Welsh Newspapers
Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles
9 articles on this Page
COWARD CONSCIENCE.
[ALL EIGHTS RESERVED.] COWARD CONSCIENCE. BY F. W. ROBINSON, author of MONET;" "LITTLE MTE RIEDY j" "POOR HUMANITY," &c. II 0 Coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me —Shakespeare, BOOK I.—"THE END OF THE FIRST ACT." SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTERS 1., II.. AND III. The story opens on b03.rd the Witch, an English screw .Warner, on the way a.cr03S the Chaunel from fbntleur to jdttl champion. "ii 3 a Weak day in March, and only two tessengers have shown sufficient nerve to brave the )as¡¡age, whkh has all the appearance of being a rough one. Thoie two travellers, man and woman, stH\:agers to each other, were bh cyjJeutJy young, and settled down for a tlme to their places au deck without any hsed to each other, and at a long distance apart. Finding-that the lady ia determined to remain on deck, the male pas- teng-er begms to regard her with some decree of curiosity, if not interest; and after a. good deal of specu- tat'on as to who and wliat she was, aud finding that she bad falien asleep and would doubtless suffer from the effects of the night air, he woke her up. The lady at flrjt denied having been asleep, but the gonUe- taan taking advantage of the opportunity to begi ft conversation. He refers to the discomforts 01 u particular route across the Channel, an »he is poor, or at least has some motive for Demg fast now. 'But the night is advanced, and^p™^ ler to retire wondering as he walks a lady fimo afterwards whether she, who is e* L^en s-,ie j3 tondesceiid t> speak to him In the Jbteto see ho\shabT^ldanr|randt, the lady passenger, Corning wnen Miss IfcWerbr {eii0w-passenger already foes cn deck she f queer appearance. having there. and s sUuck^ eyeni tfcat he was a gentle- tonciuded the piev somew,hat m Gouùt. as to whether, lOW born. we hm by davlisfht. she will care to speak rr^tutsheTeSYranJy to hi, "Good mornfng," j? thL conversation of the previous evening is resumed, ffe "ves some account of his past life, and she finds that to is as she had surmised, broken-downgeutleman,' Who had quarrelled with his friends, runaway from home, L M now retumhur thither at the earnest rSrae-t of his mother. He gives his nane rs IVirn D-mell the son of a Sussex squire, bv.t fa ^;c-nt on the cause which made hnn leave home. Miss" Hdderbraudt, he thinks, is a cunouj lady » thoug-h she owns to having aiways hved in Pans, and wL on! v half'English, her father being a German, she soca'cs English well. She asks him if he knows Birming- jvjuii" implying that that is her destination. Two or three attempts on his part to become familiar are quietly resented by her, and his confidence as to his own past life does not beget that return of confidence 011 her part which he longed for. He cannot account for the interest be takes in the girl, unless it be because she has not re- fused to hold converse with one out at elbows, as he is ÐOW. So he isely waits for he revelation she half promised to make ere they parted. The steamer duly arrives at Littlehampton, and Tom Dagnell ia beginning to think tha.t the revelation wiil not be forthcoming. When she is safely ensconced in the train, however, he faints at her promise. She tells him her name, and gtartics him with the information that she ran away from ome on the previous day. To n Dagnell is going ba.ck to a home he had left five years before Mias Hildebrandt (las just left hers. lie has tasted the bitterness of being Someiesj and friendless among strangers she ia begin- ning the life he has just euded. But her movements have not been unwatched, for her father In Paris receives fc telegram informing him that she had gone to Birming- fca.ni,and that she was accompanied on her journey across the Channel by a Mr Dagnall, of Broadiands. SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTERS IV, V, & VI. In the next three chapters we are introduced to the Erlous inmates of Tom Dagnell's home. The first face tc sees on his arrival is that of an old and trusted ser- nt, who in some measure prepares Tom for the changes ►hic'h have taken place during his five years' absence. ESie old servant's account appears exaggerated Tom ughs at the idea of his father being nervous, but on his Jjrgt interview with Sir John, Tom finds the »3C0unt Under, rather than over-stated. His evidently very ill, and very hypochondriacal; full of Whims and fancies of an invalid, who oimnot be per- suaded that he is anything else but a little out or sorts, fcc,, and does not like to be told he is looking ill. jears ago he had left him a tall, robust, active man 01 fifty now his father was an old man before tus time. The rest of the family, consisting of h3f or brother Marcus, and his cousin Ursula. nav^ more less, become infected with the prevailing SP1™ «the head of the family. Lady Dagnefl's utterly serves Marcus is an effeminate, idle, and utterly Selfish young man, full of his own foolish cracies about his food, his health, and veiy a par with his father and mother m the mat treme nervous sensibility whilst Ursu'fv*?ie3 which escaped being touched with the same Pec^r 5 distinguish the rest of the ram. y, «.™l™ec*° '^her lating, and with an old life of single manner whica as Tom thinks he blessedness ?ut he is certamly sUrt e^ opinion and in ratti inquiries why he was sent Ïor bome, tells illID It was to marry her. CHAPTER VII. —THE COUSINS. It is possible that Tom Dagnell had prepared Liirsclf for a surprise, but it was certainly not in this direction. He went back a step or two, he changed colour, he looked into the pals plain face of the lady confronting him, and he finally burst into a hearty laugh. "Well it is very kind of them to settle our futures in this free and easy fashion," he said, "it is the coolest proposal of all the cool proposals ttlat Sir .John Dagnell and his wife have ever bitched forth-upon my soul, it is the height of AbTl £ ?was a garden seat of light ironwork upon the lawn, and he flung himself into it^.to «niov his lau'di with greater ease his cou^n, automatic and grave, sat down beside: him, and wiit°d patiently for his huanty to cease. Y m don't seem to see this joke clearly as f do » °-d<l Tom. Why, U inula, I should have thought that yoa, with your shrewd common tlense, would have been the first to laugh at it." I have had my laugh out before you came borne. You forget I have had a week to laugh in, and the jest is somewhat stale." < < Y as-yes-hut confound it, you need not look .0 grindT at it all, as thongh the joke had turned sour with brooding on it," cried Tom. You see the nonsense of this new idea aa clearly as I do?" » "Just as clearly. "And even supposing that I was prepared to *ay to my fai.her. Done, Sir John, I d niarry cousin Ursula to oblige you, you are not the girl to take me on those terms." "What makes you think that?" wasthe strange, hard inqnirv, in response. The light," laughing looks of our hero vanished at this reply he looked at her very quickly and ea«"why should I think otherwise, knowing your bigh spirit, and remembering always that we have been more like enemies than friends. Ye?, more like enemies than friends, torn, she replied, I am not likely to forget that and there is much in the past that I am not likely to ^Coming of an unforgiving race, Ursula, for the old story goes that a. Dagnell never forgives." "I have been inclined to believe tha.t of late days," she said thoughtfully. I have been inclined to doubt it," replied Tom, for I have forgiven, and I will ask, for- giveness of you for anything that rankles as an injury in your mind against me. There, XJrsula, we will begin afresh from this day. Say You are anxious to forget everything 1" Yes, I am. This is a new outset of life, and the vast is flung overboe.rd." "BoByou told Lady Dagnell." So I tell you," he answered. Is it a com- Plie held his hand towards her and she put her. it is. That's wcJJ ;:that'3 like the COUSIn Ursula. wo first C::1.me he¡e to IIl-\ke home brighter than It was—and who—' r jf_ e «' And who became quenched in.the gloom furroundings." Ay—that was to be expected, for-but the past again. Oh confound the past: see we put away from shore, and get from it for ever, Into deep water," was the dry rejoinder. "Into hot water, if this marriage project be ae strong a conceit of paterfamilias as other little crotchets of his life have been," said Tom, "It is stronger." h Can it be possible ?' "That is why I have come to warn you—to put you on yonr guard against your father and "^The two of youf exclaimed Tom. I don't aee-" You will presently. But you are not pa- tient." I hate beating about the bush, certainly—but «0 on. I am all attention, said Tmn. «• What on earth do you mean by Pitting me on guard against Sir John and yourself ? Tom," she said, in the same unmoved, mat- ter-of-fact way with which she had begun the in- terview, I have told your father that when you are prepared to marry me, I am prepared to take you at your word." "Great Heaven i-you ?" Are you not surprised and disgusted to learn that I am prepared to say yes to the honourable sfEer of your hand in marriage? It is a great eafcchfor one who has become the poor^relation tod dependent here," she said, mocking • •• I>b you mean to say that you would marry r Yes, I do." "Then, upon my soul, I do not comprehend you," he blurted forth. "Who does at Broadiands was the quick an- jwer. "Who ever did, Tom, for that matter?" You are really prepared to marry me, of all men Not Marcus, who might have suited you, being older, staider, calmer, and of more discre- tion but me, the ne'er-do-weel, the idler, and the profligate Me lie repeated in a high tone of V°" Would it not be a fitting match ?—children of two brokers—man and woman who have been Si torn ciildhood. »d T derstand each other's little, foibles so^ well?' she "a" You are speaking with yonr old bitter tongue -and I Late satirical people," he said queuru- lously. Shall I speak out ?" "Yea—for God's sake do. You were never at your best in these moods-" Perhaps not," she answered; "but my ol, biting tongue, as you term it, has been at times the only friend on which I could depend." •'Well, well) poor Ursula, you wanted it in this house, certainly proceed." Your father wishes me to marry you it is the last wish of his heart, for he is going to die," Ursula Dagnell, very quietly. No, no, he is getting better. Ee thinks so himself—he so." "HeisgoiNgtodie," she repeated," you have been sent for to soothe his dynig moments." I am a strange man to choose for the task, Ursula," said Tom gloomily- "You are the one most fitting, was the reply; "you are his son. and it is a dno/ you are not likely to evade, being called to it as from the brink of the grave." „ I did not know it was so bad as this, That he should die f' "Yes." „ It was certain from the first. And they all know it aQd are prepared for it ?" They are all prepared." "They bear their troubles excellently well," Baid Tom, "and yet they have been always with him, studying his wants, and bowing to his Oecrees. Bat—why does he want me to marry you ?" L- You will know Dresentia," was the recii. Can't you guess ?" He will tell you. No one else." Oh, that's it. I am to be father confessor as well as consoler in ordinary. Where is he f i Asleep. He must not be disturbed. He may sleep for hours, till night time even, and he may wake—speechless What a change in a man whose will was o iron, when I saw bim five years since, s Tom. • i Five years have wrought many changes, Ursula sorrowfully. u T "None so strange as this," said lorn. should not be surprised to wake up m y o ings at Honfleur, and find it all a. dream. You do not see the change in yourse.f-only in bim 3'ou defied." > ( pnnr. "And who cursed me out of the honse Poor governor, wish he were strong enoagh to start afl" Horrihie' Horrible!" exclaimed Ursula. "Cannot you see God's hand in tms meeting? «' I can't say I do." Ah! yon were always a sceptic. I grope on darkly, and there is no hand to grasp my own and point out the way I should go," sa, As weak and as despairing as ever, then ?" she asked, a little scornfully. "I never despaired. I took life and life's sor- rows too lightly for that." As you thought, "JWJSS the dry response but we are forgetting our marriage, after all Yes, that's old, considering it affects us so materially. When shall we begin to discuss the housekeeping—to buy the furniture—to settle on the manner in which a life's happiness is to be spent together ?" "Where is the biting tongue now?" asked Ursula Dagnell, sharply. "Not mine," exclaimed Tom; "This is pure fnn." The time is inappropriate for pure fun," said Miss Dagnell; "pray remember the misery that is at work here, and see what you cin do." What I can do ? I am a very helpless man," said Tom. You have a strange ta-sk before you—to save yourself and me. Our marriage would be too great a mockery," she replied, "and if I have promised—you must refuse to promise." "Exactly. I can do that gracefully. Even a sick man cannot suppose for a moment that I am going to marry to oblige him." "He thinks you will wish it too." He is strangely sanguine over impossible con- tingencies," said Tom "perhaps he has gone wholly mad, and this accounts for sending for me, for asking my pardon, for thinking of this match. Ursula shook her head. "You will find your father's brain affected," she said. So much the better," answered Tom. But it is an old story, and I have been lured home under false pretences to listento it." No, he wished to see you at the last," said Ursula, "he is sorry for all the mistakes that ^•He told me so this morning," said Tom dryly, but in what a style Did you expect sentiment and romance from him?" I can't say I did." "Then rest satisfied," she said sharply. Is that possible in a. man who was never satis- fied ?" "It is possible to try." All right, I will make the attempt," said Tom, "you'do not know, Ursula, with what a host of good resolutions I have come back, I shall be content with one," said Ursula, in reply. Which one is that?" Self-restraint. Your father ii dying he has many bitter memories of you—do not add to them at the eleventh hour." ",Am I to agree with him implicitly, then ?" asked our hero with emphasis. "You are to refuse him with kindness a.nd gen- tleness—to temporise with him, rather than excite him, to reason with him calmly on the folly and impossibility of all that he desires." It will not be a difficult task." "It will." I suppose there is some further mystery that you are hiding from me, Ursula?" "No," she said, moving slowly away from. I am not mysterious. You will remember my ad- vice—you will remember that I have pledged my word, feeling sure that your consent could never be obtained, and that you would come back to save me." "Not to enslave you—and bind you down to a stenier servitude tban you havo yet experienced." "Yes, yes," she repeated; then she left him to Ins reverie, a strange and silent figure in the sunlight. 0 She had forewarned him. Was he forearmed in consequence? CHPTER VIII.—AT THE DINNER TABLE. Yes, to have awakened in his old room at Hon- fleur would have been no surprise to Tom Dag- nell it would have been far morc consistent with his surroundings than to be sitting there, in his day dream, in his father's garden. Surely part and parcel of a dream to be at home again like this, to be conscious that he and his "father had shaken hands, and that bygones were bygones for all time. A dream with much dark shadowing about, and in the mist of which strange impalpa- ble figures were flitting full of menace and fore- boding, with white arms beckoning to him, and than warning him back as from danger or a snare lying beyond in the darkness which he could not pierce. What did it mean ? What did it por- tend? Why this excuse of forgiveness to bring him back to Broadiands, and then tell him that he must marry cousin Ursula? Of all women in the world, cousin Ursula, cold-hearted, high prin- cipled, bad tempered, prim, and angular Ursula, who was three or four years older than he, and would look thirteen or fourteen presently, with those hideous glasses and the lines coming thick and fast upon her face as lines upon a railway map. Of all women in the world, the one with whom he had never agreed who had spent her life in preaching at him, in advising him, in tell- ing him what was best—who had meant well, and failed egregiously—who had been the go- between, and brought hard messages from papa and mamma, who had not added to the haraiony of existing things in the old days before he ran away. Of all women in the world, Ursula Dag- nell !—to be offered to him hy those whose poor ambitions had always galled and fretted him, who would have made a good match for him in the county when he was one and twenty, and have cut him off with a shilling had he thought or Ursula Dagnell, whom nobody seemed to ca.re tor then. Of all women in the world, cousin Ursula J It was like marrying his own flesh and blood—he would as soon have dreamed of marrying his sis- ter, or his grandmother, had he been blessed witn either of those feminine commodities. Of all women in the world, Ursula Dagnell! It was the refrain of all his thoughts it rang like a dis- cordant peal of bells in his ears, dazing and confusing him it was with him in his solitary musings in the great park into which he strayed; it followed him presently upstairs into bis room- his old room—unchanged in every particular, as though the reminiscences should strike home like bayonet thrusts when he came home for good—it was ever echoing in his brain that day. His small portmanteatiihad arrived from the railway station, and he drew therefrom a rusty, black, full-dress suit, into which he inducted him- self with great care, having a regard for seams and the fragile textlte of the cloth. They dressed for dinner at Broadiands they had been always very particular about dress in this establishment; he would array himself in as sumptuous a manner as the means at his command would allow. The change of attire was an improvement to him after a bri-k wash and clean shave even in an old dress suit he looked the well-born and well-bred gentleman. The little woman he had met 011 board The Witch" would have failed to recognise in him the rough and ready Bohemian with whom she had fraternised on shipboard. Ah the little dark girl with another mystery tacked to her— confound all mysteries, thought he What was she doing now ? he wondered. Had she reached Birmingham ? had she been received by friends, relatives, or acquaintances ? had she told them that she had run away ? and why she had stolen off in the night from Honfleur Harbour ? What was her position now ? Was anybody going to marry her off hand ? Had she been met with a new and incomprehensible fact at her journey's end as he had ? and had it come at her liko a blow ? Poor little girl, more desolate than he was—who seemed to envy him and his return to home—to whom no home-return was ever in her reckoning, she!said—who was so strong and frank and bright. If Ursula Dagnell had been any- thing like her now, there would have been no in- superable difficulty in reconciling one's self to one's fate, Yes, he wondered what Miss Hilderbrandt was doing, and in what way and fashion she had begun her new life. Better than his, he trusted and believed. Strange it was that two lives should have commenced afresh last night, starting from the same point on board The Witch," and diverging when on English ground so utterly and completely. Stay, let him consider that again he was his own master he was not quite so sure. Birmingham was not at the Antipodes. When the dinner bell rang for the first time he was surprised to find that he thought more of Miss Hilderbrandt than Miss Dagnell during the last half hour—that he had drifted away, as it were from bis thoughts of the cousin, which was a good sign, and proved that the position was not troubling his mind in any great degree. But be- fore the dinner bell rang a second time the mys- tery was upon him again, and Ursula Dagnell rose before him with her pale faee and ghtterlllR glasses-a. phantom that was difficult to hide from. He should be glad when this interview with his father was over, and everybody under- ?ac!1 other thoroughly. The Mysteries of Udolphe' were hardly in his li:ie, or] likely to flourish upon Sussex ground, he fancied. It was not a cheerful dinner at which he sat down that evening to the last day of his life he remembered the dulness and the blankness of it. the dreary void3 in the conversation, the restraint and reserve which wrapped everybody in their icy folds, the consciousness that everybody was waiting and watching, and that a man was slowly dying in the room upstairs with a weight upon his mind. The four who sat down to dinner hardly seemed to possess one thought in common had Sir John Darnell been lying dead in the house there could not havo been a deer er gloom cast onJhis small community. Lady Dagnell was indisposed, it had been officially proclaimed, and though she ate and drank well, it was as if she did it^under protest, and with the inward consciousness that she was merely prolonging the misery of her existence from sheer consideration for the feelings of the family. Her head ached, and the least noise in the room under those circumstances the better the servants stole about on tiptoe, and one who clattered the plates too roushly was requested on the spot to withdraw into the servants' hall until he knew how to behave himself properly. Marcus was almost as silent as his mother, and disposed to imagine that through the indiscretion of an early lunch he was ailing like hia mother too. He made the most of his affliction he sat bolt upright and rigid, carved his fowl at arm's length, and with half-shut eyes, a patient, non- complaining, but much-suffering man, whose at- tention was strictly devoted to his dinner. Once or twice he glanced across at his brother, as if en- ■ deavourintt to account for or to errow accustomed < to this new figure at the feast, but the principal words which escaped him at the meal were a few long drawn Thanks"to the servants who waited upon him, and to whom he was gravely grateful for polite attention. Tom Dagnell went with the stream, this slow, noiseless stream of placid monotony, for which Broadiands was distinguished—being in no mood for conversation, and feeling that the shadows were thick about him, and he was not likely to grope his way too quick from them. Lethim move on with the rest of these inhabitants of Sleepy Hollow. Ursula was there also, seated close to his side, as f by pre-arrangement, or an order from up; stairs, ana this made him smile a litue as he took his P-aec at table. The romance and mystery of It a,lIvergcù so closely on burlesque, that he could afiord to smile even in his shadow-land, at the cool arrangements which had been made for his whole lite, without in any way consulting him. was lie to be coaxed, or frightened, into marrying his prim cousin ? And would Sir John Dagnell threaten him with the pains and penalties of dis- lnneutance, if he did not say I, Tom, take thee, ^.9U so^ei'*visaged spectre, to be my wedded w •. 1-s if disinheritance were not in his line— as 11 he had not expected it, and been prepared for It, a good five years ago. T ^_rns"^uo of heavy silk nresently denoted that Lady Dagnell had risen to her feet with the in- tention of retiring to the drawing-room, and Ur- sula rose with her at her signal, The gentlemen stood up, the elder opened the door, closed it after the ladies, and then dawdled round to his mother's chair, into which he comfortably en- sconced himself. "Try the port, Tom." he said, find it good this evening. That old Fisher has been at all tne best wines again." Thank you, I'll stick to the claret. I have to keep my head cool," Tom replied. "I wish I could," said Marcus. It was awfully unwise of me to have my lunch so ca^y- If I go out of my usual way I'm sure to xee poorly." I am afraid my coming has put you all out very much." .,1 "N-no—not very much," said Marcus, witu su odd, hesitating politeness, we expected you-you know." "Yes—I was sent for." "Exactly." 1 ,„ "Have they told you for what reason, Marcus. said our hero. leaning across the table, and re- garding his brother intently, Ye-es, I have a faint idea—we all have a faint idea of what the governor's wishes are, was the reply.. „ But not what mine are, I take it. "Of course not. It is simply for you to say what you think of the proposition, and to deciao accordingly. It is not my affair, Tom, so I don't worrv myself about it." "You might as well havo done so." Marcus Dagnell elevated his eyebrows in sur- prise at this remark. "Why?" he ventured to inquire. Because you can stand a great deal of worry, being blessed with equanimity and a slow circula- tion of the blood." Upon my honour, Tom, I fail to comprehend you all at once," drawled Marcus. If you ere chaffing a fellow, I wish you would say EO." "These are days of sober, serious, earnest men, and if you had pulled yourself together, and taken an interest in my future, you might have been able to throw some light upon this wretched com- plication," said Tom, irritably. I don't think so. I really don't, upon my honour," was Marcus's reply, the governor never took me into his confidence, and I don't suppose he ever will. I can't get on comfortably with the governor, he loses his temper so confoundedly that it's painf nl to have anything to do with him. It is positively, you know." yes, I know," said Tom, gloomily. "It's particularly odd, but the less the governor sees of me the more peaceable and quiet he is." "That is odd, perhaps," said Tom, after a moment's consideration of the problem, "for you are a man who should agree with most folk. That's exactly my notion. I hate bother and fuss it floors me, if there's much of that, I am not constituted for it." Why didn't they knock up a match between YOQnd Ursula ? You two would have suited each other admirably," cried his brother. I don't see it, Tom; upon my word, I don t see that at all." "You are both quiet and grave dummies enough, the Lord knows," said Tom, and you could have sat one on each sids of the fire, and waited patiently for doomsday." I don't like a quiet woman myself. I prefer a girl with life and animation and go' in her," Marcus remarked. The devil you do," said Tom, astonished, "I should not have thought that." "It's a fact, I assure you. I think a dull sort of girl, all prudence, propriety, and prayer-book, an awful bore. I do indeed." "I wonder what a woman all life, and soul, and would think ef Marcus Dagnell," said Tom, laughing out at last. Women like quiet men best, there's very little doubt about that." "All sorts of women for all sorts of men," an- swered Tom, there's no rule in the matter, and it's no use issuing one from Broadlands. And looking at you critically, mon frer,% and knowing that you were here, ready to hand, lamb-like and tractable, I am more puzzled than ever to account for the reason why you and Ursula did not make a match of it." r' Are you really?" said Marcus very slowly. "You are chaffing me ?" "Not at all, Why did they send ior me? Why bring back to the house the firebrand that was always threatening to destroy it—the man who was never obedient, who was self-willed and obstinate before he was a mAn, and who js the least likely to marry the woman of another's choosing ?" "Ye—es. ye—es, I know all that, Tom. I understand, perfectly, so you need not hammer away on the table with the nut-crackers any longer," answered Marcus, "it makes a terrible row, and I think I told you that my head was bad this evening." „ You have spoken of nothing but your head, said Tom, peevishly.. "As for my marrying Ursula, the whole thing was out of the question, Tom," Baid Marcus, she's a good girl, and will make an unexcep- tionally good wife but I couldn't marry her if they had wished it ever so much—which I must say ty didn't., I'm half married already, you know." "No, I don't know, said Tom." What do you mean?" I'm engaged to be married; I am decisively and positively booked, Tom, and there's no back- ing out of the contract." "Who's the happy lady ?" asked hia brother. Miss Oliver. "Oliver!" exclaimed Tom. "You don't mean Fanny Oliver 1" "Yes, I do." The little girl you were spoons on six or seven years ago, and who used to tease you so terribly, and call you Slowboy ?" "She still calls me Slowboy, Tom." Why, there was a row about her. They were afraid you might ge engaged off-hand, and—but —Marcus—" What's the matter? What are you staring at a fellow like that for? Is there anything over my head anywhere 1" "feir John and my lady used to look down upon the Olivers—they were not as genteel as the Dagnells, who had made money and got a knight- hood out of a City banquet to a foreign ruffian with a crown on, when the Darnells were of the City.cityish-the Olivers were low-class then, and not doing well—terribly vulgar, Marcus, How is it you have conquered the family dislike ?" ^ou haven't heard about the Olivers." Not a word—since poor Fanny was packed off to boarding-school, and you were sent to college. What of the Olivers?'' he asked. "They went to Birmingham, and old Oliver made a fortune out of dish-covers. You have heard ef Oliver's Patent Dish Covers, hayen't you 1" "I have been living abroad, and the fame of the dish-cover has not reached rue." I'll tell you about it another time, when I haven t such a splitting headache," said Marcus; I wonder if potass water would do me any good, or make me sick?" "Tell me of Miss Oliver, at all events." I met her in town last year, said Marcus. "I went down to her father's crib in Birmingham, by invitation afterwards, a big crib, with a fine crop of pictures on the walls, too. I proposed, was ac- cepted, and the wedding will come off in the autumn." And what kind of young lady has Fanny Oliver bloomed into ?" Marcus laid his hand confidentially on his brother's arm, and his face gathered slowly some vestige of expression to it. "She's a perfect clipper," he asserted. v Good. So Marcus Dagnell marries a perfect clipper, and his brother Tom is asked to become the bridegroom elect to a perfect—saint!" cried Tom, "yes, the philosopher was right. 'Life is a merry-go-round Shall we join the ladies ?" With pleasure," said Marcus. "JThey'llbe dull without us," was Tom's caustic comment here as they went together from the diuing-roora. CHAPTER IX.—AFTER DINNER, Lady Dagnell and Ursula, her niece by mar- riage, had been somewhat dull in the absence of the gentlemen, although judging by the thought- ful dinner which had passed, it was possible mat even the male presence would not have conduced to any great degree of exhiliration. Still, the ladks were more than ordinarily dull, or more ordinarily indifferent to each other's company. Lady Dagnell was pleased to consider that she was unwell, and hence we may not see her in her best moods:on the present occasion. She was "faint and weary," and was afflicted that parti- cular evening with a desire for fresh air, and for the windows to be opened to their fullest extent to admit it, which, being a March wind, was a trifle too fresh and boisterous for the occasion. It I do not have air I shall die," she was in the habit of protesting to her son Marcus, who had been more than once doubtful if closed win- dows and shut doors would not have offered some little consolation to him, even for his mother's premature decease.. Ursula Dagnell was not in the mood either for tie keen breeze, which swayed the curtains, and blew the flames of the wax candles aside. She was cowering away from it in an angle of the room, and bending over an open volume in her hand. It was thus the gentlemen found the ladies after dinner. "Gracious heaven, what a dreadful draught," said Marcus, as he entered. "Tom, you don't like this kind of breeze "1 don't object," replied Tom "Your brother is not of so fragile a material that he is likely to be blown away," said Lady Dagnell, "But you can shut most of the win- dows if you like. Leave me this one, if you have any charity." Very well, mamma, but I can.t help fancying you'll catch an influenza," said Marcus, as he walked from one window to another, and shut them with great care, after which he sat down by the scanty fire, which had been allowed to con- sume itself in the steel grate, and thrust both hands into his pockets. "You are not going to sleep, Marcus-your brother must be entertained in some I was not thinking of slesp, why replied Marcus. "I was wondenn0 y Biffin had not brought the tea in. a;j hi, "Wo tarn you to motner. Ursula, may ring ?" cn1P ransr without Ursula was close to tne L>e • diJ nofc loo]c npi looking up from the boo-c. tQ har slde) even when her cousm Tom j her light and steadily regarding the pa,rtin0 brown hair. ,,„]51-np Ursula?" room book of some land—a pi^uxc nTimDlgtneIl thought this curious, but he made no comment. 13 w1^ gj^e lakes' my place when my une'le Ts He, will send for me the instant th" How3 SC1he' has been of you," Tom re- m"You are astonished at his fondness ?" she in- auired, "at his confidence and trust in me? "A little Tom confessed, "In the old day?, I don't think he showed you any particular affec- #■* jf W Ho did not," was the deliberate reply. But then he did not show anybody else much of that commodity—not even he added, lowering his vo;ce," Lauy Daanell. Did she ever show much atreccion for him ? said Ursula, quickly. "I never saw any,' answered lom, with a short lau^h. "they were a queer couple—is it very remarkable that they are blessed with queer children." "Not very remarkable—and yet the children take not after father or mother." Are :Foil siii-e of that?" 1 an. sure of it," she replied. "Theirs has not been a happy marriage," said Tom, in a low voice. "They have never under- stood how to make home, children, or themselves happy, and yet they—for I suppose my mother is at the bottom of this notion—would teach us hapuiness by their unwisdom." "You misjudge your mother," said Ursula, "she does not wish us to be married. She is not so unwise as that." "Indeed." She sees as clearly as you do—as I do-what a mistake it would be," Ursula continued. "How you would despise and hate me for being a clog on your life—how I should despise and hate you for thinking me to be so." Well, it has not come to clogs," said Tom, smiliug; "not even to old slippers to be flung alter our post-chaise." Ursula resented his reply by a cold stare. Had not you better talk to your mother ?" she said. She has scarcely had the honour of a dozen words since your return." They have been more than sufficient for her, I am afraid. Ah poor mother, I wonder why heaven blessed her with another son, said Tom, as ho took nM cousin's hint and crossed to Lady Dagnell's side. „ They are an astonishing time about that tea, murmured Marcus, now fairly half asleep, and speaking with his eyes shut. "I should n">t be very much surprised if something had gone wrong with the kettle. I shouldn't-oh, here it is, at last-no, by Jove, it's only the Gamp. A stout, middle-aged woman opened the door, and came a few steps into the room. I am wanted," said Ursula, rising at the sight °f"No. Miss Dagnell," said the nurse, "if you jXill asleep?" asked Lady D*. ne«' He has woke up at last, my^lady—but he wishes to see Mr Thomas directly." But —" began Ursula. And if you please, Misa Dagnell, I was to say that he would not see anyone else, and that you were to make sure he was not troubled by anyone else's intrusion whilst his son was with him. I will go to him at once,' said Tom. You will remember that he is greatly changed and very weak," said Ursula, solicitiously. I will not forget your warning, cousin I am not likely to forget it." # "And that, under any circumstances," added Lady Dagnell, by way of postscript, violent conduct, or language, would distress him very much." "I wouldn't bully the old gentleman for five pounds," said Tom, very flippantly, at this "trust to my discretion, and-au revoir." He has not altered in the least," said Lady Dagnell, as the door closed behind him the same careless, callous being, that he ever was. Five years of adversity have not done him any good." I do not think'they have done him any harm," replied Ursula. How can you tell, Miss Dagnell ? Why should you know better than I ?" asked the elder woman impetuously; haven't I my wits about me; have I not studied the world and known the world much longer than yourself ? This is not the age of miracles, to turn an undutiful son like him into an obedient child." Or a woman like Lady Dagnell into a loving mother," muttered Ursula to herself. Lady Dagnell having found her tongue, now gave free vent to her complaints, and forgot how indisposed she was. She was by nature a fretful and intolerant woman whom nothing pleased in this world. There are not many like her scattered about, perhaps, but this was one of them, and a very m'rked specimen indeed. Everybody knew it at Broadiands; the family, the servants, the tradesfolk of Littlehampton, Biie almost knew it herself, she had been told of it so often by a plain- speaking husband, and a niece who was also not slow to express an opinion, if it were necessary. Lady Dagnell launched forth, but no one es- sayed to contradict her on this occasion-no one listened even. It WM a long, drawn out protest, a miserable monotone of her own wrongs and in- dignities, her own greatness and importance, her virtues, and everybody else's vices, her cleverness and everybody else's dullness of perception and Miss Dagnell took refuge in her book, and Marcus in his dreams, until the tea was brought into the room. After tea, Marcus stood upon the hearthrug and suggested that the one window remaining open would be better closed, as he felt a burn- ing in his throat—a remark to which his mother responded by her old cry, I must have air; I cannot be stifled, Marcus, this hot night, to please your selfishness." It's a mere suggestion, mamma," said Marcus, I was thinking more of your health than my own, upon my honour." He subsided into his chair again until he began to cough, when he rose once more and went out of the room in four long strides. The family at Broadiands saw no more of him that evening. Left to themselves, the ladies hardly made the best of their position. Lady Dagnell, tired out with her soliloquy, dozed off in her blue satin chair; and the plain little woman with the glasses rose aud passed noiselessly from her place into the seat recently vacated by the elder son, and sat before the fire, with a steady stare at the flickering red coal. Quiet and grave, stern and self-repress- ive as one might say Ursula] Dagnell was, she was scarcely herself that evening, and wonld have been a matter for much wonderment in the minds of those who considered that they knew her thoroughly. Cold andjimperturbable on ordinary occasions as she might be—a feminine shadow of her cousin Marcus, perhaps—she was not herself that night. But then it was not an ordinary occasion—there was the finger of Fate in it, pointing at her from the gap in the dark heavens, which were lowering above her head. She seemed to cower from it already; to sit there bowed down as by a great grief, or a terrible suspense against which even her stoicism had given way com- pletely. The woman sleeping by the open window would not have dreamed of that storm-stricken figure by the fire, a figure weeping silently, struggling hard to weep silently, with shaking hands pressed down upon the bosom to keep the heavy sobs down; with lips parted,^ breath short and quick, and grey eyes ablaze with their own flame. A young woman in darkness of mind, and borne down by incertitude, waiting there in fear and trembling, as at a great crisis of her life. Presently in that big, silent house footsteps were heard descending the stairs-his footsteps. Ursula Dagneli knew their quick, impetuous tread, though they hadlnot rung in her ears for live long years. She dashed the tears from her eyes; put on her glasses hastily, and was sitting pale and still enough, when the door opened and he came in looking like a ghost. Ursula drew a long breath at the sight of him, but he did not heed it —probably did not perceive it, in his own excite- ment. The mother opened her eyes as he entered, but he did not notice her. He went straight to the side of his cousin, and held out both his hands. "Ursula," he said, I ask you to become my wife. Will you have me for your husband t" (To be continued.)
MR GLADSTONE WITH HIS CONSTITUENTS.
MR GLADSTONE WITH HIS CONSTITUENTS. Mr Gladstone has notified his wiliincuess to address his constituents in November. A com- mittee has been appointed to make the necessary arrangements for the meeting, which will be a very important one, as Mr Gladstone will make it the occasion of taking his farewell of the electors of Greenwich. At first a soiree was proposed, it being thought that a banquet would have the effect of excluding the working men electors, who constitute three-fourths ef the constituency. It is now proposed to hold a banquet at the Wool- wich Rink, and afterwards to throw open the grounds, so that all classes may see and hear the right hon. gentleman.
---------MINISTERIATYISIT…
MINISTERIATYISIT TO CYPRUS. Admiral George Greville Welleslev, C.B., Senior Naval Lord of the Admiralty, left London on Sunday nisrht for Paris. On Monday morning Sir Massey Lopes, M.P., one of the Lords of the Admiralty; the Hon. Algernon Egerton, M.P., First Secretary; Colonel Paisley •Director of Works and Captain Evans, Hydro- grapher; with Mr Evan Macgregor, Private Becretar-v to Admiral Wellesley, Mr H. Caring- ton J. Wilson, and Mr J. H. Giffard, left Paris en route to Marseilles. Admiral Wellesley Sir Massey Lopes, the Hon. A. Greville, and other officials of the Admiralty were expected to leave Paris for Marseilless on Tuesday morning on their way to Malta and Cyprus. It is understood that Sir M. Hicks-Beach and the First Lord of the Admiralty have renounced their intention of visiting Malta and Cyprus, owing to the unsettled state of affairs in the East.
[No title]
Ten English cricketers—Lord Harris, Messrs HornbYÅ. P, Lucas, Schultz, Mackinnon, Abso. hiro, Eoyle, with Maul, Emmett, and Ulyett, the Yorkshire professionals—sailed from Southampton, on Thursday, by P. and O. steamer for Australia, where they are to play a series of matches against the colonists. The ten gentlemen and players, above named, will be joined at Suez by Messrs J. Webb and Hone, the other members of the team. It is understood that this English twelve will probably play a match at Melbourne, i on Boxing-dav. against the Australian team now in Amerifjs
BENEATH THIi WAVE.
BENEATH THIi WAVE. A NOVEL BY DORA RUSSELL, AUTHOII OF "THE VICAR'S GOVERNESS." "Foo, riilNTS IN THE SNOW," &C., &C." CHAPTER XLVIII.—NEAR THE GATZ. "Horace!" repeated Hayward, after Hilda had told her ill news. Yes," said Hilda, slowly, and she sat wearily down on a chair near the door, as it she wore quite worli out. lIe has not been well for days," she continued. "I have noticed how tired and de- pressed he seemed, and this morning he saw the doctür-J.ndand- Well, we must hope he will throw it off," said Hayward, kindly. I am glad that you sent for me, Hilda." "It was by his wish," said Hilda. "As soon as ha heard that he had taken the fever he asked me to telograph for you." i' es ?" Aiid he has asked several times for you- but at the same time, if you have any fear- "I have none," said Hayward. "I shall be glad to go to him at once." So Hilda led the wav to her husbana's bedroom, and as Hayward entered it and looked at Jervis, I a certain feeling of awe came over his heart. Jarvis was asleep—an uneasy, fevered sleep. As they stood and looked at him he moaned and tossed. Then he opened his eyes, which had a far-away look in them, unlike their usual cheerful and serene expression. Horace," said Hilda, gently, and at the sound of her voice something of the old familiar look stole back. <. "My dear one," he said, and he,d ouu a hot, thin hand. „ Do you see Mr Hayward ? said Hilda. Then Jarvis looked a Hay ward, and a fain- quiver, and then a faint smile, passed over his "lam glad you have come. Thank you for coming, Phillip, he said, the next minute. But I am sorry to find you ill* Horace, said Hayward. Then Jervis smiled again-a strange, solemn I have received my summons, Phillip,' he said, quietly. I believe I am gomg to eternal rest." There was no fear in the young man s &° shrinking. He was going to rest, and latterly there had been some disquiet, some sharp pangs of mental paiii within his heart. "Oh, Horace wept Hilda, "do not talk thus -do not leave me-" Again Jervis smiled. "It is all for the best, dear one," he said. "Oar Father in heaven is watching over us now." "But, Horace," said Hilda, kneeling down by the bed, and taking his hand, why do you think this? Do you feel so very ill?' "Yes," answered Jervis slowly, and I have much to do in the little time that I have left. Tiiis is why I sent for you, Hayward, he con- tinued, looking at Hayward. "You must not leave this poor little woman alone in her time of trouble." I will do anything. What can I do? asked Hayward, much affected. First, I want you to help me to make my will," said Jervis. I will tell you what I want to do, and then will you draw a rough draft out, and take this to some lawyer, and have it properly prepared, and then bring it to me to sign ?" Of course I will," said Hayward, speaking brusquely and shortly to hide his emotion. Go, dear Hilda, then, until this is done, said Jervis. "It would only be painful to you, and I wish to see Hayward alone." Then Hilda left him, with streaming eyes and after she had gone, in a calm clear voice Jervis told Hayward how he wished his moderate for- tune to be left. Everything to Hilda but he also left certain directions and bequests regarding his many charities. To these he prayed his dear wife to continue his subscriptions, and left in her hands the'sacred trust to give, as far as her means went, to those who needed. It was a very simple will, and Hayward wrote down Jervis' words just as he spoke them. Then Jervis said a few words about Lady Ham- ilton. "Don't let her drift further down, Phillip," he said "She will live now the doctors say, so stand by her, and act as her friend." But- hesitated Hayward. Remember the poor weak woman has an ever- lasting life to live," urged Jervis. "Try to make her not forget this—you and Hilda—try to heep her straight by being her friends, now when she will have so few." 0 Hayward thought a moment, then he said I will try." That is right," said Jervis, with some of his old frank manner. And now," he added after a few moments' thought, I have a few words to say to you, Hayward—that you must remember are spoken now, because I do not know how long speech may be left to me." What are they, Horace ?" About Hilda, said Jervis, and for the first time his voice faltered. About the dear woman --I have loved too well-" "Too well," repeated Hayward, as Jervis paused, evidently deeply affected. Yes, too well," he said solemnly and slowly, as soon as he had recovered himself sufScientlv to speak, for my love blinded me to the feelings of her heart." What do you mean ?" asked Hayward, sharply. The bitterness is passed," said Jervis, as if he were thinking rather than speaking. But I I know now that for her sake--I am better » gonc- Why do you say so ? said Harward, almost passionately. "Because," answered Jervis, "because I learnt too late that this dear woman-this woman whoso love was so precious to me whose love I believed was entirely, most truly my own- had yet a secret from me-" "What?" said Hayward, sharply, as Jervis paused. "A secret that she has kept, because she thought it was her duty to keep it," continued Jervis. "Can you gueea now, Hayward, what I mean ?" Hayward was silent, but a deep, red flush spread over his face, "I see you guess," said Jervis and for a moment a pang darted into his heart. But the next, the serene faith of the man triumphed over this momentary weakness. "She is a good girl, he said, "good■ and pure, aud it was by no fault of hers that I learnt that what she gave to me——was not Hayward, what she gave to you—— t —— Do not speak of it," said Hayward, much agitated, and beginning to pace the room. In a little while, continued J ervis, with a ring in his voice so holy and so sweet that Hay- ward ever after remembered it "for her, the sorrow for my death will be over. This is why I have conquered the weak-the last weak mor- tal pang that will stab my heart-. and God has given me strength to conquer it. Do not think I did not suffer, Hayward. She was the one woman I had ever loved-but I loved God. He com- forted me. His love is all-sufficient for me. He has given me strength to tell you this after I am gone, you must love Hilda. Oh hush huah cned Hayward. For a moment 'here -was silence in the room after this. Then once more, in that sweet and ringing voice, Jervis continued It was shortly before .Lady Hamilton's illness that I learnt this. It was by a simple incident— accident I cannot call it. You had left your photograph lying on the table for Marion. I was sitting reading behind the window curtain in the dining-room, ancl IEC,:Ida came in. She never saw me. She took up tne photograph-and- and 1 watched her look: at it, as she had never looked at me. Then she lifted it up, an(j pi.esse(j her lips against it, and then the next moment flung it passionately dowu. I will not go on. Next I heard a woman praying, Hayward- praying that she might always make me happy—asking God there on her bended knees to give her strength to conquer the feelings of her heart It was a bitter moment—nay, I will not deny it-but -but with God's grace I bore it. With God's grace I am able to tell it to you now." As Jervis ceased speaking, a sob broke the silence in the room a passionate, heart-wrung sob from Hayward. 0 I 1 ■ ■ told her once," he said, in a falter- ing and broken voice, that your heart was half in heaven, Jervis, but-but I never knew before there was a man on earth who lived so near God." After a little while Hilda came into the sick room, and Hayward left it. There was no trace on Jervis' face, when Hilda returned of the painful and selfish words he just had spoken. Its serenity had always been one of the characteris- tics of this man's faith, and a great calm seemed to fall upon his spirit now. He had conquered the last mortal weakness of his heart when he told Hayward of Hilda's love, and his last days were spent in perfect peace. He did not linger long. The unhappy woman beneath his roof-the vain and beautiful Isabel— had lain for many, many weeks on her bed of fever and of pain. But the pure-souled Jervis had a brief passage to the grave. Before he went he sent a message of farewell to Isabel by Hayward, and she wept some very bitter tears when she re- ceived it. "What, dying I" she said. It cannot—cannot be "I fear there is no hope," answered Hayward, much overcome. Then Isabel cried out, He is too good to live and I have killed him; I-I brought this fever to his house, miserable woman that I am "He is fit to go—he is truly fit to go, Isabel," said Hayward, trying to say some kindly words to her. "Let this console you, Jervis need have no fear." But Isabel would not be comforted. She cried and moaned until Hayward began to fear some serious consequences to her own health would be the result. He hinted this to her, and Isabel grew afraid. I dare not die," she said, shudderingly." Hayward, I dare not die." It was close on midnight when Jervis left them. For some hours he had been apparently insensible, but just before the end came, he opened his eyes and looked at the tear-stained faces gathered round his bed. He moved his lips as if to speak, but his voice was gone. Then he looked at Hilda and Hayward. He smiled, and with a last effort held out his hand. They both clasped it-both held it fast during the next few momenta-for in these next few moments the angels came for the soul of Horace Jervis. CHAPTER XLIX. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith." During the next dark, dreary days—the days when the good man's earthly form lay still in the home which he had truly made a shelter to the homeless, there were bitter, bitter tears shed for Horace Jervis. The young widow, with her hands clasped over her hot and swollen eyelids, lay in her darkened room crushed down with self-reproach and erief. Ah, had she known of his last tender thoughts- of his unselfish words to Hayward—what would she have felt! As it was she recalled, with bitter and heartfelt regret, his constant kindness, his unfailing consideration and atÍection for herself. And ii id she failed? How often she asked herself this question. Had she ever by look or word betrayed her secret—the secret that she had hidden in her breast—and struggled with so long and sorely ? She knew not, and guessed not, that the good man who had left her had learned this that it had been a bitter biow to him. Jervis had never even liiuted tins to her. She had watched and waited on him, and when his last hours drew nigh, almost with awe she had seen his calmness, his peace, his serene and perfect joy. Oiice or twice in her sorrow she cried out, when he was giving her some directions about duties that were to be fulfilled after lie was gone. Oil! Horace," she said, with streaming eyes, "have you no regret at leaving me alone." "I am not leaving you alone, my dear one," he had answered, I am leaving you in the care ot God." He knew at that moment that he was leaving her ail earthly protector also, but lie said no word of this. It was better for her, he thought, that she should not kno v, and as he had lived, think- ing of others, so he died. There was a long procession followed him to his grave. But of whom did it consist ? Not of the rich or of the great of the vast city where he *had toiled. In that long procession were the widowed, I the fatherless, and the fallen—to all of whom he had been a friend. I There was one poor girl one of those gay daughters of sin-a girl yet young and handsome, whom Jervis had tried most earnestly to save. She heard of his death, and when he lay in his coffiu she came to his house, and asked to look upon his face once more. Her message was taken to Hilda, but Hilda had learned from the lips that now were closed, that most excellent gift of charity," and she sent down a few kind words to her erring sister. So the girl went upstairs and looked on his dead face. Then she fell down by the side of the coffin, crying and weeping, saying that it was the face of an angel, and from that hour she would sin no more. She followed him to the grave. Dressed in mourning, and crying bitterly, she stood by while the solemn and beautiful words of our funeral service were read in a broken and tear-choked voice by one of the many who had loved Jervis well. Then, just at the last, she sprang forward, and flung a great bunch of blue forget-me-nots into the grave. I will never forget you she cried. You were a good man—you tried to save me—and your words shall not be lost She kept the promise that she made beside his grave. In after days Hilda, who had heard of this incident, helped her, and stood by her faith- fully as a friend. Thus many of his good deeds lived after him, and his name was blessed when he had long been dead. When the firsi bitter days of bereavement were past. Hilda and Lady Hamilton went to a quiet spot by the seaside. Change was necessary for them both, the doctor told Hilda, and Isabel was only. too glad to learn that she might go. She was recovering from her dangerous illness but slowly and feebly. But the sea air worked wonders with her, and in a little while the bloom began to steal back to her lovely face, When she saw this she grew inwardly restless, and impatient of the seclusion in which they lived. She hailed, therefore, joyfully the news that Hayward was coming to see them after they had been about a month at the little sea-washed spot on the coast, which he had chosen as a*fitting retreat for Hilda during the first weeks of her widow- hood. Hilda, watching Isabel, saw her on the day that Hayward was expected, throw aside the dress that she usually wore, and don a more be- coming one. *Then she began twisting her golden hair into some new fashion, and brought out her rings and ornaments. It was like a glimpse of the Isabel of old-the Isabel who had tried to win the admiration and love of every man who ap- proached her. Bat Hayward when he came scarcely looked at her. He looked at the sweet, sad face beneath the widow's cap, and saw at once how ill, anxious, and weary Hilda still looked. After the ordinary greetings between the three had been passed, Isabel rose somewhat hastily. "My dear Hilda," she said, speaking and act- ing so like the Isabel of old, and so unlike the terrified, trembling woman that he had seen lying on her sick bed, that Hayward could scarcely help smiling, "I would like to have a few words on busines3 matters with Mr Hayward-if you don't mind leaving us alone ?" Hilda's face flushed, but she at once rose to comply with Isabel's request. Why should Mrs Jervis go away?" said Hay- ward, quickly. "Sheknows of everything that we can have to talk about." It was now Isabel's turn to flush,Jbut she an- we can have to talk about." It was now Isabel's turn to flusb,but she an- swered cold and haughtily: You forgot, I think, that by that last insane will, Sir George left you the guardian of my son ?" No, I do not forget that," said Hayward, but by this time, Hilda was at the room-door. "Let me know when you have finished your conversation," she said quietly and she left the room as she spoke. Then Isabel took a turn across it, as if she were thinking, but presently stopped before Hayward. "Well," she said, "about the boy? Do you mean to bring him up to hate his mother ?" "No, certainly not," answered Hayward. energetically. "And I trust and hope Lady Hamilton," he added, that you will give me no cause to wish to do so," "You mean you hope I'll turn good, and walk in the straight path, eh, Hayward ?" said Isabel with a little uneasy laugh. Yes," said Hayward, "I mean, I hope that none of us will forget—what ought, what must be a lesson to us all-the death of Horace Jervis." For a moment Isabel was silent. Then she said, He was a good man-the only good man, Hay- ward, that I have ever known." IELe-he-wax-- began Hayward, but he could not go on. The memory of Jervis' last unselfish words to him, of the last hand-clasp, ut- terly overcame him, and he turned away his head to hide his emotion. "But we can't all belike Mr Jervis," said Isabel presently. He was born good, I sup- pose, just like most of us are born-the other thing." Hayward did not speak. "But I was not born good," continued Isabel, and, in truth, Hayward, I am weary of living this quiet life down here." Wlior ? <io you wish to go ?' asked Hayward. "Abroad——people won't cast up their hypo- critical eyes quite as much at me there, you know. And as I shall be pretty well off as regards IDoney-" 11 Yei3, you will be well off as regards money," said Hayward, as Isabel paused. "But Lady Hamilton "WelL what have you got to say?" said Isabel. "Shall I tell you," continued Hayward, in a trembling voice, what the good man who is gone said to me about you before he left us ?" "No, no," said Isabel hastily, "I would rather not hear; it will only make me uncomfort- able." But he charged me solemnly," said Hayward, "to look after you. He said I was always to be your friend, and if you go away, lsabel-" "You think I will go to perdition, no doubt?" said Isabel, again with that light, uneasy langh. "But," she added, after a moment's thought, "for the boy's sake I won't do that-perhaps for your sake, though you have not been over kind to me-but I can't stand the dulness here." But," hesitated Hayward. you are a widow now—would it not be the best and wisest thing that you can do to marry Captain Warring- ton? "To marry Captain Warrington!" repeated Isabel, her face turning suddenly scarlet. Do you know what that coward wrote to me, Hay- ward, on the day the trial was against me? He ought to have stood by me. He wrote to say that after such a public exposure he must decline to have anything further to say to me What do you think of that?" she continued, pas- sionately. It was a gentlemanly action, wasn't it?" "It was a cowardly action," said Hayward, "to strike you then, but-" Oh, yes, I know what you moan," said Isabel, still in a rage. You mean that perhaps 1 would have married you before that if you had asked me ? So I would-but he didn't know it, and he behaved like a scoundrel." o We will not discuss it, then," said Hayward. "What I meant was, you would be better mar- ried," Isabel laughed. "I had a happy experience, hadn't I ?" she said. "No. I am free now, and for a while at least I mean to remain so." Then she began asking Hayward about her money," and how it was to be sent, and making other arrangements for living entirely abroad. In vain Hayward argued with her. I mean to go," she said, looking at him, smilingly. Will you come over to Paris to see me or do you think I am too wicked for y ou to trust yourself with me?" I hope not," said Hayward, gravely. But he saw it was no use. Isabel meant to go. Sh3 was weary, as she told Hayward, of living with Hilda. "She is always thinking," she said, "and I hate to think. So I want to live where I shall have no time to do so. And thus she went away. She was a little- just a very little affected when she parted with Hilda. "Good bye," she said, and she kissed Hilda's cheeks, which was a rare action of hers. "You have been very kind to me-you are not a bad kind of young woman and I suppose by- and bye, you and Hayward will be making a match of it." "What folly, what nonsense," said Hilda, blushing scarlet. "Oh, I dare say it will all come right," said Isabel, "and then sometimes I'll come over, and see you-and Peggy." Long afterwards Hilda told Hayward of Isabel's parting words about her little boy. And then they often talked of them. The words left them a kind of hom-a hope which, as time went on, and rumours of Isabel's life reached their ears—that they clung to in vain, for she has never come back, she lives in Paris, and when good women speak of the beautiful Lady Hamilton they cast down their eyes and sigh. But there are other women who envy her-envy her beauty, her diamonds, her gav, careless, and easy life. But these women were not with her in the darkened room in Jervis'house in her deadly pain. They were not with her when she was ashamed to live, and afraid to die. She hates to think, she told Hayward, but sometimes dark thoughts must come back to her. Sometimes the skeletons that she hides away so well—hid?s beneath her gay attire, her laughter, and the excitement and whirl in which she lives-must shadow-like re-appear, warning her that the day will come when the dark hours of dread and fear will inevitably return. But twelve months andjmore had passed away after J ervis' death before Hilda told Hayward that Isabel had spoken of coming back to see her that Isabel had spoken of coming back to see her little child. Bv this time Hayward had asekd Hilda to be his wife. He did this even then with a certain feeling in his heart that he was speaking to) soon. But he had a reason for doing so apart from Hilda. The reason was that Marion Marston, who had lived with her sister during the last eight or ten months, had once or twice given him what she called "a hint." As we have seen, Marion Mars- ton lacked, in a very great degree, the sensitive and refined temperament that distinguished her younger sister Hilda. So as she thought that Hayward came too much about the house without ever distinctly saying what he came for, and as she cherished certain ideas about becoming Mrs Hayward herself, she contrived to allow him to see pretty clearly that she did so. But if Hayward had ever thought of her she ended her chances on the day when she gave him her "hint." Hayward laughed at the time, said something pleasant, and then turned a vay. But the next time he went to the house he asked Hilda to be his wife. When the faltering words had passed his lips- faltering and broken, yet understood by the blushing and agitated woman who listened to them, Hilda was silent for a moment, and t hen looked up into his face, and held out her kand. "Oh Philip," she said, "is it not too soon— to forget? To-to be so happy—" He, too, is happy, my dear, and he wished it," answered Hayward, and as he spoke Hilda's he.d fell ou the breast of the man whom she had loved so faithfully an 1 so well. THE END.
NOTES ON AGRICULTURE.
NOTES ON AGRICULTURE. a [BY A PRACTICAL FARMER. J co an. LONDON", Saturday.—There is no material change in the value of wheat, but, if anything may be said, it is that the trade is still greatly depressed, and the turn is in favour of buyers. This is still owing to the large arrivals of foreign, and to t^e large stocks accumulating in the ports abroad for shipment when required. There are now 1,438,500 quarters on the way, against 82,3,000 quarters at this time last year, while in American ports the quantities accumulated are reported at 1,659,0JO quarters. These accounts speak for themselves as regards the home prices of our inferior home-grown samples. Fine barley is making such good prices that we have the singular record of home-grown barley averaging more than wheat by 2d per quarter—viz., as gazetted, barley, 40s 6d; wheat 40s 4d. Maize is unaltered in value. New beans are cheaper, but old samples, both English and foreign, are scarce and dearer. Peas are selling at late prices, but oats are Is cheaper, from having come freely to hand. LIVE STOCK AND MEAT. Store animals continue to fetch great prices, in consequence of the absence of frosts, the super- abundance of grass, and the prospect of an ample supply of roots, which, with the present low price of corn—it being as well to make it into meat as to sell it—make it likely that the present excessive prices of store animals will be con- tinued. The fat stock markets have been well supplied in consequence of the favourable season for grass. I have seen lots of cattle that were turned to graze in the Midland counties in May, with a view to their growing into fresh condition for putting to swedes and cake in yards this month. But many of them are now fit for consumption, and where farmers are short of cash-and this com- plaint I regret to say is very general-many are being sent to market to kill, instead of to farms for sale to arable farmers. American meat is now arriving in fair quantities, but beyond seeing some retailed in good condition at 9d per lb. for the best joints, I have not been able to-day to get such information as would en- able me to speak with authority on the general supply and trade. Next week, however, I shall be able to pick up the stray threads of this matter. THE LONDON DAIRY SHOW. The third meeting in London of the Dairy Farmers' Association has this week made a great stride in advance, so much so that its annual meetings in future may be looked forward to as a certain, and, I may add, well- deserved success. There is a really good show of cows and bulls, an announcement which I have not been able to make before. Last year, how- ever, the live animals were confined to goats, as the rinderpest was in our midst in the Metropoli- ton districts, or if not exactly among us in October it had raged so recently that the Privy Council were wise in not allowing animals to come to London and then go home again. The attendan ce of visitors, too, which on previous occasions has been very meagre, was on Thursday and yesterday fairly satisfactory to the promoters of the show. Yesterday, I should say, there would have been as many as 8,0 00 in the hall, which would repre- sent, if they all paid Is, £400. On Thursday, the half-crown day, the attendance was also good, so I hone the proprietory v. ill be recouped their £1,500 in prizes, and have a good balance for ex- penses and profit. The pure" shorthorn cows in many instances were not so much like first-class animals as I should like to have seen. Amidst the fashion for breeding bulls of a certain stamp, and breeding heifers with heavy shoulders and neck for this purpose, the value of milk-giving powers has been very much overlooked. Hence in the pure" or pedigree shorthorn classes the fat backs were more attractive than the milk- bearing vessels. The first prize cow, however, was an exception to this general view. She was named The Countess," but what her pedigree was did not transpire. She is a large fleshy cow, with a broad rump, and rounds so deep and good that her hind legs stand well apart for her good bag to be conveniently carried. She was a little mean over the horn, but as she has been a good breeder and she is over 10 years of a,-e. this may be thus fairly accounted for. She had a deep chest, fine chine and neck, while her head and loin were as good as anyone need wish to see. When we add she had twin calves by her side her merit, as the winner of the first prize as a dairy cow, hvillnot be lessened. Mr T. Kingsley, Aylesbury,'sent two beefy cows to this class, one of which the judges commended. The second was awarded to Mr Tisdale, a dairyman at Kensington and Epsom. Mr Joseph Stratton was third with Rosette, an eight-year-old cow, sire James 1st (24,202), the price of which he put at £ 200. It would require a lot of milk and butter to pay off this sum, which an eight-year-old cow would be very un- likely to do. So much, however, for fashion, and the neglect of the tell-tale weights and measures and the price per lb. The shorthorn bulls were a good collection. The celebrated show bull, Sir Arthur Ingram, seven years old, the property of Mr Linton, Sheriff Hutton, York, was 1st in the aged class, and also won the silver medal as the champion in the male classes. This was a satisfactory award, as Sir Arthur is a large muscular bull to look at, and he is of very fine quality, whatever his capa- city for begetting dairy stock may be. This matter, however, does not come into the consider- ation of the judges. The gold medal, however, for bull, cow, and offspring, was awarded for Royal Haveling 2nd, a bull bred by Mr Mackin- tosh, and a cow and issue. This bull was only highly commended in his class, but he is large and of good form and fine quality. The second was Mr Bland's General Fuzlee—whatever that queer name may mean and the third was the Stand Stud Company's Favorite. The Jerseys were a very interesting collection, although but few. Mr George Simpson, of Wray Park, Reigate, took 1st for cows with his cele- brated Luna. This animal is considered to be the finest model of a Jersey milker that has ever been shown. A few of the leading points of a Jersey cow are these-In the first place she should have a peculiarly constructed fiame of bones, and this should be covered with skin at the projecting points, and nothing more. Her rump ends should be like two inverted oysters, and as free from flesh or fat; from these her spine should run in a perfectly horizontal position, the tail lying level with the upper edges of the oyster-like hindermost extremity. Her hips should be level with her spine, but fairly wide;—the wider her loin, of course, the better, but there must be but little flesh, and no fat on it; passing forward, the chine should be sharp and bare, with a touch something like what a book of suitable thickness would have if a fresh pliable skin were hung over it. The thinner the neck and the handsomer the head so much the better, but the latter is regulated according to the beauty it may be considered by the taste of the spectator, Such is a brief outline of a Jersey milking cow. Mr Simpson says lie has a horror of his cows getting fat, and if he has one that is getting fresh on grass, or on the general food his herd gets, he lessens her supply of fattening food, and gives her more chaff, and less meal. The Ayrshire cattle were very pretty and dis- played more milking capacity, according to their size, .than any other breed. The goats were numerous and various in form and colour. A great effort is being made by the admireis of these animals to make them more popular in this country. It is said that they are profitable on poor mountain sides where nothing else will live. Granted but happily we generally find it more profitable in Great Britain to grow Dartmoor, Welsh, or Scotch sheep on the higher j lands we have to deal with. With a considerable show of cbeese-most stands of which were picked qualities batter- making on the spot, and specimens of butter of home-make and most of the butter countries of the continent, together with a goodly number of poultry and pigeons, there is certainly a show in the Agricultural Hall that ought to attract Cockney sight-s:ers. But whether the British Dairy Farmers' Association will not find that they are kicking against the pricks in attempting to show British farmers that they can compete with their high rents against the batter-makers of Europe and America, remains to be proved.
[No title]
The herring fishery, hitherto an entire failure at Lowestoft, has taken a turn. After the wind abated on Friday the b)ats put to sea, and on Saturday morning a good number of fish were landed, several boats making £100 for their night's catch. Prices ranged from P,30 to £.35 per last. With the present favourable weather, further suc- cess is anticipate d. Charles Savii', summoned at the Epping petty- sessions for neglecting to send his boy to school, made au address to the bench, in which he said he wculd just give it straight. He could not and he would not send his boy to school. He was 12 years old, and ought to help to get his living. He would not send his boy to school, and that was all about it. The magistrate made an attendance order. Defendant I shall not comply with it. I will have a rest in Springfield gaol. They'll serve me well there, and wait upon me, and the parish will have to keep my wife and family in- stead of me. A boiler explosion has taken place at the brick works of Mr Warner, Stoke-on-Trent, injuring four men so seriously that they had to be removed to the North Staffordshire Infirmary, where they lie in a helpless condition. Two of them were blown a considerable distance, and precipitated into a marl hole. The front part of the boiler was blown across a canal, while the main part went in an opposite direction, knock- ing down the chimney-stack and engine-house, and sending most of the machinery down the marl hole, where several men had a narrow escape. The cause of the explosion is not known.
---__-THE CAERLEOU EDOWEDf'…
THE CAERLEOU EDOWED f' SCHOOLS. The first meeting of the governors of the Caer- ) leon Endowed Schools (under the new scheme of the Charily Commissioners) was held at the Schools on Monday. The following- gentlemen were present ;-The Bishop of Llandaff and Rev, Canon Edwards, ex-ojicios; Sir T. Cordes, M.P. P, e v. Canon Hawkins Mr Homfray, J.P. and Mr L. A. Homfray, J.P. (co-optative); Sir A. W. Maekworth, Bart.; Archdeacon Sleemau; Rev. Archer; Mr J. Jones, J.P. and Messrs M. M. Cope; A. A. Williams, and F. Parry, rep- resentative. The Bishop of LI ami air was unani- mously elected chairman, and the Rev. Canon Ed- wards vice-chairman for the ensuing year. Mr C. B. Fox was appointed clerk, at a salary of £ 60 per annum, and Mr T. E. Cooke was appointed surveyor and auditor, at a salary of £ 25 per an- num. The bounty money due to the children under the old system was ordered to be p:dd. It was also resolved that the governors should meet four times in each year, and visiting committee, con- sisting of the following gentlemen, was appointed: Rev Canon Edwards and Messrs S. Homfray, F. J. Mitchell, and M. M. Cope, who will have to conduct the business relating to the schools in the interim. Another committee was appointed to supervise and control the property of the foun- dation, consisting of Messrs J. Jame3, J.P. L. A. Homfray, A. A. Williams, and T. Parry. Mr J. James gave notice that at the next meet- ing of the board lie would apply for a grant for the pur;ose of repairing .certain roads leading into Caerleon. The Rev. Canon Edwards applied for a grant of about JE40 to supply kneelers to the parish church. This subject was discussed and ultimately referred to the Charity Commissioners. Revs. Williams, (Bedwas); and Archer, (Christchurch); applied for grants towards the restoration of the churches in their parishes. It see-iis that the governors hold considerable pro- perty in the parishes, and they instructed the rev. gentlemen to make the application. The board resolved to make grants in each case sub- ject to the approval of the Charity Commissioners. A letter was read from the Education Depart- ment, calling the attention of the governors to the limited space and defective ventilation of the school buildings. This was referred to the visit- ing committee. Mr W. Williams, master of the boys' school, not being certificated, is unqualified under the new scheme, for that position, and he will continue to hold office only to the end of the present school term, when a successor will be appointed. There were two co-optative governors absent, Mr F. J. Mitchell, J.P., and Mr G. W. Nicholl, J.P. The board sat for three hours, and much important business was referred to the next meeting. On Sunday the crew of the ship Eblana, of and from Liverpool, for Madras, were landed at Jfal- moutb. The vessel, on Thursday last, was struck by a heavy sea, which threw her on her side, aud rendered the situation very perilous. The Eblana was settling down fast, when the barque Decapolis, of and bound to London, from Australia, was sighted, and bore do wn and took the crew off, but the operation was attended with considerable danger, in a heavy gale of wind, six passages having to be made to the ship before the 23 men were transferred. It is announced that the following dates have been fixed for holding the winter assizes or gaol delivery,—Northern Circuit (Mr Justice Manisty and Mr Justice Fry), Manchester, Thursday, Oc- tober 2i Liverpool, Monday, November 4, at both of which places civil aa well as criminal business will be taken. Western Circuit (Lord Chief Justice Coleridge), Exeter, Saturday, Oc- tober 26 Bristol, Saturday, November 2 Win- chester, Thursday, November 7. Midland Circuit (Mr Baron Huddleston), Bedford, Thursday, Oc- tober 24 Leicester, Tuesday, October 29 Not- tingham. Friday, November 1; Warwick, Wed. nesday, November 6. At the recent revision of the Blackburn list of burgesses, the Conservative agent (Mr D. Scho. field) was forcibly expelled from the court by two policemen by order of the mayor. The cause of this was that he returned into court after having left it and taken all books and duplicates with him as a mark of his disapproval of the mayor's conduct in asking certain questions. Repeatedly Mr Schofield declined to be quiet or to sit down when ordered by the mayor, and, after several times cautioning him, the mayor gave the order to two policemen to put him out. Afterwards, he again entered the court, and refusing to apologise or remain quiet, was a second time, by the order of the mayor, put out of court. The occTarrence created great excitement. Both the town clerk and the assessors publicly spoke of Mr Schofield's conduct as unwarrantable and intolerable..Mr I Schofield told the mayor he had acted unconsti- tutionally, and also toid the town clerk not to give an opinion until he was asked. He likewise refused to take his hat off in court. A private letter from a naval officer with the China fleet says, under date, Shanghai, August 30 :—The presence of Russian cruisers in Chinese A private letter from a naval officer with the China fleet says, under date, Shanghai, August 30 :-The presence of Russian cruisers in Chinese waters continues to give cause for the most watch- ful vigilance. The Frolic arrived here on the 28th, and reported the arrival of the Russian monitors, Smertch, Uragan, E linorog and Peroon at Bakodadi, a gulf of the Pacific, in the extreme north ',of Japan. As they ^bad taken up position, apparently for a long stay, the extreme north ',of Japan. As they ^bad taken up position, apparently for a long stay, it was considered advisable to send on the Lily, Magpie, and Frolic by different routes to inter- cept the Admiral on his cruise, and advise him of the Muscovite advent. It is considered here that strong representation will be made to the senior captain of the squadron upon the indiscreet, if not illegal, course he is pursuing in demonstrat- ing with so large a force upon the shores of a re- served and suspicions nation. The country is now much excited by political and theological agitators, and at the request of our ambassador, Sir Harry S. Parkes, our small force of gunboats has been kept out of harbour, and cruising as much as possible to avoid giving offence to a remarkably excitable people.
Advertising
G. A. STONE'S FUNERAL FURNISHING ESTABLISHMENT Stands unrivalled for moderate charges, com- bined with Coffins, Hearses, Mourning Coaches, and all the necessary equipments for first-elass Funerals of superior style and finish, and is con- ducted under the hnjnediate superintendence of the proprietor. Everything necessary for completely furnishing funerals kept on the pre- mises trienda ol deceased persons axe thereby spared the trouble of consulting- any second person. The proprietor keeping horseihearees, tnouraiDg' coashea, &c., can offer adrastsg* for funerals of every description, at prim tower than any other house in Cardiff. Axrmag-e- ments for graves "-0., also made by proprietor. Funerals with best hearse and coach, pair of horses and hanging velrets to eaeh, superior black cloth eoffin, riehly nailed, metal breast-plate en* graved, flannel linings, mattress In bottom, flannel shroud, best pall, hat-bands, and attendance to ceme- tery ». £ 5 10 e Bad Glass with hearse and coach com- plete 410 0 Srd Class, ditto ditgo 810 0 4th Class, ditto ditto 2 15 0 5th Class, coffin, pall, hatbands, superior carriage to take corpse and blends 2 0 0 6th Class n 1 15 0 Walking funerals at extremely low prices. TTM Trade supplied with Heaises, Coaebes, Palls, Ostrich Ptames, Hatbands, &c., on adran- tageoos terms. Please note the Addres 11 and 12, WORKING-STREET, (Oppo- site St. John's Churchyard), CARDIFF. N.B.-Lieensed to let Horses, Cabs, &c. Dog Cart to let on Hire. 103 "=-I:C- '0. A RIDE TO KHIVA, BY CAPTAIN FRED BURNABY, Royal Horse Guards. Page 13 pairs of boots lined with fur went also taken and for phyme-with which it is as wen to be supplied when travelling in out-of-the-way places-some quinine and Cockle's Pills, the latter a most invaluable medicine, and one which I have used ou the natives of Central Africa with the greatest possible success. In fact, the marvellous effects produced upon the mind and body of an Arab Sheik, who was iiapervious to all native medicines, when I administered to him five COCKLES' PILLS will never fade from my memory and a friend of mine, who passed throusrh the same district many months afterwards, informed me that my fame as a medicine man' had not died out, but that the marvellous cure was even then a theme of conversation in tha bazaar." See BUR-NAE-TS RIDE TO KHIVA, Paje 13- AGOOD FAMILY MEDICIKE CHEST L with a prudent use, lias saved many a life; and yet we think the idea might be improved uoon, and re- duced to a more simple form. Take some good compound, such as COCKLE'S ANTIBILIOUS PILLS, and we find that the desired end may be obtained without scales and weights, or little mysterious compartments, or enchanted bottles with crystal stoppers. Others might be used, lut COCKLE'S PILLS as tested by many thousands of persons, and found to answer their purpose so well, may be set down as the best.—Observer. COCKLE'S ANTIBILIOUS PILLS c In use the last 78 years for INDIGESTION. In Boxes at Is. I-d., 2s. 9d., 4s. 6d., and lis. COC='S ANTIBILIOUS PILLS, VV In use the last 78 years for BILIOUS AFFECTIONS. In Boxes at is. lid., 2s. 9d., 4s. 6d., and lis. jihOCKLE'S ANTIBILIOUS PILLS I In use the last 7S vesrs for LIVER COMPLAINTS. In Boxes at Is. ltd, 2s. 9J, 4s. Gd, and lis. OCKLE'S ANTI5LLI.iL' S PILLS In use amongst all classes of Society. SEVENTY-EIGHT YEARS. May be had throughout the United Kingdom, In Boxes at Is. lid., 2s. ad., 4s. Gd-, and Us. 18, NEW ORRONI) STIlEET, LONDON. 5606 ONE BOX OF CLARKE'S B 41 PILLS is warranted to cure all discharges from the urinary organs, in either sex, acquired or constitutional, gravel, and pains in the back. Suld in boxes, is 6d each, by all chemists and patent medicine vendors or sent to any address for 60 stamps by the maker, F. J. Clarke, consulting chemist, High-street, Lincoln. Wholesale Agents, Bare av and Sons, London, and a:i the wholesale houses. Sold in Cardiff by D. Anthony, Joy, and Cole- man, Chemists; Newport, E. Si, Thomas, 121, Commer. cial-street: Pontypool, E. Stephens, Clarence-street; Ebbw Vale, L. P. Jones Bridgend. A. J. Prk e; Merthyr, IL W, Harris. 128. Ilitfh-streel, lai [ jyp IDUND B A U W A T TilituL'GH COMMUNICATION BETWEEN CARDIPf AND THE MIDLAND COUNTIES, NORTH OF LNG LAND, AND SCOTLAND. Third Class Penny per Mile by all Tiui.i; on tAl Midland Hailwdy. OCTOBER. 137". LTP TKALYS WEEK DAYS '-=- -.=- ABAA ia. m. p. m. p. m. a. mJa. m. a. iU. a. m Edinburgh (Wav erley) jCp. 4 25 9 201 lo 39 Glasgow, (St Ea- c och) dep. 5 0 9 15 jg Carlisle „ ^>8 Ol-' 12 8 id' 1 « Newcastle § 7 811 2o 1 SO 10 512 fit Sunderland (; 40'10 55 9 25 12 Durham „ c 7 35 11 4/i :10 8211 2< Darlington '3 8 IS 12 27 2 2311 10; 1 41 Stockton o 7 40! |i0 45|i2 6C Scirboro' „ S 7 0 | ;li 012 45 Yorii 9 38( 1 55: 6 50 5:0 3 lfi Hull „ "V 8 50 5 45.10 SO: Black tnirn 3 5 53 jii isiil is Rochdale.. S C 57 8 17; 7 18:11 48ji2 45 Halifax e 7 25 10 15: 7 -i5;12 10: 1 4f IluddersSeld,, ° 8010 231 i 8 1S:12 01 2 < 6 g 11-2,111195 11.01 3 g Lancaster S 5 38: 7 47;il 43 Bradi.jrd — 10 30! 2 15 8 15 12",50 3 55 Leeds g !I1 80j 2 25: 8 50, 1 201 4 30 Barnsley „ H g 50! 9 15; 1 25! 4 10 Sheffield „ -5 12 34: 4 25: 7 010 10 2 SOl 5 46 L'pool(Rane- l:;h st) „ 10 40 9 c,'12 0 4 0 Manchester j j ■ (via Mat),, ,11 30:70950 1 0 4 58 Lincoln „ 8 35; 9 45; 1 10 3 « Newark „ 9 8; D138415 Nottingham „ 11 43; 17m 11 0: 2 35 6 0 Derby „ 12 35 1 45 6 15, 8 4011 35 3 45 6 56 Burton. 12 55 2 3 7 U: 9 2 11 50: 4 3 7 IS Taniworth „ 1 1st 2 26 7 40 9 2711 23: 4 25, 7 34 Yarmouth 4 5; 6 O'O 25 Norwich „ 5 0; 7 so u 20 Cambridge 5 55; ;n » o it Peterboro „ 7 45! ..I jn 5 Leicester.. „ 11 22; S 10 2 55 G 5# Birmingham B 1 j (New St),, 2 45 2 45' 8 4010 5 12 40': 4 30- 8 5 Worcester „ 3 43 4 2 9 45 11 2i) 1 46' 5 52: 9 24 Gloucester air 4 36 4 53 10 4212 35: 2 Sisj 0 47:10 25 Chepstow „ 6 57 6 5712 20, 2 32 4 58; 8 45j 1 it Newport „ 7 30 7 301 1 5 2 57 5 3S 9 2Sj 2 g Cardiff „ 7 55 7 551 1 37 3 21 0 5 9 5. 2 3S :a- m. a. m.jp. m.|p. m. p. m jp. m.:&. m 1 I B i E | IE r k ia. in. a. in. m. p. m. p. m. p in p m_ Cardiff .dep.; 5 53: 7 10 9 40 12 3312 39 3 20 6 S Newport „ 6 16! 7 4010 10 1 5 1 25 3 45 6 3f Chepstow 642 8 2110 52 1 32 2 12 4 15 7 S Gioucester 8 0 10 3,12 50 2 51 3 40 6 45 8 23 Worcester ?rr. 9 22 10 432 03 41 5 OS 9&lg BnminghamNevt street :ji 0' 3 85 4 60 6 23 9 48 10 18 Leicester.. „ IS 33; ..1 6 20 8 5 1 44 Peterboro. 2 50 ..1 10 55 Cambridge „ 4 52 10 5 12 55 Norwich „ 6 45; ..I ..I 2 0 Yarmouth.. „ 7 50! 30 Tamworth „ 1 53 4 53 5:;1 7 2 ..11 51 Burton !12 23. 5 23 u 52 7 23 11 28 Derby „ !x2 45 6 01 G 15 7 45 11 45 Nottingham „ 1 45: 7 0 7 6 8 25 1 25 Newark „ 2 41: 9 17 9 17 9 17 4 33 Lincoln „ 3 1810 010 010 0 5 « Manchester (via| Mat) „ 2 50; 8 15' 8 15' 9 4j' 5 11 L'pooi (Raae- lag-hst).. „ 3 45! 9 5 9 5 10 35 6 9 SL.etield. 2 2 7 33 7 33 9 13 11246 Barnsley „ 3 17 8 40 8 40 10 0 Leeds „ „! 3 15 9 15 9 15 10 2o 2~is Bradford .14 0; 9 50; 9 5010 4 5 2 «• Lancaster „ „ 6 25' 8 38 Wakefield „ 3 8 9 0 9 0 5 48 Huddersfield,, 3 4510 010 011 7 I. C 49 Halifax „ „ 4 210 21 10 21 7 38 Rochdale.. „ «. 4 5711 1311 13 8 2 Blackburn 6 10 8 54 Hull „ 65 11 1511 15 12 254M York „ 4 4010 2010 2011 £ 0 i 3 S< Scarboro' „ 6 55 5 45 Stockton 6 5812 912 9 6 11 Darlington 6 30.11 4311 434 44 Durham 714,12 1812 IS 5 » Sunderland „ 8 1812 5512 55618 Newcastle 7 4512 4512 45 2 43 5 58 Carlisle „ 3454 Glaag-ow (St 'III Enoch) „ [.. 9 0, 7 51 Edinburgh (Wav- erlev) „ 8 45| 7 « a. m. p m.'a, m.ja. m. a. m. p. m.ja. m THIRD-CLASS PASSENGERS ARE CONVEYED AS FOLLOWS A—Third Class from Midland and North-Eastern Stations S shown to Chepstow, Newport, and Cardiff. B.—This train does not run on Monday mornings. c —Throug-h Carriages are run between G»oueejter and Glaeg-ow by the train leaving: Go;:cester at 8.5S p.m. and that leaving; Glasgow at 5.0 p.m. e.—Third Class from Cardiff, Newport, and Chcnstow t* Midland and North-Eastern Stations shown. F—Tiiircl Class from Cardiff, Newport, and Chepstow te Midland Stations shown. H AThira Class Trair leaves Bimiirurham atS.20p.ra., and Worcester at C.50 p.m., arriving at Gloucester at 8.5. Chepstow, 9.23, Newport, 9 50, and Cardiff at 10.15 p.m. PASSEXGERS DESIROUS OF THAVEE, LING BY THIS lWUTE From Cardiff, Newport, and Chepstow, are paro. ticularly requested to ask for Ticket; to travel by Gloucester and the Midland Railway." 137 JAMES ALLPORT, General Manager. UNDER DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE. HEALTH, STRENGTH, AND FVNERGA jyR. LA.LOR'S PHOSPHO DYNE. Teaps MARK-PROSPHODYNE. Discovered and so Named A.D. 1862. PLEASANT TO THE TASTE, the only safe, prompt reliable PHOSPHORIC Remedy for Overworked Brain W urrv Anxiety, Excitement, Late Hours, Business Prefc sure, Ke: vous" Prostration, Wasting Disease, Cooauno^ tire, Stomach, inu Liver Complaints. This PHOSPHATIC combination is pronounced by the most eminent members of the Medical Profession to be unequalled for its power in replenishing; and elaborating the Vitality of the BHdy by its supplying all the essen- tial constituents of the Blood, Brain, and Nerve Sidip. stance; and for developing all the powers and function* of the system to the highest degree, by its being agree- able to the palate, and innocent in its action. While retaining its wonderful properties, it acts as a Specific surpassing all the known Therapeutic Agents of the present age, for the speedy and Permanent Cure of aQ detrang-ementg of The Nervous and Blood I tions of the Kidneys, Bla4- Sy3tems, Nervous Prostra- der, Urinary Deposits, tion. General Debility, Ague. Spasms, Asthma, Mental and Physical De- Consumption, Chronie pression, Incapacity for Bronchitis, Scrofula, and Study or Business, Noises Skin Diseases, Rickets (ia in the Head and Ears, Loss children), Wasting or of Energy and Appetite, Withering of the Musclw. Indigestion and Liver Com- Impaired Nutrition, Im, plaints, Flatulence, Ner- poverished Blood, Preum- vous Fancies, Hypochon- ture Decline, and all mar- dria, Nervous Debility in bid conditions of the sye- all its stages, Loss of tem, dependent upon the Memory, Softening of the deficiency of the Vital Brain, Paralysis, Affec- Force, arising from wiatr tions of the Spinal Column, ever e-ULM. Lumbago, Sciatica, Afiec- THE ACTION OF PHOSODYNE r. Two-fold and Specific; on the one hand increasing- th* principle which constitutes Nervous Energy; and on the »ther, the Most Powerful Blood and Flesh-genera tiny Agent k-nowt-thereiore, a marvellous Medicine for „ Renovating Impaired, Broken-down, or Exhausted Con- ititations, making the reeipient as vigorous as if Nature bad never been retarded or debilitated. It quickly im- proves the function of assimilation to such a degree that.. where, for years, an Emaciated, Anxious, Cadaverous, Hid Semi-Vital Condition has existed, the Fiesh vvHl fradually Increase in Quantity, Firmness, and Vitality; the Brood becomes Strong, and Pure, and the wh de lystem will put on the state and appearance of robust tealth, a.nd an amount of Mental and Physical Energy will result, which need only be limited by the circume, itances and requirements of the individual. THE PHOSPHODYNE ACTS ELECTRICALLY upon the oig-anisation. For instance, it assists Natcr^ through the cerebral apparatus, to geneJlate that human ilearicity which renew-sand rebuilds the oaseus, muscular, servous, membraneous, cartilaginous, and organic sytto tems it operates on the muscles of the system, without exciting care or thought upon the individual as to the prb. :ess. It moves the lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, stomach, md intestines, with a harmony, vigour, yet quietness, U. paralleled in medicine.—Extract frvm Dv baler's Wor.t:. The Origin ofL a:fe. isc., published in 1S53. THE PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF THE PHOB- "HODYNE ARE STIMULANT, ALTERATIVE, AND SESToiiATI\ E. PHOSPHODYNE being- a natural rea- torative, its energising effects are not followed by corre- ipondmg reaction, but are permanent, and are frequently ihown from tiie first day of its administration by a reo mrkabie increase of nervous pawer, witn a feeling gf rigour, strength, and comfort to which the patient iuui oug been unaccustomed. The nervous symptoms disap- pear as well as the functional derangements. Digestion 6 invigorated. The appetite increases wonderfully. The bowels become regular, and the evacuations more copioul and less frequent. The nighi perspirations, if they have existed, cease. Sleep becomes c" and refreshing At the same time the patient gains flesh, the features pre- tenting a striking improvement. The fr becomes ruuer, the lips red, the eyes brighter, the skin Jear and aealthy the hair of the head and beard grow and acquire strength, as also the nails, showing the importance ci the ntioo of the Phosphodyne on the orgaus of nutrition. PHOSPHODYNE IN NERVOUS AND MIND DISEASES. h.. The Fhasphodyne gives back to the human t: "urw in a suitable form the phosphoric or lively animating eis- maeut of life which has been wasted, and exerts an im- portant influence directly on the brain, spinal marrow, and nervous system of a nutritive, tonic, and invigorating character, thereby checking all wasting of the vital fluid and the mere exhausting processes of life, maintaining that buoyant energy of the brain and muscular system which renders the mind cheerful, happy, orilliant, and energetic, entirely overe-iming that dull, inactive, and sluggish disposition which many persons experience ia all tneir actions. FINALLY, THE PHOSPHODYNE maintains a certaia degree of activity in the previously debilitated, nervous, ani muscular systems. Its use enables all debilitated organs to return to their sound state, and perform their natural functions. All patients suffering from nervous or physical debility, or any of the hundred symptoms which these distressing diseases assume, nisy rest assured of an effectual and even speedy cure by the judi- cious use of this most invaluable remedy.—Extract from J)r Lalor's Work, The Origin of Life, &c, published in 1SHS. Dr Lalor's Work, The Origin of Life," &c, published in 1SHS. DR. LALOR'S PHOSPHODYNE, Sold in Bottles at 4s 6d and 11s by all Export, Wholesale and Retail Medicine Vendors, and Chemists. NOTICIL-The above Prospectus has been duly entered at Stationers' Hall, London, by Dr R. D. LALOK, and Leg-al Proceedings will be instituted against any in- fringement of the Copyright. D'R L-L&,LOR' S p HOSPIIODYNIL Sold in Bottles at 4s 6d and lis, by all Export Whole- sale, and Retail Medicine Vendors, LrvsEPOOL.—WHOLESALE AGENTS EvANS, SONS, and co. RAIMKS and Co., Hanover-street, Liverpool. LONDON AGENTSSANGER and Soxs, Oxford- street; BAECLAT and SoNS, Fairingdon-strcet; H"vmto psx, City-road MATIIER, Farringdou-road EVASS, LD CKER, and EVAKS, 60, Bartholomew Cbsc; Newbery and Soxs. 37, Newgate-street; S. MAW, SON, aN THOMPSON, Aldem;;ju-sLreet; EDWARDS and Sox, 157, Queen Vie- tora-street. Pamphlet on Phosphoric Treatment, with Cures, pad free, Oae Stamp, from DR. ROBERT D. LALOR, BAY HOUSE, 32, GAISFORD-STREET, LONDON, N.W., THE SOLE PROPRIETOR & ORIGINATOR OF PHOSPHODYNE. SENT EVERYWHERE ON RECEIPT OF REMIT* TANCE. CAPTION.—BEWABS OF PffiACY and a Srcmocs hftTA- TiON, 5828 NERVOUS, MUSCULAR, AND GENERAL DKBILITT (GRATIS.) A TREATISE on NERYOUS DE- BILITY, Loss of Nerve and Brain Power, Manly j Vigour, Pains in the Back, Lowness of Spirits, I Impaired Memory, and Other Manifestations at Nervous and PH YSICAL EXHAUSTION. Address—JOHN HAMILTON. M.D. (N.Y), Wei* | lington House, 7, Tavistock Street, Bedfoi# feuuare, London. W. 6G9S