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TALES AND SKETCHES OF WALES. (BY CHARLES WILKINS.) SECOND SERIES. [ALL EIGHTS RESERVED,) THE EARUS DAUGHTER. FOUNDED ON PASSAGES IN THE ANNALS or THE EARLS OF KINGSTON. CHAPTER IV. Hers troubles cease and sorrows end, Aiid stilled for aye's the vuico of scorn. This ia the solace GJd doth send To the world weary and forlorn. Months had passed, Ntar a bustling and thriving town, a pleasant walk distant from the sound of traffic, was a beau- tiful churchyard, wherein rest for the weary was written on withy.bound^'grasBy tomb and marble monument. All 80 still, so calm, life's troubled waves, the lash of the tempest, and fret of the storm juet beyond, here the haven. It was a summer's evening; a gentle zephyr was lifting the branches of the old elms, and letting them fall with softened rustling; the brook running by on the roadside within a few yards of the grim Norman tower had a mellow cadenoe, a musical babbling that lured the mourner to yearn for days of old, when the hushed voices he loved had a living human sweetness, and the sacred circles cf home were unbroken. The churchyard was a resort for the people of the town, and the old sexton, a man in intellect far beyond his class and as observant and apt in studying character as he was long memoried in family histories, took a lively interest in noticing the various groups and persons who came there. Now the son, bronzed and far-travelled, came to see the resting place of the mother he had left in vigorous health; then the mourner, whose home had been wrecked when from his side had faded the nearest, the dearest, and the best. On this particular evening the attention of the sextcD was taken with the appearance and deport- ment of a strange lady attired in mourning, and who moved amongst the tombs with a quiet grace, so different to the mode of the ordinary visitors from the town. She wandered around in a seem- ingly purposeless manner, apparently more to indulge in melancholy reverie than to rivet her atterroii on any special object, although now and tL en eke would stop and read the memorials of tie paased-away, then walk on in thought. By the side of one of the most ornate mementoes in the churchyard, the worthy sexton was busily engaged in diggirg a grave, the first sods of which he had just cut, when a shadow glided before him, and looking up he saw the lady earnestly intent in reading the gilded tribute inscribed on the monuinent. It was an ambitious performance, and one could not at a glance see for whom it was intended. The simple name was prefaced by the record of virtues rarely possessed by one indi- vidual, but then, the fortune left was a largo one, and the heir was grateful. The sexton having taken just such a scrutiny of his visitor as a country sexton would who sees a lady not oftener on the average than once a month, left her ruminating on the new monument, and was proceeding quietly with his work, when he was startled with a sudden and wild exclamation My Gcd my God what do I see here?" The sexton looked round and saw the lady falling to the ground, evidently in a swoon, and made what, for his rheumatic limb j, was a great effort to save her, but was too late. She fell, but a little grave of recent date, forming one of a group close beside the monument whioh had engaged her attention, broke her fall, and sus- tained her head afterwards. My dear lady," said the sexton, are you ill P You are surely. Can I help your" He received no answer. Concluding it was a case of fainting he tottered aa fast as his limbs would carry him to the brook running on the road side for water to lave her brow. They were the only two in the chnrohyard, and assistance was not easily gained, but the old man did his best by bathing her face and temples, and soon had the gratification of seeing the eyelida quiver, and gradually the signs of returning con- sciousness became visible. When she opened her eyes the first object gazed at was a monument of less stately proportions than that which first attracted her notice, and standing a little way off from it. It was an elegant memorial, and evidently quite new, and erected at the head of a group of graves. As the lady's eyes fell upon it she uttered a sorrowful wail, 0 God! too true! too true t" which told the sexton that in the poor heart- stricken sufferer he beheld one who was nearly related to the dead, but who she.was he was quite at a loss to imagine, as a great deal of mystery surrounded the family. "That's a lovely moniment, ma'am, said the sexton, observing that the lady was rapidly recovering, and all the while intently gazing upon it. She made no reply. It wer'nt there a week ago, ma'am, you be the first stranger as have seen it," he continued. The lady only burst forth into weeping. Ma' be as you knowed summat o' the person buried there, ma'sm. He were a mortal strange folk, but very good—very good, ma'am." Tie lady made no reply, and the sexton forbore further interrogation. The monument in question bore the following inscription:— Underneath this Tomb, Hesting from a life in which Virtue and Goodness shone pre-eminent, lie in the Hope cf a speedy Resurrection, to the Eeward of well-tried Faith and the Exercise of unshaken Hope and Charity, the remains of JOllN, Earl of Kingston, Of the Hermitage, late of Southampton, Who departed this life August 18th,—— Aged 57. Requiescat in pace. The lady was no other than Margaret, and the grave that of her father! Margaret gave vent to her woe in an outburst of hysterical weeping, and the tears streamed down her cheeks, until the poor old sexton, who had witnessed with the Btoical firmness of his race many a sad scene of sorrow, was fain to turn away that his presence might not add poignancy to a grief too cruel already. He left her, there- fore, to herself; and, when her sobbing ceased, aeked if he could render her any asbistance. Yes, my good man, you shall presently. Can you direct me to an inn where I can get a little refreshment?" replied Margaret. Oh, yes, ma'am; there's the Valiant Soldier, the best public in this part 0' the country, about a quarter of a mile off. But my house ia nearer, and if you wouldn't despise a poor country man's home, I'm certain my old dame 'ud be happy to give you a hearty welcome." Thank yon," replied Margaret, I will accept your hospitality." Very good, ma am. Might I ask if you knowed him as was bmied there?" he added, pointing to the monument and grave. Oh yes, I did know him; he was the deareat friend I ever knew." Ah I thought he wur. Ma be you didn't know be wur dead P" he suggested. Quite so," she rejoined; "it 10 some years now eince I saw him last, and when we parted we did so under such painful circumstanoes that my sudden discovery of the grave overwhelmed me." And sbe again wept bitterly. He accepted, with much humility, her profuse thanks; and then, making his way to his little cottage not far from the church, he introduced ber to his wife, who gave her a respectful curtsey and welcome, and, on better acquaintance, pressed her Btrcnjjly to taste her homely tea which invitation Margaret gratefully accepted, and felt afterwards much refreshed. The sexton's wife was struck with hor extreme loveliness, and so touched with the mourner's grief that she did her beet to soothe, and not in vain. Marearet learned from her humble frienaa the sorrowlul ending of a sad hfe, and at this and subsequent interviews gleaned many details which wracked her very soul, and made her, in many a lonely hour of bitter anguish, accuse hereelf of murder—of destroying the very life ot the parent whose peace she had blighted and sent to an untimely tomb.. •» i Having thanked the sexton and his wire warmly for their hospitality, she wended her way home- wards with tboughta more easily to be imagined than desoribed. The resting place of one eo dear to her having been discovered in such a remarkable manner, it ~f°8n^e the goal of frequent pilgrimage, and the Boandwae often moistened with the poor .repentant daughter's tearB. To Margaret these viait3 EST-khour of devotion equally as of love, ?;. spirits of the dead are suffered to re- nr,<L?iCe^e8x,of tIleir trials and of their happi- v twi'ight hour the shadow of the hovered oft aB she eat in Bor- iifo rke in thought each step of her bewailing the wickedness of hor folly.

CHAPTER V ythat i8 our life—e'er seeking Audi™ Seeking honour-finding bitter shame'- tetkiBK tam.e in bold and brave endeavour Finding, only a worthless, empty same. f eekiog, hndiDg, finding ever seeking, Ph>!Bt«m» lnrlI!5i, 01n s°her way, The zeal of youth poured forth in vainle^s effort To find-that we are withered, trembling, gray. Time had journeyed on with its gentle elide- the sea of incident and Clrcnmstance, bearingsome to fortune, and otbera to the grave. Wiilmott prospered. In tbe &reait C1-ty m the W08t he stood high amongst merchant princes, every speculation succeeded and his name became associated not merely with the efforts and ^rge yent merce, but with good deeds, benefiting the delver, and toiler, to whom he and his class owed so much. A-L To etatft +Vnt through mcmory of Margaret remained strong chantii'6 to picture a condition wbich th gf life does not permit. Deep and eaimost love for the lofit, loses its acuteness in 8> of cur youth, the delights ande^noti age are worn by the yeare, as the 2re?r rocks are by the wind and the So how delirious the first love oi mu,n; how tra. qi. in the meridian of life ia the remembrance ot h6 sweetness and its tears. There may hava been a remance over the dreams of youth, Lizzie under the flowers she loved hopes ware bugntccl, but in the comely wife of the heartbEllde, and the aims and successes of brave boys and girls, how faint becomes the remembrance, like as the ot wintry sunshine over the grave of summer flowers. Willmott did not forget, he did not cease to love, for that love had become a part of his nature, and it needed but the same gentle hand to waken the same harmony but time had tranquilised him, and the conviction that she was irrecoverably lost had not been without its j influence. Occasionally, in calm intervals, be would visit j hit: Pembrokeshire friands. and re-awaken all his feeMngs in wandaring through soenes endeared ta him by her memory. At such times he was always buoyed ap with the hope of hearing tidings of ber, but disappointment invariably met him at the threshold. Her foster parents fast drooping into the grave, were assured she was dead. S ia h d never written. Her memory to them was ];1<0 that of a peasant dream. Sometimes it was difficult to realise that she had beoa with them, tbd fair preeenoe, the gentle voice, the kind action subdued now with the years. Margaret gone, noifcele- ely as the footsteps of angels, as the pas. sing away to the grave of the good and the true. Alas, and alas, she, too, was dead, and only in the avenues of the blessed would they meet thoir daughter Bgain. One time in particular he was strangely per- suaded that she would meet him on his return. He imagined meeting her again; of entering suddenly into the fair retreat, and finding her more lovely and lovable than ever of hearing the story of her wanderings, of telling her all ho had suffered, and then in mutual recital and loving converse sipping sweet joy. But it was only a summer reverie, like the merchant who visited the hill top to espy his long, lost argosy, but saw ever the same desolate waste of waters, unspecked by the hoped for sail, so wmmott woke from his summer dream to find no outstretched hand, no beaming smile, all dull, aud blank, and void. He had sought her, and failing, had realised that which most of us find. For what is our life but a search ? Various the ends, different the finding. Does youth realise its dreams, or manhood its aims? We clutch the halo anj find it air, seize the bubble, and a drop of water ia in the hand. Time again journeyed on. Willmott was in London busily engaged in settling an important mercantile transaction. This concluded, he idled away a day or two in the innocent attractions of the Metropolis, and one day had strayed into Hyde Park, and sat gazing at the throng of fashion and beauty that passed by. "Egad, Maggie, that's never you?" exclaimed a gentleman to a lady dressed in mourning who was passing him with hurried steps. Willmott was startled by the voice, which he had heard before, and, looking at the person who spoke, he recognised Tilton, and in the lady to whom he addressed himself, no other than the long lost Margaret. He rose in an instant, bat as hastily resumed his seat, as if undecided what to do. "Sir," she rejoined in a tone Wiilmott at onca recognised, "what means this impertinence?" H" Hoighty, toighty," rejoined Tilton, for it was no other, how dignified we are become. Is it possible you forget me, and the happy moments of auld lang syne Forget you!" she repeated, would to God I had never known you. Be content, man, with having blighted my life, and crushed me to the ground. Leave me now, at all events, to die in peace." "Nay, nay, my handsome Margaret, you must not scold me, but rather blame your own sim- plicity. It was only human nature, Maggie. And you talk of dying—why, you look more beautiful than ever. Now, now, be friends again, I have Buch a love of a box down at St. John's Wood-" Ho was proceeding to the length of even taking her hand in his, though every indication of horror and disgust was written on Margaret's features, when Willmott sprang from his Beat and, placing himself between them, said, How dare you, villain, molest this lady ? Have you so little of the man in your nature that you cannot show some compassion where you have ao deeply injured P" Hands cried Tilton, stepping backwards, alarmed at the menacing attitude of Wiilmott, whom he also recognised as the gentleman of the hotel scene, and well he might. Willmott, boiling over with indignation, yet strove to curb himself, having a wholesome dread of brawls and police court reports; but hia inherent manliness waa too great, hia detestation of such ecoundrelism too strong. Forgetting everything but the crime of the man before him, he rushed upon him, held him by the collar with a grasp of iron, and despite struggles, threats, and curses, rained down blow after blow with his Btout cane, until the wretched man howled for mThere was a croWd around in a moment, witnessing the summary execution of vengeance. It was all done in an instant, and before a policeman came on the scene the act was over. Tilton, bruised in body and mind, slunk off like a beaten hound, and Willmott, more satisfied with himself than he had been for many a long day, turned round to embrace Margaret, but she waa gone Disappeared like a streak of sunshine off the mountain. He sought her eagerly through the crowd, hastened successively in every direc- tion, but without success. She was gone, and, moody, dispirited, Willmott returned to hia home in the city. (TO BE COllTINUED.)

THE TAFF BATTALION RIFLE VOLUNTEER CAMP AT FOREST MOUNT A. [N. CHURCH PARADE AND SERMON BY THE REOTOR OF MERTHYR. FOREST CAMP, SUNDAY. To-day the church parade in the camp was con. ducted, and the sermon preacned,by the Rector of Merthyr, the Rev. J. Griffith. It waa intended to have held the church parade at eleven in the morning, but the weather was then so unfavour- able that it was postponed until two o'clock. When the men fell in soon after this hour, how. ever, the weather was even more unfavourable, a thick Scotch mist surrounding the whole district, and rendering only a small portion of the camp visible at a time. To-day there were some- thing over 1,000 men in camp, the largest numbar which has yet been present. Of the corps present the 12th ia by far the largest represented, they alone numbering 300 men. Although the various corps did not parade for church in the morning, as was intended, yet the band of the 8thCorps (Mountain Ash and Ynyaowen combined) rehearsed several hymns in the large canteen tent, which spread a kind of Sunday feeling over the ca mp. On Saturd ay night the volunteers had a warm leBson of what it is to encamp out in a thorough-going thunderstorm. Rain fell heavily, the tremendous and" repeated peals of thunder Beemea to shake the very base of the mountain, and the lightning was so vivid as to illuminate the whole camp. The electric fluid was attracted by the brightened portiona of the arms, around whioh it played with the greatest intensity. Not- withstanding the great fury of the storm, how. ever, the tents stood it out well, and not only remained fast, but thoroughly kept out the wet. During the past week the volunteers have spent a very pleasant time under canvas; drill and camp duties have been regularly maintained, and the food supplied by the contractors (Messrs. Gun. Bon andj-Williams) has been of the best description.and well cooked at the broad-arrow kitchen. During the evenings the men arranged al fresco concerts, which were greatly enjoyed both by officers and men. At the church parade on Sunday afternoon, the chants and hymna were admirably led by the band of the 8th Corps, and the com- bined music of the band and the men's voioea had a grand telling effect, notwithstanding the un- favourable weather. The hymns sung were "Brief life is here our portion," the Old 100th Psalm, and "Onward, Christian soldiers." The service took place near the officers' quarters, the Rector of Merthyr'a discourse being listened to throughout with very great attention. The Rector took for his text the seventh chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel and the fifteenth verae. Beware of false propheta, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves." Ho eaid: I am in a position here to- day, the like of whioh I never waa in before, preaching in a great camp on the top of a great mountain. When I first began to think of my sermon I waa utterly at a loaa what to say. Preaching about soldiering and volunteering had become quite sttue. I had done ao time out of mind during the last 20 years. Beaidea, the country is now so imbued with the necessity of both, while man is what he is, that the aooner the Peace Society givea up bl16iness.and puts up the shutters, and our honourable member directs his attention to something else, the better it will be for all parties. In this dilemma I turned to an old friend I never yet found wanting—the Book of Common Prayer. I asked that dear old oracle what particular part of the Gospel doth the Church direct our attention to this day P and here itis-nothing can be more fit; it is the very thing we want; 1 have just read it to you: "Beware of false prophets For waa there ever, brethren, a warning more timely; was there ever a period since Christ first spoke it, 1900 years ago, when it was more to the purpoBe-spoke it, too, on the top of a mountain, in the great Sermon on the Mount, just as we are speaking it here today, "surrounded by a multitude?" For, as to its timeliness, why ia it. working men, tell me this, trade is so bad Why ia it, ever since 1875, your cupboards are so bare? Why 113 it your children go about bare-footed, bare-backed, and in raga f Is it not because the world ia teeming with false prophets P Aye, the world-because it ia as bad —as you know from friends who are there—in America, Australia, and New Zealand, aa it ia here. It is not better on the Continent. Every- where they suffer from false "propheta" Falsity has overlapped honesty. Like an ugly pattern on a paper wall, it meeta the eye all round. In courts, in camps, in diplomacy, in trade, in everything that man has anything to do with, the one thing wanting is truth and honesty. When Sir Walter Raleigh lost hia head on Tower-hill—knocked off by the envy and hatred of fellow men-he wrote two days before he died a Btriking poem called "The Lye." It is written m quaint old spelling, and with quaint old words. It describes exactly what the world seema to me now who have lived some time in it. and can afford to look at it impartially. It is too long to quote alto. gether, but I give you a verae or two out of it: here they ore (he ia addreBBing hia soul just before it leavea the body) :— Goe, so-ale, the bodie's guest. Goe, tfU the Court itglowes And shines like rotteu wood; Go, tell the Chur- h it ehowes What's good, and doth no good: If Church and Court reply. Then give them both the lye. Tell men cf high condition. That rule affaire of State, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice onely hata: And If hey once reply. Then give them all the lye. o?6' £ Bad as it is to confess it, the A Well as the world, ia full of false ? 00 u j* j.1. e ehows what's good, and,"—Bhall v '-good! No, I shall not say that ? n tin 'f, the course of the sermon I will the Ch"ch doth. Firat, she entertaineth fake prophets. She knowa they are Ww +C ,fceplS P^thi^g; and ahe doea not Jfif^ust- them. She has come fZ ae ,tl"ng8 go now, Bhe really l £ eB l ^r°Ph £ -9- Her bishops BCOld £ i m public ohargea; but, for aU that, they give them good hvings and raise them to high honours. If you are to jud»e of "the good she doth you must take her in her repre- sentative capacity, Bitting in what she calla her Convocation—wohbiBhopa, bishops, deans, arch. deacons, proctors, all high-sounding names— resembled together in camera. And wbat good dcth she there?" Oh, forsooth, she wrangles about pestures and ornaments," and "posi- tions," and "wbat sort of clothe? her clergy are to wear!" Actually she has taken six years to H ttle this last question alone, and, by a great effort, the other day she braced herself up to it in earnest at last. Nevertheless, she was still a v hole fortnight about it; and nc wo clergy know, just as the ladies do, what ia the correct thir for us to wear Thebiabops, the archbishops, the oeana, the archdeacons, and the proctors sitting in Convocation have determined the fashion for us. The Lord be praised. I say, for it. It is settled at last. We shall now come to think, I hope, something about souls-aye, the souls of you working men. It i2 to ma, I declare to Ged. something awful to think how the Churoh, in Convocation and elsewhere, has neglected this great woik, never aven cnce mooting it! I read in a paper on Church statistics, published some two years ago, in which it was said that the working classes of England and Wales, aa a rule, did not go to any piece of worship at all. I think it was in the Church Times. It avowed that about 95 per cent, of them never went anywhere, church or cLapel. And they who know what working men are in London, Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol, Birmingham, Sheffield, Cardiff, Merthyr, Swansea, &o.j will, if they tell the truth, eay there is no exaggeration in it. Why, it was only last month that great Noncon- formist body, the Calvinistic MethodiBta of South Wales, passed a resolution "regretting deeply that they had loet the people." I mention that merely to show you Welshmen what we are even in Wales. Now, I contend that this is the special work of the Church of England. She ia the Church of the Nation. It ia her burden, there- fore, to evangelise the nation. If she doea not she must show the reason why. But she really cannot give a reason why. If she were only reformed, and her vast revenues laid out expressly to preach the Gospel to the people, this might easily be done, and then the people would be very different to what they are now. These continual strifes between capital and labour would then altogether disappear from the country. I say this because I honestly believe in Jesus Christ and the efficacy of His Gospel. For, accord. ing to my idea, it ia the one thing wanting in this oountry to maka peace between master and man. Therefore, I contend, that it is the special duty of the Church of Eng. land to impress it upon master and men. For if ehe does not, that moment she ceases to be the Church of Ergland, For how can ahe be the Church of England if she be not the Churoh of the people ? It ia a fact not worth dwelling upon, because everybody knows it, that the poople" so called never go near her. If you build a church, even in the very midst of the people, the people do not enter it. There are churches upin churches, buil. within the last thirty years, which would be altogether empty if it depended upon the people to .fill them, though they were bnilt expressly for the people. So of Dissenting chapels. They aie not a bit better off in this respect than the Church is, For "the people" go nowhere. The T i'nies newspaper told the Bishop of London the other day, it was no use sending out a pastoral letter begging for money tn build more churches among the reople let him first fin those ohurchoa already built. It is not chuiehes you want, said the great Times, but "preaching" power." Give that to your clergy, and the churches will be filled fast enough even in Bethnal-green, where the people are actually paid by the clergy for going into them at all. Why, look, said the Times-I give the substance of the article-here wo have in this great City of London some two thousand clergy or more, and yet it can safely be said that not 20 of them are true orators "—that is good preachers. Is not that a nice state of things F Common people, as well as uncommon people, like to hear something on Sunday that kindles and rouaes them out cf their every-day work. Uncommon people, that is the upper and middle classes, go to church or chapel, whether they like it or not, because it is respect- able and fashionable to go. But common people will not. They will not go to churoh at all unleBB they hear something there that they can appreciate and understand. And then when you have them there, the hotter and stronger they get it, the more they like it. I always prefer preaoh- ing te working men for thia reason, You need not be nice with them. Go at them right off. They like straight hitting, and the more it hurts them the better, because they know they deserve it; Also, the more racy and pungent it ia, like their own mother wit, the more they value it. It is the greatest mistake in the world to suppose that any sort of common-place will do for them. A working man is not the loose, jumble-headed fellow 99 clergymen out of every 100 think him to be. Be is as hard-headed and as keen in argu. ment about anything that interests him as an Old Bailey lawyer is. See him in his strikes, or at his club, when he thinks hia secretary haa cheated him and then see what trouble you would have to get to the weather side of him. To offer such a fellow pap for babes, or anything but strong meat for men, is madneas, folly, and certain defeat in any cause a preacher is put up to advo. cate. I have had dealings with him all my life, and I know him better than he knows himself; and I tell you this, the more you know him the better you will like him. He is anything but the savage" great people take him to be. Then look at the services of our Church. What a aoro "let and hindrance" these are to popularising her. How thoroughly unadapted they are for modern times; and as they are used for all time1;, and especially tor working men. I wish to speait with the utmost reverenoe of the services of oar Church. They are as practical and as devotional^.y worded as it ia possible for prayer to God to b" and nothing ever composed can be more fitting. But atBometime or other since the Reformatiol1-. and no one yet has ever been able to explain to me when or why—the custom of our Church has been to jumble then all up together. Literally every Sunday morning we go to Church. We run through nearly three whole services instead of one. Tiie Reformers never intended this. And if for to other reason it is very hard on the clergyman tli £ .t at the end of these three services, when men's minds are naturally jaded, he has to begin his sermon, and hia hearers become very indignant with him if he does not entertain them; if he is dull, and drowsy, and prosy! Under each circumstances how can he be otherwise than prosy, especially as in the caee of the Church of Englatd, out of the 20,000 clergy ministering within her fold, never one of them has ever been taught to preach Preaching is a great art—the greatest of all arts—especially as it deals with greatest of all subjects, salvation of sou's. Why, even in the art of ahoemaking a man mt1¿t he taught or he will never get on at s i. Much more, then, in the art of preaching1. Time presses or I would have gladly told you more about the Church. In doing so my aim is to invite you working men, here and everywhere, to join the Church. It ia true that there are false prophets" in her; but if the working men of England and Wales would only join her we would soon make a clean sweep of them. If working men would become her members, and saw the good that ia in her, they would never wish to dis. establish her, but to reform her. And by God's help I Btiil live in hope that thia will be done. Let the bishops, for example, be made to leave the House of Lords. As successors of St. Peter and St. Paul they were never intended to be Parlia- mentary Peers, driving about London ia broughams and carriages. Old Bishop Latimsr told them that 300 years ago. In fact he went further; he told them that the best bishop he knew in hia day was th* devil, for if they went to him at any he waa never out of his diocese. Then thoy would make a clean sweep of Deans and Chapters, who literally ha i nothing to do but to live and eat the fat of tha land. They would turn their houses into Schools of the Prophets," and use their revenues to teach the clergy how to preach. They would have two orders of oler-a "pastoral order "and a "preaching order;" the former to do ministerial duty, visit the sick, play lawn tennis with squires' wives and daughters, gossip in the back parlour with tradesmen's wives and daughters, all of which they might do therewith- out injury to the Church, having no brain work to be troubled with; while the latter would travel rom one end of the diocese to the other, rousing sleepy pastors and kindling sleepy congregations, making ,the great Church of England a living. practical Church, doing God's work to rich and poor, masters and men, instead of being what eh 3 is now—a grand, sepulchral old Church, existing only for the upper and middle classes, who con- sider themselves dignified and elevated by belong, ing to her. There ia plenty of money for all tlu-s in the Church herself without asking you layman for a farthing towarda it. And when the subject of dieeatabliBhment comes before the country, &a it will very soon now, I hope this ia the form it will take that is to reform thdjChnrch and not disestablish her. On the other hand, if ahe ia not reformed I, for one, will go in to dieedtablishhoi.

THE ANNUAL INSPECTION. Attracted alike by the fine weather, the beauti. ful scenery, and the prospect of gaining an insight of camp life, thousands of persona hailing from all parta of the Burroundingl district visited Forest Mountain on Monday, the occasion of the annual inspection of the 2nd Administrative Battalion Glamorganshire Rifle Volunteers. Never before has this romantio though somewhat wild spot been the scene of &0 much animation. At an eally hour the various approaches to the summit of the mountain were thronged with civilians, and the table land on whioh the tents have been pitched was soon almost uncomfortably crowded. In consequence the volunteers were threatened with some inconvenience in the duties they had to perform, but thia waa avoided by increased vigilance on the part of the numerous gentries and the police. The orders of the day stated that the 2nd (Dowlais), the 8th (Mountain Ash), the 14th (Aberdare), and the 20th (Hirwain) would parade at 10 a.m. for inspection bv Colonel Carden, and that the 10th (Cardiff), 12th (Merthyr), 15th (Melingriffith), and 19th (Newbridge) would parade at three o'clock also for inspection by Colonel Carden. Thia arrange- ment was carried out, and at the time fixed the first half of the battalion formed into eight com- panies, each consisting of 411 rank and file, and marched with the band of the 8th on to a lev, 1 piece of ground to the north of the camp. Major Powell assumed the command, and Captain Lewia acted as major, the adjutant and a full comple- ment of officers being also present. The battalion was then formed irto line, and on the arrival of Colonel Carden, who was accom- panied by Captain Montgomery, of the 41st Regi- ment, acting as aide-de-camp, the order was given for the general salute. Colonel Carden then in. spected the clones and arms of the men; after which the half battalion marched past in column and quarter column, at quick ar,d double quick. This Baovenrent, which is always of interest, was performed in a smart and effective manner, the dressing being kept vuth accuracy; steadiness maintained. The general appearance of the varicua companies was very creditable, and indi- cated an improvement in discipline an l drill. The half battalion was then re-formed into li!:9, and the manual and firing exercises gone through with evident proficiency. Some light infantry drill followed, at the conclusion of which a hollow square was formed, and a sh ort and complimen- tary address delivered by tha inapectiijR oiSoor. He said the movements had p'- Ionaed with accuracy, and there was evidence of a considerable improvement, which was to some extent due to j the formation of tbe camp. Ho was pleased to notice a uni'exmity in dresa, battalion a very smart appearance. Tixe inspection of the pacond half of the battalion was comcifnced at three o'clock, with Major Cresswell aa commanding officer, and Ciptaina Lewis and Darlii g as majora. Having be ;n divided into eight eompam-,3, the man were formed irto lice, and Colonel Carden W8 received with the general pluto. Major Crese. well then gave tbe words for quarter calamus on No, 1 by th? rifthV ?f(.¡¡? whioh the march past at quick atd double quick ti.no took place. The Dowlais Band played the usual march P'1.3t., and tho movement was performed in excellent style. Capt".ia Darling then put the half battalion through the rr ■ -ual and firing exercises, and under M ? Croas- well the drill was continued with 'quarter cclumn on No. 4," &3. The skirmishi^fe' was ac- complished with accuracy, and a square beiug then formed, Crlcael Cvrden addressed the men as follows :—I am glad to so.) a great improve- ment in the diill of this battalion, which, no doubt, is accounted for by your having been iu camp. /ou have evidently learnt a great deal, atd if ) ou had a little mere time here you would learn still more. I am triad to see the whole battalion so uniform iu their dress aad accoutre- ments everything is uciiorm except the back atd white pouches, and that will soon be rectified. Thia ie agrc-at stride in advance, and it makes a great difference in the appearance of the battalion. The men must be all alike in their dress-there is no doubt about that. The marching is very good, but the band rather hurried the time, which waa unfortunate. The band ought to be taught the regulation time, otherwise the men cannot march. And the men should aocustom themselves to a short rather than a long step in marching fast. The Guards always step very short in marching fast—I am not speaking of the ordinary march along the road—and allowance ought always to be made for the small men, and the pace regulated accordingly. You will march better if the pace is Bhort. Your movements are very good in light infantry the company I sent out evidently know something about it. It ia unfortunate I have not more time, in order that you might go through a regular instruction in light infantry; but I hope that you will again be able to have a camp, and that the opportunity will then be afforded. I have only had time to. cay to see the battalion movements in close order." This concluded the proceedings, and the men returned to their huts, many of them leaving by subsequent trains. The following list ahowa the number cf men present at the inapection 2nd G.R.V., 3 efficers, 6 aergeanta, 2 buglera, 113 rank and file; total, 124; absenteea, 6. 8th G.R.V., 7 officers, 16 eergeants, 6 buglers, 237 rank and file; total, 266; absentees, 3. 10th G.B V., 4 officers, 7 sergeants, 10 buglers, 81 rank and file; total, 102; absentees, 45. 12th G.R.V., 7 officers, 20 ser- geants, 20 buglers, 330 rank and file; total, 377; absentees, 23. 13th G.R.V., 2 offioera, 7 eer. geants, 4 buglers, 92 rank and file; total, 105 absentees, 18. 14th G.R.V., 6 offioera, 11 sergeants, 1 bugler, 128 rank and file; total, 146; absentees, 31. 19th G.R.V., 2 officers, 6 sergeants, 5 buglera, 5o rank and file; total, 69; absentees, 12. 20th G.E. V., 4 officers, 6 sergeants, 2 buplars, 54 rank and file; total, 65; absentees, 24. This ahowa a total of 1,254 men of all rankf present at the inspection, and 165 absentees. Including the 16th G.B.V., which corps is to be inspected at Cardiff, and recruita, the battalion now numbers about 1,900 of all ranks, which is a very considerable increase on the preceding year. The increase is chiefly noticeable in the districts of Merthyr and Aberdare, where the volunteer movement seems to have become exceedingly popular. The condition of the men in camp is still satisfactory, of sickness being remark- ably few and their general behaviour has been very gratifying to the adjutant and commanding officers,

GOSSIP IN THE "WORLD." There is a refreshing ingenuousness about a Welsh constituency. I see in the papera that the electors of Merthyr have called upon Mr. Richard Fothergill to permit himself to be put in nomina. tion at the next election. You have," say the requisitionists. H proved yourself a noble member in the past, in the front rank of Liberalism, voting right at all timpB, and in harmony with oar wishes." Remembering that for at least five years Mr. Fothergill has not shown himself in the House of Commons, and that during that period a vote has been lost. to Liberalism, and Merthyr has been partially disfranchised, this reads as i the electors were having a little joke. But the next sentence in the address shows they are very much in earnest, and throws a new light on Par- liamentary representation. You," they proceed, at the same time earnestly studied ourloca intereats, and did not rest until (conjointly wit1 our noble county members, Messrs. C. B" M Talbot and Henry Huesey Vivian) you succeeded in getting our Welsh steam coal used in her Majesty's navy." It is asserted in all military circles that the sentence of the court-martial upon Captain Carey was death. Thia explains very naturally why Lord Chelmsford did not give effect to it. Tha unlucky general has been guilty of many blunders; but he has, at least, escaped the wors of all. Now the story goes that the staff-officers at the Cape have muddled matters by forwarding the prcceedings to the wrong functionary. Thej have been Bent to theJAdjutant- General, while i' waa the Judge-Advocate-General who ought t. have received them. The latter, very properly indignant, has advised the Queen that the who? thing is illegal, and that the proceedings must b; quashed. But there ia more than this. The Duke c Cambridge, who has been very bitter again? Carey from the first, is loth that the unhappy ma should escape scot-free. The story goes that b haa urged the Queen to use the royal prerogativ and dismiBa Captain Carey, as Bhe cau, from tt Bervice. To this her Majesty is moat decided! opposed. Rumour has it that her august Bymp thles were never withheld from him from the fira and that since the Empress wrote, begging th: he iright not suffer any punishment, the Quec has been quite resolute in his favour. A conspiracy is on foot—and it ia time that should unmask its evil purposes—to convert t: Prince of Wales to Burne-Jonesianart! A beaut (herself, by the way, the very antithesis of tL pre-Raphaelite type) has been engaged, with fu instructions, to undermine the Royal Philistinise Good heavens! pathetic he might not be, but L was at least cheerful; and are we now to I threatened with "intensity" and "ffabtlety" i high places P Said an artist to me with gree earnestness, I give you my word, Jones doeen wish it!" Mr. Alma Tadema is not new to the direction of the scenic mounting of Coriolanus." Som years ago he exercised hia scholarly erudition an*, his peculiarly happy taste for colour in the mist en SCEne of tbe same play at a provincial theatr 3 in the North, and with excellent results.. If La continong! Le continongi nest tres bong, il eat tree-bong!" Such, at some such, i my memory doea not fail me, was the refrain of H song with which a fascinating young person, in a light blue ulster. and carrying a small sac de voy age, was wont to electrify the languid Crutch-and- Tootbpickera at a popular theatre. The sentimenx is no doubt true. in the abstract; but ladies' voyages to continental cities are sometime* productive of very serious complications a home. It has been observed that the case of Mr. Ware and Mr. Giissellia the only one known in the history of England where a client escaped and the attorney was put 111 prison.

CUTTINGS FROM. FUN." A FELT SLIPPER.—One thrown at your head. "LIKE A BEARD".—Youth Yes, it is curious] have no beard, I can't think who I take after— my grandfather had a splendid one. Hair cutter: Oh, perhaps you take after your grandmother. IN THE STREET.—Smith (noticing gome excava tions): Hailoa: What are they up to here. eh Brown P Brown Oh, strengthening the drain* Smith: Good gracious i I always thought th drains too Btrong. A JUVENILE ACROBATIC FEAT.«»(Jrandpapa What on earth is the matter with you, Tommy; Ycu have been crying all the morning. Tommy, So would you cry, too, grandpapa, if you fel down twice without getting up once. A wind that carries whole sugav crops before it may fitly be called a hurri- cane. THE ROYAL ROAD TO MARRIAGE. -Going to Cotirt.

PICKINGS^FKOM PUNCH." ¡., TASTE IN KEEPING.—Scene—" Row." He on the cob Halloa! A gay-loolong animal you've got there, Gus Gua (on ahowy piebald, a regular "Myers"): Haw! Ya-aa, you see I've taken chambers iu the circus for the season, so I thought I'd have a nag to matoh To BE OFFERED THE MANES OF THE POOR PRINCE IMPERIAL.—A Vi-Careyoua sacrifice. A MALICIOUS TRICK.'—A miachievoua rustic, owing hia neighbour a grudge, mixed a quantity of Anti-fat with his pig's barley-meal. A DEFINITION.—-Metropolitan Railway Sta- tion.— Swell in taking his change drops a penny— IcofeB at it wistfully, but leaves it. British workman (pouncing on it, to bystander): There, that's what I call a puffect gen'leman! [Pouches the coin.] CLUB SKETCHES.—CAUSE AND EFFECT.— Why does Brooks snub Snooksr"- Because Snooks toadies Brooks." Why does Snooks toady Brooke F"— Because Brooks snubs Snooks."

FOZODONT.—To F LEANSE, "BEAUTIFY, AND PV.SSERVE THE TEETH USE 30Z0D0NT.«-Th0 Poerloss liquid Dentrifice. Its use imparts the mOBt fragraat breath; it beautifies, cleaneos, and preserves the teeth iu a surprising manner it gives a delightfully fresh taste and feeling to the mouth, removing all Tartar and Bcurf from the Teeth, completely arresting the pro- gress of decay, and whitening such parts as have already become black by decay or neglecW Impure Breath, caused by Bad Teeth, Tobacco, Spirits, or Catarrh is neutralised by Soaodont.—Price only 39.6<1" put up in large bottles, fitted with patent sprinklers for applying the liquid to the tooth brush. Eaoh bottle is enclosed in a convenient toilet box. Sold by Chemists and Perfuncers. Observe the name SOZODOKI on the abel. box and bottle. HOLLOWAY'S PILLS.—Liver, Lungs, and Kidneys.™A large number of internal maladies arise trom obstructioDS oer the reoDval of whkh tohese celebiatsct Pilis exercise the most perfect control. A c.cu7-e of thf Bi is strongly recommended as a remedy for almost all chronic atlections-as liver complaint, cor gf Ft ion of the lungs, torpidity of the kidneys, mid oti .-r tUl1cti0I161 dÚ:1orders which cause much preseat sulTeiinsr, and if jieglected lay the foundation of in- nuiarrab e ("Meases. Holloway's Pills are especially adapted for fhnyoung and delicate; their gentle and purifying amotion plaepf them above all other medicines. It iTjdigeslion, nervous affections, gout, and rheumatism thesc PIUS have earned for themselves a universal fame. They expel all impurities from the blood, and also restore cheerfulness and vigour,

I IN THE YALE OF HONEY: A STORY OF AGRARIAN CRIME. BY MISS BL CKBUP-NE CHAPTER XXI. A STRANGE VISITOR. Do jen krow who the ma.n isP" I ask of th3 »ervfit.t, vivhout feeling any pariiculs-r interest in aeki.g the question. ma'am." What is he like f" "He looks a poor, wild eort, d n ma'am," ia tho rs-piy, ana from the way 110 cyoaiis I think he is from beyond the mountains." Go down and aek him what his business is," I say, kziiy, I dare-gay it io someone come to beg for a new gift." Fcr since I huve become the Lady of Brabazon, I ha\ e been hourly besieged by petitions for money or for clothing, or for food. I have given lavishly; not from any vain desire of wishing to be con- sidered liberal by my new constituents, but be- CEute it has been a hard winter—the worst winter I ever ucdlect-and I have known so much about the destitution in the neighbourhood, that I am glad to have now the means of relieving it in ever so little a manner. I wonder people do not oftener give tcoie freely, for certainly my experience has been, even in this short time, that there is a seinah pleaeute in giving. If you pleaee, ma'am," says the servant, re. entering the room, the man is, as I thought, from beyond the mountains, and he says he will not give his message to anyone but to yourself." I BuppoEe I had better see him," I reply, almost aroused to some little curiosity, tell him to come up." "Yes, ma'am," but I see the man hesitates. What is I ask, looking up at him. Is he to come into the room, ma'am?" 1 es. Why not?" I am a little bit puzzled at his manner. Well, he's a very rough-looking aort of fellow, ma'am," replies the man. Ch, never mind that; you can stay in the room, Dawson, whilst he ia here." There ia a knock at the front door as I apeak and in a few minutea papa comes into the room. I tell him of this strange visitor, and Bmile aa I imitate Dawson's disgusted manner. Daweon ie quite right," says father decidedly; you must remember, Angela, my pet, j that you are peculiarly situated in many ways, and considering the way in which poor Brabazon met with his death, you cannot be too careful about admitting people, srch as Dawaon says thia man ia, to your presence." This is a long speech for father to make, and I am surprised to see him look so grave, and slieak ao very eerioualy. If Surely, papa," I exclaim, trying to apeak lightly, you don't fancy anyone thinks me worth an agrarian outrage. Hush, Angela, hush," he replies, in the aame serious tone. You remember McCullagh, who owns the Benmore farm, beyond the mountains P" Yes, father. What about him? He has not been shot at, has he i" "I regret to say he has," replies father gravely. Be was shot at yesterday evening, aa he was goicg home from the market, and killed on the epot." How awful," I say in an awed tone and have they arrested anyone F" Not they," exclaims father, contemptuously. The police about here aie a lzy, good-for- nothing lot. If they were any good, they'd have found out something about who was the real culprit in the affair ot shooting poor Brabazon." The real culprit," I repeat. Then, father, you do not think it was Kane Kavanagh ?" "To tell you the truth, Angela, my child, I cannot believe it; although there ia every proof in the way of circumstantial evidence againat him, &s far as we can aee, yet suoh an act ia ao utterly < opposed to anything one could imagine Kane Kavanagh doing, that, although my head almost forceB me to believe it, yet my heart refuses to co BO. I waa always very fond of Kane," con. tinues father, in a musing tone, "I have known him since he waa born, and I cannot realise his doing Buch an act." The entrance of Dawaon hinders me from replying, but it flaahea across my mind that 1 have judged Kane Kavanagh too much from my head, and too little from mv heart. There is an almost ludicrous element in the tone of ineffable disgust in which Dawson aaya:— "If you please, ma'am, thia is the person who wishes to see you." He ushera in a lank/gaunt. half-starved looking countryman. The man is attired in a closely fitting suit of shabby grey frieze. He alao wears hay ropea wound round his legs, and oarriea in hia hand a flat blue, greasy-looking oap. Aa for hia countenance, it is simply villainous. His red hair is closely cropped, save for a fringe across the forehead, which latter is low and retreating, and the shaggy brows overhang two small, swinish-looking grey eyes. He haa the lone upper lip characteristic of the lowest and worst type of the Irish peasant, and on hia equally long flat chin he wears a stubbly red beard. As I look at this specimen of humanity, I feel arise within me a sense of gratitude towards Dawson for not wish- ing to leave me alone with such a person. Dawson even now stands like a turnkey beside the man, as though ready to pounce npon him at any minute. "Yer sarvint, ma'am," says the visitor, duck. ing his head, I've a message for yeh." "Yesr" But I don't want anyone to be here whin I talk to yeh," looking furtively from father to Dawson. Come, come, me good fellow," says the latter, whativir you have t' eay yeh must say it before us. What can you have to say to the mistress that anyone can't hear?" he concludes contemptuously. Thank you, Dawson," says father, coming forward, just let me say a word. Well, my good man, 1 am Mrs. Brabazon's father, and if she has no objection to my staying here, I suppose you have not P" The man does not reply for a minute, and then Bays sullenlyj I waa tould t' give the message to the lady, an' not to Jet anyone else hear it." You may eay anything you like before my father," I say. Dawson, I am very much obliged to you, but would you mind standing in the hall P" Very well, ma'am," replies Dawson, in a tone which seems to say that he does not like this pro- oeeding in the least. As he leaves the room he gives me a private and confidential look to the effect that he will be outside the door in case I rt quire to call upon him—at least such I interpret its meaning to be. Who has sent you here ?" asks father as soon aa the door is closed. Did yeh ivir hear av Michael Collins P" inquires the man by way of answer. We both give a start. Michael Collins is a notorious character, well known to have been the hired assassin of those who planned several of the agrarian outrages which took place some few years before. Michael CollinB exclaims father. Why he has left the country these six years." Not a bit av it," replies the man sullenly. The newspapers said he was somewhere in America," I interpose, for I recollect to have read a flourishing account of this hero in one of the national newspapers. "I know the newspapers sed that," says the can, still in the same dogged tone, but Michael Collins nivir left the mountains. It was his own self that wrote thim letthers, an' the newspaper people was afraid not to put them in, for feared av bein' shot down like dogs." What has Michael Collins to do with your coming here P" I inquire, feeling strangely excited. "Just this, ma'am," he replies, "that he's wounded an* dyin', an' he sez he must see yeh afore he dies." Why does he wish to see Mrs. Brabazon ?" says father. "There," replies the man, who has been fumbling in his oap for some time. There, Father M'Veagh is wid Michael Collins, an' he sint ye that"—he hands me a bit of tumbled paper as he speaks. 1 hand it to father, and light the candles on the mantel-piece. Father M'Veagh I have known all my life, and know him to be a good, kind little man. Moreover, althoueh we do not profess the same creed exactly, we are all excellent friends. There are a few words written on the paper, and they run thus :— "Father M'Veagh requests Mrs. Brabazon to come with the bearer of this. A dying man wishes to make a confession to her, and hopes that for the Lord's sake and His blessed mother's, she will comply with this request, and render a daath-bed less terrible." No sooner have I read these mysterious words than I hand the missive to father in silence. In eiience he reads it, and then says to the man Where do you wish to take this lady to P it 'ud be hard t' say. sir," he replies evasively, to a part av th' mountains that I'll be bound t' say she never was in afore." The dying man ia Michael Collins ?' I aay queetioningly. Not a lie in it, ma'am, yer ngnt, is the answer. Have you any idea why he wants to see me ? I have, ma'am," 1108 stolidly spoken as his other replies. Can you tell me what it is r" I can't, ma'am." "May I ask why P" I inquire. "Bedad. veh may, ma'am, ask away, but I'm swore, an' I can't tell you." I turn to father, and ask :— Father, what is to be done P" Let us talk over it for a few minutes," he says quietly, meantime let this man remain in the hall." He rings the bell as he speaka, and Dawson makes hit appearance in a suspiciously short space of time. To him is the red.haired Mercury con- signed, and Dawson leads him off with an air which seema to say that he will certainly keep watch and wHd over the spoons and forks so long as be is in the house. My dear," says father, it occurs to m that we ought to do as Father M'Veagh says, as I have an idea this meeting may throw some light on the whereabouts of Kane Kavanagh."

CHAPTER XXII. A STRANGE VISIT. After a little consultation I gradually begin to think father's view of the matter is correct. In a few minutes I am equipped in a fur.lined, warm cloak, and we set forth on our strange journey, guided by the Mercury, and accompanied at his earnest solicitation by the faithful, if auapicious, Dawson. There is an outside car in waiting, and as we recognise it to be that of Father M'Veagh, it gives us a certain sense of security. Up the mountain road we go for every two yards we advance seeming to slip back one, the road being cne sheet of frozen snow. Presently we turn a corner, and I know that, were there light enough, I could see our own old houge on the Fairy Hill read; and then I recollect that it was around this very bend of the road that I saw the humble funeral procession wending upon the morning of the niRhtthatmyhuBband was shot at. The night is bitterly cold, and we can just see the mountains outlined f gainst the darkening sky. i The iBtillaesB is awe-inspiring. The lights of the town flicker in the distance like so fsint black ribbon, between its two white banks aud rot a sound breaks the solemn stillnets, save tha ncife of the hcree's hoofs and the incessant prowling of Con Finnegan, the driver, and "The Prket'e Br-y," < r along wid yea—will yeh P" exclaims C m, atOEtrot hiiing the horse, who has eoiae to A dead tiOp. lino the anir- al refuses to s'ir an Ger wid His riveyei-oe be a-cher giver, h' Sacrimir.te-g:ory be for thim end an His mcrcies—av yeh don't make haste." Ard Con belabours tbe horse vigorously. Presently the animal gets on for a few yards, and then again comes to a full stop. The wind is piercingly cold, and wa begin to think that even this exciting mode of proceeding has its advan- tages when pursued almost upon the top of a blE-ak mountain. "Your horse seems obstinate, says fauber. She's a mare, Rir," corrects Con linnegan, an' as fur cotithr&riness," he exclaims, why, yeh woul n't find her match in any living woman in the whole county—beggin' yer pardon, ma am, present company always excepted," he inter- poses politely, with a saving recollection of my presence. But faith, sir," he continues con6.. dentially to father, I don't mind tellin' yeh, sir, that she's that conthrairy that it's me own belief that av she ewalli'd half-a sovereign yeh wouldn't get her t'give up more norsiven-an- sixpence av it." Having borne this testimony to the character of the mare, Con descends from the driving seat, and leads the animal along the road. He stops after a long and weary, journey, and the red- haired messenger comes to us and says :— have t' walk th' rest av the way, ma'am." "lsitfarP" asks father, as he takes me stiff and almost frozen from the car. "A good step, ma'am," he replies dryly, and then leads the way, whilst Dawson follows close behind us. We advance through the gorse bushes over the soddened turf. Either the path has been awept, or the snow has been downtrodden, for the path lies there black amongst the surrounding white. ness. On and on we go, for milea, for hours, it seems to me, and at length I stop exhausted. Bow far have we to go?" I ask. "Not as long more," he says comfortingly, and as he speaks he gives a very low peculiar whistle. In a lew seconds it is answered by one exactly the same, and almost at the same moment a voice says: Is that Teague ?'' to which our guide replies, Yes, lady." The Lord be praised," exclaims the voice, which we recognise to be that of a woman. Come on, quick, alannah, come on." iatfcer," I whisper nervously, as I cling to him, do you know where we are P" 'Pon my soul, I don't, my pet," he replies, in a perturbed, tone. "I'm out of my bearings entirely." I'm beginning to get afraid," I say in a cowardly spirit, for I fear abject terror getting hold of me. "I'm not," says father, valiantly, and sure there's Daweon with us too." "Now," calls out the woman, "mind yer futtin'! Mind where yeh step, an' don't run down too quick." Her warning is needed, for we have come to a steep incline ■ where we can hardly keep upright. Adown this we are guided, and presently, we feel as thcugh W9 were descending into the bowels of the earth, for the sky has disappeared, and there is earth beneath our feet, and earth over our heads. We seem from the sound our footsteps make, as we advance slowly and cautiously, to be in a sort of wide passage, and in a few minutes we see a dull, rosy glare in the distance. Nearer and nearer we come, and soon find our- selves in a goodly-sized subterranean chambor, where, in one corner, is a huge turf fire, to which two men are scientifically attending—that is, they manage to heat the aods of turf red hot at once, so as to avoid smoke. In another corner—placed so that the ruddy glare of the turf falls upon it direotly—is a frame- work of wood, apparently built into the side of the chamber presumably it is a bed, for on it lies, covered by a few old blankets, the figure of a man, a crucifix held loosely between his hands. There are one or two people, men, standing around the bed, amongst them being Father M'Veagh. Thank you," he says, coming over and hold- ing out his hand to me; thank you for com- ing." What does the man want to say to me?" I ask, strangely impressed by the whole weird scene. Is it true this is Michael Collins?" Quite true," he replies. U But don't shrink away; I've confessed him, and he wants to tell you something before he died." I advance to the bedside, whilst the woman takes away my damp cloak. There lies the renowned Collins of the Comeraghs," as he was called. He is a splendid looking man, and I, who have looked upon death so very reoently, know that the time has very nearly come for him to yield up his fierce and turbulent spirit. My Bon." says Father M'Veagh, rouse up; here is the lady come to see you. He slowly opens his eyes, and fixes them upon What have you got to say to me ? I aak. He gasps a little for breath, and tries to Bay something. I bend down my ear, and hear him Bay Kava1'!sgh "Yea—Kavanagh. What of himF I ask eagerly, more eagerly, I think, than I am aware of. "It was I who shot Brabazon, and not Ka- vanagh," he says, in a low distinct tone. I recoil a step or two, but father puts his arm around me and keeps me by the bedside. Where is Kane Kavanagh F says father. He is alive, but wounded," replied the dying man. I was hired by the Ciuskeys, the evicted tenants, to shoot Brabazon. I missed him the first time, mies, and hit you." Never mind," I say, go on. I quite forgive you." Of course, I heard the talk about Kavanagh having done it out of jealousy; but let that pass. I dogged Brabazon's steps day and night, and at last came my opportunity. I fired at him, and, as if by magic, Kane Kavanagh appeared on the scene, with a revolver in his hand, which he directed at me, who was concealed from Brabazon. Of course I fired at Kavanagh, who fell, dropping his revolver." He pauses—exhausted. Father M'Veagh ad- ministers some stimulant, and he again proceeds— I wasn't without friends to come at a call. We saw Kavanagh wasn't dead, so we carried him up the mountain in the early mcrning, for I hadn't the heart to kill him. He waS a fine young fellow, and he once did a kind act for me, and I never forgot it." But you fired at him I say. I did it on the spur of the moment, in self- defence, and lam sorry for it," he says peni- tently. Aak Kavanagh to tell you why I spared him p" "Tell us where he is," says father. "Teague has instructions to take yon to him," he replies. And now give me your forgiveness, Miss he says, in a drowsy tone, and with a sinking of his voice. I forgive you," I reply, my tears running down fast. I forgive you fully and freely, as I hope to be forgiven myself." Father M'Veagh reoites the prayers for the departing spirit—all the uncouth, half-savage looking men standing by with heads reverently uncovered. It is a strange scene-the smoke- begrimed chamber, the dying man, the ruddyglara of the fire, and the solemnity which pervades the whole assembly. Suddenly the voice of the priest sinks to a whisper—then ceases altogether, as he prays silently. The dying man opens his eyes for an instant; a smile illumines his countenance, and he ejaculates the one word;— "Kathleen!" Father M'Veagh reverently closes the eyes of all that is earthly of Michael Collins; and turning away from the side of the bed, my overwrought feelings at length find relief in an hysterical fit of weeping. "Thank God 1" Bays my father, as he stands beside me, Kane Kavanagh is not a murderer But you know I never really believed it in my heart—never!" he ooncludes emphatically. And as I sit on the rude log of wood by the elowiEg turf I ask myself what I really believed in my heart respecting Kane Kavanagh. (TQ be concluded in our next.)

Why do you look so glum and cross, William, whenever 1 ask you to go out with me to any party or theatre?" inquired Isabella. My love," said William, "there would be no merit in going were I not making an awful sacrifice of my own feelings. Permit me the pleasure ofshowing that I go only to pleaee, my dear." How TO ANCHOR HIM.—A beautiful young wife has expended much ingenuity in devising a scheme to keep her husband at home at nights, and it proves very effectual. She flattera her liege lord about the exquisitely dainty proportions of his feet, and induces him to wear boots about two eizeB too small for him. He is on his feet all day long in the town, and, when he gets home at night, she haa a soft chair and a pair of loose, cool slippers for him, and bv the time he, with great drops of agony pearling hia brow, has got off his boots, he comes to the conclusion that there is no place like home after all, and has no desire to go down to the lodge, or to sit up with a sick friend. NAUGHTY CHICAGO —" My dear," said Mias Clara Morris to Mr. Clara Morris, at the Palmer House, the other day, ara you quite ready for dmner P" "Awfully quite, my love." "Have yon laid out the paste diamond for the chamber. maid to Bteal?" Yes, ducky." "And written the usual note to the chief of police ready for mailing?" "Everything regular, my pet." And ordered a nice gentle horse to run away with me to-morrow?" "Yea, dear." "And sent those marked copies of the operation to the Sunday papers ?" And did you tell that reporter I intended to buy a two hundred thousand dollar banana plantation some- where ? All attended to, sweetest." Then let us lock unhappy and go down." Henry Clay was travelling somewhere out West and put up for a night at a country tavern. Mine host," in looking over the register, dis. covered the name of "Henry Clay." There was but one Clay." Could it be possible that he had this distinguished man under hi., roof r He was astonished, delighted, Next morning, as soon as the great man appeared, Boniface bus- tled forward, and making hia rude how, said, "Mr. Clay, I believe, sir?'' "That is my name," said the gentleman, ir his affable tone. "Mr. Clay, the Congressman?" Yes, sir." "Well, eir, I've heard of you and I thought I'd just ask if you wouldn't give me and my old woman a little speech before you go?"

Considerable excitement was caused in some of the public streets of Leith on Friday afternoon by the appearance of two women attired in the uniform of the Royal Artillery. The costume was complete, even to the spursAnd cane. As the martial-looking girls were rather noisy and quarrelsome, they attracted the attention of the rolice, who took them to the lock-up. fhe artil- lerymen from whom the uniforms had been stolen I had to be supplied with other clothing before they could move from the house where they had been 9ft,

FEMININE FOIBLES,1 FANCIES, AND FASHIONS. =- BY A LADY. (All rights Reserved.) ECT WEATHER AT LAST—MARINE RESORTS— F.RArSHAw"-ROLIDAY8 FOR THE CHILDREN —LODGINGS BY THE SEA—CHARMING SEASIDE TOILETTES—FANS AND SUNSHADES — HAIR- DRESSING—FLOWERS FOR THE TOILETTE. I have heard it said" that Pluto himself would be cool if he were on visiting terms with Nep- tune," and the temperature has increased so nmcn within the last few days that we are all wishing to be put upon the watery god's visiting list. The atmosphere tf London just now pro- duces at least one effect—of a Turkish bath and though it is only a very short time sinoe we wanted fire and furs, now we are beginning to cry What shall we do to be cool? It is said that love and money are by no means despicable agents in procuring that which we desire; the current coin of the realm, is, how- ever, by far the more influential factor of the two. Potent as it 5s, even money cannot procure us sea breezes in town; nor can Whitely, that man of infinite resources, supply them; to any application of the kind he could only reply, that he had not a zephyr in stock, and (unprecedented announcement for him to make) regret hia inabi. lity to procure one to order." But breezes can always be found by the sea-shore, and the omnipotence of the gold again asserts itself, for though we cannot buy I cool winds in London, money can procure the luxury for us in other places, and the railway companies seem to vie with each other as to wbich shall have the honour of conveying us most cheaply and expeditiously to the marine delights for which we so ardently long. Once there we find our money—the most short- lived and transient of all mundane possessions— difficult to keep at all times, at the sea side it literally melts away; a disaolvicg view of our coin is ever before our eyes. The sovereign is reduced to the shilling, and the shilling to nothing in an incredibly short space of time. It is only when we are away from home in places where our credit is not established, and when the terms are cash only, that we learn the true value of our money. To pay ready money in hard cash over the counter puts a certain check upon the imagination, and we are not ao likely to buy things we can do very well without, but if there is a running account, acting on the spur of the moment, we often indulge our fancies, and simply say put it down in the bill. Thus staving off the evil day, or rather, the reckoning day, which sooner or later must come. To pay for what we buy at the time of purchase is a safeguard against much neeedless expendi- ture. I think often with gratitude of those benefactors of the human race who have simplified our rail- way time bills. "Bradahaw is still to many of us a word of terror and dismay, and to an ordinary capacity it expresses nothing but unmitigated con. fusion, and certain error. Few women, I think, are able to trace a train throughout its course and not feel a misgiving that they are almost sure to get wrong when they try to master the intricacies of that most bewildering and brain-torturing of books. How often have we boldly commenced the search, and gaily traced a train from a terminus, encouraged to proceed, perhaps, by the unaccountable absence of all complications up to a oertain point ? We begin to think Bradshaw" is not so incomprehensible after all; possibly we are elated by our own superior intelligence. But, alaB we are suddenly arrested by a zig.zag line, which diverges altogether from the straight path, and the train we were following looks as if it started from some place atl least half an hour before it arrived there. What agonies cf apprehension and despair have thousands of our fellow-creatures been :plunged into by the perusal of that most perplexing and inscrutable of volumes. Bradshaw" was, doubtless, intended for the enlightenment of mankind; eo much for good intentions; the study of it too often beguiles the weary traveller into tortuous routes, and, finally, lands them in the haven where they would not be. Some times despairing women, under these harrowing circum- stances, have appealed to me, and powerless to aid them, I could only utter the brief but touching lamentation of the Scriptures, and cry, "Alas, my sister." The schools are all breaking np now, and parents are thinking of giving the emancipated that pleasure which a trip to the sea always affords them. It is marvellous to see children's enjoyment when set free from restraint. What an amount of superfluous energy do those small scions of humanity possess, and with what unnecessary vigour and untiring perseverance do they raise their miniature Babels in the sand, disporting themselves in I the sun and on the waves with an eagerness of delight whioh is the wonder and envy of their sober elders, who find it sufficiently exhausting to support life under the shelter of the friendly rooks, and who, in a state of half somnolent quiescence, somewhat resemble the big zoophytes to be found in their vicinity. To the weary valetudinarian, the restless activity of a healthy child is a source of constant mystery and surprise. As Miss Malooh once said, Youth and first love are glorious things; let not those who have passed them by turn back and deny either." I have been a roundabout way to say what I intended, which is, that when making preparation for a lengthened sojourn with children by the sea, a judicious selection of toys should never be omitted. Bereft of all such resources, a wet day at the seaside is the eummum bonum of infantile woe. We cannot, unfortunately, ensure days of cloudless fcunshine there, nor anywhere, and while grown people, who ought to have a variety of expedients wherewith to while away the time, ccmplain ot wearineae, and wish themselves back amidst their familiar occupations, it is no wonder that little children, for the want of some forethought on the part of their elders, find a rainy day in lodgings the purgatory of childhood. Talking of lodgings, there is a wide variety, for their name is Legion," and the weary search lor really comfortable rooms is at times most dis- heartening. Very much of our enjoyment depends upon the courtesy of eur landlady, and the cleanli- ness of our temporary places of abode, even I though the greatest part of our time is spent in the open air. I imagine that most of us—from necessity, or by mischance-have now and then made unfortunate selections; and to arrive heated and weary at your journey's end with several hungry and tired children, who must be housed for the night, drives many a family into the first refuge open to them. A hasty selection is rarely a happy one, and yet people put up with discomfort rather than go through the weary business of re-packing what it was necessary to get out for the night. To save confusion, one large box should be set apart for the reception of immediate necessaries, thus avoiding the total aisplacement of every trunk. We are not invariably unfortunate, however, and in the course of our wanderings most of ns retain pleasant memories of the courtesy and kindness we have received in some of our temporary homes. The depredatory animal facetiously styled" the lodging-house cat" is getting a rare, though not wholly extinct, specimen of the feline race. It ilJ therefore, well to take needful precautions, though these need never be insulting. The existence of duplicate keys to sideboards and drawers is a re- ceived belief, not without its foundation of fact. Tap corks are a security against the pilferers of bottles, and though by no means a new invention, Bcme of my readers may not have seen them. They are sold at eighteen pence each. There is a brass key, which can be removed after looking, exactly in the same manner aa one taken from the ordinary barrel tap. These corks are air-tight, and very easily fixed in the bottle. They collapse and expand by means of the screw key. The one disadvantage of the ordinary cork is that after removal it is always difficult, and sometimes impossible, to replace it. Toilettes for the seaside are full of varisty, and washing materials are decidedly the coolest and best, if the cost of that prooeea is not too much against the choice of them. If it should be, a light make j of serge or a good beige iB the next best material. At a large Liliputian warehouse in the City I saw an excellent contrivance for a child's costume while providing for variety. The necessity fjr taking a number of dresses was avoided. There was a foundation skirt and bodice of dark blue serge, kilted to the knees, and good sized buttons were sewn at a little distance below the hips. To wear over this dress there were no fewer than four different coloured tunics, made in various ways, the one waa a simple fish-wife, the other was arranged, fold upon fold, scarf fashion, while one of the four had runners, which could be let down for the convenience of ircners. Each tunic had button holes worked in the upper part, at intervals, corresponding with the buttons aewn upon the skirt, 1Õ0 that it would ba but the work of a few eeconda to un- button a soiled tunic, and replace it with a fresh and spotless one. Cuffs to the elbow, and large collars cf different ehapea were also made to match; while, for evening wear, the addition of a few coloured bows makes the little wearer smart enough for the occasion. The list of these coloured arrangements was as follows .—A bright red turkey twill and fisNwife, with collar and cuffs to match ditto of pale blue cambric another of striped blue bed-ticking; another of white material, striped with blue. Hats of the same materials could be fashioned very easily, and would be an economical and pretty addition. The frame of an old sunshade covered to match would be another fashionable adjunct to this pretty toilette. It is barbarous to fetter little children with fine clothes and then forbid them to romp about for fear of spoiling their finery. At the same time every mother ia anxious that her children's garmente should be pretty and stylish-looking, and this the oostume I have described certainly is. However soiled it be. comes a brpeh for the ekirt and a little eoap and water for the renovation of the removable part ia all that is required to restore both to their former condition. Large brown holiand cloaks, with jc-liy-bag hooda, piped with coloured batiate, are a useful addition to a travelling toilet. They cover the excursioniet from dust, and, with the heed crawn over the head, are no mean protec- tion against a sudden shower. Some people prefer alpaca; either are Ubeful and tasteful. Of course, the holland must not be starched much when it it- washed. For Highland tourists Ulsters are make with hoods exactly like jockeys' cape, and, if the occasion requires it, they are drawn over the head when any other covering is need- lesr. 0 ] intended before to have said that fans and sunshades are made of the simplest materials— pompadour, coitonB and coloured liaeus; the indispensable fan iB very often (suspended from the tc.p cf the sunshade [by a^short length of ribbon to match. In tho country I hear that some daring ladies are wearing red shoes, and stockings of corre- sponding colour, but 1 cannot fancy they will ever become general, unless it ie at the foreign. Spaa, where every eccentricity and folly of fashion is briefly tolerated. For out-door wear in a country famous for mud scarlet shoes would not be very serviceable. Shoes are more worn than hoots, and is Oxford street I saw what are 0ailed | knapsack slippers; they are made of unstiffened morocco, and can, thotefjre, be packed in a very small compase. Fold- f ing umbrelias are also a novelty; both the handles and the tope can b3 unscrewed for the convenience of packirg, and securely replaced for use when required. Some umbrella handles are very ourioue, and are oarved to resemble the heads, feet, and bands of the human subject, while others I have seen reminded me of tbe old- fashioned print of Budibras and Ralpho in the stocks," representing two pairs of feet in the same critical and trying position. With short dresses the pyramidical stylo of dressing the hair is becoming fashionable once more, and tall combs of shell or jet are exhibited in all the hakdressera' windows. Ornamental daggers are also used to support the puffed arrangements of hair now in vogue. Never were flowers more universally worn. The florists mount them skilfully upon wire, without which they would fall too eaaily to be serviceable. On shoes flowera are put instead of bows; fans made of real flowers are not unusual, and papers composed of blossoms are seen on soma ball dresses, while small bouquets of flowa e, ro il or artificial, are the indispensable adjuncts of every toilet. The Princess of Wales set tbe fashion of fastening tbem close to the neck, on the left aide, and perhaps after a time we may sec them stuck behind the ear, which was a favourite finishing touch to the toilets of the beaus as well as the belles in daya gone by.

WIT AND WISDOM. Guest- Waiter, bring me another dish of peas and a magnifying glass. It is alleged that Mount Etna heard of De Witt Talmage s visit, and got discouraged. The Missouri farmers are reported to be driving posts into the ground to hang to when the cyclones come. The recent cyclone in Kansas was quite popu- lar — many porsons were really carried away with it. A sharp youth discovered" that after your letter is mailed a three-cent, stamp beoom38 a sent stamp. In the bright complexion of my youth I'll have no such word as pale," and she reached for the rouge box with the clutch of an angel. A gentleman who had been struck by the young lady's beauty was determined to follow the in. junction, and kiss the rod that smote him." A country blacksmith cut West put up a notice, No hosees Bhodded Sunday except sickness and death." Oh, but this English is a peculiar laagUMa. We use austere to oatch the dust, and dusters to brush the duet away. A child without legs has just been born. Thank heaven!" said the weeping father, "this never will be a champion pedestrian." A coloured orator in Providence, R.I., claimed for the negroes the possession of more intelligence than can be found in any other people of equal ignorance. "I had no time to etuff the ohicken," apolo- gised the landlady to her boarders. "Nevor mind, medam, it's tough enough as it is" replied one of them. II Yes," said a Texas lawyer, who was defending a murderer, the prisoner at the bar will prove an alibi. Gentlemen, we shall prove that the murdered man wasn't there." Sea bathing is hardly ever indulged in by the Russian ladies on account of the jealousy felt by the nobility against permitting any familiarity with the serf. Mr. Talmage remarked when the crowd hoisted him on their shoulders, Gentlemen, gentlemen! There is evidently a mistake. I assure you I have my legs with me." Free Kirk Elder, preparatory to presenting a tract: My friend, do you know the chief end of man?" Piper, innocently: No, I dinna mind the chune; can ye no whuBtle it?" The contented rustic Well, Peter, your crops must be ruined by this untimely rain ?" Yes, your honour, but, thank Heaven, so are the neighbors' Why is the Prince of Wales, musing upon his mother's government, like a rainbow? Becanse it's a sun's (son's) reflection upon a steady rain (reign). What a feeling of relief comes over a woman as she enters a church and disoovers that her neigh- bour's wife has the same feather on her apring hat that she wore last season. That is what I call a finished sermon," said a lady to her husband, as they wended their way from church. Yes," was the reply with a yawn, "but, do you know, I thought it never would be." Fresh (anxious about his rank) to Professor of Mathematics: Wbat will be my rank for the term P Professor: That is net easily determined; it is leas than any assignable quantity. "Oh, Doctor, how I suffer!" "Coma, come, madam I don't believe there's anything serious the matter with you." "Oh, how you torment me It would Berve you Just right if I were to die right under your nose A man asked for admission to a show for half price, as he had but one eye. But the manager told him it would take him twice as loag to see the show as it would anybody else, and charged him double. And phat does yez ax for the caliksrF" S'x cents, ma'am." "Saxteenr Oile give ye", fifteen." You misunderstand me, I said six cents." Oeh, then, Oile give yez foive cents." London Truth offers a weekly prize of 2s for the best epigram, conundrum, &0.. that may be sent in. Here are the latest prize conundrums :— Why is a man who is reading the most expensive daily paper like that paper itself P Because he is behind the Times." Professor Swift, of Rochester, has discovered a brand new comet. A match ought to be arranged between Swift and Profeeaor Petera, of Hamilton College Observatory, the belt—Orion's—to be given to the one who first diecovers a thoatand stars in a thousand hours. A member of a Scotch School Board recently began an address to some children thus: "No,;). ma bairns, wor a' like ehips-some in port, some oot in mid-ocean, an' some near the haven. Ye're just leavin'the port; as for me, I'm haif seas over." One day last week a North Hill man made a wager that he could eat 30 eggs in 30 minutoa. He lost his money. The first egg did the business for him. It was no young, giddy, inexperienced eg?. It was a venerable old sage, and it did it with its little hatch't. Did you see Baron Y.'s horse fall on his jockey over that hurdle?" "Oh, yes: The jockey's killed, but the horse is all right." Yes, I know. It don't amount to anything; but the Baron must have been fearfully scared." At the salon in Paris, before an admirable portrait of a gentleman well known ,for his rare qualities as a bore, a visitor said II That is a speaking likeness of X., isn't it?" "Yes," replied his companion. so speaking that you can hardly refrain from telling him to shut up." Photographer: "You don't appear pleased with your pictures, sir." Sitter No, I'm not; they look hke the very Old Nick." Photographer "Why, air, I thought they were a remarkably good likeness." Sitter: "Blast it, yes; that's ust what's the trouble." A man having fallen into a slough, his friend called loudly to another for assistance, The latter, who was busily engaged in cutting a bog, and wishing to procraatinate, inquired, How deep is the gentleman in P" Up to his ankles," was the answer. Then there is plenty of time," said the other. "No, there's not," rejoined the first, "for he's in head first." A good story is told by a teacher of one of the Sunday schools in the centre of the city. A Sun- day or two ago she asked her class of little girls who went into the ark with Noah. None of them seemed to know, but one little girl thought she must say something, and not knowing, used her natural born right of guessing, and to the amuse. ment of the teacher, replied, His sisters, aud hia cousins, and his aunts. A man with a red face, and looking rather shabby, oalled at a house one Sunday and asked for a drink of ale. The lady of the establishment refused, telliEg him she could not accommodate him. He urged her, assuring her that she had better do so, that some persons had entertained angelB unawares. "Yes," baid she, "I Koow that, but angels don't go about drinking aie on Sundays." A rural bride of considerable beauty went to Indianapolis on the honeymoon tour. Hac husband was manifestly proud of her good looks. While they were going about the city she was struck in the face by a falling sign-board and bar nose broken. The attending surgeon said that she was distlgured for life. Just my darned laok," the husband exclaims, property alvv^yd to ruin in my hands." Welsh Genealogies.—Sir WTatkine Wynne, talking to a friend about the antiqaisy of his family, which he carried up to Noah. was told that he was a mere mushroom. Aye said he; "how so, pray?" "Why," replied the other, when I wde in Wales a pedigree of a particular family was shown to me. It tilled about five large ekinB of parchment, and about the middle of it was a note on the margin About thia time the world was created. Country doctor to the bereaved widow of a late member of the Georgia Legislature: "I o.\aaot tell how pained I was to hear that your hasbaud had gone to heaven. We were bosom friends, but now we shall never meet again." Minnie C. Ballard, in a tender lyrio Just pub- lished, inquires of whom it may concern— "Wo\.ld you love me as well, truo-hear., HJW I a face less fair ? We dislike to say unpleasant things, Minnie, but the chances are he wouldn't. Plain words are beet, and so sometimes are women; but we repeat that the chances are that he wouldn t. Before the Cadi a JJahomedan was brought up for burning down a Christian a house. Where is the complainant May 01¡r Bouls be a sacrifice, but he 18 in the other world He was burned with his .J D0 koran," eaid tbe magistrate, providaa that when the com- plainant is unable to ppear, it hie abiding place be known, the culprit shall be taken there and confronted with him. in the present case the plaintiff does not appear nowa to be in the next world, Let tile la v? be executeu-di toto the prisoner. A young man from the country went to have a tooth plugged. The dentist advised him to hava the tooth out, and apsutod him that he would fed no pain if he inhaled laughing gas. But what is the effect of the gas r" asked "J youth. It simply makes you totally insensible," answered the dentist; you don't know anything that takes place. The. rustic aBaeuted i but just previous to the gas being administered he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out his money. Oh, do ♦v- rrou e ahout that now," said the dentist, JP'Bking that he waa going to be paid his fee. Not at all," remarked the patient, I was simply going to see how muoh I h&d before the gas took effect."