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CHAPTER VIII. THE SHADOW OF DEATH. After this it mav perhaps be surprising to know that Lucy did nothing to carry out that great trust with which she had been charged. She had felt and did feel at intervals, for a Ion? time after- wards. as if God Himself had warned her what might come upon her if she neglected her duty. Hut if you will reflect how very difficult that duty was, and how far she was from any opportunity of being able to discharge it! In early days, when she was fresh from her father's teaching, and deeply impressed with the instant necessity of carrying it out, Providence itself had sent the Russell family, poor and helpless people, who had not the faculty of getting on by themselves, into her way, an.1 Lucy had promptly, or at least as promptly as indignant gaurdians would permit, proviled for them in that modest way which was all her ideas reached at the time. But around the Hall there was nobody to whom the same summary process could be applied. The people about were either working people, whom it is always easy to hûlp, or well-off people, who had no wants which Lucy could supply. And this continued to be so even after her fright and determination to return to the work that, had been allotted to her. No doubt could she have come down to the hearts and lives of the neighbours who visited Lady Randolph on the externally equal footing which society pre- tends to allot to all gentlefolks, she would have found several who would have been glad to free her from her money. But then she could not see into their hearts. She did not know what a diffi- cult thing it was for Mr. Iloutledge, of Newby, to pay the debts of his son when he had left college, JT how hardly hit was young Archer, of Fordham, in the matter of the last joint-stock bank that stopped payment. If they had not all been so deter- mined to hold up their heads with the best, and keep up appearances, Lucy might have managed somehow to transfer to them a little of the money which she wanted to get rid of, and of which they stood so much in need. lhit this was not to be thought of; and when she cast her eyes round her it was with a certain despair that Lucy saw no outlet whatever for those bounties which it had seemed to her htiavon itself was concerned about, and had warned her not to neglect. Many an anxious thought occupied her mind on t,iii-» suL-{ ject. She thought of calling her cousin Philip Rainy, who was established and thriving at Para- field," and whoso fortune had been founded upon her liberality, to her counsels. Hut if Sir Tom had disliked the confidences between her and her brother, what would he think of Pnilip Rainy as her adviser ? Then Lucy in her perplexity turned again to the thought of Jock. Jock had a great deal more sense in hi in than anybody knew. He had been the widest child, respected by every- body; and now he was almost a man, and had learned, as he said, a great deal at school. Silo, thought wistfully of the poor curate of wholll Jock had told her. Very likely that poor clergy- man would do very well for what Lucy wanted. Surely there could be no better use for money than to endow such a man, with a large family growing up, all the better for it, and a son on the foundation And then she remembered that Jock had entreated her to' do nothing till he came. Thus the time went on, and her passionate resolu- tion. her sense that heaven itself was calling upon her, menacing her with judgment even, seemed to come to nothmg-not out of forgetfulness, or sloth or want of will, but because she saw no way open before her, and could not teli what to do. And after^ that miserable night when Ellen Bailey's baby died, and death seemed to enter, as novel and terrible as if he had never been known before, for the first time into Lucy's Para- dise, she had never said anything to Sir Tom. Day after day she had meant to do it, to throw herself upon Ilts guidance, to appeal to him to help her; but day after day she had put it off, shrinking from the possible contest of which some instinct warned her. She knew, without knowing how, that in this he would not stand by her. Impossi- ble to have been kinder in that crisis, more tender, more indulgent, even more understanding than her husband was. But she felt instinctively the limits of his sympathy. He would not go that length. When she got to that point he would change. But she could not have him to change she could not anticipate the idea of a cloud upon his face, or any shadow between them. And then Lucy made up her mind that she would wait for Jock, and that he and sh8 together, when there ware two to talk it over, wouid make out a way. All was going on well again, the grass above little Willie's grave was green, his mother consoled and smiling as before, and at the Hall the idea of the Christmas party had been resumed, and the invitations indeed were sent off, when one morning the visitor whom Lucy had anticipated with such dread came out of the village, where infantile diseases always lingered, and entered the carefully-kept, nursery. Little Tom awoke crying and fretful, hot with fever, his poor little eyes heavy with acrid tears. His mother had not been among the huts where poor men live for nought,and she saw at a glance what it was. not any- thing so very dreadful—measles, which almost all children have. There was no reason in the world why she should be alarmed- She acknowledged as much, with a tremor that went to her heart. Thore were no bad symptoms. The bnby was no more ill than it was necessary he should be. He WtlS having them beautiful," the nurse said, and Lucy scarcely allowed even her husband to see the deep, harrowing dread that was in her. By and by, however, this dread was justified she had been very anxious about all the lit,tlo patients in the village that, they should not catch cold, which, in the careless ignorance of their atttendanis, and in the limited accommodation of the cottages, was so usual, so likely, almost inevitable. A door would be left open a sudden blast of cold would come upon the little sufferer. How could anyone help it? Lucy had given the ooor women no peace on this subject. She had worrited them out o' their lives." And now, wonder above all finding out, it was in little Tom's luxurious nursery, where everything was arranged for his safety, where one careful nurse succeeded another by night. and by day, and Lady Randolph herself was never absent for an hour, where the ventila- tion was anxiously watched and regulated, and no incautious intruder ever entered—it was there that the evil came. When the child had shaken off his little complaint and all was going well, he took cold, and in a few hours more his little lungs were labouring heavily, and the fever of inflammation consuming his strength. Little Torn, the heir, the only child A cloud fell over the house from Sir Tom himself to the lowest servant, all became partakers unawares of Lucy's dumb terror. It was because the little life was so important, because so much hung upon it, that everybody jumped to the con- clusion thai the woret isue might be looked for. Humanity has an insbintive, heathenish feeling hat God will take advantage of all the special ircumstances that aggravate a blow. Lucy, for her part. received the stroke into her very soul. She was outwardly more calm than when her heart had first been roused to terror by the death of the little child in the village. That which she had dreaded was come, and all her power was collected to support, her. The moment had arrived—the time of trial—and she would not fail. Her hand was steady and her head clear, as is the case with the tiner nature when confronted with deadly danger. This simple girl suddenly became like one of the women of tragedy, fighting, still and strong, with a desperation beyond all symbols—the fight with death. But Sir Tom took it differently. A woman can nurse her child, can do something for him but a man is helpless. At first he got rid of his anxieties by putting a cheerful face upon the matter, and denying the possibility of danger. The measles! every child had the measles If no fuss was made the little chap," he declared, would soon be all right. It was always a mistake to exaggerate—" But when there could no longer be any doubt on the subject a curious struggle took place in Sir Tom's mind. That baby—die ? That crowing, babbling creature pass away into the solemnity of death It, had not seemed possible, and when he tried to get it into his mind his brain whirled. Wonder for the moment, seemed to silence even the possi- bility of grief. He had himself gone through tiibours and adventures that would have killed a dozen men, and had never heen conscious even of alarm about himself; but the idea of a life quenched in its beginning by so accidental a matter as a draught in a nursery seemed to him something incomprehensible. When he had heard of a child's death he had been used to say that the mother would fee! it no doubt, poor thing but it was a small event that scarcely counted in human history to Sir Tom When, however, his own boy was threatened, after the first incredulity Sir Tom felt a pang of anger and wretchedness which he could not understand. It was not that the family misfortune of the loss of the heir overwhelmed him, tor it Was very improbable that poor lit-tle Tom would be his only child it was a more inti- mate and personal sensation. A sort of terrified rage came over him which he dared not express for if, indeed, his child was to be taken from him, who was it hut God that would do and he did not venture to turn his rage to that quarter. And then a confusion of miserable feelings rose within him. One night he did not go to bed. It was impossible in the midst of the anxiety that tilled the house, he said to himself. He spent the weary hóurs in going softly up and down stairs; now listening at the door of the nursery and wait- ing for his wIfe, who came out now and then to bring hi:n a bulletin, now doy.iti* t'rearily in his library downstairs. Wheu the first g'u itvis of the dawn stolp in at the window, he went ":1: upon the terrace in the misty chill morning, .id damp and miserable, with the trees standing about like ghosts. There was a dripping thaw afier a frost, and the air was raw and the prospect dismal; but even that was leas wretched than the glimmer of the shaded lignts, liio muffled whispering, and stealthy footsteps indoors. He took a few turns up and down the terrace, trying to reason himself out of this misery. How was it, after all, that the little figure of this infant should overshadow earth and heaven to a man, a reasonable being, whose mind and life were full of interests far more im- portant. Love. yes! but love must, have some foundation. The feeling which ciung so strongly to a child with no power of returning it, and no personal qualities to excite it, must be mere in- stinct not much above that of the animals. He would not say this before Lucy, but there could be no doubt it was the truth. He shook himself up mentally, and recalled himself to what he at- tempted to represent as the true aspect of affairs. He was a man who had obtained most things that this world can give. He had sounded life to its depths (as he thought), and tasted both the bitter and the sweet; and after having indulged in all these varied experiences it had been given to him, as it is not given to many men, to come back from all wan lerings and secure the satisfactions of mature life, wealth, and social importance, and the piwer of acting in the largest Imperial concerns. Round about him everything was his the noble wood", that swept away into the mist on every side; the fields and farms which began to appear in the misty paleness of the morning through the openings in the trees. And if he had not by his side such a companion as he had once dreamed of, the beautiful, high-minded ideal woman of romance, yet, he had got one of the best of gentle souls to tread the path of life along with him, and sympathise even when she did not understand. For a man who had not, perhaps, deserved very much, how ltilusual was this happiness. And was I it possible that all these tilings should be obscured, cast into the shade by so small a matter us the sickness of a child ? What had tho baby ever doue to make itself of so much importance? Nothing. It did not even understand the love it excited, and was incapab' i of making any response. Its very life was little more than a mechanical life. The woman who fed it was far more to it than its father, and there was nothing ex client or noble in the world to which it would not prefer a glittering tinsel or a hideous doll. If the little thing had grown up, indeed, if it had developed human tastes and sympathies, and become a companion, an intelligence, a creature with affections and thoughts-but, that the whole hous. should thus be overwhelmed with miserable anxiety and pain because of a being in the embryo state of exis- tence, who could neither respond nor understand, what a strange thing it was! No doubt this in- stinct had been implanted in order to preserve the germ and keep the race going; but that it should thus develope into an absorbing passion and over- shadow everything else in life was a proof how the natural gets exaggerated, and, if we do not take care, changes its character altogether, mastering us instead of being kept in its tit place, and in check, as it, ought to be by sense and reason. From time to time, as Sir Tom made these reflections, there would flit across his mind, as across a mirror, something which was not thought, which was like a picture momentarily presented before him. One of the most persistent of these, which flashed out and in upon his senses like a view in a magic lan- tern, was of that moment in the midst of the flurry of the election, when little Tom, held up in his mother's arm, hn rl clapped his baby hands for his father. This, for a second, would confound ail his thoughts, and give his heart a pang as if someone had seized and pressed it with an iron grusp; but the next moment, he would pick up the thread of his reflections again and go on with them. That, too, was merely mechanical, like all the little chap's existence up to this point. Poor little chap! here Sir Tom stopped in his course of thought impeded by a weight at his heart, which he could not shake off. nor could he see the blurred and vague land- senpe round him—something more blinding even than a fog had got into his eyes. Then Sir Tom started, and his heart. sprang up to his throat, beating loudly. It was not anything of much importance, it was only the opening of the window by which he himself had come out upon the terrace. He turned round quickly, too anxious even to ask a question. If it had been a king's messenger bringing him news that affected the whole kingdom, he would have turned away with an impatient "Pshaw! or struck the in- truder out of hi* way. But it was his wife wrapped in a dressing-gown, pale with watching) her hair pushed back upon her forehead, her eyes unnaturally bright. How is he r" cried Sir Tom, as if the question was one of life or death. Lucy told him, catching at his arm to support herself, that she thought there was a little im- provement. I have been thinking so for the last hour. not. during to think it, and yet I feel sure; and now nurse saj's so, too. His breathing is easier. I havo been on thorns to come and tell you, but I would not till I was quite sure." Thank God! God be praised said Sir Tom. He did not pretend to be a religions man or. ordi- nary occasions, but at the present moment he had no time to think, and spoke from the bottom of his heart. He supported his little wife tenderly on one arm. and put back the disordered hair on her forehead. Now you will go and take a littla rest. my darling," he said. Not yet, not. till the doctor comes. But you want it as much as I." No I had a long sleep on the sofa. We are an making fools of ourselves, Lucy. The poor little chap will bo all right. We are queer creatures. To think that you and I should make ourselves so miserable over a little thing like that, that knows nothing about it, that Ims no feelings, that does not care a button for vou and me." "Tom, what are you talking of? Not of mvboy, surely—not Ill" bov Hush, my sweet. Well," said Sir Tom, with a tremulous laugh, what is it but a little polypus, after all? that can do nothing but eat and sleep, and crow,perhaps—and clap its little fat hands," he said, with the tears somehow getting into his voice, and mingling with the laughter. "I allow that I am confusing my metaphors." At this moment the window opening upon the terrace jarred again, and another figure in a dress-' ing gown, dark and ghostlike, appeared beckoning to Lucy, My lady iny lady Lucy let go her husband's arm, thrust him awav from her with passion, gave him one wild |o If reproach, and flew noiselessly like a spirit after the nurse to her child. Sir Tom, with his laugh still wavering aboui his mouth, half hysterically, though he was no weakling, tottered alnnf the terrace to the open window, and stood therelean- mg against it, scarcely breathing, the light gone out of his eyes, his whole soul suspended, and every part of his strong body waiting for what another moment, might bring to pass. (To be continued.) ——„ JMIIW

TO 1\IR. W. E. G., ON His kkoovery. That's right, Mr. G—r right, not to "lie So soon getting that, g-nid new ally, Tue lriglity. but IIHltalile Lord D«.r-by, Who i. t;i lugtifc poseli8td of such thorough good sens2, And, perhaps, of all other excellence Who, though he held otfice ivito Lord Beaeoosfiold, Would never to Jfngoisti wishes yield And who, as in Punch, you were made to own, '■ Has been always the same to his 01,1 3-lall-stone," But now you're at Cannes, you there stay For a time, let's suppose a yi-ar and a (by, Anù note the effects of Republican sway » Then when froui that land you come back to your own, You CAII better decline to abolish the Throne, The Lords, and the Chureti, and what else may stand In the wav of your olmrming Radical band. Who whatever yon ollce vrofssed toO a lmtre. Wi t still press you hard DO iread down in ) he mire; Hut the noble ally that reee .tly made To resist them, we hope, will give you his aid. Monmouth. H.

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AT F A U L T By HAWLEY SMART. Author of "Breezle Langton," "Broken Bonds," "doeul Sinners," "The Great TODtine," &c., &c., &c. CHAPTER xxxrx. "THE TRIAL." The Bunbury mystery had pretty well died out of men s minds, and when alluded to people shook their heads and opined the police would never take Foxborough now, so when the first edition of the Globe came out with "The Bunbury Mystery— Arrest of the Murderer," in the largest type, there was quite a sensation in London. Newspaper boys trotted along belowing at the top of their voices what sounded like arrest of the murdrer," and got double prices for their wares. At the clubs tongues Were wagging, and when it was known known Mr. Cudemore. the money-lender, was in custody on the charge, wagging faintly ex- pressed the pace at which they oscillated. There were members for instance, at the Thea. tine, who could speak with undoubted authority regarding Mr. Cudernore, and not in that loose tipd desultory fashion in which they had manufactured biograghy for James Foxborough. Although the money-lender had been prone to invest his money jn theatrical circles, Mr. Sturton sent him many a client from the jeuneise doret, and there were members of the Theatino who pondered gravely how this would affect certain acceptances, the renewal of which wouid be so infinitely simpler than the taking o* them up. And the members of the Theatine being, as a rule, like the Heathen Chinee, of a disposition "child-tike and bland," always preferred the simpler course. The arrest of the murderer sufBced to fan the waning interest of the public once more into a flame over the Bunbury mystery. That the accused should be one whose trade was usury added an additional whet to the public appetite, always prejudiced ag.ai.ist these philanthropists, regard- ing them invariably as endowed with hearts of granite and no bowels of compassion—a view ot tho London money lender which t.he Northumber- land-street tragedy of some twenty years ago tended much to strengthen. Arraigned of any such crime, and oublic opinion is apt to condemn the luckless usurer without waiting for the pro- duction of evidence. The later editions contained an account of the prisoner's appearance at West- minster, which, of course, ended in his being re- manded. manded. In these days, as we all know, a man accused of a capital crime is geneially tried three times. First, before the coroner; secondly, before the police magistrates and thirdly, before a judge and jury. Our system of justice is doubtless perfect, but no one can say it is either speedy or inexpressive. It will be only necessary, therefore, to say that after some few days, during which the public wereonce more roused to fervent interest about the great Bunbury murder, Mr. Cuciemore was committed to Newgate there to await his trial. A great artist was Sergeant Usher. If ever there was a man, to speak metaphorically, who delighted in keeping a few trumps up his sleeve, it was him. Very little of the real story oozed out at Westminster. He confined himself entirely to proving that Cudemore was the stranger at the Baumborough Theatre, that Cudemore was No. 11 at the Hopbine, and that Cudemore was the writer of the note, and the msn John Fcssdyke dined with. Quite sufficient this to justify a com- mittal, and concerning the identity of John Foss- dyke with James Foxborough the sergeant ad- duced no evidence whatever. To his intense dis- gust, even Mr. Totterdell was not brought to London o give his evidence, Mr. Usher preferring to rely upon Miss Lightcomb's testimony as to Mr. Cudemore having been present at the opening of the Baumborough Theatre, while he only called upon Morant to testify to the prisoner's hand- writing. In the smoking-room of the Theatine it was agreed that if more evidence on this point was desirable they could furnish it. and then some astute rhetorician started the problem as to whether when a usurer came to his death by pre- mature strangulation acceptances become void or payable to the Crown, and this knotty point led to much wordy argument and consumption of drinks. But the very fact of so little having come out in the police court,, only further awoke the cuViosity of the public. Where was Foxborough ? What, had become of him? He, of course, was in the background the man couldn't be a myth. Fox- borough, lessee of the Syringa. was a fact, an un- doubted fact. There were plenty of people who knew the Syringa, and knew that James Fox- borough was the lessee, but when it came to any knowledge of tiip man's personality these people v. are lamentably abroad and constrained to admit they had never seen him. Still, the Bunbury murder was once more the topic of the day, and Radstone Assizes were looked forward to with absorbing interest by no inconsiderable section of the community. A cause celebre in these days of diffusion of uni- versal knowledge lies libel, and scandal is apt to attract considerable attention. It attracts those large sections of the public, those who have no- thing to do and to whom a public scandal or case of this nature is a boon, inasmuch as it gives them something to think about and talk about, and that busy division to whom it is something like a great realistic novel, unravelling itself day by day. Fur- ther, it must be noted that Mr. Cudemore was a man of resources, and in a position to engage equally eminent counsel to those retained for the Crown. Mr. Baron Bubblesham, elected to try the case, was doubtless as incorruptible and impartial as English judges invariably are, but we cannot help our proclivities. Baron lluhblesham's were aris- tocratic. He metaphorically sat up like a poodle on his hind legs to a duchess, he stood literally on his head to Royalty. He delighted in presiding over a sensational trial. It enabled him to gratify his aristocratic friends with "orders," and, like a judicious theatrical manager, he usually kept, show" running as long as it would draw. In short, there were all the elements of a sensational trial about the Bunbury mystery, and, as said before, a sensational trial is a thing loved of the people. fashionable London, Hke fashionable Rome, takes a great, interest in seeing a fellow-creature hounded to his death. Ithough the matrons of the earlier empire city enjoyed the more extended privilege of seeing them dif) by the dozen, while the ladies of London must be content to see one man wrestle for his life at a time. Civilisation, in spite of all our bragging, does not advance very much, and the inherent cruelty of human nature isever seek- ing to gratify its taste. Rad3tone was within such easy distance of London that, many of that mysterious upper ten thousand," the fragment of the great city not con- demned to labour for their living, determined to atrond the trial. Mr. Baron Bubblesham found nmself inundated with applications from the vf'L>a*es 'and for seats on the bench, and 3i. Karon Bubblesham smiled, smirked, and pro- mised to do his bast for his Grace and IPy Lord, and threw Junes' and Smith's cards contemp- tuously into the waste paper basket. It was widely lumourea that this would be one of the most sen- sational trials of the age; and that the police should suddenly arrest a man for the murder vhose name had never as yet been mentioned in connec- tion with it" and in defiance of the strong pre- sumptive ovidence there was against the missin? Foxboiough,seemed to warrant such belief. W lien Sir Hirata Silverton rose to open the ^ase for the prosecution you might havu heard a pin drop in the court, so anxious werethe densely-packed audience to hear the mysterious story unfolded by of the most gifted and fluent speakers at the Bar. Quietly and smoothly did Sir Horace run through all the preliminary story of the murder with which the public was well acquainted, and those who knew him best felt that he was simply clearing the ground for the effect he felt confident of producing. When Silverton begins in tllat way he has a devil of a case in the background," remarked a leading counsel on the circuit. I'm going into the other court, just send round for mo when he wakes up. He's not going to talk like that all the time, I know. He'll be worth listening to before he sits down," The preliminary ground cleared, Sir Horace, Roll fine a judge of dramatic effect as ever appealed to It jury, paused for a moment, passed his handker- chief across nis brow, and then continued his address in a totally different tone. The quiet, I clear, woll-ntodulated voice was now exchanged for the impassioned, fervid accents with which men enunciate great creeds to the world. "Gentlemen," he said, "one James Foxborough, lessee of a music-hail called the Syringa, has so far borne the odium of this crime. I am about to acquit that luckless person, [ trust, of any concern in it. At all events I shall produce, in the first place,, evidence before you to prove that James Foxborough, of the Syringa, and John Fossdv ke. solicitor, of Baumborough, were one and th'' same person—evidence, gentlemen, past all dispute." Here the sensation in court was such that Sir Horace had to pause for a minute or two. It is curious, it will bo hard for many of his friends in Baumborough to confess tact trusted CO-Il"tt. of so many years has been a living lie all this time more especially, gentlemen, wiM it, be hhrd," and here Sil Horace dropped iiis voice to that intense whisper with vvhijh "II real misters of oratory art conversant, "to those two woo have each in their different spheres regarded themselves as his wife. I purpose to trespass upon the private history of James Foxborough; alias John Fossdyke, no more than is absolutely necessary. This inquiry, as I have already pointed out, must be necessarily pninful to many people, and it is no wish of the prosecution to make it more so than is unavoidable. The idontitv of Fox- borough with Fossdyke I am compelled to prove, but t desire to go no further into his dual history. We next, gentlemen, come to the accused. Evi- dence will be brought before you to show that this was undoubtedly the person who stopped at the Hopbine, and with whom the deceased went over to Bunbury to dine. Hi- note of invitation, signed James Foxborough,"—and here Sir Horace paused as the prisoner, hitherto immovable, could not refrain from It slight start.—"happens by a curious accident to have been preserved, and I need scarcely say we shall nave no difficulty in identi- fying the handwriting to your entire satisfaction. What it was that the defendant sought to extort from the deceased we pretend to know, but there can be little doubt that, at the opening of the Baumborough Theatre,, he surprised James Foxborough's secret, became aware of his duai existence, and that he took advantage of this knowledge to attempt the levying of black-mail in some form or other. You will, of course, have observed, gentlemen, that, Id addition to the charge of wurder. we have included the minor plea of K-uislaughter against the prisoner, and I am liapp\ I inform you"—and here Sir Horace became cor [ ridential to the jury, and apparently confined hi- I address entirely to them with a total disregard ot the judge and general public—" that the theory of the prosecution, and the evidence we shall adduce in support of it, is more in accordance with the secondary charge. My learned friends on the other side will doubtless be able to put forward many most legitimate reasons in favour of that view of the case, and it is very possible may argue that the deceased committed suicide; but that James Fox- borough did not die by his own hand I feel sure of demonstrating to your entire satisfaction," and here Sir Horace sat down amidst a subdued buzz of applause, and left the examining of the witnesses for the present to Mr. Trail, his junior. To recapitulate all the evidence we have had about the Bunbury murder would be simply weari- some, bor,h to myself and my readers, but for the proper understanding of the story we must just briefly glance at the salient points in the case. The first witness called was Miss Lightcolllb, the actress, who looked very pretty and flustered, and made a most attractive and interesting witness with which to commence a sensational triai. Her testimony was brief and simply associated with 1 the fact that she was acquainted with Mr. Cude- more, and had met him behind the scenes at the opening of the Baumborough Theatre. The counsel for the defence declined to cross-examine her, and it was, of course, transparent at once to Sir Horace Silverton and Mr. Trail that their opponents meant to put forward the theory that John Foss- dyke met his death at his own hands. This was only what they expected, and it rather amused them to think of the terrible trump card they held in the background. The next witness wAs our old friend, Mr. Totter- dell the supreme moment of his life bad at length arrived, and it is no hyperbole to say that he swelled, so to speak, in the box like a turkey cock with his plumes en evidence. Mr. Totterdell was the mai who could speak to the identity of the prisoner at the bar. Mr. Totterdell was the man who had formed his theory concerning the great Bunbury murder, and Mr. Totterdell was about to explain to a listening, impatient world how Cude- uioro, the paid agent of the old villain Foxborough, had compassed the death of John Fossdyke. But, sad to say, the coroner, in his arbitrary curtness, was as nothing to Mr. Trail, the examining barrister for the Crown. Some half dozen ques- tions amply sufficed to establish the identity of the prisoner at the bar with the stranger who sat next, to Mr. Totterdell at the opening of the BaUln- borough Theatre; and then. not only did Mr. Trail intimate that he had nothing further to ask, but the counsel for the defence equally seemed no more desirous of Mr. Totterdell's views or know- ledge on the subject. When Mr. Totterdell, clutching frantically at his fast, diminishing opportunity, commenced apropos to nothing to say And it's my opinion, my lord," he was sternly informed that his opinion was not required, and when he faltered forth that he wished to explain'' he was sharply told that if he did not hold his tongue, and immediately leave the witnass box, he would be committed for contempt of court. Mr. Winkle, after giving his evidence in the famous case of Bardeil vtrsu* Pickwick, was not more hopelessly crushed than was Mr. Totter- dell as lie retired from the arena in which he had contemplated immortalising himself. He was like a man stunned, and could hardly realise his oppor- tunity had been and was lost. The next witnesses were the people of the Hopbine. Old Joe Marlinson, in a mingled state of trepidation, exasperation, and rather too much liquor, was a comic witness whom Mr. Trail handled tenderly. He was simply, of course, called upon to identify the prisoner with tho gentleman who had taken No. 11 bedroom last September, and with whom Mr. Fossdyke had dined. A little erratic and irrelevant in his testi- mony no doubt, as was William Gibbons, the boots, who followed him, but both quite clear as to Mr. Cudemore's personality. But when Eliza I Salter, the chambermaid, entered the box, and Sir Horace Silverton himself took her in hand, a stir ran through the court, and, without knowing why, people began to feel that one of the great sensa- I tions of what was lumoured would be a great sensational trial was about to commence. Her recognition of the prisoner as No. 11, afterwards knov.n as James Foxborough. of course created little interest, but when Sir Horace skilfully drew from her the discovery of the note in the empty firegrate the court was positively breathless with excitement. Yes, she remembered the little old gentleman, whom she now knew to be Sergeant Usher, tho famous detective, ordering the fire in that room. She recollected his suddenly stopping her as she was about to throw the waste papers she had taken out of the empty fireplace on the fire she had just lit. Remembered perfectly his keeping one of them was scolded bv her master for having allowed him to do so did not know in the least what the paper was Mr. Usher preserved it seemed to he a small note of some kind, but she could say nothing more positive than that." Close observers noticed that, for the first time, the prisoner looked uneasy at the turn things were taking, and that Mr. Rovston, the counsel for the defence, manifested marked attention. Further examined, Eliza Salter said she could swear to the key of Mr. Fossdyke's room being in the door when he occupied it." The door was locked, and had to be broke open on the afternoon his death was discovered, which was not till five or six hours after the prisoner had left the Hopbine. Did not, know what became of the key which was missing, and she had never seen it since till three days ago. Great sensation in court. It was showa her then by Sergeant Usher. She believed the key shown her to be the identical key of the bedroom in which John Fossdyke was dis- covered dead. Had seen it tried, and it un- doubtedly fitted the lock as if made for it. It was, of course, difficult to swear to a key of that description, but she was of opinion that was the missing key." For the first time Mr. Rovston indulged in sharp cross-examination, but upon the two point? to which he directed his endeavours he failed utterly. Eliza Salter professed to know nothing whatever about, the scrap of a note which she had raked out of the empty grate, and which Sergeant Usher had impounded, but that he had so seized upon a piece of paper and kept it she was very firm and decided about. That the key of John Fossdyke's room was in the door the night he dined at the Hopbine, she was equally clear about; that it was missing next day and she had nov8" seen it since, till Mr. Usher produced what she believed to be it. she was equally positive about, and when she left the box there was a growing impression that things were not going altogethe- well for the prisoner. And now came a point in the trial which not a little discomposed Sergeant Usher. That eminent detective always prided himself upon handing a case over so complete that the attorneys had no- thing to do but, put it on paper for counsel's infor- mation. It ■ had never struck Mr. Ueher, keen, shrewd judge as he was of evidence, that there could be the slightest, difficulty in proving John Fossdyke and James Foxborough to be the same man, but that was now just what came to pass. The whole thing became a question of photo- graphs, and wonderful as thes.) £ Un likenesses are at times, still it is within the knowledge of every- one that now and again, and by no means unfre- juetitly, comes the carte that we fail to rccognise. There were plenty of people who knew John Foss- dyke, there was no lack of folks could speak to the identity of James Foxborough, but to lay hold af anyone who had known the two men, or one man under the two aspects, unless it was the prisoner in the dock, was curiously enough unat- tainable. Mr. Usher was troubled considerably at this pomt. Mr. Morant. testified, as did some other witnesses, to their belief that the photograph of' John Fossdyke represented James foxborough, and there were numerous people, including the photographer himself, to swear that it was that of the Town Clerk of Baumborough. Mr. Royston saw his opportunity, and, on cross-examination, so shook this evidence as to leave it open to question whether Foxborough, lessee of the Syringa, was not an entity after ail, despite the theory of the prosecution but the eminent lawyer who had rescued many a graceless neck from the gal- lows, was no way blind to the fact that, though he might establish a mythical Foxboiough in the background, there was no getting away from Cudemore, his client, having been the entertainer of the dead man at the Hopbine. That John Foss- dyke committed suicide was, of course, the de- fence he intended to set up. So far the prosecu- tion could advance no theory of black mailing on the part of his client. The key alone threatened to be an awkward incident, and knowing his friend, Sir Horace, as well as he did, and having the experience he had of Serjeant Usher, Mr. Royston felt sure that that key and that note were the two awkward features in the case, as far a? his client was concerned. The next, evidence produced for the prosecution was that, apparentl) innocent invitation to dinner which had lured the dead man to his doom curious, like most of the minor links in a great crime, on account of its prosaic simplicity, and horribly suggestive of how Utile separates Our every-day humdrum life from that melo- drama we read of in the newspapers. Both Morant and Mr. Sturton swore clearly to this bring in the handwriting of the prisoner at the bar. Thejt'ormer clearly and staunchly, the second in that nervous, hysterical maunor..which, though apt to be terribly disconcerted by cross- examination, carries irresistible conviction to the hearts of a jury. Such t witness may be bullied and frightened by the fierce battery of questioning to which he finds himself subjected, but his hearers still feel he is telling them the truth to the very utmost of his ability. And then stepped into the witness box Sergeant Usher, and everybody knew that the great sensa- tional ¡,¡c"ne of the tragedy was on at. last. A qui.jt, trained, p'-actieal witness this, who was neither to be rlurried nor disconcerted, who understood exactly how much reply to give to the questions addressed to him, an 1 volunteeied no uninvited matter. The court was so still you might have heard a pin drop, as the saying goes, while the famous detective clearly and audibly trickled forth hi", discovery of that famou8 note in the empty grate of the room occupied by the dead man. judge, jury, and the public listened in that entranced way they yield to the great effect of a skilled dramatist when he has what is technically termed caught his audience," and when Sir Horace went on to draw forth the story of Cuda- more's arrest and the finding of the key, the excitement of the hearers found vent, in such a murmur of applause that the judge threatened to clear the ourt if it was not instantly suppressed. And then came that tinge of bitterness for Mr. Usher which the Roman poet tells us lurked at the bottom of all fountains of perennial bliss, that IIftljit amari aliquid, as Sir Horace endeavoured io draw from him his theory of John Fossdyke and James Foxborough being one and the same person. Nobody knew better than the accomplished counsel tho risk of endeavouring to prove too much; nobody could be more morally convinced that this story was true than he was, and also of the great difficulty of demonstrating it legally but the had been introduced into the case and was not now to be passed over. Now, like every- body else in the case on this point, Sergeant Usher was ? worthless witness. He had never seen John Fossdyke tilt he Sit" him lying dead in the 1110pbioe at Bunbury, while he had never seen lames roxborough at He tried to lnsmuai I ome of the evidence lie had collected oa tlr 1 tj )int, but it was not likely tMt an old hand lik I Mr. Royston would allow that,and after Mr. Usher had left the box that eminent counsel felt quite assured the identity of the two inen would never be established legally in that trial. That it was so in reality he had no more doubt than hia opponwnts, bnt it was most decidedly against his client's interests to admit it. Ellen Maitland followed, and again gave evi- dence as to the dagger having been the property of her master, Mv. Foxborough had missed it, but could scarcely say how long before the inquest at Bunbury. Knew Mr. Cudemore as a friend of her master's. He might certainly have had the oppor- tunity of taking the dagger in question, but could not say for one moment that he did so. And then came the medicai testimony. An admirable witness was Ur. lngleby, clear and terse, but strongly of opinion that the wound which caused John Fossdyke's death was not self- intticted. His colleague wobbled, and eventually may be said to have gone all to pieces in the tiands of Mr. Trail. Sir Horace Silverton addressed the court with all thai practised fluency that iwd done so much to make his reput-anon. Glossing over the double identity business as a thing which, though admitting of no moral doubt, he confessed to the prosecution having failed legally to establish, he pointed out how littie the guilt of the prisoner de- pended on that. Did Cudemore write that note ? Was Cudemore the man at the Hopbine who enter- tained John Fossdyke? And was the key found in the drawer of Cudemore's dressing-room the key uf the room in which John Fossdyke died ? Surfely on these three points the jury could have no The theory of the defence was the dead :nau committed suicide, but the story of the key negatived that. He would simply submit this case to tliem Did not the prisoner induce the late John Fossdyke to dine with him under a false pretence for some hidden purposes of His own ? Did not Fossdyke meet with his death on that occasion, and did not the prisoner Cudemore never come forward about tho affair till brought before them by the police? They had listened to the evidence of Sergeant Usher, and if, after that, they did not feel it their duty to return a verdict of Wilful murder" against the prisoner, he should feel more surprised and pleased than he had ever felt in his whole professional career. And then, after a two hours' speech, Sir Horace resumed his seat. The summing up of the judge was both lucid and exhaustive, but it was too ciose a repetition of Sir Horace Silverton's argument to admit of introduction into these pages, and when the jury withdrew it was felt that the sole chance for the prisoner was that they might possibly arrive at the conclusion the dead man died by his own hand, and yet, in the face of tfrat evidence concerning the key, it seemed a. decision hard to come to. Ten, twenty, forty minutes passed; it was close upon the hour when the jury once more trooped into their box, and the foreman, in low tones, delivered a veidict of Wilful murder"'against the prisoner. Brief and solemn was the judge's address, but it concluded with his assumption of the black cap, and that short, terribly plain announcement, con- cluding with "God Almighty have mercy upon your soul," which nobody that has once heard it can ever forget. (To be continued.) --=.J!

FEMININE FOIBLES, FAMOUS, AND FASHIONS. BY A LADY. (All Rights Reserved.) Easter falls eavly this year, as we know when we take the trouble mentally to repeat the old school reminder that Easter Sunday is the first Sunday that follows the first full moon after the lilst of March. The penitential jseason which pre- eddes Easter comes so soon after Christmas that many festivities must be postponed, and others altogether abandoned. The Fast is not now kept with the rigorous aceticism exercised in former years. The theatres are open and well filled, some people not considering it necessary to restrain their inclinations in any unusual way, marrying and giving in marriage, and otherwise conducting themselves as at ordinary seasons. Another class of persons think it right to deny themselves thQ smallest indulgence, and seem to oppose their natural inclinations in every possible way. The strictures passed on one another by people wlioaa views on these matters are so diametrically opposed are often very severe; but we have only to remem- ber those words of holy writ, To his own Master he standeth or fftlleth," to check those austere judgments that W8 are all so ready to pass on a sub- ject that in no way concerns U8. -4 In recognition of the ecclesiastical penance in many districts, I observe a great number of black dresses, some women wearing the colour for ths sake of fashion only, and these, I notice, choose the richest fabrics, a.nd have them made in the most fashionable manner. They, however, to whom the season of Lent bears a solemn signifi- cance, and put off colours to mark their sense of its solemnity, wear their black with a difference, generally choosing materials that have a dull &ur- face and making them up as plainly a* possible. Dietary changes and strict rules concerning the food to be eaten on certain days of the weck are among restrictions little regarded by the majority of persons nowadays. We eat our salt fish and consume our eggs with relish, as an agreeable variation of our every day diet—in this mauner, following the custom of our forefathers, without attaching any special meaning to them hot cross buns we eat as in no sense mortifying the appetite, regarding them as dainty cakes, sym- bolising nothing. Certain dishes peculiar to certain places, are continually associated with Lent, and are always seen on the table at this time. Many are entirely unknown beyond a very limited area, being in that respect unlike the crossed buns, common eveiy where on Good Friday. At Folkestone som.^ curious small delicacies made in patty pans, and known as pudding pies, were frequently included in the men& during Lent. They were made as follows:—The patty pans, thinly lined with line puff paste, were sei, aside until the following mix- ture was ready— Set some, ground rice to stew in milk until sufficiently cooked. Great care must bd taken thai it does not burn, constant stirring being neo'.ssary. Sweeten to taste; add tny flavouring that is agreeable, vanille, leuioti, ratafia, or other essence, or one or two laurol leaves may bt, introduced whilst the simmering is I going oa, and removed when sufficient flavour is imparted. One egg well beaten should finally be added. Stir in and pour into the patty pans but not until the mixture is cold, otherwise tiie paste wiil be heavy. Sprinkle with currants before or after baking, the Jaid baking to be doue in a rather quick oven. Still does the weather continue Lo form the chief topic of conversation, and in omnibuses and other places where foreigners are to be met one is fre- quently asked the question, "Does it always rain here: by which one is reminded oi the story of a certain tourist in the Lake district, who, impationt of the delay caused by the incessant downpours characteristic of the place, made the same inquiry, Does it always rain here" and received thf curt reply, "No, sir, it sometimes snows." Truly it requires a singularly buoyant spirit to withstand tilt) depressing influence of this tearful climate, with its inevitable effect on the health and spjrjt. coupled with its disastrous consequences to our clothes. I have seen a few valentines which have passed through the post. One very simple one was a set of Japanese paper crape handkerchiefs, delieiousiy perfumed by Mr. Rimmel. The set included a dozen. I do not know what they are intended tor, though I have seeu these lit t,Id squares used as serviettes, their toughness'render- ing them excellent ,-ubstitutes for ordinary datmisk but I am sure the fair possessor of thefM quaini kerchiefs will never use them for that pur- pose. 1 suggest tllat site should place one or two in the drawers which contain her laces, ribbons, and other dainty articles of wear, among which I may further enumerate handkerchiefs and gloves. 1 would remind my readers that excess 111 per- fumery is at all times considered vulgar, but a passing breath of some delicate fleeting odour is pleasant to most people, ovtjr doing being th3 error to be guarded against. 1 find 110 perfume that equals Atkinson's Frangipani. It is generally liked, and retains its agrte.ioie perfume to the last- Lately conversing with a joung Australian, though abusing our climate, he expressed to me the gieat pleasure he experienced in listening to the singing ot our English wild turds. Of these he intended taking buck to the Antipodes a large and varied collection in the hope of being able to pre* serve them, and induce them to breed and sing as they do here. The expemuenL has, so he says. been tried before, with what success he did not exactly know. Nightingales, thrushes, blackbirds, aud other sweet wtrblers are to be included in thu aviary to be transported, and I heartily agree Nlt-h the expression ot an opinionthat the songof oneun- seen nightingale at midnight or the whistle of the storui viock by day is far more attractive to the ear than the sight of hundreds of gaudily-plumuged buds, whoso harsh, discordant screams render them objectionable and unpleaMng, however gor- geous tiiey may tie. A visit paid to the parrot- house in the Zoological Gardens gave me a most lively impression of what Pandemonium might be were parrots admitted there. Marriages solemnized in Lent are generally re- garded as unlucky, to say nothing of the double tees which the ceremony involves. I know soma people who have fixed an early date for the cele- bration ot their nuptials, defiant of the opinions of their friends, and completely regardless of the additional expense entailed. The bridemaids are to wear pale blue nun's veil dresses and tippets, bordered with brown feather trimmings. They will wear brown bonnets with blue aigrettes and brown velvet boots to match. I heard that at. a recent marriage the bride's satellites were dressed in ruby velvet dresses flecked with swansdown and swansdown tippets, and muffs to correspond. A brilliant plumaged robin redbreast, wan fixed on each lady's hat, a similar bird being poised on the shoulder—a slaughter that one feels was as un- necessary 11S crud. Fancy work is the grand resource of many of my sex, whilst the universal rain keeps them in- doors. A relative of mine purchased some lace chair-backs for Is. 3d. each. Tiie lace is coarse, exactly like that used for ordinary window curtains; getting up quite as easily. There is a wide-patterned border of lace which is scolloped; the edges Are preserved by a binding of narrow tape. The centre of the antimacassar is thus formed :— Next the border couies a1«iigth of 2ip. wide iuser- 1' then a closely-woven panel, on wiiich j iced a design in worsted crewels; afterwards -petition of the insertion, then the 4in, trace panel; beyond it another narrow strip of insertion, and the border is reached. The design traced on one chair back was buttercups, with leaves done in sesthetic green. This chair back was worked by ten nfmble fingers in the course of a single after- noon. The ornamental articles I describe are highly- eftective, and wear exceedingly well. They can be laundried as easily as lace curtains, care being, Aken that no alkaloids, such as soda, or any wash-1 ing powders be used in the process. Ladies who like to have pretty things about them, without liking fancy work or without the ability to execute ít buying these chair backs, may place strips of coloured ribbon over tha broad strips, of course removing them before they go to be cleaned. notice with regard to white curtains that prices for cleaning them vary considerably. A relative of mine sends hers to Perth, where they are cleaned and tinted at per yard. In London few purely white curtains are hung; shades of yellow, varying from the palest cream to a hue bm-dering on orange, are general. They are con- sidered more esthetic, and withstand revelations of smoke and smut much longer than white draperies do. I may add that when returned irom the cleaning manufactory in, Scotland in appearance they look equal to new. The members of the National Dress Reform Association are most persevering in their efforts to induce women to set aside the ornamental for the ueeful, or. rather, to regard clothing as nr.t i01 ended to beautify, but merely as a necessary encum- brance that climate and decency impose upon them. If all the resolutions taken, or, rather, suc- tions, of the society were adopted, what a singular spectacle women would oresent. Our present tyle, when not exaggerated, seems sensible, tAste- ful, and in no way likely to infringe the laws of health. I think hardly any style of dress would be incapable of exaggeration by foolish persons. Most eloquent speeches were made by Lady Har- berton and Mrs. M'Laren, but as I once gave an account in extenso of a lecture I heard on this topic I will not go over the matter again, merely remarking that the time is not ripe for whole- sale dress reforms, nor women ready to forego the desire to wear becoming dresses and look attractive. No doubt unnumbered women do sacrifice health, and make themselves ridiculous by following every new vagary of fashion, but the majority of our sex do not copy them, being too sensible, or not rich enough to do so. The modifications most of us adopt are sensible, do not interfere either with comfort or health, and so are undeserving of the abuse which has beeu heaped upon many of them. I cannot think wholesale reform would succeed in improving to any material extent the con- dition of women as a mass—either by promoting; their comfort, health, or happiness. Has the question ever arisen as to what would become of the countless thousands employed in executing fashion's behests? Panderers to folly though they be reckoned, they must live. Great changes involve so much that we, being unable to foresee the results that would follow their achieve- ment, would do well to remember the familiar say- ing, Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." I apply the quotation to revolutionists of no par- ticular class, but merely to strengthen my opinion that our present style of dress, where exaggerated, is healthy, convenient, may be made elegant without risk. and is one that custom has sanctioned for many years. I read that very" shortly there will be held in Paris an exhibition of boots, shoes, and other coverings which have encaed th feet of men and women during several stages of the world's history —modern, middle, and anterior periods all being represented. Each specimen bears a label on which explanatory notes are found, The collection pro- mises to be as interesting as it is comprehensive, the chaussures of all nations, civilised and un- civilised, being brought together with painstaking care, much research, and great intelligence, so as to avoid anachronisms. The following recipe will be found useful I am sure in any home where spotless linen, shining gtass.and highly polished silver are considered in- dispensable to the dinner-table. The appearance of such adjuncts gives an air of refinement to the homeliest room, and renders the most meagre meal, if well cooked, at least an appetising one. RECIPE. Wash your silver thoroughly to free it from ease; then with ordinary whitening and water make a mixture, to which a few drops of spirits of wine may be added. If the plate be much tarnished the mixture should be as thick a# butter, Get a pieceof linen rag and smear the silver over with the whitening, leaving it for a time; then plunge it in plenty of boiling water, in which some soda has previrusly been dissolved. Take each article out separately, rubbing dry with a linen towel, and adding a final polish with cliamois leather. The butler at Kensington Hall gave this recipe to a late servant of mine, and it. has been finally adopted, the process being very quick, clean, inexpensive, and altogether satisfactory. Window gardening is always an agreeable em- ployment, and makes the exterior of one's house pretty also, whilst the peeps we get from the interior are restful to the eye and pleasing gene- rally. if you have no orthodox box of terra- cotta, porcelain, or other kind wherein to plant your root", you can get from your grocer, for about sixpence, a box that will answer admirably. It is long and narrow and very strong; originally, I believe, such boxes are used to pack raisins in. The outside will need some kind of decoration. Virginia cork may be nailed on it, or a trellis work marl," by getting laths of regular size. and nailing them on to form the lattice, then staining with any selected colour. When the box is ready it should be filled with good mould and planted with hyacinths, tulip roots, and crocus bulbs, care being taken to know the colours of each. and plant in order that they may harmonise. All these bulbs should be started first in pots, and then carefully removed to the window-box.

AMERICAN NOTES. [By MORIKV.] When a literary Cymro settles in the United States he seems to do two things, viz., search for a Welsh chapel and place himself in communica- tion with the Drych and the IVasy newspapers. Mr. David Weeks (Honddu), now of Beacon, Iowa, formerly of Treherbert, where he was highly re- spected, and where he was a prominent member of the Carmel Congregation, seems to have lost no time after reaching the land of Brother Jonathan in following the general example. In the Drych, just to hand, he describes in touch- ing terms the accidental death of another Welsh- man named Morgan Howells. His communication, dated Jan. 8, is to the following effect:—" Morgan Howel18 met with an accident on the 30th Decem- ber while opening a level for a Beaeoa Company that resulted in his death at four o'clock on the following morning, to the great sorrow of the people of the whole neighbourhood, espe- cially the Welsh portion. He was a native of Swansea Valley. His parents were William and Gwenilian Howells. Ten years ago he was married at Pontypridd to Rachel Davies, daughter of David and Rachel Davies, DowLtis. He resided for some years in the Rhondda Valley- Two of his brothers reside in Pennsylvania. A brother and two sisters still dwell ia his native valley. The year at the close of which he himself was killed was a disastrous one for his family, for he lost his father and his wife, hr father, and brother- in-law in that period. Quite recently his mother-in-law and his wife's widowed sister had reached his home from yr Rtn fVlad (the Old Country). He had sent for his mother-in-law because she had been left unprotected in her old age- He stood at her bedside the last morning he was at home—he only came home on Saturdays— and told her tbat as long as he lived he would take care of her, and furnish her with everything she required. The next time she saw him death had drawn a veil over features. His funeral took place at BeaclIi1. and was attended by scores of carriages, and tiie Oddfellows in full regaiia walked in procession. Two funeral sermons, one in Welsh an j the other in English, were preached on the following Sunday." "Morgan Howells resembled," continued" Honddu," Datvdd Morganwg, both as to appearance and kind heartedntss." The tVaij i states tha.t the American journals have very faithfully reported the proceedings at the various eisteddfods held in the States during the Christmas holidaj-s. They declared that Utica bore away the palm on accouut of an eisteddfod purely Welsh in its character. The proceedings were earned on in tihe Welsh language, but six out of the ten vocal competitions were in English. One of the visitors, however, was heard to remark that the English was very red." What is meant, by the epithet is not stated. The Rev. Ward Beecheronee remarked, when interrulJted by a noisy audio nee. You are cutting my sentences in two, and all the blood runs nut of them" Let us hope the visitor did not uieari that the English was red" in that sense. Tiie Welsh Calvinistic Methodists' Chapel (Moriah) aG Utica has been for some time under cover, and the members are talking about going to hold meetings in the basement. Wett," continues the Wasy, before one can become great he must begm at tho bottom." Let Glamorgan "swells put this in (their pipe and smoke it. A practice in Wales, to vfhich objection is made by the most cultivated of the Welsh literati, is giving indis- criminately the title of "eisteddfod" to every literary meriting. Judging by the leports in the Welsh-Auie^ iciin journals, it would appear that this objectipnal proceeding is being discontinued in America, aud the name Cyfarfod Adloniadol adopted instead. This means Recreation Meet- ing." The name eisteddfod is the one which was given to Ü14; great gathering of chief talents of tiie nation ml, M Drayton states, W ho at Ihq Steddta oft obtained a victor'* prAise, Had won the silver harp aud worn Apollo'a bay*. A Wetaitman. named William Evans, uver- man, Cayua Colliery, Scranton, was killed instan- taneously Oil the 14th of Jauultry, by the explosion of a dy namite cartridge The l)ryah for Jan. 18 contains the following, dated Emporium, Win. Williams was returning on Christmas Day from Kensas City on the Sanw., Fe R. R, where he acted as stoker, one of the links connecting the tender with the engine broke, and he fell under tho wheels and was killed on the spot." A writer residing in Woodbine. Illinois,states:— "The Welsh began to settle here about 40 years ago, but, most of the fathers and mothers have dls- appeard, and many of their children have become strangers to the language of their ancestors. The rirst Welsh chapel was built here in 1854. A larger chapel was built seven years ago, but the Welsh languge has lost so much ground that it is only occasionally preaching is done in that tongue. In the Sunday School, too, only one class is conducted in the Welsh language."

"Every mother-in-law is somebody's mother," says the sentimental unmarried. After he is married he will be mads painfully aware of the fact a dozen times a day. There Is nothing: more nourishing and warming in cold weather titan aeup of really good Cocoa, but, the di<ftaulty has been (to otiUtu it puiv. This may be secured !I.t ö cost, of tone halfpenny fùr 1\ large oreaj{fa-t. cup hy using C..dbll'8 Cocoa, which goe3 three timl" a- fur as the adulterized and stAivhv impounds ordi- II." i IJ auld, the smallest packet mtckiug fvurbvttu br-. faao cups of atreug (,I¡:i",

ODDS AND The wtMr mark—Tlwblue ribai>& The Bachelors' Mutual Protective Assocfatifcra of Knoivilte, Tenn., insures against matrimony. Arabi Bey has not had the tide which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. A public-spirited lady friend refrains from wearing corsets because she is opposed to anything that interferes with the liberty of the press. Some people affect piety to cover up their trans- gressions, just its the overworked housewife chooses such colours for her children as will show the least dirt. A New York man stole a parrot, and if his fine is will be paid by the parties who lived contiguous to the abducted bird. One of the saddest trials that comes to a girl when she marries is that slie has to discharge her mother and depend on a servant-girl! Medical journals insist upon reposing 011 the left side only, and chim that it is injurious to lie on both sides, but we don't know where they will find a healthier set of men than lawyers. A scientific journal tells us that a little bird, a red-tail, will catch 900 flies in an hour. If any red-tail who sees this paragraph is out of employ- ment, it can find a good situation, at remunerative wages, by inquiring at this office. A coloured porter in an Austin store asked the proprietor for a day's leave of absence. What's up now?" Dar's a niggah gwine ter git married and I oughter be present ter see him fru." Who is this coloured man at whose wedding you have to be present?" "I'se de nigah, boss," Says the Paris correspondent of the London Truth: Ladies who have beauty, head, heart and enjoy fortunes gifts to the end, are either married to fearfully ugly husbands, or have ill-eonditioned children who are an eye-sore to them, or have no children at all when they feel themselves com- petent to bring up any number." Mary, I don't approve of your entertaining your sweetheart in the kitchen," said a lady to her servant. Well, ma'am, it's very kind of you to mention it; but he's from the country, you see, ma'am, and I'm afraid he's too shy and awkward in his manners, for you to like him to come into the parlour." Well," remarked a young M.D. just passed," .1 I suppose the next thing will be to hunt up a good locality, and then wait for something to do, tike patience on a monument.' said a friend, and it won't be long after you do begin before the monuments will be on the patients A little girl who had often heard her mother speak of her father, who was somewhat bald, as being a self-made man, asked her one day if her fat her was a self-made man why he did not put more hair on his head. A little boy of three years, whose mother played the organ in church, and who was obliged to b left to thf care of others, was asked oi-e Sunday morning what hi kitten was crying so piteously for. I don't know," said he, but s'pecn the old cat has gone to meeting." Mr. Brown, do you eat mush?" asked a fou". year-old fiend of his sister's bepu. "Why, Johnnie ?" responded Mr. Brown. Cos sister says she wishes you wouldn't talk like vou had a mouthful of mush." Sister faints, and Brown he remembers that he has an engagement in Australia. Not long since a little girl, twitting our pet. on the smallness of her nose (lier own was quite large), cried, 'Fore I'd have such a little nose as you've got." The brave baby, remembering what she had been taught, replied, in a tone of triumph, God made my nose. He knows how to make noses, I guess. He knew I dida't want a big, heavy one Hke some folks." A Crushed Deacon.—" I hate to see a woman with rings in her ears." exclaimed the good deacon they ain't natural. If it was intended for women to wear them she would have been born with holes in her oors. The first woman didn't wear earrings, I'll tie bound No remarked the quiet little man in the corner, nor nothing else." The discussion was brought to an abrupt close, and the house adjourned without, delay. A Spice of Danger.—Some men like a spice of danger in their sport. The other day a friend of mine shooting small game on a German estate mentioned this view of a class of Englishmen who seek the dangers of sport on the American prairies. Ah!" responded one of the company, you like danger mit your sport ? Then you go out shooting mit me. The last time I shoot mine bruder-in-law in the schtoroack!" Mary, my love, do you remember the text this morning ?" "No. papa, I never remember the text, I've such a bad memory." Mary," said her mother, did you notice Susan Brown ?" Oh, yes What a fright! She had on her last year's bonnet done up, a pea green silk, a black lace mantilla, brown gaiters, an imitation Honiton collar, a lava bracelet, her old ear-drops, and such a fan John," said the cashier's wife, dropping into the hank in the midst of a shopping trip, you forgot to leave me that money this morning." "What, name?" asked the cashier, without looking up. "Name! name!" exclaimed the lady. "1 am your wife." No doubt, no doubt," answered the cashier mechanically, and going on with his writing but you will have to bring someone to identify you." Children have their own way of solving great mysteries, and who shall say that science knows better than they? When it was thundering little Mary sat thinking. What to make of the awful noise she did not know. At last, however, she brightened up, and said, Mamma. I reckon Dodd is pounding on the floor to make the people behave." Of the same kind of philosophy was the reply of the boy who gazed at the stars, and then guessed that they were gimlet holes in the floor of heaven to let the glory through. There is a story told of the late Baron Solomon de RothschiW.of the Vienna house. Hisson, whogreatly patronised cabs, wa.s in the habit, of giving the drivers about five times the amount to which they were entitled. One day Baron Solomon hired ° cab and tendered the legal fare. Much obliged," feaid cabby, but your son always gives us three, four, five, and even six times as much." "Ah," said the Baron, he has a rich father I haven't Prompter Still.—" Widder Jenkins," said an Ohio farmer, as he bustled into her house one morning, "lam a man of business. I'm woitli $10,000, and want you for a wife. I give you throe minutes to answer." "I don't want ten seconds, old man!" she replied, as she shook out the dish- cloth. "I'm a woman of business, worth §16,000, and wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth. I give you a minute and a half to git!" He got. A New Orleans judge, riding in the cars re- cently, from a single glance at the countenance of a lady by hisside, imagined he knew her, and ven- tured to remark that the day was pleasant. She only answered "Yes." "Why do you wear a [veil?" "Lest I attract gentlemen." "It is the province of gentlemen to admire," replied the gal- lant man of law. Not when they are married." "But I am not." "Indeed!" Ob, no, I'm a bachelor." The bdy quietly removed her veil, dis- closing to the astonished magistrate the face of his mother-in-law. A well-known London alderman tells a story at his own expense, about a sin ill donkey which he sent to his country-house for the use of his chil- dren. One of his little daughters going out with her nurse to admire the animal in its paddock, was sorely distressed when the donkey lifted up his voice and brayed dolefully. Poov thing, poor thing exclaimed the sympathetic child. But, suddenly brightening up, she turned to her nurse and said,i! Oil, I am so glad! Papa will be here on Saturday, and then it won't feel so lonesome." To a country parson not more than half way round the world from Boston a rustic couple went to be married, accompanied by the aunt of the bride, an elderly female with sharp eyes and nose and a general air of intending to see that every- thing was done duly and in order. The aunt watched keenly during the ceremony, nodding her head vigourously at each emphatic word, and at the conclusion she rose energetically to her feet, saluted the newly-married couple with a business- like air, and then turned briskly to the clergyman. Mr. M. she said, I have never met you before but I know who you are and I must say how beautiful and how grammatical you have married them two The Porcupine.—A porcupine is a 4-legd poultry, it has qulIs. but it cannot fly, It lets its quillsfly. Its meat is a good ways from a dog's teeth. Once our dog Rusher tried to push his teeth into a porcupine that he scared up in the woods-pasture. The porcupine spred hisself out, and forgot that he was right in the dog's mouth. But Rusher did not forget. When he bit on the porcupine ht could not forget. He did not taste the porcupine at all, as he thought he would. But we had to catch him and tic a rope round his neck to get him to let us pull the taste of the quills out of his mouth. Daniel Wilson, Bishop of Calcutta, was a nmst eccentric old man. As usual, at family prayers, which he invariably conducted himself," he prayed by name for the people staying with him. There was a gentleman from Madras for whom he prayed, and then he said Let 118 pray for his dear wife and dear children." A thought struck him, he paused, and said to his chaplain, By-tho-bye, is he a mar- ried man ?" No. my lord, he is not married." Ah, well, never mind," he remarked, he may marry, and the children may come On another occasion it is related that he was vreaching against the sin if avarice, when he delivered himself of the following remarks My brethren, there are several forms of avarice one form has recently hen brought home to me most unpleasantly. You al! know my archdeacon there, a most excellent man well, last week he 80Jd me a horse for live hundred rupees; it is not worth ten. This, my brethren, I consider a. most unpleasant form of avarice." An Australian Chinaman, when anxious to have a wite of his own nation, sends a letter to an agent in Honw Kong. The following is a condensed translation of one of the want It wife. She must be a maiden under twenty years of age, and must not have left her father's house. Shv must have never read a book, and her eyelashes must be half an inch in length. Her teeth must be us sparkling as the pearls of Ceylon, Her breath must be like unto the scents of the magnificent odorous groves of Java, a.nd her attire must be from the silken weavers of the Ka Li-Ching, wliii-h are on the banks of the greatest river in the world —the ever-flowing Yangt.se Kiang." The price of a Chinese woman delivered in Sydney is JB38, but. two Chinese women only cost therefore the heathen Chinese import women in couples. Tiie importer never sees his women before they arrive, aud tlien lie generally selects the best-looking one. The other is shown around to a number of well-to- do Chinamen, and after they have inspected her she is submitted to what may be called public auction. At a reeent Shle at Sydney a young irl, aged about nineteen, was offered, and after some spirited bidding she was purchased by a wealthy Chinese storekeeper, whose plaje of business is in one of the leading towns of New South Wales, for £120. The melancholy aspect of the Celestial girl l she went away in company with the man who purchased iter was'deplorable to the last degree.

V BARDD CYMKEIG. BAKDDONIAETll. LLINELLAU ANFROHIADOL Idd ei Urddasolrwydd Ardalydd Hut, ar êi 0'1' Dywarchen i ffurfio Llongborth newydd Cawdydd, Iou, 3lai D, 1883. To1Of-" Ymdait.b G-wyr Morganwg." Mil Henffyoh well Ardalydd maQ- H.iwudamur lill Breninoi had, Hl\w,ltlarnliwr fyg Bendiuedig doeth- Ei n Bute fawrJdo wtedi¡ C(.th Ac- c'yeti ei glod !.IawU barth o Fltuuwch Deri 01'05 Caed einioes tdroes faith, i fyw Vall urddas dyn a bendith Dnw. Eoed. heridyw eí ymdreehion ef, Dall set fihiighiidaeth ddoeth v lifsf, Aed íu el fatvi ar awe1 rydd," } e: lldiirtf'r eigiou yn Nghaer iydd Beaditliion fyrdd sr bei- ein ?ur. Am allwedd åm i dd3d¡io]'I' 1/101' "Caed eiriiofct) tciroes fai: h, i fyIV Dan urJd..s dyo Ii bendith J)uw." Cvduned Telyn Gwalia gu. A plnbeJt eerwd Oeiyddou try. Gi »y; alaw pot Piydeinig Gor, IVn uiiSain a eithafion I t'i lio gorfoleddirs gainc Alii aiw-r tair Brellilloi fai'1c,- Caed einioes lei ees faitn, fyw Dan urdd&s dyn II bendith Duvv." Cydtoled deiliaid Prydain Fawr, Oreliestion hael..in neition — A chyhwfaner Baoiar ffr&w, EI glod drwy J3..lynes1. draw Hdll feib Jr aig mewn llougau fyrdd Ar lieilttion cenlli gwyrdd, Aasuiniont, i'eiroe faith, i 1 vvr Dan urddas dyn a b6ndit.h Duw." o dan Jywllreh" Bute y <-air Y ma«-n • diydd bob mwn yo Ilsr. A d frdoVl'I\lI'l' Llongtwrtli diud, Ag<>t\i it 1 dr,\ bya; Coilaidir ei anturiaeth faith A'i Jd gan wb II vyth ag iaith," A IJloeudiaat Teiroes f:lith, i tn, Dau urddas dyø » beudith Duw." Llawn gyfoes i'w Ardates deg. A inwyniant iechyd pur, di Ireg, Gl"y gydfwyidiad i'w plant, a u bll Yn bel1d"rii" oesau iii; A'\I niawi a" I'I\,U:1 Y" IIwclty.1d r wch Ceslyll Bute a line' C'lud.rdd- ( wI'helYI h 8t lIut byth fo'n byw Dan urdd-is dyn a oendith UII" Tydfil Cottage, Merihyr. l DYFKD. BUGEILIO'R PRAIDD. Y wawr, y waw. cbwmeua 15i haien dros y bryn, Gall ymlid Il ty")lw,h O daen y boreu gwyn. Yr haul, Y" hitul cs^yna Dros guret -.ten, Gan waajjar ei belydran ¥JI gltwod druII }\ mheBi Mae'r l1yd i gyd yu delfro Ù f,l 1¡WeS liardd y IlUS, Ag ariian 011 .1 gwenu Ar bur y i n JS. A minau Ilf yn ebrwyJd, 1 wrlb pr-iiud y d-i&l, A d-uig.i IJ mugeilgu gwycli 1'w dw II yn mlaen ..c ol. Caf vied yr awelon Giisaiiant lill y wawr, Aph' 'liu'i gll felus gerdd, 1 ly,.ydd Iltof a llawr. Y oll a burant Y ftrugar i,en y twvn, 'B oenig tach una' ysgafn dro A'r awel YIl y Uwyn. Dringo ivnaf y IIwybra.u eu, Yu hoyw ar fy hynt, f BWH fy iijjeneth ¡,¡¡ywaf draw, Y I1 lIIarcllog ar If gvryub; Dylito Wllft v gornall 1'.11 didol d&1I y twyn, I Gan wlychu mill y gwartjieg A borant yo y bi wyn. Dystawrwydd x deyrnnsa Dros niynydd gwiw, Er hyil, yn arddangos IIlae. Ddoetnineb t'avr fy ISuw; Sy'n toir rhos, a pheri ¡¡wlith I hidlo gyda'r wawr, Er diwallu bodan tjfJd Anheilwiig fodau i JJawr. Owm, Ebbw Yale. D, JOJfJ;I, "THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT OX HIGH." CYFIUTHU.D, Y faith 1furfafen sydd uwchben, Yn nglly.1 a'r lâs wybieuot nen Y nefoedd ddisghwr ucht-I foo. l'w mawr Greawdydd rùddallt glod, A diftiu haul bob dydd alios, VdaII J;¡os .ut rhyw ol\¡llu dlos, rhwydd lawn oddidraw, Ftaith fawr, 0'1' Hollalluog-Û4w. Ar wyll y nos. '1'01 golen ddydd, Y lleuad ei chynorthwy rydd Ei nusol oed i'r ddaear lIon, A'I deilliol dyniad uwch y don Y ser inewn rhyfedd gylchoedd ma1th iriolaut ogjneddus daith, Hwy sicrhallt 011-allu yo un," Y bod 0 Dduw ¡'I' ddaear-ddyu. Mewn modd distwollDllent í ¡yd- Amryliw lanipau ynt i'n uyd Er nad "es unrhy v, laie Ita il1, Idtl y pelydrus gylehoedd caiu Gan gluolUu rlwswm, yn ddigait, Cly wir tli gogolleudu.lal. 01 ddyn, gwel ttwawl ? "Ilefecydd clyw," Y Uaw a'l gwnaeth un dwyfawl yvr. Caerleon. ÂJ4:LwCXU.D (set Joseph Williams). ER COF AM John Howells, mab Danielllc Ann Howells, Bircll grove, Llansamlet, yr 1m II a fu farw Mai 21, 1882, yn 14 mlwydd oed, O angau, 'rwyt yn elwyfo calonau dvnolryw, Sid oes eyrfe.,yb ¡Ii 0 dall tywodraeth Duw l'i d.1at:thuJt fd rhyfelwr, a th jjleddyf yn dr law, Gall daraw un mot" íeuII.ltc, lies gwnaethost i mi Craw. 'R0edd John fel rhyw fiodeuYI1, yn ty, Ond CM mor ebrwydd gwywodd, plW ddaeth yr angau du; Fe dd'wedodd pan yn dyoddef, mewn geiriau anwyl, teg,- ieuanc iawn í farw, VB bedairblwydd ar ddeg." Ond gorfu iddo 'madael a'i hull gyfeillion lion, Mae yn v neioedA ht dd.vw, heb otid ger ei fron Ac yno wedi 'wii^o mewn perlau i gyd 0 ras, Nas gall 'uio tr!gwyddoldeb eu treuiio byth i ma's, Xi welir John byth eta yn Saron, fel y bu. Vn adrodd hauesanwyi alII angau Oalfari O na, mae heddyw'n nellel a'i ctelj II Yll c-i 14W. 1:n seinio Hateliwia yn iach yr oelir draw. Hhieni hoff, na ylwch ar 01 eich hanwvl John, Mae'n rhaid i bawb ymadael rhyw ddydd a r ddaear hon; Àm hynw, bvddwch barod pan alwad gref, Jb'el galloch gnd derliyi.iau 1'1' man derbyr.iwy d et. Llansamlet. 1. TO THE FRIENDS WHO LOVE ME. (In Reply.) Sweet is the honey to the bee, The dew unto the flower, And tLl the parch'd and dusty soil, The sweet refreshing shower. Aud sweet, oh, sweet, your praises 1\1'8 To me ill solitude I pray you, from Il full heart take Bhianon's gratitude. Ànd to be ever thus, dear friends, Hulei high ill your esteem Will to Lhe bdIll, aye, till th", cup Of her life's dearest lirenin. And wl;eu that earthly dr« am is o'er, AmI low amoug the Jhisies Bhe lies, oh, carve abovt her head A line oi those swet praises. Xclh, RKLTKON. EVAN G KLINE. Irish Air-" Gra-ma-chree." They cOul" again, they come again, The flowers fresh and fair Aud gently o'er the dewy mead, :Now sweeps the perfumed air. Row plensant is the smiling view- Huw charming I, the !Cf"He! Ail [Tra.ma-duee, I dream of thee, My fair Evangeline. The come again» they come sgain. The warblers 01 the grove, Discoursing ilt melodious strains, The stories of their love 'Tis sweet ttJ hear their joyous notes, Without, a ja> between Ah: Gra-ma eJHPe, ltbillk of thee, M., sweet 1<; "IUI o:eli lie, Tiiey come again, they come again, Though few anù br between, Th, boy, allll girls Yo it.1t whoIII I played, I upon tilt: iilote gr«en. Our youthful sports we o'er and 9'1' heitall with pJeuunô keen; I Ah Gra.ltla-clarce, I wV for thee, My own .l:v3i1g.Ilue, The wins again, the. come again, Bweer, tlJOuht8 of Auld Lang oyue. Alid l'aiioy ever makes tile past With beauty rare tt1 shine, Yet while lllillg, within my breast There is It thorn unseen All Wra ii,a-ciuee, I die fur thee, M.y lost E\ i<JI¡¡;eline, L¡andft, IOAN DVIRI. SAID I TO MY ROUL. SAID I. Why art thou cast down, 0, my S'nd ? And why jUt. thou disquieted in me?" Why neath the ypre8! tree. The htlrders of dt"4ilMÙt, sitting drearily, Iii tile sikllt, miti,.i¡.(ht sir ? .As on far distant orb 1s fixed thy languid eye; And strange 1 hou¡;hts thbf absorb. Said I to my euul. 1081.1 1. Why like the rolling sea, Thoiiit t8in tQ and fro? By unknown ttgeney Is caused Ihiu" ebb and flow. What mean thy murmuriug*, Thi dt>ep and heavy sigh. Where are thy seerer"springs? Said I tú my loul. said I, Ait thou with Iron band Held In Clipti vit,, Par from tllv native Utid, W litre all lire pure Iwd frl'1t? 'W h"! mean t by sore unite-t— 'thy £ In noes towluods he The !lP,¡vinj1; uf tny br."ut? &111 I 1.0 R1' soul, said J. Art thou 1\ pilgrim stray, W ho, in It desert, land, Hut h',p(.IN8;Y lost tky way 011 the arid, burning SMIUS ? Änd scorched 'u6&tb fierv ketintJ, A one about to die; F". fr nil tbe hulina streams, 81\i,1 I to my soul, said I. Ie there fNoU>ole to pol. Fr in the JSast (jr West, A peaceful spot, my soul, Where thou canst b «t rest? thou h'eliiUle nU" Which thee shall satisfy. In ucean, earth, or air ? Said t to my soul, said I. Why art thou, 0 my lIOui. Oast down ínto the debp, Where waves ctae lII,t 1.0 rait, Nor tempests cease to swet:J.I? And. why dibq\1\et.ed. My roul, 0 teJlll1e why TIW1,rt never comforted ? &i41 t.() wy soul, said 1. Lla.ndaft, lox DrrM-

APO CARNIS DTTKHBENS is a ph1f1fd"" name for a mmedy preacrlLed for the papt QUane&' eentury for every variety f'f skin disease. Ibe 8ubl\. bav, also adopted the s¡un. as 10\ prttve ti ye 01.1118 fbX. scltllet fever, and m_¡;.]es, PurchUert I- a the 1MMn Brand is tm every taWet, and WtUGltYj GOAL TA* ou EWH WRAPPER, witfeMtl wiuato MM 1 nULne.