairs up to May 25 was nearly £ 9,000, and even now 170 additional men are remedy- ing the damage caused by the frost.

FISHING. "Men are ju-st like fish," observed the tall girl in grey, "and I don't wonder that Mr. Darwin thinks they are descended from them. "I tiiinii Mr. Darwin only spoke of apes, dear," mildly suggested the girl with the eye- glasses. "Did he? Well it's all the same, anyhow. I'm so busy with the man of to-day that I don't care to go back any farther; I'm sure the poet was quite sensible when he said that the proper study of womankind is nian.;( "I—I think h» said 'mankind,' dear, hinted the girl with the eyeglasses. The girl in grey turned tiercely upon her: "See here, Emily Marshmeliow, you may know all about apes—yes, and the height of the North Pole, and—and lots of other un- necessary things, but you know as well as I do that they won't do you a bit of good unless he is examining you for a teacher s certificate; and precious little, then, with the pair of eyes you have in your head," she ended triumphantly. "What was it about the fish, anyhow ? asked the girl with the eyeglasses, suddenly interested in the subject. "The fish? Oh, I remember. Well, yoU see, if you try to catch them with a hook and line they are too suspicious to bite unless you lure them with a very bright coloured fly. But if you go after them with a net and just slip it neatly over their heads they are easily enough landed?' "Uti blankly replied the girl with the eyeglasses. "Mhm. And that horrid Clara-" JH, it's all about Clara, is it?" "It is. She is busy to-day deciding whether to call him Wilfred or Mr. Sweetie after they ape married." "But I thought he was quite as attentive to you as to her?" "He was; but I used a hook and' line, Clara a net. He is gasping a little yet, but he is safely landed. You see, Clara and I had a discussion not long ago about the best way to manage a man who kept calling and calling—and saying nothing in particular. To decide it we wrote to the editor of the "Young Lady's Chaperon"; the reply was: 'Refuse occasionally to see the young man. "And did you follow——" "I did. Wilfrid called the very day the paper came. Clara happened to be with me up in my own room at the time, and I sent down word that he would please excuse me, as A was engaged. Then, what do you suppose that deceitful Clara did?" "Went down herself?" "N-no. She suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to post an important letter, and ran down the back stairs and over home- Of course, he went right over there, as the sly thing knew he would, so she just ran into the back parlour, where he'd be sure to hear, and sobbed: 'Oh, mamma, he-h6 has just been over to see Eva again, and -and she wouldn't even see him, while I— Her mother, being a widow, understood at once and said: 'I don't know really what you are talking about, my poor child. Mr. Sweetie is in the parlour. "But how- on earth did you find out just how it happened?" "I suspected something, dear, so I followed close on Clara's heels, but before I could get into the room the door had closed upon her, and that horrid mother of hers took we upstairs to ask my advice about the making over of an old gown."

IN BONDAGE. "Her eyes were wild, her hair was in dis- order, her face was flushed, her hands were clenched. She was a deeply injured and deS' perate woman. "Oh, cruel one," she cried in agonised toneA "I have borne with you too long You injured the very foundation of my being- Day by day you have tortured me, and yet *■ could not bear to give you up. "When first we met. how your ease and polish attracted tr;e! When you became IYIY own how my friends envied me But understanding is too small for my large soul- You are opposed to my progress in life. "You have injured my standing in society- If we had never met I mi edit have walked peace. So row begone We part for ever There was a moment's convulsive breathmo' a grinding of teeth and a sharp sigh. It 'j all over. By a supreme effort she had piiUe off her new shoes.

LORD SHOLTO DOUGLAS. b$ Lord Sliolto Douglas, youngest sou of Marquess of Queensberry, has made a ^a- ment to a correspondent of the New World" about his intention to marry Loretta Addis, waitress in a variety con^. ,r hall ait Ba.kersfield. He said:—"I am wibi to admit frankly that I am engaged to Addis, but it is a conditional engageIIl the the My marriage with her depends upon consent of my father and mother. I received no word from home, either by or post, for some time. I wrote to parents explaining everything. When I from Baker^field I was not engaged to Addis. The engagement has been effe^ since her arrival here a week ago. I j9 her as a charming young lady, one who capable of filling any position she aspire to in the home of any man. 1 not come to this country to 'swell' around society with the intention of marrying tri- money. I had no thought whatever of mony. But I met Miss Addis by accide and that settled it. It was a case of love 0 first sight. In fact, I never loved any0 j before. It is a mistake to assume that have been mixed up in innumerable i° affairs. I am not much more than a and have never had any sentimental rienoes."

ACCIDENT TO AN EXPRESS. The Press Associati >n Ardrossan eorresp^ dent telegraphs :—At ten o'clock on IVlon morning, on the arrival of the express train 0 Glasgow to Ardrossan, in connection with y oaylight service of steamers to Belfast, brakes refused to act, and the train crashed i1^ Mor.tgomerie Pier Station, tearing up ] yards of the platform. The train was crow"- and several passjngers received terious inj11^1 (j It appears that when the shock came m°s the passengers were preparing to leave the*1?1 1 and were, thus rendered more liable to than if they had been occupying the seats- 1 i.ames of the passengers seriously injured are follows Alice Blower, Twerton-street. A wick, Manchester; Thomas David.. botham, London-road, Hazlegrove, Stockp°r'! Albert Gibson, Linen Hall-street, nd Ihomas Regan, Cleveland-place, Ibrox; Rc bert Bowie, Alexander-street, Ooatbnde Glasgow. Bowie sustained injuries to the the others are suffering chiefly from shock. c

ALARMING ACCIDENT. 1;1 A Renter's telegram from Oldenburg", 'et- Hungary, on Friday says:—A disaster o'rf took the little watering-place of Kobe1" yesterday. Ram had been falling very hea'f for several days, and the mountain swelling into torrerts, rushed down into valley, destroying everything in their c0lllr.,s and in a very short time Knbersdorf :1¡. flooded, in most parts to a, considerable The inhabitants fled to the hills, taking '1'110 them all the belongings they could carry- fbo waters continued to rise rapidlv, and (J'\?d. greater part of the town is now subinPr"ar(3 New^ has reached here thit twelve persons missing.

SERIOUS CARRIAGE ACCIDENj; + The Central News correspondent at bourne says An alarming char-a-banc &cC\'tceB happened on Monday afternoon on the of Beaohy Head. The vehicle, which the tained 24 passengers, had commenced return journey, and on reaching the Hill road, a steep declivity, it was to adjust the brake- Whilst this tit0 done the horses started, and, swerving to right, ran into tlio bank and overturned conveyance. All the occupants were out. Twelve persons were injured, very seriously," and a lady named died shortly after admission to the hosp1

Jrho h&d bc-n instructed by Stephen Macduff's rido-.v to t ..e out Jetters of administration ¥> h«r aii^ind's esta^s. The two woman go;r!6 aloiijf Prince s-street when Gordon Ikfunro tc:a<«*i th« corner of St. David-street, inc '11'! i\~i8t tiioai fa-tie fee face. Or seeing teaaey rtartea back tn astonishment, be- hovin^ h«r to be »i the bottom of the North t&3, SlJli took an uofcioe whatever of Munro, stood *'« £ -?klng tham sx they went along I'rixviftY-ctreeA, ° \3o kv &c$m «.grJu bl&«ted The tale told by iii» isomM 1 hftve married was, it je^ms, tin tsv*ntioii M-tiy has orobabiv just ;Well to for apart, and !i Ü: thus utterly tsel«as iM Ehú to s*a hiiu. What w now to I te done ? Give up the •<ci:em«8? No; for tha > }:¡ii"1 vfil sootj 'f«ara tiiat he has been duped, 1 m&rt **s Burkt) and Kara." And that lugbt, at an liw.v when he ran less ci«K of l.«;n# recogrused in such a locality, Munro went to the West Port, and had an intervw-tr with Brake in his own house. The* promise of £ 100, with £ 5 on account, for the body of M&ry £ «r-srsau aroused the greedy EiV.Jre of i'.W si<tii!*$s monster Burke, who promised to earn the money as soon as he jxwsibly could manage it. "I tJudt I can help you, Burke, to get bold of her, and if you let her slip through your fmgers it will be your own fault. Do you and your companion be at the meadows end of George IV, Bridge to-night at eleven. I will endeavour to have Mary Patron pass that way, and leave you to do the rest." "Couldn't be better, doctor, dear," chuckled Burke. "Sure, you're a jayneeus." And the plan adopted by the villainous medical student succeeded only too well in enticing Mary out that night at an hour when the streets were almost deserted. Gordon Munro was an expert with the pen, and could imitate with nicety the pointed "Italian" style at that time thought fashionable by the ladies. While Mary and her friends, Mrs. Lindsay and Mrs. Stephen Macduff, were at tea a neatly-dressed boy brought a. letter for Mary, marked "Private." As she read it her eyes grew brighter, and a rosy flush came into her pale cheeks, still white since her illness. The note was signed Jeannie Campbell, and informed Mary that the writer's brother, Graham, was returning from London by the Leit.h boat that evening. She was going down to Leith to meet the boat, and they 'would probably be at home in Meadow-place soon after eleven o'clock. Graham would naturally wish to see Mary as soon as possible; hence Jeannie wished Mary would come over about eleven, take supper with them, and stay all night. The lettffer seemed to be so genuine, the news it contained was so good, for Graham Campbell had been given up for dead by his friends, tha.t Mary never doubted its genuine- ness. Neither did either of her friends, to whom she imparted the news it contained. And it was with a light heart, in the belief that she was soon to see her lover, that Mary set out for the residence of the Campbells. A brave, fearless young woman, she had no thought of danger; out the terrible expe- riences of that awful night were never for- gotten. She had promised Mrs. Macduff to meet her at Mr. Buchan's office at noon the next day, to finish the preliminaiies in con- nection with the will of the ill-fated Stephen Macduff. But Mary did not appear at the appointed hour, and, to the dismay of Mrs. Macduff, Mr. Buehan knew nothing of the meeting at the house of his sweetheart, Jeannie Camp- bell. "There is some foul play in this affair," declared Mr. Buchan, after listening to Mrs. Macduff's story of the letter. "I must set the police to work at once. And if that villain Gordon Munro has had aught to do with Marys disappearance, let him see to it, for I will hunt him down without mercy On going to the police-station Mr. Buchan was informed, to his intense satisfaction, that a young woman had been found at the bottom of a new grave in Greyfriars' Church- yard, at daybreak that morning, by the old grave-digger. She was in a state of collapse, bodily and mental, and so far had not been able to give any account of how she came to be in such a position. Mary was still lying in the old grave-digger's cottage, and thither Mrs. Macduff proceeded, accompanied by the young lawyer. Mary was lying on a couch, and it was evident to Mrs. Macduff that consciousness was slowly returning to her tortured brain. But a glance at her face told how terrible had been the consequences of her night of peril and terror. She was as pale as death her eyes were sunk in her head, and her beautiful auburn hair had faintlv-seen streaks of white in it, the result of 'the night of horrors. She noticed Mrs. Macduff's eyei, resting on her hair, and with a shudder iviiisperei: "It is not so bad as I thought; I feared it would be all white. I could feel it, for ny brain seemed frozen." The doctor now made his appearance, for the third time, and gave Mary a soothing draught. Under its influence she soon fefl asleep. "When she awakes it will be quite safe to take her away from here; she will recover more quickly where she cannot see those monuments," said the doctor. "Let her have a cup of strong beef-tea when she awakes, and before she is removed home." It was evening before M.ary awoke, and, after taking the stimulant ordered bv the doctor, she was taken home in a closed car- riage. Then she related to her friends-Mrs. Lindsay, Mrs. Macduff, and Mr. Buchan- the extraordinary story of her night's adven- tures. They would have induced her to post- pone the narration till next morning, but, seeing that she would be excited until she had told them all, they did not further object. "'lhe night, as you know, was dark, neither moon nor stars to lighten the gloom, and I must confess to feeling a little timid when, as I was crossing the bridge, I noticed that two men were close behind me. Before I could make any attempt to hasten my steps one of the men suddenly placed his left aim around my neck, and with his right hand P:te,h Plaster on my mouth. Although the ohoking sensation caused by my throat being tightly compressed almost de- prived me of all power to resist, I managed »o partly tear the sticky plaster from my mouth, and to give vent to a stifled shriek for help. The other man now seized me, and together they rushed me through the open gate of Greyfriars' Churchyard. I had up to that moment believed that their object was simply robbery, but now the fear that my life was in danger took possession of me. I "tried to scream again, but my tongue seemed paialysed. btrugglmg desperately, I managed to throw off one of the men, the shorter and weaker of the twain, and in falling over a raised grave his head struck against a monu- ment, evidently stunning him, for he did not then rise. \ou vixen! You shall pay for that with your life!' hissed the other man and he tried to seize me by the throat T cannot actually detail all the thoughts which thronged upon my brain at that moment Fear was uppermost, but the figures of those I love stood prominent! forward; not, how- ever, afar off, but crowding around me, and passing swiftly away. I lived over again the t'le a ^ew seconds. Why •IT I been so blind, so foolish? Would not -Buchan have written to me. if anvthinir 'were known of Graham? All this time'I was afainst the mo^ter^f °f rd,r Wan I thrust him from%e, and rushed away, stumbling every instant 'over a or mound of earth, traversing with a swift ness that surprised and still further infuriated W pursuer those habitations of the dead But soon his heavy hand seized mo Jythe shoulder and dragged me down. A?aln •wpair tent strength; I forgot his superior power, and determined to resist him to the last extremity. I seized his long, bushy beaed, and to my surprise it came off in my hand. Thl" seemed to add to his fury, for, as I slipped on the grass, and sank almost exhausted to the ground, I thought I heard him unclasp a knife. With a startled bound I was on my feet. again, and the race for life began in earnest. I new, rather than run, with the sham beard in my hand, caring not whither I trod. Now I went straight r-ftfore him; now avoided him by passing in and out among the graves. I heard his curses behind every time he missed me. I kept a little in advance of him, but my strength was fast failing. It seemed as though there was nothing left for me but to succumb to my fate, and suffer the villain pressing closely behind me to take the life he sought. Every earthly interest lost its attraction in those moments of despair. I felt my knees failing, my steps slackened in speed, a dizziness came over me, and the consciousness that he was close behind me became certain, when suddenly a false step on my part precipitated me with a shock into an open grave. The pain I suffered wa.s so acute that I thought I had injured myself beyond hope, but I had sense enough not to cry out. In the midst of the torture I was suffering, both of body and mind, I listened with a kind of savage joy, mingled ivith fear, to the curses of my pursuer, as, stumbling at every step, he went about from spot to spot, calling on me to discover myself, for that he meant me no harm. The sound of his footsteps became fainter and fainter, and I began to think that, tired of the chase, he had left me alto- gether. Suddenly, amid the hushed silence of that awful place, arose a sound like that of a man's feet among the grass-I felt that he was near me He was searching closely for me. It struck me that he was looking for his false beard, without which lie might be traced. But gradually his steps receded, and I was left alone in my solitude. Several minutes elapsed, and then, to my dismay and horror, I heard him say, 'So you thought to get away from us? Now you shall die. Shovel away, Bill.' The faint sound of earth falling on a coffin reached me, and I knew that the two men were filling in a grave, in the belief that I was in it! The numbing effect of the damp mould upon which I lay, its offensive smell, and the intense darkness of the night, did not tend to raise my spirits. At length I heard again the retreating footsteps of the men, becoming fainter and fainter, until they ceased, and I began to hope that I might escape. But still I dare not move, lest any effort I might make to clImb up the sides of my prison might only reveal the two men, or one of them, lying in wait for me. But a strange sensation I never before experienced gradualiy came over me. A confusion of thoughts rushed through rav brain; a mist spread over my eyes, and I became unconscious. When I again awoke to life and hope I was in the cottage of the grave-digger; he will tell you the rest." That evening Mr. Buchan interviewed the grave-digger who had discovered Mary, think- ing it possible he might obtain possession of the false beard, which he thought might assist the police in tracking the would-be murderer. The grave-digger's story was a startling one, and fully corroborated the narrative of Mary herself. "I went into the kirkyard early this morn- ing," said the old mant "to fill up a grave I hadn't time to finish yesterday. I had left mv spade close to the grave, and had brought a ladder with me to get out a rope we had let drop when lowering the coffin. But I was startled to find the grave partly filled in; not a sign of the rope was to be seen. I finished filling up the grave, and then was going to my breakfast. On my way I had to pass a newly-dug grave, and peeped into it, for it was wanted to-day, and sometimes the sides give way a wee bit. I was scared, as you may think, to see a young lady lying in the grave, looking as if she was dead. I hurried off to the house for help, and found my mate. It was a hard matter for the two of us to get the poor young lassie out of the grave, but Jock Thomson is a tall, strong fellow, and we managed it. He carried her to my house, and right glad we were to know that she wasn't dead, as we had thought." Such was the grave-digger's story, and, having handsomely rewarded the two men, and made the grave-digger's wife a nice pre- sent on behalf of Mary, Mr. Buchan, with the false beard in his possession, went home. In the meantime, not having the least suspicion that Mary Paterson had escaped, and that he had partly filled up a grave con- taining a coffin and not a living woman, Burke made his appearance at an early hour at the rooms of Dr. Knox in Surgeon's-square, and had an interview with Gordon Munro. He told his strange story, but, although he swore that he had put an end to Mary Pater- son, Munro refused to believe him or to pay any further sums of money on account, until the body was brought to him. "It is no use, Burke; you have made mis- takes on previous occasions, and are not to be trusted without ocular demonstration. I must see the body before you have the money," said Munro, as he opened the door to let out his visitor. And Burke knew that it would be highly dangerous to make any effort to rob the grave of the body of his victim, as he believed Mary to be. A new lock had been put on the gate of the churchyard, and a watchman patrolled the neighbourhood, never going far away from the burying ground between sunset and sunrise. And to make matters worse for Burke and Hare, Munro had declared that l:e would accept no more "shots" from them until lie was certain that Mary Paterson had been, as they assured him, buried alive. Burke was seated in his favourite seat in the dram-shop at the corner of Tanner's Close one evening just after dark when Hare came in, evidently much excited, which 'was unusual with him, for he was of a more phlegmatic temperament than Burke. "We made a mull of the business the other night," he whispered, in reply to Burke's questioning look. "I've just seen her, going to the Assembly Rooms, with the laird of Thistleden." "Then suppose we follow them llome when the ball is over? And if the laird happens too be a bit top-heavy, it ought to be easy to get rid of Mary Paterson between this and Thistleden." (To be continued. Commenced May 12, 1895.)