[SOW TIKST ftnUBHCD. j SABI,NA ZEMBRA. 8i A NOVEL, BY WILLIAM BLACK, Author ef "MAOLZOD OF DABE." A PRINMM or TWOLX," See., 4c. J CHAPTER Lt.-AT CAM? MAN TOWBB. i ANIE'S keen desire to visit the northern isles ud hills, and Edin- burgh, and Melrose, and the dowie dew o'Yarrow," had apparently gone fielD her mind now. She seemed half con teat with this bit of western Wigtonsbire; and indeed they found the neighbourhood exceedingly picturesque and interesting. Of course they in- sisted on Walter Lindsay accompanying them on aB of their excursions; and the attendant who want with them, perched on the box-seat beside the driver, speedily discovered that his office was a saeeare. It was "the tall young leddy," who had supplanted him; devoting herself entirely to Lindsay, and never wearied of tolling him of all tfcafc was around as them as they walkm* .1- Sbe did not need to lea,: oomenow he knew wbm she was close by him. Her voice was a magia" guide-perhaps an occasional touch of bar dromh too. Naturally, when they were step- pWg iato a boat, or passing under the archway of some old ruin, she gave him her hand; but ordi- mriiy they merely walked side by side—her face tented towards his. They were thus strolling along the shore one IftWTiing, she stooping now and again to pick up a Tfctl1 or a bit ot crimson weed, but ever returning to bar welcome task of describing the fair world around them and Janie and her husband were following some little way behind. "If Walter bad only his eyesight for ten minutes:" Janie said, wistfully. "If be could only see the expression of her face every time she tftms te him. There is one thing surely be must •otwe—that her voice changes whenever she speaks to bia4 whatever she may be saying to Q8- whatever nonsense may be going on—the moment 11M apeaks to him, it is all gentleness; and you know how soft and kind her voice is when she chooses. That is what I have said for years and yeus, ever since I have know her-the way to win Sabie's love is through her pity, Walter Ugclmy uted to be too well off; she never could be brought to care for him. So I suppose it is traa that there may be a soul of good in things eVii I daresay if she had not come through that dxeadfal time of trouble, she would Be have got to know what a true friend he is; and I am epties sure, if this misfortune hadn't befallen him, she wouldn t have the sympathy with him she has now. And very little trouble she takes to hide it. If be could orly see for a second how she watches hi4 face when she's telling him anything-to gather whether he's interested yes, and the quickness with which she is the first to get him his stick and his hat when we are coming out, and the eagerness with which she listens to him, and 'her quick approval-ah, well, I don't know what may come of it; but apparently Sabie is quite happy whenever she is with him." Thae said Janie, in her incoherent way her busband-took a more practical view. What ought to come of it is clear enough. To make of two broken lives one whole one is the sensible thing." "Bb is too proud to ask her," Janie said. I Let her ask him." i She can't. Besides, he would refuse to accept such a sacrifice-that is, if he was likely to be per- manently blind.' "Now, look here," said Mr Philip, "that is a subject which we can't speak of to Walter but you and I may speak of it; and I assure you that his determination to look at the worst side of the possibilities must have grown up when be was living here by himself, and giving way to depres- sida and gloom. Or he may think it right to schtol himself to face the worst that can happen. Vely well; that may be reasonable enough. But you must remember that the chances are really the other way. No doubt, many of the operations are unsuccessful; but the majority of them are successful; and you know what the doctors said —that everything depended on the general health of the constitution. Well, look at Lindsay. He has never had a touch or gout or rheumatism, or anything of the kind all his life long. J, say the chances are all in his favour. Of course the aiudety must be dreadful; and I can understand a man, in a kind of half despair, saying to himself that he will rather look forward to the worst, so that he may not be wholly crushed if it should happen." "I wonder what Sabie thinks," Janie said, ab- sently. "I am afraid to ask her. And I suppose if he were to be permanently blind, it would be too great a sacrifice for her to make? I know, if the positions were reversed, it would not be too aHM a sacrifice for him to make he would sacri- fice anything, everything for Sabie's sake. But ybla aoalt eftea meet with a devotion like that. He told me himself—but mind, you must not tell Sftbie this.-tial when it first occurred to him there was something wrong with his eyea, be began to think there would be at least this com- pensation in beiag blind, that Sabie Would always bftH* the same beauty for him, that he would always think of her as he bad first known her. There never has been anything that be would not sacrifice, and willingly and gladly, íf her sake. But I don't know about her." "You don't know about her?" her husband repeated, staring at her. Wen. I like that:" Oh, of course, you want me to argue that she is bound to make the sacrifice ? I am not going te say anything of the kind. But this is clear enough—that, if the success of that, operation de- pends considerably on the general. health of the patient, our little trip here seems to have done Lindsay a world of good. He is in ever so much better spirits than when we came." That is because Sabie is his constant com- panion," was Janie's answer. And I must say for her, that when she sets about making much of anyone, she does it with a will. There is no mis- taking it. I remember, in the old time, mother declaring phe was a most horrible flirt because of the way she was 'going on' with Walter at his own house one night. Bnt she wasn t going on.' When she wants to beoqmd to you.' as the children say, she certainly CIAU, and she doesn't care who sees it, either." Well, then," aaid Mr Philip, it is clear we are not doing Lindsay much harm by keeping him occupied and ebonful; and I have been thinking we might add -an two or three daya more to our visit. We eut/t be in the way, for be has nothing to do; and .tb¡e house is big and the servants just as obliging and good-natured as they can be. Well, now, I was thinking of Monday vmmt shall we say Wednesday iustead ?" "If you will stay to the end of the week, Phil Janie answered, MI will give up any one of the places 1, wanted to see—any one you like." "The end of the week? Well, we must first ask for an invitatioB, and then .elll see what Sabin,. says.* But Philip Drexel had himself already cut out oae portion of their travelling programme-that referring to the Braes of Yarrow. He seemed to have lost interest in th& grey and shadowy figure which, in his London dreams, he bad pictured as on Yarrow's bpukt4 with a world of mystic gloom around her. Fee even as the blood oi an ansemic parson is flushed by fresh air, and sunlight, and smaim, so Mr Pliilip's imagination, under the constant stimulus of historical and legendary scenes and associations-to say nothing of the brisker health begotten of rowing and climbing, aad moorland tramping had warmed into colour Asams Lindsay's books he had discovered the ballad of Fair Annie and be bad gradually put away from him the grey phantom of Yarrow's banks for this brighter, if still pensive, figure— that of the forsaken mistress who is bidden to ..It. her in greea cleiding," and "braid her y,]]-,— batr," that ebe may welcome home the bride Fair Annie stood in her bower floor* And tboftit ower the land; I there she saw her am zude lota V*" LaadiotfhM bride by thenar V She's drest her sons i' the scarlet red, Herself i' the dainty green And though her cheek looked pale and wan, She weel might ha' been a rueen." This was what he was busy with now; and so the visit to Yarrow's haunted stream was dis- carded, or at least postponed and there was so much the more time to add on to their lingering in the pleasant Kingdom of Galloway. When Philip asked Lindsay to keep them on for another week, be wound up his not ineffectual prayer by saying- And the best thing you can do at the end of the time is to come along with us. Moping down here won't do you any good. Come with us for a run through Scotland, and then go back to London with us." But Lindsay would not hear of it. I should be a continued drag on you, and you have plenty to do. Besides, I have grown familiar with this place I can get about a little even when Jamie isn't by. Of course, I shall have to be in London for a brief time: we shall meet then. In the meanwhile, Phil, my lad, don't talk about your going, there's a good fellow. I don't want even to think of it-until it's over." If these days, then, were now numbered, at least they were halcyon days. The visitors had not committed the usual mistake of English folk in going to Scotland just at the very worst time of the year for weather. And how quickly the time passed! In the morning after breakfast, they all went outside, for the mignonette was sweet in the soft June air, an 1 if Janie and Philip generally strolled off by themselves, Sabina had found out for herself a warm bank at the southern edge of the lawn, where it was pleasant to sit. Thither she brought Lindsay's chair, and the daily batch of newspapers; and she could make a shrewd guess as to what interested him most when she began to read-not the squabbling of Synods and Presbyteries, and not the sham ob- jurgation of party politics, but rather the reports from the salmon rivers, and accounts of any new picture exhibition in London. Then the wagonette would come round to the door; the stragglers would be summoned to get ready; and presently they would be driving away along the coast, be up and over the wild moorland country, until, at mid-day, they sought out some sheltered spot for opening the luncheon-basket. The afternoon Mr Philip usually devoted to desperate attempts at I acquiring the art of fly-fishing—from a boat on a small loch hard by. Sometimes the others accom- panied him, and it was very little the two women I. knew of the imminent peril they were in from the erratic cast of flies, especially when there was a bit of a breeze on behind the fisherman. Lindsay, A WALK BT MOOKLIGHT. )f course, could not see; and the saturnine Jamie, litting at the oars, merely sniggered to himself md said nothing. But, nevertheless, Mr Philip logged away with his variegated cast of A uln, Blue Dun, and Coch-y-bonin; and. if be some- ;imes caught up in his own clothes, or occasion- illy lodged the Coch-y-bondy in the gunwale of -he boat behind him, these were but trifling mis- laps; and eventually bis patience and resolution were on most occasions rewarded by the capture )f a few innocent small things attracted by the Mtssage of the drop-fly across the surface. Then lome to dinner; after which there was smoking, md chatting, and music. Sometimes, on these warm June nights, they opened the French win- lows, and went abroad in the stillness, for there was moonlight now; and it was strange to bear, n the silense, the ocasional soft-mewing of some iwtant sea-gull, or the whistle of a curlew down jy the shore. On the last night of all these nights, Philip proposed that they should walk up to the old •ower, to have a last look at the coast, and the silvered sea. All this evening Lindsay had been silent and pre-occupied. Sabina had tried her Dest to cheer him, but without avail; no one had lared to speak of the departure on the morrow; md indeed the restraint on all of them was inly too obvious. So this proposal was rather gladly accepted; and, when they went out into the hushed night, Janie and her husband led the way, as was their wont, and Sabina followed with Lindsay, her hand just hovering near his um. It was a beautiful night; and the further they Elimbed the steep ascent, the more they could see of the still, moonlit water, and the successive frey promontories running out away to the south. There was not a sound-even the sea birds were silent now and the whispering of the ripoles along the shore was too faint to reach them here. And Sabina had ceased to try to entertain him; her own heart was not over light; perhaps she felt there was much to say that she could not say. When they reached the tower-wbicb was part Df the ruins of a stronghold built by the Robert Lindsay who fell at Otterbourne—they found that Philip and Janie had gone inside, and were trying to make their way up to the top. Sabina did not choose to follow them; she seated herself on one of the big stones lying about; and Lindsay re- mained standing by her side-his fingers just touching her dress near the shoulder, that he should know she was there. For some little while there was silence then she said (recnmng to her duties for the last time):— I don't think I ever saw the sea so still. And there is a small steamer right in the way of the moonlight—jet black it is—it is so strange to see it slowly crossing that wide silvery pathway. Where will it be going? Over to Ireland ?" He paid no heed to her question; it was not of the sea be was thinking. So you are really going away to-morrow ?" he said, in rather a lew voice. Yes, she answered simply, and I have no heart in going." Then, with an effort, she gathered courage to say what she wished to say. You must not imagine that I go willingly. I think I have been of some little service to you. I think you like me to be with you. And I would like to stay if I could. You did not forsake me- in my time of trouble. If I am going, I have no heart in going; believe that." The band that was so near her touched her; it was trembling a little. Sabina, you almost make me speak when I bad determined to keep silent—and if I could-" But here he paused for a second. No, not yet; not as I am now I cannot. But perhaps here- after-it may be different. I must wait-and then —if it is different—I will come to you." She could not fail to understand. "You do not trust me," she said. "Do you think that would make any difference to me?" He bent down a little, perhaps it was to listen for the least sound of her voice; it was a habit he had got into since bis eyesight bad left him. "Sabina, if the worst were to happen, would you still have pity on me 2" For answer, she took the hand that was hover- ing over her shoulders, and held it in both of hers and kissed it. "My best and dearest friend," she said, and there was even a tnuch of pride in her simple self-surrender, I wish to be with you always bur, if that were to happen—then more than ever." CHAPTER LII.-Ar A PICTURE SHow. Walter Lindsay neither let nor sold his town bouse and studio. On all sides he was informed that the most skilful oculists in the world were to be found in London, and when the time was drawing nigh for the operation for cataract to be performed, he repaired thither. Nor did Janie, and Philip, and Sabina leave him much chance of sinking into a nervous apprehension and gloom. Nearly every evening they went round to his studio, for Sabina was staying with these good friends just then, and Lindsay and they were near neighbours. Sometimes took to him, or sent him, flowers. It was a fair exchange. M O. diaaa ye mind, love Gregory, When we sate at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks? It's no sae lang sinsyae. Iu her time of trouble be bad shown bar a kindness that she treasured in her inmost heart; and now it was her tarn, in a smaller but in no unwilling way, to pay him all kinds of little attentions, aud seed him daily remembrances. They wan not undervalued by the recipient of them. During the week of suspense that foflowed tha operation, Janie was terribly anxious; Sabina much less so. Indeed, her apparent or schooled indifference not only surprised Janie, but pained her, and she ventured to remonstrate. "Even if the worst should happen," Sabina said, calmly, "I am quite prepared for it; it will not be so very dreadful." Sabie I have yon no regard for his fame as a painter?" I have a greater regard for his love," was the answer (these two being alone together at the time). What do you mean. Sabie? Would you rather have him always dependent on you? Is that what you mean ? It cant be that you imagine, if he were to recover his eyesight, he would care for you any the le,s, when you know quite well that never in all your life were you looking su pretty as you are now—that can't be it? "Janie, don't talk as if my interests should be thought of at all," Sabina answered. "Of course, if Walter gets back his sight, that will be a joyful day for all of as. But if it isn't to be-well, we will do what we can to make his life pleasant for him and I for one am not going to be downcast, even at the worst." But she was hardly under such good control on the momentous day when the examination was to be made. She, and Philip, and Janie, were all in the house the doctor was in the room upstairs. It had been hinted to them that, as far as it was possible for medical skill to judge, there was every reason to believe that the operation would prove to have been successful. But notwithstand- log that, Janie was very visibly agitated, and Sabina, though holding herself in restraint, seemed to be listening intently, as if for some footfall on the stair, and she started at the smallest sound. Janie, indeed, couid not keep FIill. She went from one place to another. Not a word was spoken by any of them. At jiast she left the room, and crept noiselessly up the staircase, and hang about the landing. She could hear them speaking within; surely those voices were cheerful enough ? Suddenly the door opened. "Good-bye for the present." You'll tell them, doctor?" "011' yes; thoy're waiting below-they won't have left, depend on it." Then he shut the door, and the next moment was confronted in the dusk by this poor, timorous, apprehensive, speechless ghost. Oh, it's all right," said be. Very satisfac- tory indeed." Janie flew down the steps-how, she could never afterwards understand- and rushed into the room. "Sabie! Sabie!" And then her arms were round her friend's neck, and she was kissing her on one cheet, and the other cheek, again, and again, and again. It was all the message she could deliver-but it was understood between these two. A long time after that—last June, indeed-it was announced that on a certain day there would be opened in Bond-street an exhibition of water- colour drawings and ske tches, chiefly of the River Shannon; and on the previous Saturday there was a Private View, at which a large number of the artists' friends were assembled. It was a goodly display, considering that most of the aeries had been produced within eighteen months—though some of the drawings were of an earlier date. It was one of these other ones that seemed to have caught the fancy of a noble and gracious lady who would .insist on Lindsay going round the room with her, and so profuse were her praises that, in order to get away from them he said- Y es, I like that one myself, for it was just underneath those trees that I caught a twenty- eight pound salmon." Really now!" said this good lady. How very interestiug! Twenty-eight pounds-that must have been a large fish. What did you do with it ?" I sent it to Sabina Zembra." Sabina Zembra?" she said, inquiringly, "Who is that?" Don't you know? There she is—over in that comer-talking to the little old gentleman with the ear-trumpet," said Lindsay, looking towards a tall young woman in a dress of silver-grey plush, with a beefeater's hat of the same material, and with one deep crimson rose at her breast. But that is your wife," said this noble person, peering through her eye-glasses. Ah, I set-- that was her name, was it? What a very extra- ordinary present to send a young lady!" What else could I send her-from the Shan- non ?" 6At this moment Janie came along. "It's all right," she said, in an undertone; "Phil has been down to some place in Piccadilly, and got a room where we shall be by ourselves. Sabie and I will follow whenever we see you going to the door. And Phil is waiting outside." The consequence of this manoeuvre was that, a few minutes thereafter, these four were seated at lunch in a private room of a well known res- taurant, and they seemed rather glad of this respite from their public duties. When I first thought of having an exhibition of this kind," Lindsay said," my wildest hope was that that young woman there would condescend to come to the private view. I little expected to see her mistress of the show." "I assure you that it is remarkably nice," Sabina said. You've no idea what pretty things have. oeen said to me this morning. And do you think I was going to make any protest ? That wouldn'c have been business-like. I felt far more inclined to say:—'Good gentleman, er pretty lady, your opinion is quite correct; and will you buy You mercenary wretch However, wte ve little cause to complain on that score; and I mean to make our holiday this year a thorough- going one. I suppose you have got everything ready for Monday morning. Philip—rods and nets and everything?" Yes, I think so." Oh," continued Lindsay, I beard a pretty story about you the last timn I had to run down to Wigtonshire. The boy Jamie says that when you were fishing from the boat you were con- tinually catching up on the gnnwhale behind you. Now how did you manage that? You must have doubled the flies right behind. And do you know you were whisking: them past people's faces?" "Can the boy Jamie use a rod himself?" Mr Pnilip asked. Oh, yes, Jamie can throw a fly." "Then perhaps it would have been better for the young ruffian to have given me some advice instead of treasuring up a tale about it." "Never mind, we'll show you how to lift your line behind you when we're all back in Galloway again. Yes, and there's some nobler sport for you, my lad, when we go on to Cromarty wai; till you find yourself fighting a thirty-pounder—then janie will have to be by to give a scream when you bring him to bank." Coffee and cigars were brought in but the little party could not idle here much longer; the artist bad to go back to receive his patrons and friends. As they were going downstairs he said Look here, Mr Phil, I reckon I shall see you to-morrow some time or other; but if I don't, mind you come a bit earlier on Monday morning. Eustoa Station, 9.45, that's the watchword; and j then—' Take year seats for the North It only remains to be addect that Sir Anthony Zembra, who has at length bad the honour of office conferred on him, came to the show that afternoon, and was vastly complimentary. At the dinner tables which he adorns with his handsome presence, be is quite fond of talking to his son-in- law; and at the last banquet of the Royal Academy, on being called on to answer for the House of Commons, be made pointed reference to his own personal and immediate association with art. THE MM.
THE DIFFERENCE. Girl.—" Aint th t your father coming Boy,—" No, it a yer own. GirL-" How can you tell?'' Boy.—" '008 yoar father takes up b6th side of that street, and mine lies down in tber middle. I
l Aa Illiaois man died lately while laughmg heartily at a pun. He deaenred his fata.
EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE. IE By James McGovan. NO. 18-AN IMPORTANT WITNESS. OUT at Morningside, about twelve o'clock on a fine summer night, the policeman on the beat who was a little more particular than usual on account of so many families being away in country quar- ters, fancied that he saw the figure of a man slink round the end of a villa, owned and occupied by a solicitor named Harkness. The circumstance would have excited no suspicion but for the fact knoWU to the policeman that Mr Harkness was then away on the Continent. The servant also was away, and the place in sole charge of an old housekeeper. Tbe man, therefore, could not be a sweetheart, and the policeman pushed open the gate of the front garden, ran swiftly across the lawn and round the house, and was just in time to see the figure making a dash and a wild scramble to get over the back wall into the next lane. In another minute they were grappling together, but after one desperate effort to break free the man yielded quietly. He would not say what he bad been doiniv there at such an hour, and gave his name with some hesitation as David Shepperd. He was miserably clad, and looked sufficiently broken down to be ready for any crime. While questioning his prisoner the policeman noticed that the back door of the house and one of the windows were open. Shepperd professed utter ignorance of the cause, and declared that he bad not been inside the house, and had not bad any intention of entering it. After fastening Shepperd's writs to his own to make sure of no escape, the policeman moved to the front and sig- nalled to the officer on the next beat and together they entered the darkened house by the open back door. The result was sufficiently startling and horrifying. On the stairs they found the old housekeeper, senseless and bleeding, lying in a heap on the landing in her nightdress, while in _1 -1 ¿1. ..1. JXSSIK MORTIMEB. ocvcim VI buo ruuiuB tuens was evidence of an at- tempt to collect and carry off the most valu- able articles within reach. Disorder waseverywhere but from the fact that many valuables still lay about it appeared as if thd housebreakers had been scared in the act. Shepperd stared open* mouthed at the significantdiscovery,and professed to be as much shocked as his captors. I thought I heard someone at the back as I came up the garden walk," he said with the ut- most coolness. "Perhaps they had been escaping then." Very likely," dryly returned the policeman, and then advised him to say as little as possible. Their natural inference was that Shepperd had been placed on guard in front, that he bad duly given warning, but had not been able to accomplish his own escape. The idea that he was one of the actual housebreakers, and had been escaping when first seen, came later. But Shep- perd would not be advised, and got greatly excited at the palpable inference. He was not a house. breaker, had never seen the injured woman in his life, and had only gone into that quiet garden to meet a friend who could not see him at any other time. He admitted that he had no right to meet anyone there, but he had done it before, and no one bad been the wiser or the worse of it. On the way to the Central the prisoner said a great deal more to the same effect, and professed to be greatly indignant at being taken for a house- breaker, though he did not deny that he bad been more than once in prison. When he was searched he was found only to possess a pocket knife, a pipe and tobacco, and some ccppers. Next morn- ing, however, close to the spot at which he had been captured and pulled down from the wall, there was found a heavy-headed bludgeon stained with blood. No other arrests were made, and Shepperd, after being charged at the Police Court, was remanded. It was impossible to communi- cate with the owner of the house, and the house- keeper was believed to be beyond ever speaking again, so it was not discovered till nearly a fort- night later that absolutely not one article had been removed by the housebreakers. Two days after the arrest of Shepperd, and of course after an account of the outrage had appeared in the papers, a gentlemanly-looking person called at the Central and asked to see me. He appeared to be about forty, had a pallid, colourless face, and a perpetual cloud on his brow, like one who had missed all he considered worth having in life. He was so weak that he had to be helped np the stairs, and so breathless that I HZ WAS SO WEAK THAT HE HAD TO BE BELPKD CP THE STAIBS." thought every gasp would be his last. Anyone could have told at a glance that the man was dying on his feet, and that his trouble was consumption. I have come to see if I can throw any light on that robbery and murder at Momingside," be said, with many pauses to cough and gasp for breath, after be had given his name as Thomas Pearpon. "1 am a compositor by trade, but I haven't been very well of late, and am lodging out at Moraing- side to see if that will put me right. They say the air is good for any one with a weak chest." It is not exactly a murder yet," I observed in correction, "though it will be if the poor woman dies." Which is very likely to be the case, is it not?" he said very quickly, and with a flush of eager interest dyeing his sickly cheeks. I hope not; the doctors report that there is no serious fracture, and that she may recover." But if she did not; if she died, and the house. breakers were discovered and convicted, they would be banged-would they not?" be eagerly continued. It is possible," I answered, metally wondering what morbid erase had suggested such a thought to the dying object before me. Well, I think I can help you to a conviction," he hurriedly continued. "On Wednesday night, about twelve o'clock, I went out of the house as I often do when the weather is close and I cannot sleep. My lodging is in Eden Bank, and I don't walk fast, so I had not gone far whan I bad to sit down and rest on a gate step. I was just at the corner of the street. I saw two men passing the end of the lane, and one looked round so that the light of the lamp fell on his face. I should know that face among a thousand again. What if the old woman wakes tip ?' the other one said. Oh, I'll soon settle her,' was the answer, and they passed on. I rose and watched them till they turned the corner in the direction of Mr Hack- nese's house. I could not follow them, and of course I had no idea that they were about to commit such a crime." course I had no idea that they were about to commit such a crime." This information seemed so earnestly offered that I hailed it with the utmost eagerness. I asked him to describe the features of the man who bad given utterance to such murderous intentions, and the description taiiled pretty closely with our prisoner Shepperd. The reason he gave for not tendering the information sooner also appeared a very natural one-he had not been well during the interval, and bad scarcely been out of the house. To make more sure of the matter, however, I had Sheppard placed among a dozen other prisoners, and then led Pearson into the room. He passed slowly up the line, panting hard and quivering all over with excitement, till be came to Shepperd, when be stopped. Every eye had been fixed on the ghastly face during that slow walk, and I noticed, with some elation, that the face of Shep- perd had grown pale and ghastly as that of the witness. "That's the man 1" said Pearson, amid the most deathly Stillness, pointing to Shepperd. "What does he say I've done?" shouted the accused with most fearful excitement. "You must not believe a word which that man vaters I he continued, addressing me. He is my bitterest nemy, and has hunted me down to the miserable state I am now in. He would murder me if he wasn't too great a 4geSWC0 Pearson made no reply, but became so faint with excitement that we had to let him sit down. It is to his interest to say these things, I suppose," he faintly observed as soon as he could speak. Take care that he does not attack me." Aye, take care, for it'll come to that some day," bitterly retorted Shepperd. I'd have paid himbacklongago bat for the lass that wouldn't have you, and has clung to me for thirteen years; but not even your weakness will save you if you once rouse me to it." Pearson feebly declared that the man must be mad, and requested to be taken out of his presence. When that bad been done he repeated his state- ment before the Fiscal, and was allowed to leave. During this short interval,Shepperd had evidently considered his position, for he sent word from bis cell that he wished to make a new statement. "Everything I have said already is true, as I can answer to God at the Last Day," he began, EVERYTHING I HAVE ALREADY SAID IS TRUE." but as that man Pearson would swear anything if he only knew It would do me harm, I must pro- tect myself. What did he say he saw me do?' He was told that the question could not be answered, when he bitterly continued- You all seemed to think it a ^lie I told about being in that garden at twelve o'clock at night to see a friend, but it was not, and I can prove it. I am a compositor, and I was woreing in Glasgow last week. I'm not a steady man, I admit, and have often been in trouble, but Pearson has been at the bottom of most of it. I came through to Edinburgh to look for work, and didn't get it. In the next house to the one broken into there lives a servant lass-well, she can scarcely be called a lass now, for she's only three years younger than me, but she's a lass to me. Her name is Jessie Mortimer, and she's been my sweetheart for thirteen years. That man Pearson courted her with all his might about the same time, and when she wouldn't have him he went to her house one night, and threatened her with a loaded pistol. She must either promise to be bis wife or be shot, be said. Well, she wouldn't promise, and he might have killed her, but just then another servant came in, and between them they mastered him, and bundled him out of the house. Then he stopped tormenting her, and turned on me. He asked me if she had pledged herself to me, and I said 'Yes.' Then be told me a great many lies to try to turn me from her, to the effect that she had promised to marry him, and many worse things. I was rather soft and innocent then, but did not believe a word of it. Then be got me out of my place, and hired men to make me drink—I know he did, for one of them told me after-and sent letters to Jessie telling her where she could see me drunk. The letters he sent to her grew so horrid that she got to put them in the tire un" opened whenever she saw the handwriting. I did go very far wrong then, but I didn't want to drag her down with me, and I asked her dozens of times to give me up and marry someone more worthy ot her, but she would not. She said she would never love another but me, though she should never be married." He choked up a little as he worked up to that point, and it was clear that, in spite of his degra- dation, there was still a soft spot in his heart, for tears—of which he seemed heartily ashamed- stood thick in his eyes. "She always said that if I would keep steady for a year she would marry me,' he softly re- sumed, "but I've never managed that. I've been nearly gone many a time, but she has always found me out and pulled me through. I know that I need never starve while she has a penny, for she would take the very bite out of her own mouth to give to me, but I have got to be ashamed of her love and goodness, and never care to go near her whsn I am on the rocks; and, besides, her master found out about it and forbade her to see me, and said he'd give me in charge if he found me near the house. I Then why did you go near the house?" Because Jessie heard that I was in Edinburgh, and hard up, and wrote to me asking me to come. She could not get to see me, and did not want to get me into trouble by having me seen in their garden or green, so she arranged to see me at twelve o'clock in the garden of the next house, when everyone mbQkQ. houses was likely to be asleep." And you assert that you went there alone ? Yes, for I was anxious that nobody—not even the policeman on the beat—should see me. And hs would not have seen me if Jessie had come at the time arranged for. I thought I heard a sound at the back, and went round to see if it was Jessie. Then I was chased and caught." This story appeared wild and improbable enough, but, unlike most of these stories, it con- tained points capable of confirmation. There was the owner of the next house to appeal to, and there was the woman Jessie Moftimftr, who was alleged to have made an assignation with him at the spot. I did not expect to find either of them in existence, and would have hesitated to have gone out to the place, but on turning up the directory I found that the name of the occupant of the next house and that given by Shepperd were the same. It had before struck me as one point in favour of the truthfulness of at least part of Shepperd's declaration that both he and his accuser were of the same trade, and so might have been acquainted in the manner he had described. What if both were lying a little, and both telling part of the truth ? Who was to decide between them when a man's life buog upon the result? I went out to the house next to that which had been broken open. A young good-looking girl opened the door, and I asked for her master. The time was about six in the evening, and she seemed to hesitate about letting me see him, so I guessed that he would be having an after-dinner nap, and hurriedly added— Does a girl named Jessie Mortimer live hrre?" Yes, sir," and she flushed a little; "I am her." I Oh, well, you need not disturb you master for a little," I continued, "for it is you I want to see most." She paled a little, and then somewhat famtly said- You're one of the police, surely?" Yes. Do you know a man named David Shepperd?" On, yes, pir," and she cried a little as she said it. 1 have known him a long, long time." Do you know that he is taken in connection with the outrage next door." I was afraid it might be David, but the paper said the name was supposed to be a false one; so that gave me some hope. I have not been able to sleep or eat through thinking of it. Of course he is only taken by mistake." "How by mistake?" Well, sir, if you won't tell my master, who hates him, I'll tell you a secret. He went into the garden there to meet me. He has been foolish enough, but he's no thief, and would not barm a fly. The only one he ever injured was himself." I sat down in the lobby and drew from her the whole story of how she had lost her heart on Shepperd, and had never been able to stop loving him. But in the whole story there was no men- tion of Pearson. It was a sad story as she told it, and in it nothing shone out but the patience and endurance of the true, loving woman. It was one of those narratives in which man sinks into insig- nificance and woman rises to the sublime. At length I asked if she knew Pearson or had seen him lately, and she told me the story of his -.p.estering pretty much as Shepperd had given it. But the poor creature is in a decline now, and I've seen him twice the very picture of death, so I bear him no ill-will," she added. Do you know that he is the principal witness against David Shepperd ?" I quietly asked. She started, atad her face gradually assumed a scared expression. Does he-does he say that 'David broke into the house 2" she at length asked in a tremulous whisper. Well, something very like that." Her pallor was increasing, and I wished to lighten the blow. If the housekeeper dies and David is convic- ted, what will be done to him ?" the continued, witb a face like that of a dead person. I started up, thinking she was going to drop away in a faint, but she only motioned me back, and so far roused herself as to be able to say, with indignation-" Don't listen to a word that Pearson says about David, for, even if speaking the truth I would save him, he would hold his tongue. You see yourself that he is not a fair witness he has a grudge against David, and ought to be put aside on that account." I could only answer that even a prejudiced witness might be able to speak the trutb. and it was scarcely possible that he would perjure his soul for the sake of revenge. After a long talk on the point, the girl decided to let me see her master, but warned me not to believe everything he would say against Shepperd. The warning was not unnecessary, for I found the irascible old gentleman imbued, with the idea that David Shepperd was the greatest rascal unhung. His delight when lie learned that Sbapperd was in 'custody, and likely to be charged with robbery and murder, was great, and he calmly expressed a hope that the injured housekeeper might die, so that he would have tbe gratification of seeing Shepperd banged. She is an old, useless body at any rate," was his sage remark, U she's not likely to live much longer, so she could not slip away at a "tDore con- venient time." Possibly, but my experience is that nearly everyone choose the most inconvenient time for dyinK." I remarked, "and,80 far as I have heard, the housekeeper is likely to put it oft: for some time." Very likely—I never get what I wish," grumpily responded the eld gentleman, but I hope you will hang the rascal ill! the same. He intended to murder her, and attempted it, so that is juSt as bad," Possibly, but we cannot hang anyone for his Intentions." Xto chief caturt of this prejudice on his p&ft, 1 found, was Shepperd's wasted life, and the effect which that exorcised on poor Jessie Mortimer. Her whole life is being wasted," he roughly sontinued, and she'll never wake out of the iream till that man is under the sod." "In what way is it being wasted?" I politely inquired." Why she might be comfortably married and settled. Shell never fix on a right one while this wretch is hanging about." And can a person only become a blessing to the world by being married? I am not so sure that even if Shepperd were dead it would make any difference to her. He is almost dead to her already, yet she clings to him through it all." True, true; what fools some woman are after all; if be was a good man she'd very likely despise him." Ab, it's only the weak ones who need such I Bupporfc," was my reply, and then he smiled for the first time, and said he thought I was right. From that. house I went to the lodging of Pear- sou. I found him seated in an arm-chair, and more like death than ever, but when I hinted that he might be .b.tter in bed, he declared that he was not ill; that he was getting stronger every day, and expected soon to get back into the town and begin his work again. He still admitted most pertmaciouly to his statement regarding Shepperd. He admitted that at one time they had been rivals and enemies, but insisted that it was that very circumstance which enabled him to identify Shepperd as one of the housebreakers. He could give no description of the other, except that he was strongly built and of medium height. The whole case thus lay in a nutshell, and the hope of a conviction rested entirely upon Pearson's evidence. Jessie Mjrti- mer, indeed, could prove that she had appointed to meet Shepperd at that hour, but she couid not prove that be had not at the same time broken into the house and committed the outrage. Pearson would not admit that he had any animus against the accused, and declared his intention of entering any court of justice, and swearing to what he had said. In this frame of mind I left bim, for he got so excited at times that 1 feared he would choke up and drop dead before me. In a short time the injured housekeeper so far recovered as to be able to be shown the prisoner, but she quite failed to identify him; indeed, her impression seemed to be that be was not like either of the men who at- tacked her, but in the uncertain light of the candle she had carried, which bad been speedily knocked out of her hand, and the c'tement of the moment, no more could have been looked for. At length the day came when Shepperd was to be placed at the bar of.the High Court for trial,and I looked with great interest for the appearance of the most important witness. Pearson had been poorly for some days, but that morning, when I visited him. he had expressed himself as deter* mined to go to the trial, and ordered me to have a cab sent for him. though it was against the orders of both his relatives and his medical man that he shouid move. A more ghastly object never entered the court House. He was supported into the witnesses' room, and theu had to be revived with sips of brandy. He appeared to be hardly able to keep his eyes open, and said that he had been so for days—always wanting to sleep. But I'm strong," be said, rousing up; strong enough to swear against him." The housekeeper was called first, and the two policemen, but their evidence amounted to little against the prisoner. Then the cry of Thomas Pearson!" echoed sharply through the hall, and the ghostly Shadow was supported into the wit- ness-box. lie asked to be allowed a chair, and while one was Wing brought the judge proceeded to swear him. Obedient to the direction, Pearson held up his white shaky hand and began to repeat the words, "I swear by Almighty God" but he only got as far as I swear" when as suddenly as if bis legs had been sheared with a scythe from under him he dropped in a heap ito the box. When he was taken out he was quite insensible. He was borne into an adjoining room, j10' never quite recovered consciousness, and in half an hour was dead. The verdict was Not proven," but that was given after Jessife Mortimer had been hpard as exculpatory evidence." Part of my own evidence tended in the same direction, and the verdict seemed to give general satisfac- tion. Two months after I bad undoubted evidence that Pearson went to that Court-room to perjure himself, for I bad it from the lips ot one of the men engaged in the robbery that they had no con- nection with Shepperd that they were scared off the premises by hearing his footsteps on the front walk; and that neither of them uttered a word on the way regarding the housekeeper. A month after the trial Jessie Mortimer married David Shepperd, and the one who gave away the bride and a big sum along with her to enable them to start life in another land was Jessie's master- the same who had so cordially hoped that Shepperd would be hanged.
A MAGISTERIAL MISTAKE. Just as Justice Coldbath gave the fat man in a short coat thirty days for keeping a calf, three pigs, and a swarm of chickens in his front yard, ø citizen in good clothes came into oourt. That is, his clothes were good, what was left of them They were torn in a dozen varieties of rent, and dabbled with mud and blood. His broken head was bandaged, his bat was crushed, his face dis. figured. Oh, but old Justice Coldbath was mad. "Well, sir," he snarled, before the citizen could speafc, it's easy enough to see what's the matter with you." The citizen drew a sigh that sounded like a November breeze, and shook his bead despond- ingly. Same old story ?" said the Justice same old thing ? You look like a respectable man now, don't you ? You are respectable when you're fixed np, I dare say. Merchant, aren't you ? Yee, I knew it. Church member, more'n likely. Yea, I thought so. Stand well in society, and never slipped up before ? Yes, sir, I know you I can. pick out your case every time it comes before me. Whisky, eh ? Liquor's the trouble. That's what plays the mischief with your respectable drinker, sir. Brings him to tbe gutter just as sure as it doos tbe tramp. Now, sir, I'm going to reform you. I'm going to deal justly and harshlv and mercifully with you for your own sake. I'll sock it to you so that ynu'ii never come here again. It's whisky, you say ?" "Yes, sir," said the citizen, feebly," whisky is the trouble, sir. But for whisky I wouldn't appear in this disgraceful, forlorn, painful condi- tion. But for whisky I would be a sound, happy man, in good clean clothes and no headache. But for whisky-——" "That'll do," said the justice "I know the whole story, and am glad you realise your situation IS() keenly. Maybe your contrition will take twenty days and $10 off your sentence and maybe it won't. Now, then, how much whisky did you drink and where did you get it?" "Me t" the citizen said, in a faint tone of infinite surprise. I never touched a drop of intoxicating Iiauor in all my life. I am pastor of Ash bury ( M.E. Church 'and a drunken policeman assaulted me on tho street balf-an hour ago, and nearly clubbed me to pieces. I have just come to file information and get a warrant for his arrest." And old Justice Coldbath, who is never so happy as when delivering a temperance lecture from the bench to a battered inebriate, was so mad at having his lecture spoiled that he tried the minister on three charges of conspiracy, malice, malicious mischief, and contributory negligence, with intent to deceive and commit fraud, before he would let him go, and then tried to saddle the lot upon bim. —-Brooklyn Eagle,
We baven't much of a navy but some of the young officers are the best dancers in ashington. -Puck. SswariNO A PASTOIR.-First young lady: What is that big book you are pouring over, my dear ? Second young lady It is the Church Encyclopedia, and it has pictures and biographies of all the leading men in our denomination. Papa is on the committee to' select a pastor to our church, and as I wanted to have something to say on that question, I am studying over this work." —Burst young lady And do you read all that long stuff ?"—" Bless yeu, no. I'm trying to find a nice face. Now that man has lovely flowing side whiskers, but I can't tell what colour they are. I'll leave the cburohiMhey don't get a pastor with a blonde beard and blue eyes, Tele gram.
FROZEN HEARTS: -+- A Tale of Coronation Day Fifty Years Ago. By J. C. Manning (Carl Morganwg). Author of "Gwendoline," "Saul and other Poems,' The Philanthropist," Ye Ballade of Ladye Marguerite," The Coastguard," and other Works. CHAPTER XVII.—"Is THERE NO ESCAPE?" After the inquest at Mill Cottage, it was from the coroner that Miss Barker—for by that name the daughter of Grandfather Frampton will con- tinue tz) be known-obtained the whole truth of the terrible story s was fated to hear. At her earnest request, Mr Jeremiah Slater accompanied her to the Cliff, where, in the privacy of her own room, the gruesome tale was told, and all the terrible possibilities were made clear that were likely to grow out of it." The magistrates Will open an inquiry to- morrow," said the coroner, and the young man will certainly be committed to take his trial at the forthcoming assizes." "Trial! Assizes! For what?" asked Miss Barker, in broken accents and troubled voice. She failed to realisa the full scope of the perilous posi. tion in which George Woodleigh was placed. The knowledge that he was a. prisoner was sufficiently startling, but to know—to be told as a certainty— that he was going to be put upon his trial at the assizes, was still more so. The word is an unpleasant one," replied :he coroner, hesitating, in the kindliness ot his nature, before giving needless pain-" but it will have to be spoken. The charge which the yqung ihan will have to answer will be that of—murder 1" U Murder re-echoed the lady, with ashen face and a voice that had now grown sepulchral. Oh, do not-do not say that-Mr Slater." If it were suspicion," said the coroner, affected at the earnestnsss with which he had been addressed, I should have refrained from using the word. But it is something more than that. It is something,much more than that. I am not at liberty to say what it is. To-morrow will reveal all we know. But what is know at present is something very much more than, suspicion, and hence it is that, however painful it may be, I am induced to speak more confidently, where I should otherwise, like yourself, have bad my doubts." This is a terrible blow-a very terrible blow," murmured the lady, community as it were with herself; and, folding hot bands meekly before her, she drooped her head upon her breast, and sat tor a few moments lost in painful thought. "What is best to be done?" she asked pre- sently, raising her eyes and looking enquiringly at the coroner. I have no friend in the world to advise me. The countess is away—and even if present, she would be as helpless as myself in such an unexpected-such rn awful emergency. What sballl do ? II All that can be douo for the present," replied the coroner, iC will be to obtain the services of a legal gentleman, to watch the case to-morrow on behalf of the prisoner. Nothing will prevent a committal-in fact with the evidence before n;e, and what I know will be forthcoming at the adjourned inquest, I shoutd feel it my duty to commit on a coroner's warrant alone. This. how- ever, may be rendered unnecessary by what the magisterial inquiry will elicit—but a committal to the assizes is a positi ve certainty under any circumstances." There was no reply. The white ,face and the tearless eyes appeared at last to have realised the full scope and breadth of the peril,, and to have given themselves up to emotionless despair. "The young lady referred to," suggested the coroner, with some hesitation,, though he knew he was approaching a more sensitively pain- ful branch of the case. The big despairing eyes met his, imploringly, but the ashen lips spake never a word. It will be necessary that she should be pro- duced as a witness," continued the coroner. Necessary ?" murmured a voice that was scarcely audible, and, in a tone that seemed to clutch at the doubtful meaning of the word. Nay—absolutely essential," replied the coroner, who felt that the truest kindness would be to make the fact clearly understood. Her absence from the country," he continued, "will make this impossible for the inquiry to-morrow; but for the assizes it wiil be imperative." Is there no escape ?" "None." "Then Heaven help the childt" Was the trembling, fervent response. My darling daughter The tearless eyes were covered now, and the white hands that bid the still whiter face from view shook with the intensity of feeling that bad been .aroused. Stifled sobs told of the grief that surged within, and the tears trickled through the white fingers that closed in vain to suppress them tear3 from a brave heart that had long suffered and showed no sign, but which gave way at last before a blow more cruel than any that bad hitherto been inflicted. Your daughter," said the coroner, visibly affected, "was the last person seen in conversation with the deceased on the day he was supposed to have been murdered. It w. to her the jealous threats were made against the deceased which form the ground-work of the first suspicion against Mr Woodleigb. He is known to have made the same threats in the hearing of others, but it was to your daughter they were first made —and her relations to the accused intensified the value of her evidence in the eyes of the law-so that there is really no escape from it, however painful it may be to place her in the witness-box, to give evidence that must, in the very nature of things, go very seriously to incriminate one whom she—and you and all of us-would shield from the consequences, if we could. It is a very terri- ble misfortune—but the whole tram of circum- stances are fatal to hope, and I think it best that you should know this." Her poor grandfather will break his heart," said the lady, between the sobs that shook her bosom to the innermost depths. "What-what- ever shall I do ?" "It will be best not to let her grandfather know anything that you can manage to keep from him," replied the coroner. "From all I can understand, he is still in ignorance of the rela- tions that are said to have subsisted between your daughter and the deceased, beyond what he heard incidentally at the inquest to-day. By careful treat- ment, this may be modified so as to lessen the intensity of the effect it may have bad upon him —and all the rest should be kept from his know- ledge as long a time as possible--altogether if it can in any way be managed." He knows too much already for his happiness,' replied the lady sorrowfully. My lot is a hard one," she continued. A loving father deems me lost—dead. My heart yearns to tell him I live, but I dare not for fear of the consequences to)1is frail and precarious life. The knowledge might support him in his new trouble, but I shrink from making myself known to him. And now comes this further calamity to cs all. It is terrible. I feel quite incapable of bearing up against it. But I must do so—for her sake-for his sake. With the help of Providence I_ will fdo my best, and may heaven prosper my efforts J" "Amen, with all my heart," responded the coroner, and anything that I can do to help in the matter you have only to command me, and it 1 shall be done to the best of my ability." "That I am sure of," replied Miss Barker and I thank you with a feeling of gratitude I cannot express. Could you suggest anyone who would be present at the inquiry to-morrow as a legal friend ? "Who are your fanfiily solicitors? inquired the Coroner. Drake aud Drummond, I think, are they not ?" "Yes," was the reply. Then you had better consult them first thing in the morning, and they will no doubt provide someone for you." Mr Chaffins is with them, I think-in fact, I know he is," said the lady. Mr Chaffins repeated the Coroner, with a look of doubt stealing over his face. II Perhapa I ought not to say anything in the matter as affecting Mr Chaffins, but for some reason or other he has already taken a very great interest in this case. Last night he paid a visit to Mr Hardy, of the Gnoll. I only found that out abcut an hour ago—and I am not quite sure lt I conseauence of that visit Mr Hardy took a course at tbe inquest to-day Averse to young vvoou- leigh's interests. In fact, h»dit not been for him, your father would have still been inigno- ranee both as to the connection of George Wood leigh with the deceased, as well afe your daughter s association with him—whatever that ebtangle- ment may be. I should hardly recommend p, to admit Mr Chaffins into your legal counseU." Wbat would you suggest ?' »' If vou are content to leave the matter in my What would you suggest ? 61 If vou are content to leave the matter in my hande," replied the coroner—" although Buob a course is net quite in accord with the legal re- quirements of my official position as coroner—I will see that a gentleman at Bathtown, with whom I am well acquainted, and who I know will do justice faithfully, in the case, is properly instructed to appear on behalf of the accused- and I am quite sure there is nothing that can be done in his favour that my friend will not do for him. Mies Barker repeated her thanks, and expressed her gratitude at the offer that had been made— and aft r some further conversation the coroner took his departure. In, a. few minutes afterwards the lady left the Cliff, and walked to Mill Cottage. Enquiring of Dolly, she was informed that Grandfather Framp- ton was tranquilly sleeping. An opiate had been administered, and the poor old man, weary of life, slumbered peacefully, He's asieep now, Miss," said Dolly, who bad not yet got over the excitement of the inquest, and sat in the kitchen alone, with her quaint old head resting contemplatively on her hard brown 1 < hand, the very picture of domestic desolation. "I just took him up a cup o' tea," she added, but brought it down again seeing him asleep. The doctor said if he'd sleep a bit he'd be all the better for it." And here followed some of the old experiments with the corner of her white apron and her eyes, which looked as though they had been experimented on pretty often lately. "You musn't give way, Dolly," said Miss Barker, in gentle and assuring tones, and taking her seat in the old arm chair in the chimney corner. There is nobody else but you—and me now—to look after things, and we must be strong and brave, Dolly—biave and strong, you know. I Everything will be sure to come right in the end, With the help of Providence." | Poor Dolly turned up ber inflamed eye3 with the heartfelt aspiration that she hoped everything would come right in the end, but that things looked bltick enough now, to be sure. Lor, Miss she exclaimed, a look of joy play- ing about her anxious face like agleam of sunlight. "it do look .so homely to see you without that old black veil; Oh, Mies Alice—I—Go;l bless that dear darling iace And the faithful creature, Starting up with a jump, threw her orowo shiny arms round the neck of her old mistress, and kissed the white cheeks with a series ot hearty smacks that might have been heard half a mile away. "1 do love it! I do love it!" she re- peated with enthusiasm, emphasising the assertion by kissing the pale face over and over again, while the tears—tears of genuine happiness— ? chased each other down to the end of the dimpled old chin, and fell upon the bosom she caressed. For twenty years she had never seen that face, but through r.he gloomy tracery of the black lace veil which Miss Barker always wore; and it was quite natural that when she saw, in the features that had so unexpectedly been bared to her wondering vision, the exact counterpart of the more youthful Alice—who was the very image or I her mother twenty, years before, when she made her unhappy disappearance from amongst them —it was quite natural, when she saw this, that her simple nature should be carried a little off its feet, and that she should show her appreciation of the fact in her bwn homely way How are we to let master know ? continued Dolly, drawing her chair close to the old arm- chair in which Misa Barker sat, taking one of the white bands in hers, and kissing and fondling it affectionately. How are we to tell him you'\ e come back ?" Better leave that for a little while, Dolly," replied Miss Barker. "And whatever you do, dear," she continued, don't let him know any- thing more about this dreadful business than he already knows. It may cause his death." Dolly expressed her determination to exercise quite a preternatural sort of wisdom in this respect—and that she should not only take care the master knew nothing more, but that what he already knew should be made to look better than it really wat. "A white story or two isn't very wicked, Misk Alice-is it—under the circumstances ?" pleaded Dolly, in justification of any little pious fraud which, in the simplicity of her loving old heart, she might find it necessary to commit in the in- terest of human happiness under exceptionally gruesome circumstances. "No, Dolly-I don't think so,was the assur- ing respohse. Heaven is guided in its judgment tnore by motives than by actions. We should some of us have but a very poor prospect on earth if it were not so." This was rather too philosophic for Dolly, who relieved the complicated situation by suggesting that perhaps master was awake now-she would just take his cup o' tea up and see. I will follow you, Dolly," said Miss Barker. Don't wake him if he is asleep. Go gently." This advice was necessary under the circum- stances. Dolly had infinite faith in tea, and felt perfectly satisfied in her own mind that it would be a justifiable act to make the least possible bit of lioise. either going up to the bedroom or when she got inside of it, in order to lead to an ad- ministration of the domestic philter in the efficacy of which she had firm and unalterable faith. A creak of, the shoe—a gentle movement of some article of furniture-it short, dry cough, Either of these, Dolly thought, would serve to do the business—then the tea-potion could be adminis- tered-and then all would be well. Wiser counsels, however, prevailed, and Bleep was rightly held to be a more potent restorer than tea. Dolly stepped lightly up-stairs, peeped through the half-open doorway, then beckoned Miss Barker, who had followed her softly up, and who took Dolly's place so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room without entering. The old man lay upon the bed, sleeping as calmly as a child. The reddening sunset gave a warm tint to the worn, pale features, and brought into more striking relief the two rosy flushes that had settled upon the hollow cheeks like patches of scarlet dye. He must have felt the presence of the lost and loved one in his dreams, for even while she gazed with aching heart upon the fever-flushed tace, his lips moved, and he softly murmured her name—" Alice 1" How she hungered to throw herself upon his breast, and to bridge the gloomy chasm that even yet lingpred between them J But she dared not. Alice repeated the trembling lips. It was like the voice of a loving father crying faintly from a distance—calling out over the dark wildness of twenty years to the child that was lost them, and for whom the faithful heart still blindly searched in dreams. "Alice 1" And the soft murmur fell upon the daughter's listening ear with a pleading pathos she felt it hard to resist. She gently retraced her steps downstairs, followed by Dolly carrying the un- touched potion, leaving the weary-hearted old man dreaming and calling softly upon her name. That night a abort letter was despatched to the South of France, to prepare the mind of the Countess for the receipt of seriously bad news; and on the same night a short letter waa posted at Ostend to Miss Barker, to prepare the mind of that lady for the receipt of some exceptionally good news. Nature delights in the unerring law of compensations, and Heaven helps Nature in the pleaBing duty. Vice may sometimes kick the beam to which the great balance of human deal- ings is affixed; but there is still a chance for Virtue* when Justice has a voice, and the Almighty holds the scales. (To be continued.)
PUGNACIOUS BEAUTY. The stickleback has acquired his gorgious wed- ding garb, in accordance with a general law of animal life, in order to please and attract to him- self tbe attention of his esthetic and fastidious mates. Aftertbe breeding season," says Mr Darwin, these colours all change, the throat, and belly becomes of a paler red. the back more grpen, and the glowing tints subside." Moveover, as usually happens in the case of all highly decorated animals, your stickleback further resembles Solo- mon in being a most undisguised polygamist in the natural state and his brilliant hues have, no doubt, been developed to charm and draw to his side as many as possible of the female fish. Polygamous animals, in other words, are always handsome, because only the hand- somest succeed in attracting to them- selves a harem, and so handing on their peculiarities to future generations. Furthermore, the sticklebacks are all great fighters; and it may be broadly laid down once more as a general prin- ciple of animal life, and at the same time a contri- bution to the theory of tittlebats, that all very handsome and decorated creatures are naturally pugnacious of disposition. Thus stags fight one another with their branching antlers for the pos- session of the does. Salmon constantly join battle and tear one another to-pieces savagely on the recognised spawning beds. The polygamous ruff—distinguished from his sober-suited mate, the reeve, by his curious crest, and by the great collar of plumes from which his name is take-n-is as full of the Homeric joy ot battle as a gamecock, and quite as gamey. The wild Sumatran ancestor of our own barndoor towl "does battle in defence of his gernglio till one of the combatants drops down dead." Black cock and capercailzie assemble annually at regular tournaments, to nght one another, and display their beauty before their expectant and undecided dames and on such occasions Kovalevsky has seen the snow of their arenas in Russia all red with blood, and covered with the torn-out feathers of the champions. Most of the handsomest birds and animals, indeed, are provided with special weapons for these tierce encouuters, such as the spurs of game birds, the horns of antelopes, the antlers of stags, the tusks of the musk deer, the wing darts of the palamedia, and tnefiercespiny fins of the most decorative fishes. Even the dainty little humming-birds themselves are pro- digious fighters, and I have seen them engaging one another in their aerial battles with the utmost pluck, vigour, and endurance. Furthermore, beauty in animals is almost always accompanied, as Dr. Gunther has-observed, by a very hasty add irritable tempfer.—Cornhill Magazine for April.
_=. WHY HE DIDN'T. DA Bago.-I I t know how to manage my wife. I Bagley. You do ? Then why don't yon manage her." De Baggs.—"She won't let me."
7 We are lika children of men in a tennis-court, and before, our conquest is half won, the dim twilight comes and stopS tbe anie; nevertheless, let us keep our places, and, above all things, hold fast by the law of hie we feel within.
SKETCH OF MR HOWEL GW'YN (Written by our Neath Repor^r'. If tbe question wer6 ask* "Who t# the »»»"* respected gentleman in.Neath?" we ^bonifi u" hesitatingly answer, Mr Howe' Gwytt for certain it is that. no, man enjoys more the conndeDce and regard of his men Lb-" the good old squire of D n, is the v; representative of an ant.snt ";V9¡i1 fafruly wtll,b may be traced back for centuries, drxtfd' ing from Trahearn ap E'oon. lord common near Talgartb, in Breconshire, wbo flourished in the 12t;h Ci;>itnry. Koliowt*^ this pedigree down to th-i 15th century, W" find that one of the descepdai' /-—Rhys ap lJhi!p OP Dafydd—married Gwenllian, the 'daughter !)C1 heiress of Hywel ap Gratu^j, ot Jn>eastle, :JJ"d had issue three sons, viz., Thomas Gwyn Rhyth-rch, David Goch Gwyn-Glanbran. Howel Gwyn, of Ystradwalter, iu he county & Carmarthen. It is stated that in olden f-imcs t¡'. Welsh people were in accordant with their complexion and that tb accounts for the family being 0&11. Gwyn." The present representative o: th* 'ace fully bears out such bis ccmplexioll being fan, and L-is hpir. f "siiwr whiteness. According to n ■ M'S, nw Dufff?'* and another old MS. iu St. Mark's Oolleg«j Chelsea, Thomas Gwyn, of Trecastle, .a.-ri«" Ellen, daughter of Richard Vychan, ,.r Vaugb* and had issue, Howel Gfyu, of 'Gosatlo, who married Margaret, daughter ami heiress "j Edward Games, or Gam, a descendant of ti'f 1-' doubtable Sir David Gam, who was knighte i the field of Agincourt by Harry oi \I'>nmeut"' Edward Games resided at Newtoo, I^econ. TIlo-y had a son, Howel Gwyn. who married )lMY' daughter and oo-heiress of Jinfs the Hay, who descendsd fr,n John Bo vie, <V Glyntawe, knight of the Order of :;¿,. who married a daughter af Sir Feois PrrinWj Cornwall, Knight. They bad a eon, £dw:\t'J Gwyn, of Glyntawe, who parried '1 dau?h*er John Lievvollyn. In the mrie1 churcb of Cadoxton-juxta-Neath them is a monument tl) Jane, daughter of John L.'eweily;, who died in 1766. On the same monum-nt is tl,- nl\,n Margaret Gwyn, widow of Thomas !>wy;s, Pr. JJ goredd, Brecknockshire, -vho died it! i?^ Edward Gwyn and Mary, his wif £ were survi*^ by a son, John Gwyn, of Glvmawe, who alive when the MS3. was cnl1lp: [6 John Gwyn, of Glyntawe, married AnIJ, daughter and heiress of Optain 'rbo¡])" Price (or Preece), of Devyuockt. aud had a soo, James Gwyn, M.A., who larried a daughter ol William Brewster, of Burt^n-cju.Herefori,a°- bad issue, a son, John Gwyn, who wai a at Neath, and who married Ehzn, daughter c* Hugh Edwards, of Blaensawdde, in thP county of Carmarthen. The Edwardses we re very old and renowned family in tne county, an" they had a son, John (wYfJ, who w»» alMo. solioitor at Neath. He marred Prised la, daaghW of Matthew Roach, of Barnstapi- 'tbalt children being Matthew, William, aud William, the second BOB, of Abercrare, in lip married Mary Ann, daughter of John Roberta* of Barnstaple, Devon, and their son is "vlr Howel Gwya, of Dyffryn. The subject of sketch Was born on the 24th June, 1,3C6, and i* therefore now in his 81st year. The £ art of hia education was entitled to Mr 0>ni' hi vies, who presided over a school At which in those days was a wall-itnop-n and popolat establishment, being patronised by th8 gentry "J the neighbourhood. From there yoocfir Ho*- was sent to the Swansea Grammar Scaool, ¡;1JtI principal being the Rev. Danifei Anderson, a we; known Bcholar. Among Mr Gwyn's fello^* students were Mr Justice (jfroce and th* late Rev. Dr Thomas Cunn, of Oi-i^rbu^- At that time Mr Gwyn was in very health, which necessitated his removal to E*' mouth, where, thanks to the salubr>oasnes» "f '< climate, he soon recovered. He resuiofu hí studies under a private tutor, and made rapi" progress, subsequently proceeding to Tr n'^ College, Oxford, where he graduated B.A. ia l8i#» and M.A. in 1832. In company with tw • frieno* Mr Gwyn afterwarde travelled through Italy* Greece, Turkey, Hungary, and t others Europe, visiting the principal cities =*8^ towns, and thd chief ports and island' in the Mediterranean Sea. H" appears to have become so enamoured of tiaveHi^ that in a few months after his return h Tie h# started on another tour throug Nori tierr. Europe to Moscow, the journey from the hter city to t. Petersburg occupying a pr.-iod of th: p N:-elt!l. He was high sheriff of Glamorgan in 18S1, w her Majesty ascended the tbroue, high "h"riif ,f Carmarthen in 1838, and of Brecon •-) 1213. 1847 he Contested Falmouth in the C- i.sfvati- interest, being returned by a gooj mni- tlcy, a-v continued to represent that borough ;;nlil 135< He sat for Brecon from 1866 to 1R69. In 1874, a bye election, he contested ti- i connty of B• °.con» but was defeated by. 103 votes. Mr Gwyn married into an old Devonshire taking as his partner Ellen Elizabeth, daughter* Mr John Moore, of Plymouth This lady combing' the best qualities and charms oi wornr.nhood. "It Gwyn is J.P. for the couaties of Glainorg^1-- Carmarthen, and Brecon. lie was elected member of the Neath Town in tbtl ya.-r 1836, and is now the senior alderman ■• £ tb« borough. He has twice occupied tlie office ol mayor with distinction and ability, ?ud i' wa9 the unanimous desire of the townBpeonie :.ud th« Town Council that he should accept, t' r, office this year, being her Majesty's ubilee but owirff to his advanced age and other reisons Mr Gwy" respectfully declined the honour, a dec-Uion whidl was received with great and regret. For considerable number of years Mr Gwyn has pre- sided over tbe deliberations of the Neath B-*>ard oj Guardians, taking a great interest i- affairs of the union. His liberality to the inmates of tbe workhouse and Cottage Homes is prureibial- Every Christmas he provides for them dinner of roast beef and plum pudding. His ptirli is always open to further Llie interest of his fellow-townsmen and every deserving cause. It Iff a well-known fact that no needy beggar appeals to him in vain. Although a Conservative in politics, Mr Howej Gwyn commands the esteem and reipeoi of all shades of politicians, it being genpiul!y acknow- ledged that he possesses a truly refined i:e lect and a liberal heart. The poor of his own parish will ever have cause to bold m gra'afoi rw membrance, Mr and Mrs Gwyn being .Q )UK; tue first to institute inquiries into any deserving esse and to stretch forth a helping hand. St. Matthew'* Church, Duffryn, was built and endowed by him. and he also gave land and tiubscrir-d with a liberal hand towards the erection of St. David's Church and Alderman Davies's Schools at Neath. Recently Mr Gwyn has presented a site, estimated to be worth £ 2,000, to the Corporation of Neath ir the erection of a public baR, and it is to be hoped the project will be proceeded with. It has the hearty support of the townspeople, a building of the description in question one of the moat pressing requirements of the through, Air Gwyn provided the site on which the Omstit'Tdonal Club now stands. On the 24th June. 1 S6&h;.t 80th birthday-the members of the e'ub -t v e. him a complimentary dinner at the As.»nab.y-coms at Neath, which was highly appr<-ciatsd by Mr and Mrs Gwyn. We have enumerated a few of Mr Gwyn's generous action. Space will not admit of our swelling the Its, although many touching instances might ba given. J nat best portion of good man's liie, Hislittle nameless, unre;nemoored acta3 li Of -kindness ana of love. In conclusion, let me express :.he hope that U, r Gwyn may live for many yep.rc continue tb. genial work for which he has been distinguished through life.
THE POWER OF IMAGINATION.—A provincia paper relates jm iucident showing Lh-i power of imagination. While a woodchopper was a weak *xe R"WCed from a tre« ■-•id wenv. deep into his boot. Nearly fainting, he .dropped bis axe and started limping hom-. Mis ivii discovered him with much difficulty oi.i^Tug himseii sdong. She at once ran to his assistance, and got him into the house, when the leirge red mark 'i) his boot provad too much for his nerve His "ife was obliged to get off bis boot alone, as best she <r uldi ExpActingto find a fearful WOT-UH, she waf happily surprised to see that what both had imagined to be blood was only red fiannfl—-which he had put on in lieu of sockf, while his only po-It was being washed and dried—protruding from bit 1 boot. How MAOAOLAT LEARNED LA .QUAGKS.—I do not know how linguists contrive to acquire 1 knowledge of many ton;>,> but I am able to recount how the great Edinburgh reviewer pro- ceeded to work. While at Calcutta, Macaulay set himself zealously to work to learn German, writ- ing home for copies of the works of Goethe, -Schiller, and Niebuhr's History. "My way of learning a language," he said, "is always to begin with the Bible, wh ch I can read with a dictionary. After a few days pawed ill this way I am master of all the common particles, the common rules <>f syntax, and a pretty large vocabulary, Theu I fall on some good classical work. It was in this of all the common particles, the common rules (i syntax, and a pretty large vocabulary. Theu. fall on some good classical work. It was in this way that I learned both Spanish and Portugueses and I shall try the same game with Germun. did try the same course, and not without success as hit readers are, aware. I.