The Cardiff Times

[ALL EIGHTS RSSEFIVED.] WELSH NATIONAL STORY. THE WIDOWED PRINCE; OR The Last Days of Llewelyn. A HISTORICAL ROMANCE. By BERIAH GWYNFE EVANS, Author of "Llewelyn, the. Last of the Welsh "Bronwen," "Roundhead and Cava- litr," "The Heir of G'ynavon," Owen Hughes," ScOi, Sc c. CHAPTER IX.-THE EXPLANATION. Mingled and conflicting were the feelingil with which the various members of the council wit- nessed the results of Meradydd's unexpected and boldly worded statement. Dafydd alone of all those present seemed to have understood Meredydd's object, and to tbi. immediate comprehension of the chieftain's inten- tion in thus as it were needlessly braving Llewelyn's wrath,Meredydd's appeal to Dafydd for his co-operation materially contributed. He accordingly betrayed neither surprise nor fear after the first remonstrance which the unexpected manner of his friend's statement drew from him. Llewelyn, having of course on cluetoany hidden reason for Meredydd's action, took the statement made by his whilom friend in thorough good faith, and it would be difficult to say which feeling predominated in his breast at the mo- ment. There was first of all hia just and natural anger at the attempt to super- sede him as Pendragon of the army and Prince of the people. Then there was an equally natural and perhaps a deeper-seated grief that this attempt should ba countenanced, and indeed prompted and Jed by the one friend of all others whom ho had most trusted, and the brother whose former treason he had pardoned. Mingled with thesp, though at the time less powerful, was regret at the selfish indulgence of grief on his own part which, by leading him to ignore his subjects' complaints, had givea rise to this attack upon his supreme authority. Of the chieftains assembled, some, as notably Gruffydd, and Goronwy ab Heilyn, of Rhos, who were bound to Llewelyn's person by closer tios than most of those present, evinced nothing but surprise and anger; surprise that Meredydd should have inculpated them in his treachery, and anger both on their own and Llewelyn's behalf that this treachery should have been apparently planned and settled beforehand. They now regarded Dafydd's moving appeal of a few minutes since as nothing but a blind, and made in order to test the sincerity of the wish expressed that he should take his brother's place. Among the other chieftains, surprise, gratifica- tion, alarm, and admiration struggled for the mastery. Those who had held a deep-seated resentment against the Prince for his continued neglect of their interests)-and there were some who had just cause fur such resentment,—were pleased that their views had received such power- iul support from so unexpected a quarter as that of Llewelyn's firmest friend and staunchest adherent. Mingled with this, and the admiration which Meredydd's boldness inspired, was a feeling of deep sorrow at the necessity of taking this course with a prince so well beloved as Llewelyn and no little alarm for their own safety when I they, perceived that he did not hesitate to order the incarceration, and to threaten the early execu- tioa, of a friend he had so thoroughly trusted as Meredydd, and a brother he had so well loved as Dafydd. Intermingled again with all these feelings, and finding a place in the breasts of all present, was admiration of Llewelyn's conduct, pleasure at seeing the bold spirit of days gone by flashing out as brightly and as gloriously as ever. They saw him now, not only as he had not been seen since the com- mencement of Eleanor's illness, buttdncethe time of his nuptials. His wife's tender influence had, during their short wedded life, curbed the bold and fiery spirit which bad so captivated the hearts of the warlike chieftains whom he ruled and led, while his grief at her loss had seemed to have ex- tinguished it for ever. Now, however, in the princely bearing, the authoritative order, the proud, haughty glance which he threw round the table as though challenging any opposition to his sovereign will on the part of the disaffected chieftains who had, as he believed, conspired against him, they witnessed with delight the re- vival of the old spirit which had made him ad- mired of his friends and dreaded of his enemies. In any other circumstances tha roof-tree of Aber would have rung with approving acclama- tion. Now this approval was tempered by a con- sideration of the occasion which had called it lorth-the imprisonment and threatened execu- tion of two such prominent leader all Dafydd aud Meredydd. The soldiers who had been summoned by the Prince's peremptory order advanced to execute their commission, but were stopped by a loud out- burst of laughter from Meredydd. Llewelyn's countenance, hitherto pale with I anger, now flushed crimson at this added insult. What 1" he exclaimed, Darest thou laugh at I me and my command thus ?" Laugh 1" shouted Meredydd with unrepressed merriment. "Ha! ha i Who can help but laugh Ho 1 ho ho Why, good Prince and better friend, thou mayest e'en join in my fun. Ha ha ha By my soul!" cried the Prince, thou shalt try the influence of the deepest, darkest dungeon of the place upon thy merry soul." Ho ho ho continued Meredydd, with a renewed outburst of laughter. Heard any man the like of that No, no, my lord Prince, if I am not to laugh until I am placed in any cell by thy orders, I shall die of too much seriousness, for the cell has not yet been dug in which thy command will ever place me." "Ha!" exclaimed Llewelyn, now drawing his sword, under the natural supposition that Mere- dydd meant that he had some force at hand to brave the Prince's power. Have things gone thus far? Hath Y Jur base conspiracy ripuad to a I head that ya are ready to seize me in mine own house? But even if it be aCJ, and ye be all traitors alike ready to dye yuur swords in the blood of your Prince, I will at least see to it that the two who deserve it must shall receive from mine own haud the punishment due to their double treason." Stop cried Meredydd, somewhat sobered in the midst of his laughter by the luoge made at his breast by Llewalyo'a sword, from which he only escaped by springing nimbly aside. "But this is earring the joke too far Canst thou not see it, good my lord ?" See wbat ?" demanded Llewelyn, fearing this was an attempt to throw him off his guard, and Loldiug himself in readiness for any rush which might be attempted. See what repeated Meredydd. See that 'tis thiue own conscience aud not our wish nor will that makes the treason thy heart doth paint for thee. Look there," cried he, pointing to Dafydd, whose eyes were now suffused with tears. Dose think that he who weeps for love of thee, and who, even e'er tha sound of thy approaching footsteps reached us, swore that his.right arm should fall from off his trunk, and that his fingers should rot in every joint ere ho would lift; his hand against thee, dost think that ho would do thee wroul1:? And me, Llewelyn, me, thou think- eat evil of And canst thou thin thmk of me when thou dust remember what together we have eeen in days gone by? Where now is gone the memory of Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn? Where now the picture Gwen did paint to thee of thy best friend rotting in the dungeons of Tre'r Llyn ? Ay, more, Llewelyn, where is gone the memory of him who held thine hand, and helped to bear thy grief, and would, God knows, have borne it all himself could ho but take it from thee when the Princess whom I loved but second unto thee was taken from thee? Canst thou remember these things ali. and deem me yet a traitor to my Prince, my life-long friend, my more than brother ? Llewelyn's countenance had undergone a won- derful change during the delivery of this speech. At its close, by a wave of his hand he ordered the soldiers who had answered his summons to depart, and, sheathing his sword, he held out his hand to his friend, saying Meredydd there is some mystery here. Thy words apoke treason but a while ago, but thy eyes now as hath ever done thy heart, speak nought but love, fidelity, and loyalty to me aud mine. I ask thee not to read to me this riddle. Tis enough for me to know that thou art still my friend, and thou," be added turning to Datydd, "my brother." Dafydd and Meredydd each seized a hand and pressed it to their lips. Ha noble prince!" said Meredydd. I did but play the part of thy physician. The deeper- leated be the ill thou sufferest from, the stronger and the bitterer will the mixture be he gives to cure thee. So was it here. Thy soul and spirit both were plunged in sickness, and thy soul and spirit being also Gwalia's own, thy country too, and mine, aud ours all, was fast becoming aick even unto death. Twas then I thought me bow I best could cure both. My country can be only reached through thee. With our Llewelyn once I a,:IÙD himself* biscoaatry tOOt aDd mille. will soon bo well, and every sickness, in the form of foreign foe, be he called Sais or Norman, driven away. thus I touched thine inmost heart and soul, Llewelyn, by threatening thee with that which never could have come to pass while Dafydd is thy mother's son, and I thy staunchest friend, Meredydd." It was with a suspicions break in his voice that Llewelyn, turning to his chieftains, said "Brave chieftains all I thank you for the lesson you have given me. I will not dwell upon it now, nor on the selfish sorrow I have nursed to my dear country's wrong. Enough it is to say that whatover I may hitherto have been, hence- forth my heart and soul, my sword, and good right arm, are yours—and Gwalia's Now the pent-up feelings of the assembled chiefs found vent in such a cheer as never had the walls of Aber echoed yet, and never would again. They all pressed forward, each eager to be first to kiss the hand of him their hearts so loved, and to bend the knee to him they joyed to know as once again their leader and their Prince. The Council was again resumed, Llewelyn ruling now as he had done of yore. The state of the country was fully gone into, its sufferings and its wrongs, its capabilities for defence, and its re- sources to meet the calls which might be made upon it. Action, prompt and decisive, was unanimously resolved upon. The measures to betaken will be better explained in the account hereafter given of how they were carried out than by a detailed statement here. Infused with new heart and new courage, the chieftains departed to their several homes and missions, each picturing to himself the glories of the Cymru Fydd seemingly so near their reach under Llewelyn's leadership. CHAPTER XII.—THE HARVEST MAU. It had buen a busy day at Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd. Though the fields of golden grain which may now be seen of an autumn day waving in the breeze, were not as numerous in the time of Gwallter Mawr Rhys as they have become under the careful tilling and clearing of generation after generation, the few that were there then were as valuable to their owner and as luxuriant in their produce as those of the present day. Thus it was that on that harvest day, in the autumn of 1281, Gwallter Rhys, or Wat n'r Cwrt," as his friends styled him, had gathered all his friends and neighbours to honour his vedel," or reaping day. There they were gathered on the field a motley crew. Twm o'r Waunhen, with his cobbler's apron tied around his loins Shams, of Glynlly- dan, with his shepherd's crook beside him; Ivan, of Penhill, with his wo sturdy sons; Guto Cilmaenllwyd with his%jually sturdy daughters Shon y Gof, and Madoc, his apprentice, and three or four dozen others from the neighbourhood round about gathered to aid at the Cwrt Vedel. Merrily cut the reapers their way through the golden corn gaily, midst chat, and laugh, and song, tied the strong-limbed lasses the sheaves in their train and not more musical was the laugh of the light-hearted maidens than was the sound of the whetstone on the reaping hook, as having gone one length of the field the reapers reset their hook" before commencing another line of attack. Long ere tho setting sun sought his western rest, the last breadth had baen cut and the last sheaf bad been bound. Now the whole party stood grazing with interested eyes upon Wat, who, with much ceremony, proceeded to wind a thin straw rope deftly and skilfully around a handful of growing corn which had been left standing in the centre of the field. "There!" he cried, as he completed his task, and joined those who had been watching him. "Thereis as pretty a Ceg Vedi (Harvest Mare) as ever you saw The ears of corn had been so bound as to appear like a single stalk, of the thickness of a man's wrist, and standing stiff, upright, and apparently as firm as the ashpole in the hedge close by. Ay That it is said Shams Glynllydan. And I have seen many a one in my time, ay, and brought many a one down, too," be added, with a glance of pride around him. Wilt thou try thine hand upon this one, then ?" asked Madoc, with a sneer. The old man looked upon the other with disdain as he answered :— "Ay, that will I with every certainty of winnine too, if I have none better than thou to try against,though my arm be not so supple nor my eye so keen as I have known them. Still, such as they bs, I'll try them, Wilt thou join iD, Guto 2" Well, I'll 'een keep thee in countenance, Shams," replied his friend of Cilmaenllwyd. though 'twere more fitting our grey hairs to leave this sport to the lads around us." No, no cried half-a-dozen youths together. "Let us go in for it, every man of us Without more ado the males of the party, to the number of possibly two dozen, formed them- selves in line at a fixed distance from the bound ears of corn which they had dubbed their Harvest Mare. Each held his sickle or reaping hook in his hand, and each in turn threw it with all the force and skill at his command towards the" mare," the object being to cut the tuft in half by this throw of the sickle. The luck or skill of the competitors varied, some going wide of the mark to the great and boisterous amusement of the others, and being greeted with the merciless chaff of the maidens who stood in a row watching the game. Others more fortunate, struck the mare, hut either with the haft or with the back of the sickle, producing no other result than taunts from the girls around. "Why Madoc, cried one of the lasses, when that youth's sickle bad struck the tuft with the tht instead of the edge of the blade, thou shouldst give thy sickle a pair of eyes to see where it goes." "'Tis not eyes it lacks, but temper in the blade," quoth Madoc, reddening to the roots of hia hair. "Thecursed thing hath no edge." Give it a bit of thine own temper^then," cried his first tormentor amidst the laughter of the others. No edge!" cried Shon. Now ont upon thee for a scurvy kuave and dirty bird thus to foul thine own nest! That sickle of thine is of thiue own make, aud worked under mine own eye, and I will back it up that there is no keener, better tempered blade upon the field "Then try it thyself," said his apprentice, scow hug. "Ay, that I will right gladly," quoth Shon, "aud it lean but summon half the skdl to aim and guide my throw as I have doue in teaching thee the making of the good blade,to-night's right of kissing shall be mine." "But indeed, Shon, than mayest divide thy word in two," said Madien, pertly. "'Tis not enough to bring the mare down, but thou must bring her dry upon our table." "Ay, ay," chorused the girls, "and 'twere a hundred pities so nice a mare should go thirsty, and so we'll water her for thee." "I have little doubt of your good will to do so, ye jade*> said hon, with a laugh and having now recovered the sickle, and having glanced with a critical eye along the blade last some notch, or other accidental imperfection, might interfere I with his complete success, he took bis stand at the line. Carefully measuring his distance with his eye, and drawing his aim slowly backward, with a sudden powerful stroke the smith threw the weapon, which went hurtling with a whistiiug sound through the air, straight aa an arrow towards the mark. A loud shout proclaimed hIs success, The blade had caught the standing corn fairly midway up the stalks, and cut them through as evenly as though the blow had been given by a, tempered Damascene. The girls now trooped lightly towards ihe homestead, to undertake the double task of pre- paring the food and of giving Shon and his mare a suitable reception. And now, lads 1" cried Shon. There is the castle field not yet more than half cut. They are indeed but lazy loons. I've more than half a mind to place a standing mare in their corn, if it wero but to show them how little we care for them." The proposal wa,8 greeted with 'glad shouts of welcome, and willing hands were soon ready to- prepare another mare of the longest and the stoutest straws which could be found. These tied together, firmly bound with a well-turned rope of straw, formed a sheaf of the thickness of a. man's leg, and when placed standing on the earth would be a few inches taller than the average height of growing corn. To place such a mare in a field where other reapers were engaged, was, in the rurai code of honour, as much to be dreaded as the planting of an enemy's standard on the castle walls. The bold spirit who dared do so ran no little risk in ordinary circumstances, for, if caught in the act, a sound thrashing would be tbe least he could expect, while it was perfectly legal and justifiable, according to the customs of the country, to cast their sickles at the daring intruder while lie remained witbin the boundaries of the field. Once he succeeded in recrossing that, be was considered as safe as though he had not offered the insult. The relations between the country people and the garrison of the castle was not of the happiest, and for this reason tt was evident that Shon ran more than ordinary risks in venturing to place his mare in the field which was now being reaped by the oastle retainers some half a mile distant. Shun, however, was not to to be deterred by the knowledge of danger from exe- cuting the task he had volunteered to perform. Accompanied, therefore, by half a dozeu of the boldest spirits who carried his mare for him, Shon wended his way unobserved by the reapers in the other field. Having reached the hedge which bound it, and having chosen his point of ) attack with all the skill of an old band at such a dangerous game of hide and seek, Shon left hia friends to watch the unsuspecting enemy while lie proceeded on the most dangerous part of his mission. It would have been enough to place the mare within few yards of the hedge, but there would have been no glory in escaping thence, and Shon was not the man to do his work by halves. For thia reason he boldly advanced, though still I exercising caution and watchfulness, until he had covered more than half the distance between the hedge and the reapers, who were now working their way well up to the hedge at the far end from where stood Shon's friends. Lying in wait until, having passed the line of the spot where he hid,the reapers had their backs turned towards him, Shon, with a foolhardiness never before known in the annals of harvest mare customs, pushed swiftly forward and planted his mare, all bold and standing on the outer edge of the growing corn, and within a dozen yards of the last of the reapers slojvly making their way from him. I Then, with a defiint shout, which startled while it drew the. immediate attention of the whole body of reapers, he made his way straight down th furrow for the lower hedge in open view of all. The standing mare in all her boldness, placed within a dozen yardlt of them,' explained the mystery of the flying figure, and, with hoarse shouts, the whole field of reapers went racing after Shon, throwing their sickles at him, heedless whether they killed of only maimed him. so long as they could but prevent his escape. More than one of the keen blades went whistling past his ears, and one, better aimed, struck off a portion of the fur tassel which he wore to his cap. Still, he was unhurt, and, with a parting whoop, be cleared ditch and hedge at a bound and landed amongst his waiting friends beyond. And there they stood laughing, waiting the appearance on the hedge of the discomfited castle folk, that they might taunt them on their Blow reaping and their want of watchfulness. What, however, watf their surprise to see the reapers, instead of stopping at the hedge, come dashing through or over it, and making straight for Shon, evidently bent upon avenging there and then, contrary to all known custom and usage, the insult placed upon them. Taking in at a glance the danger of their situa- tion, one of Shon's party placed his fingers to his lips, and gave a rallying whistle which he knew would bring to their help every friend within a mile's radius. "By my anvil, lads, the louts are crossing the hedge cried Shon, aghast with surprise at this* outrage on all recognised traditions. There was no time for sayine more, barely time to seize a few stakes from the hedge as the readiest weapons wherewith to defend themselves, when the reapers, many of whom had now recovered their sickles and held them threateningly in their hands, bore down upon them. (TO be continued.)

THE INALIENABLE RIGHT TO SHOOT. One warm evening in September, Zadoc Pine sat in the front yard of the widow Dadd's house, whittling a plug for the cider-barrel. He looked up from his wuittling and saw a party of a dozen men come up the road and stop at the gate. He arose and went forward to meet them. Good-evenin, friends!" he said, driving his jack-knife into the top rail of tha fence and leaning over the pickets Want to see me, I s'pose? What c'fl I do fex ye?" One man came forward and put himself at the bead of the party. Zadoc knew him by sight. It was McCuskey, the walking-dele?ate. "You can get out of this town," said McCuskey, "as fast as you know how to. We'll give you ten hours." That,i friendly-like," said Zadoc. "I ain't bad a present 0' ten hours free time made me sence I wuz a boy at school," "You have got to' go," McCuskey began, U because you have interfered with the inalienable rights of labor because you have taken the bread out of tbe months of honest toilers-" "Sho Zidoc interrupted him, "don't talk no sech fool talk ez that! I a.in't taken no bread outer no man's mouth. I ain't got down to that yet, S'pose you tell me in plain English what I've done to be run outer town fer 1" I "Kill him Hang the scab! Kill him I" í Kill ?" Zõidoc let out a voice that only the Adirondack bills had heard before. Then he checked himself, and talked quietly, yet so that every man on the street heard him. I came from the North Woods," he said. "They make men whar I came from. I ain't wronged no man in this town. I come here to make my livin', and bar. I'll stav. Ef you wanter fight, I'll fight yer, one at a time, or the hull gang 1 Ye can kill bJe, but ye've gotter kill me here. An' ef it cocoes ter killen', I c'u hold my end up. I c'u kill a rabbit at forty rod, an' I own my nfla yit. But I know ye won't give me no fair fight; ye want to crawl up behin me. Well, I'm a man from the woods, I c'a hear ye a half a mile off, an' c'n smell yQ a hundred yards."—From "The Zadoc Pine Labor Union," by H. C. BUNNER, in the Chrietmas number of Scribner's Magazine. -=

SAVONAROLA'S [TRIUMPH, There are in the world few grander buildings than that citadel of Florentine liberty, the Palazzo Vecchio. It is an embodiment of military beauty in stone. In earlier times the scene of so much that was noble and base, it became, in the fifteenth century the place of Savonarola's triumph and agony. For there, in the vast hall of that great council he 80 laboured to secure, he set a whole people to work at fever-heat of enthusiasm, with Michal Angelo and Leonardo da Vinci among the workers, that an asylum might be created, a refuge and an appeal to the many against the injustice of the few. The Medici changed the place; the arch-patrons of art destroyed the designs of Angelo and Leonardo, setting up the clumsy statues of Leo and the dukes, and the ceilings of Vasari, celebrating Cosimothey wanted no unpleasant souvenir of the great council. But the centuries have seen the Medi- cean stamp outworn," and have placed the statue of the mighty tnonk in the middle of his hall. The story of cc Romola" leaves us with a sense of sadness and defeat. Savonarola died mute and unjustified; his friends and disciples, robbed, murdered, and driven into exile; his life's work undone; and the kingdom of God he had laboured to found shaken to its foundations. But, only a few years after, under a Medicean pope, he is solemuly rehabilitated by the Church historian-) estimate him at his true value, de- votees make pilgrimages to his cell, Fra Barto- lommeo paints him as the patron saint of his order, and Raphael places him in a frescoed Para- dise among a glorious company of prophets and sages. To-day, in an Italy that does not love monks, Ferrara raises his statue before the castle of the Estensi, and in Florence, in the vastness of tha great council-hall, is his colossal image. Many changes have come to his beloved city; but she is faithful to his memory, and those who do not revernce the priest honour the patriot who withstood tyrants and loved liberty.—From "In Florence, with Romola," by E. H. Blashfield aud E. W. Blashfield, in the Christmas number of Scribner's Magazine.

SMOKING UP THE CHIMNEY, Harslett: "Why, Clarence, old man what are you doing in the fireplace ?" Briskett: •• Mamma objects to having the curtains discoloured, old fellow. Come in and have a cigar. Plenty of room you know.

THz CURATITB CAUSE.—" To what do you attri- bute the curative properties of your springs!" asked a visitor at a hdalth resort. "Well," an. swered the Iroprietor; thoughtfully, I guess the I advertising I've done has had something to do with it., Poor feUow {" said a bystander, looking com- passionately at a Door Irishman whose leg bad been mangled by a atireet car. It will have to I be amputated." -k Amputated, is it?" exclaimed the Irishman, scornfully, it'll be cut off 1 It is said that I resemble the portraits of Thomas Paine," said a risiug young atheist to Bob IngarsoU the other day, wishing to gain his favour. I though you had a Pained expression of countenance," reiphed the boss infidel. One Sunday, a minister was preaching to a scattered congregation in the open air. By ill luck he selected an unt-hill as his pulpit. In vain did he try to appeal to their hearts and to wax I eloquent; but at last he could stand it no, longer. "Brethren," gays he. "1 hope I bae tbe Word o' God in my mouth, but the very deil!s,.ju.,my Breeches."

EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE. By James McGovan. No, 55.-FORCING A ROGUE TO DIS- GORGE, principal. And yet it is the bait that is every day used to snare fools, and with a success that is astonishing. Every paper we lift bristles with offers in glaring black figures which one would think no possessor of money could pass over with indifference. It is the old story of the world divided into two classes-those who have money and those who have none; and naturally those whose pockets are empty strive by every device, new, or old, to fill them from those of the opposite class. Swindlinir has progressed like one of the high arts. At the time when the following case occurred, borrowing swindles were common-now, however, there are rascals so clever that, while appearing to lend money, they i-eally borrow it- never, of course, to be returned. Such is life. Andrew Wilkie, a poor clerk, aged twenty-five, and not at all deficient in intelligence, lIat in his shabby lodging at the South Side one night towards the close of the year like a sensible man' reviewing the past year, by its practical results. Andrew had not the look of an over-fed Alder. man on the contrary, he was very thin, and his features so white and sharply defined, that hunger and he appeared to be old companions. Yethiseye was bright, and there was even the trace of a man- ful, hopeful smile about his lips. He could not afford a tire in his little room—cheap as coals were then-but warmed himself with exercise, stalking round his little table like a convict pacing his cell, or a lark hopping round its cage. This, in the coldest weather, he always found as effectual as the most glowing of fires, but with one little drawback—it gave him a most wolfish appetite for supper, a meal which was often farther from his reach than even coals. I have not done so badly," he said to himself, pausing in bis walk and allowing his meditative gaze to become fixed on the blinking peep of gas allowed him in winter for threepence a week extra, I have done all I promised when I left home. I have -given up all thoughts of ever beiug a doctor, or anything better than a clerk, and I have saved like a miser all for mother and Betsy. I believe in my heart the fellows call me a mean hunk,a stingy fellow, and so on but here lies the result, and that pleases me more than their worst taunts can injure me and, kneeling down before his trunk, j he brought out a number of odd little paper parcels, in an old Balmoral cap, which he placed on the table with almost miserly care, after secur- ing the door with a snib for fear of interruption. One by one he lifted out the dumpy little cork- screws of paper and placed them like a regiment of soldiers along the table. There were five odd pound notes-one very thin little soldier represen- ting four half-sovereigns, and thirteen more corpulent privates being so many pounds sterling in silver. The regiment having thus been ranged out before him, he proceeded to allot to them their duties. Telling off twelve of the corpulent privates with his finger, he said- There is the twelve pounds I promised mother I would save for her out of my salary; they will help to keep her warm and cosy a good bit of the year—a small return for everything I owe to her. Theu there are six pounds more," and he told off the remaining fat private, the very thin soldier and three of the odd pound notes. Thatti.a surprise for mother—the money for her year's rent. That will take such a weight off her mind that it will be as good as adding twenty years to her life-surely something worth starving one's- self for. That leaves two out of the twenty pounds to pay the doctor's bill for attendance on poor Betty, and perhaps leaves a shilling or two to buy her a little treat when I go across in a fortnight and four days to spend Handsel Monday at the old fireside. Oh, that will be a joyful meeting and a happy time! I could almost jump through the roof with merely thinking of it," And in the exuberance of his joy Willie began an extravagant dance, till the sudden flapping of one of his soles on the floor recalled him to the stern realities of the present. Tugging up the foot in the damaged boot with tender care and uncommon gravity, be continued— "My boots are bad, and no mistake; I have got them half-heeled and patched tiH I actually blush, to go into the shoemaker's shop. What a pity I couldn't have scraped together a few pounds more to get myself a pair of boots and some clothes to go home in. I've no topcoat, and my clothes are the shabbiest of the shabby. Never mind! the winter will soon be past and the weather warm again, so what need I care ? I'll have a happy Handsel Moeday, and, knowing that I've managed all I promised, that shall warm me for the whole year to come." Vitb this cheerful conclusion he gathered in his regiment of soldiers, stowed them back in his Balmoral cap, locked the whole in his trunk, and then, feeling already warmed by the prospect before him, drew in a chair to read the fourth-hand daily paper which he got for nothing in the office after every- one else had done with it. Now, in no newspaper is there a more attractive page to the poor clerk than that containing the advertisements—and to this, as a matter of course, he turned first. After going carefully over the column of "situations vacant," and giving a smothered sigh, as usual, when done, the word "Money," in large black capitals caught his oye, and for a few mintes held it to the spot. All kinds of sums were there arranged as wanted, but among them all none possessed such a fascination for the poor clerk as the following, which he read and re-read till his I heart was beating with sickening rapidity £ 20 WANTED by a respectable Edinburgh tradesman for fourteen days. £ 5 will be given I for the accommodation, and a good security I tendered. Applicants who may not receive a reply will be good enough to understand that the want has been supplied. Apply in the first I instance to Tradesman," Office of this paper. Wilkie was rather a solitary fellow, did not mix much with the world, and knew but little practi- cally of Its roguery besides he was a country lad, originally coming somewhere about Kinross, and all these circumstances tended to make him an easy victim. "There is a rare chance for somebody,"he said, in breathless excitement, as the thought Sashed on him that be himself possessed exactly the sum required. Five pounds for the use of twenty pounds for a fortnight—some poor, honest trades- man, no doubt, who is pressed for his taxes, and glad to pay heavy interest to save his name. I've a good mind to answer it. What a lift-what a blessing five pounds would be to me just now I It would just make things comfortable and easy for me,put me on my legs for the whole year to come. And then I would have my money back, and the five pounds along with it, in two weeks—four whole days before I really need it to take with me. Of course I would never think of partiog with the money till I had ascertained beyond a doubt that the transaction was fair and honour- able, and that the security was good. Five pounds! What a sum 1-1 would think myself happy all a king." The man who hesitates, they say, is lost, and Wilkie did hesitate long and painfully. Every coin of the money in his possession had to him an artificial value far above its worth, not only from the rigid self-denial at which it had been purchased, but on account of the many issues depending upon it being ready for presentation at his home on Handsel Monday. Yet the result came about all the same. Before an hour had passed Wilkie had penned a neat little note to "Tradesman," offering to lend the sum wanted, borrowed an envelope, gummed it down, and left the house to drop the same into the letter-box at the newspaper office. These same letter-boxes are said to be a kind of voracious maw which swallow daily thousands of anxious epistles, which are then for ever tombed but no such fate awaited Wilkje's timid note. By the forenoon post next day he received the following reply. Mr Charles Farley, grocer (the advertiser), will be glad to meet Mr Wilkie at the lower corner of the Tron, facing High-street, at two o'clock precisely, when he will introduce him to his place Qf business, and try to arrange the details of the I ldan to Mr Wilkie's satisfaction. Writer baa selected Mr Wilkie's note of offer at random from some dozens of replies, and trusts he will make it convenient to attend at the above specified time, when he will wear a white bat for the purpose of identification. Reader, did you ever get a letter which at once brightened and chilled your hopes ? It was pre- cisely so with the above note and Wilkie. He was delighted to find that he was the favoured one out of "dozens," but rather damped to notice the singular place of meeting. Why could he not have directed me to bis place of business?' he naturally asked himself. I must be very cautious—keep my eyes wide opon." At two o'clock he took his way to the Tron, duly met the man with the white hat, and liked him worse than his note. The feeling of rapug. nance wore away, how-ever, when the grocer began to use his glib tongue for Jack Burrows, alias The Tweezers," Dr, Gerrard, Esq. &e,, &c., bad a most fluent gift of speech, and could have twisted a much more acute man than Wilkie round his little finger with the utmost ease. Down the High-street they went, the borrower domg most of the talking, till they came to a very respectable-looking, well-stocked grocer's' shop, at the window of which they stopped, when Wilkie's eye travelled unconsciously to the sign above the door, and there he read, with some relief, the name 'Charles Fairley, grocer and spirit merchant." You see there is no doubt about my position," coolly remarked the swindler, reading Wilkie's thoughts in the glance. Come into my back room and see if we can arrange matters;" and boldly entering the shop and nodding, or rather winking knowingly, to the shop lad in attendance, he led the way to the back shop, where he accommodated the poor clerk with a seat. Naturally a gentleman like you, who never, probably, bothers with business matters, will wonder at a man in my position being in want of such a paltry sum as twenty pounds," he glibly began with cunningly administered flattery. The fact of the matter is, though, that this is not only a tigtit season for money, but I have a rare chance for buying a share in a grocer's bankrupt stock. For twenty pounds ready money I can get to-morrow exactly forty-three pounds' worth of saleable goods, which, as I can soon turn it over, would bring me, as you see, more than double the outlay. Now, if you choose to lend me the money, I give you five pounds for the accommodation-liberal interest as things go at present-and, though I myself shall make eighteen out of the transaction, I scarcely think you will have cause to grumble, since I have all the trouble and risk." All this seemed so open and reasonablo that Wilkie actually stammered and felt exceedingly guilty as ho asked— "And the security? — you would be quite willing to give that?" "Certainly, my dear sir-certainly: it is only business, you know," quickly returned the rogue. Would you like my hill at fourteen days, with power to lift my stock in the event of failure of payment ?" At the moment these really seemed hard' terms to drive but, as the borrower offered no other, the poor clerk only stammered out that that would do very well;" and the paper, with many flourishes, was written out there and then, and signed in letters nearly half-an-inch long— Charles Fairley." This being handed to Wilkie, and found perfectly business-like and legal, he at last produced from his breast pocket the queer regiment of paper screws fuil of money, which the borrower opened out, counted hastily, and then pocketed with marked avidity. No sooner had his year's savings thus disappeared from his eyes than Wilkie seemed to hear ringing in bis ears an old saying of his mother's forgotten till that moment, "The fule and his money's sune partit." He had time to think now. The grocer rose, bowed him out of the shop, and benignly shook him by the hand, hoping to see him again at the end of the fortnight. Wilkie went away thinking that he had done right and well, yet feeling a strange uneasiness continually cropping up in his mind as to the ultimate fate of his savings. A day or two passed, and still his uneasiness increased, till one day, in hurrying along to his work, he happened to meet the man who bad borrowed the money, and was astonished to find that, far from returning his, recognition, the man coolly paRsed on, and disappeared in the distance. Wilkie was speech- less with astonishment and fear, and the moment be was free at mid-day, be hurried down to the grocer's shop to demand an explanation. tie entered the shop,and found the same lad iii atten- dance but the master's place at the desk was occupied by a portly, red-faced man, who came forward to attend to tbe shabby clerk with a slow dignity that sent a nameless pang of oreaa through his heart. u Well" young man, what can I do for you. said the owner of the shop, really a most honourable and respectable tr. desman. U I-I beg your pardon," stammered the trembling clerk; "but could I see Mr Fairley biroelf i" Certainly. I am Mr Fairley—at your service," was the smiling reply. Wilkie paled to the roots of the hair, and could hardly in his agitation find breath to s»y N"t—not yon, sir; thank you. I mean Mr Charles Fairley." "Well, man I am Mr Charles Fairley, impatiently answered the grocer. What do you want with me!" The visitor appeared to have a great deal to say, far more than ha could find utterance for. He choked, and flushed, and paled by turns, grasping wildly at the edge of the counter, and then managed to blurt out- I have to say that either you or your accom- plices have robbed me—-robbed me of a whole year's hard savings—twenty pounds," and his voice rose almost to a scream, while the petrified grocer stared at him as it certain that he was mad. "I came into this shop a few days ago and gav<j you, or a man calling himself you, that sum on his note of hand, and my belief is. air, that you have meant to swindle me! Hand over the money at once, or I will give you into the hands of the police." This was too much for amazed grocer; a crowd was gathering rapidly at the shop door, and the raving mania before him was actually reaching across the counter to try and throttle him. Shrinking back against his shelves, he signalled hastily to the shop lad, who no sooner sighted Wilkie than he had discreetly resolved to keep out of sight. Peter Here! Turn him out! He's either drunk or mad Thus forced from his concealment, the shop lad was briskly proceeding to obey when a shout of recognition from Wilkie interrupted his officious movements. "There! you know the man that got my money 1" cried the poor clerk, with pitecus desperation. You were in tho shop when we walked in and arranged it all in the back room. You remember that, don't you?" The lad crimsoned guiltily, but with affected amassment quickly answered- I never saw ye in my life afore. Naebody can come into the shop without me kennin', and naebodv gets into the back at a' but the maister. There!" "Liar! You are liars and swindlers!" madly returned Wilkie, striking right and left, aud speedily flooring the treacherous shop lad and then leaping over him as he lay grovelling with a bleeding nose in the sawdust, he was about to spring in behind the counter on the terrified grocer, when that gentleman's scream for help was answered by some of the crowd, along with two policemen, who had been attracted thither by the commotion; and between them they managed with great difficulty to secure the poor clerk, and carry him, fighting desperately avery inch of the way, up to the Police Office, where he was locked up till he should calm down sufficiently to give a reason for his extraordinary conduct. In au hour or so I was sent in to hear his story, and though I found him still excited and indignant, he had the good sense to restraiu himself sufficiently to relate all that I have already described. My first dis. covery, of course, from his description, was that he had lent the money to a professional thief and swindler, Jack Burrows by name; and the second was that access to the grocer's shop bad been obtained through-the connivance of the shep lad, and only during the hour when tha master him- self was absent at dinner. It will not be won- dered at, then, upon the victim concluding his story and piteously asking if there was any likelihood of the money being recovered, I only shook my head and said— "I am afraid you may lay it down as almost certain that you will never nee a ooin of it agaju » Don't say that, sir—for heaven's sake don't say that!" he cried, with tors in his eyes. "You know, from what I hagm told you, how much depends on me getting « back. I would sacrifice anything to that end. I would even be willing to let the villain go unpunished if he would only give up my hard-earned money." Of course I at once assured him that such a step would be an illegal one—that of compounding with a criminal—but somehow the hint set me a-thinkiue 1 uhe .ra8C<41 r6"' and 1 had not only watched hrm long and earnestly, but had at that moment half a hold on him for a former ingenious bit of work. I he case I had traced out so steadily that it was only with reluctanoe I could now think of abandoning the intention to land him safely in the cells. But then the poor clerk's agony" and his way of describing his loss, had been so piteous that I was moved in spite of myself. Was it really possible to force a rogue like Burrows to dwgorge his lU-gotten gains? I began to think 4, should like to try. He was called "Tha Tweezers, I knew, for the excellent grip with which ho held on to his umney, and the very con- trariety of hiimnn nature now graded me on to try whether I could hot force "The Tweezers" to relax. My first step was to go down to Mr Fairley, the grocer, and explain matter. the result of which was that the charge of assault and breach of the peace against Wiikie was at once withdrawn, and the guilty shop lad discharged on the spot. My next business, as The Tweeters continued to remain persistently invisible, was to scan carefully the advertisements of money wanted in the daily papers. Several of these I had answered in different guises, but the one which turned out the winning; card ran as follow £ 30 W A:iTED.-A genUeman wishes another to join him to the above amount in a safe investment which will yield a return of at least 15 per cent. Address 'Confidence,' Office of this paper." In reply to an eager offer to join in anv invest- ment which would be so profitable, we received a cleverly concocted note, signed Dl'. Gerrard," in which Burrows dated from a fashionable and expensive lodging at the West, End, and assuring us of his willingness and abilfty to depositor show iunds to a like amount with ourselves. After eome more correspondence it was arranged that David Collison and Dr. Gerrard should meet at the residence of the latter for the final arrangement of the business, one afternoon about half-past three o'clock. Nearly the whole day Wilkie and myself watched the house from the opposite side of the street, and about two o'clock we were rewarded by seeing "The Tweezers," done up in a black suit and dark green spectacles, leisurely quit the house for a stroll. Now was our time. Just allowing him to be out of sight, we got down to the street, crossed over ta the fashionable lodging-house, and inquired for Dr. Gerrard." He has just gone out/' was the reply. "Did he not leave word that a Mr CoHison would cill?" I asked, nothing daunted. I -Yes, he did. Just step in, sir. Will you wait till he comes?" We both assured the servant that we would wait without the least impatience; and the moment she had quitted the room I had a look all round for any "effects." But Burrows was far too wary a fox to be caught napping and, finding nothing but what evidently belonged to the lodging-house, I at last opened the door of the bedroom, stowed Willcia away ill it leaving the door slightly t'jar, and then sat down to await Dr Gerrard's return. The room was, as I had hoped it would be, pretty gloomy when he arrived. I heard the servant inform flild,as I bad particularly directed, that a Mr Collison was waiting for him in his room," and thus I knew that, as no mention had been made of Wilkie, he would believe naturally that we were alone. Bustling into the room, rubbing his hands and stamping his feet like a fussy old doctor, he apologised for keeping me waiting, and was about to call for lights, when I interposed and said I would prefer first to settle our business. I merely called to obtain some evidence that you really possess and mean to invest a like sum to my own," I said, with a low bow, disguising my voice into a hoarse whisper, as if suffering from a cold. b Certainly, certainly. We cannot be too care- ful in these days of swindling advertisers," was his quick response; and plunging his hand at once into his breast pocket, he produced a pocket- book, from which he took twenty-three pounds in gold and seven pounds in noter-all genuine money—which he ranged in confidence on the table, and even allowed me to touch and test. I was satisfied-nay, more, I was exultant. The man really had a sum of money—and more— that my fingers were now itching to clutch. But it would never do to turn thief in turn so letting him lift the notes and gold in a hasty sweep of the hand, I merely said in the same low whisper that he had better light the gas for the concluding part of our business With ready alacrity he obeyed, rattled down the two Venetian blinds, drew the curtains cosily actoss, turned to me, and then started back with a shout of surprise The devil! M'Govan It's you, 18 it'" It is. How are you. Jack?" I quietly and Clearly answered, m my natural voice, moving mv chair with its back against the dos.r, and then seating myself on it with folded arms so as to completely bar his egress. Inamomenfche had recovered from -the prise—quietly removed the erenn 1 seated himself at the other side of the^abT dSxr arms folded lik9 n,y »2s defiance, SiriSy!- -r' "iu"°*2 0' 'A-1 I hope so." "You do? Come. that'« «n„.a- ••. evidently relieved. "Well J16 rePj,0'|» want me, hook it," an(j jj_ rosn y°u (to" 6 pointed to the door at my back imperatively "No. not so fast T 11 stirring an inch. "I ha^ .Vt'v^' SSA „»*«• r „<1 yoa shall d»cid,°°o "be""01 either the tw«ntv rionnrtn u uu a ?« young man Wilki^f SL Si 7™ robbed the -? 7 three days xgo by means of number of <>r 1 want y°ursi;it °n a rs £ .r,L»dS,t £ Yr7mdodiM'^01 possession at tllU Inoinent evel'y com ln y„„ "A modst request-a. refined extortion-I am working elja8ty>" I calmly interposed. I myself, andV f°C "° b*ncfit fc° even make you the iffnr r ^'u"sfc n)y Krain to that you may refu « 1 "rf* wisl> five years at i J '7 ?" 1 '*Ve, you for like the young man i?, Jl? hand»1 .(it „m 0»» mS.Si.»on,y'" 1:0 foot "i itfiwS PT!: f" d~°"!d»r-1 »<" me;" and ,Yt"f ,'a]re n.° casrt.against nookets h« in. t t hands deep into his fn my face. m ^'s c*la'r aud laughed interrupted^0n "'S'' j?11 £ l?ave d"ne>" I sharply case a w«at « doubtless, think Wilkie s case a wak Olle, ami hllrmls8 against you- N" him MV M! K Uairley s name—no one saw even for his < ^,we,'ty pounds—the shop lad, behalf that- ^i" ,rtGre,<fc. would swear on your the shon ltller Wllki0 y««* ever entered r • your thoughts are clear, and T 1 °n'n,? Pretty acute, but you .nust know rl plaue no weight whatever upon this case. It may t,e weak or it may be strong—I care not ,t ch. Kut listen. Fourteen months ago a foreed batil"6 W"8 pre8ented and paid at a Liverpool He started back at the word,, with the colour, slowly receding in his face. I smiled out and resumed— "You do not laugh now; indeed, you look ghastly pale. No matter; as I 6aid, the cheque was cashed; but unfortunately only one of the two concerned in its utterance was caught. jj. was the least guilty, I am told, of the two and confidently expected that his richer chum would have sent in somebody to defend him. Jia w„ disappointed. "The Tweezers," as ti* otL called, had left the city, probably to eo wards, taking the plunder with him, and ill J his tool to his fate. The miserable wretch years, but swore that if they would hnP Jl The Tweezers he would tender i„f"LC^ch and reliable evidence regarding a r»hK which "The Tweezers" had been enW»H yi • would book that gentleman forseven narh^W» years. The mau is still in pri*o„I!!> peV"1?s,ten» still be got at-and The %'• and I pointed straight into hia ( 1 ^ere • twenty pounds, or take a present of *h» v>»Up j ? heW up a dangling pair JhandcufL 1 wrenched out his ijKltWi^nriP^sion' he suddenly I saw that the £ 2 f[om .h'8 P^ket, and which I had heard tha* h P'S^ a' weapon reckless enough to i»o k waa ^ot'1 able and and did not mTeVh^d or6« Wa" for him» to4smUe coolly in his f Je bat C0utinued slowly "hilSd^r fr°m 8hootinK you ?" he •«, £ £ you cnuldw not, though you tried." • .h™p oliok h' "*P1"d bMk with jjw. b.„d, the beginning of our interview. Take care—his >0 uut™K, tffat" oOhs rmnuent, f«,Eb u HC™1 V*rf«ctly indescribable in its && tUXUf4 WUkie And suppose I should give you the mnn«v'" Ba" In that6ctfa11 T H and ,"Umbl9 roKue nnol !;r Tu- not touch you for the Liver- pool affair or thw one at all,and I will »iVe voatill to g 2» "awVt" thefmornin8 to leave the cfty for v 7„ 7 i ^fo' a ,aau of your abilities." 2L' ST la £ »! villain brought out his pocket-book, counted down twenty £ J! £ L'gnS' W,UCib 1 h5nded toAVilkio, who seemed for the moment mad with exuberant joy and tbe°hou8ea Prosperous journey, we left The moment we were in the dark street Wilkie threw his arms about me, almost worshipped me, danced, sang, shouted, and leaped nearly as high as himself m the air. I almost feared that his sanity was touched but in the lighter streets he r°?k «ufociently to walk a little more soberly, though there was still a light in his eye ne ttle brightest decked window of Christmas presents that we passed. Incomingalong Jrnncw-stroefc, I bad actually to use force to prevent b, in frum rushing in and buying we a half" guinea cake and even when we parted at the High-street there was a rebellious look in his eye which I only fully understood when I got home to tea. I found a great plate of cake on the table so unlike our own unpretentious currant loaf that I instinctively suspected the truth. A Mr Wilkie brought it up as a trifling present for you, and he said you could not send it back, for he was going off by the twenty minutes to seven train." This was the explanation, and with watering eyes I sat down and said grace more heartily than I had done for many a day. As for Mr Jack Burrows, his day of grace was a short one. The very next morning he left the city, and, doubtless still smarting from his recent losses, was tempted to try his hand on a betting man seated opposite him in the triiin. Alas the betting man was himself an old pickpocket, and in a moment Burrows was detected, throttled, and held rigidly till the arrivd of the train at Carlisle, when he was handed out and given in charge. He might have got off with a slight sentence, but the old thief was indignant, and raked up so many former convictions that The Tweezers "was doomed, and at his trial took seven years' penal servitude, if not with gratitude, at least with resignation.

THE RISE OF THE PENNY. ? The rise and progress of the penny has never yet been dealt with by the serious historian. This is rather a pity, because it is a subjeoj of extreme interest, almost as great as the "Parallel between Henry VIII. and Brigham Young," or the Early Village Free and Easy," which the historian does not disdain to tackle. It would, besides, offer him full scope for his theological and political views-a desideratum dear to the soul of the historical philosopher. Perhaps the penny, as we know it now, does not go far back enough for him, as we know that the historian pur tctnU would not touch anything after the eighteenth century with a pair of tongs. The present penny is entirely the creation of the last fifty years. Before that time it was an insignificant subject, content to take its place among oilier coins at its nominal value; but it has since been rapidly acquiring the position of a ruler, and there i. really no telling where its dominion will end. The modern penny may be said to have bad its rise in the early days of railway enterprise, when the wise legislator, horror-struck by the peculiarly atrocious rack of torture which the companies had devised tor" seatiug" the masses, insisted, in a spirit of righteous indignation, that they should charge only a penny a mile. The legislator could not abolish the rack, and the masses had to submit to be triangulated, squared, and squeezed itil they were no longer the original masses at all) but still they rode for a penny, which was a victory for the penny, if a temporary sorrow to them. Its next step forward was its conquest of the rolling wave. The man who first started » penny steambqpt probably was not aware of the full significance of what he was doing, any more than the man is who for the first time signs a marriage register; but all honour to him never- theless. But these were only beginnings. The penny, having made so much conquest on the material plane, began to attack the intellectual. It made up its mind that under its gentle sway we should have free communication of thought. It opened the post. It brought all our country friends and acquaintances up to town in the most agreeable manner possible for both parties, namely, by written communication and enabled us correspondingly to go down into the country without the trouble of a railway journey, thick boots, and waste of time. And among ourselves in town, it largely did away with the necessity for that personal intercourse which has alw. been the srreat bugbear of the Englishman, whO hates to see" anybody. Modesty compels us to draw a veil over the next great great conquest ot the penny. Suffice it to say that what little there ihT reading which y,.u cannot now find i« lihrfttIJnjr £ n.pei" you Ciin always borrow at the locomotionPfenny' l)av ng 80 far conquered next turrit 66 c'jm,nnuication of thought* readinKa"el'tS at^tion to art. The "peony said the penuynMdPth» 1 W'1-1 WaVe my wand' and elocution shall realms of music entreaty of the sweet ,owlle8t—the sofj of the alto, and the chewPnl« 'exl,irin« wal1 tbe diaphragmatic denuncfatiotTSf tCn°5 the harmony of all combined • and heaving bosom of the reciter 'appear bV « rl,i„g ev.,y cl,„<J i„ y„„r r.sjjoQsive^o!^ S he Death of Little Jmr' to the "Balaklar* Charge. One penny only, and you ma* t'u f Latile of t!'e Prague" played ia?LS by the rector's young daughters, or the '■ Wolf" sung by a local "'■vr M m anr* wheelwright; you shall Village Blacksmith brought home to yon by the water rate collector, or the 41 Vagabond by the assistant curate. The baker's son and tha draper's young man shall enact Brutus and Cassius" before you, while the churchwarden shall draw your tears over Paul Dombey," the local surgeon shall bind up yonr wounded hearts again with Artemus among the Spirit6,. This was a great thing for the penny to do, and full of significance lor the future of our conotrV- But it has not been satisfied to stop even there. has recently grjwa ambitious enough to attach the realm of science. The penny science l«ctur« is an accomplished fact, and may become ad established institution.

DECEMBER MAGAZINES. The American Magazine for December is in 1111 its features a Christmas number. The lead in# article, "Christ- edeals in American Art," by Wm. H. Ingeraoll, gives occasion for the frontitr piece, "The Boy Christ Disputing with the DoC" tors," engraved from a picture by Frank Mo*" and a sculptured Head of Christ," by LauØt Thompson, is reproduced in line engraving on the cover. The article is replete with defcriptiof" and illustrations showing how our leading painter* and sculptors have represented tha ideal Christ. Christmas in the Grand Army" is the story told by one of the surviving members of a society founded among the Federal soldiers during the war. Salmon fishing in the Cascapedia river 111 described in an illustrated article. Lords Dnfferio, Lorne, and Lansdowne, as well as the Princess Louise, have angled in this stream. I11 anotner illustrated article, Z. L. White has a pleasaP' sketch of the discoverer of natural gas at Findlay# 0. An interview with Walt Whitman, and »B ancient version of the love stoiy of Miles Standisht will intere-'t literary readers. ,Ilactr,i,,Ianlg Magazine for this month maintain8 its high character. The number "p..ns with all [ appreciative bnt shortinemoir of Mrs Craik. The review of Mr E.Oabot's Life of Kmerson," by Henry James, affords interesting reading. c' tion is represented by Alvai-z." a S. utta American sketch, an,i "(Jim* by W. E. Norris, of which e rst three chapters are given.

ALWAYS MISKRABLB.—Jones: "Yon seem be always miserable." Smith: "So lam. 1^2 has no pleasure for me." "What is the matte' Anxiety about my future robs me of one half present joy, and remorse for my put life got away with with the other half." NOT EXACTLY ENGLISH, YOU xsow.-An lishman travelling on the continent had hire", smart servant, and on arriving at an inn in Aust*' one evening, knowing well the stringency police regulations, he called for tbe usual re*'8* of travellers, that he might duly inscribe therein. His servant replied that he had antic'P. ted his wishes, and had registered him in full as an "English gentleman of independent P perty," -"But how have you put down nime? I have not told it to you." ca0o- exastly pronounce it, but I copied it from sieur's portmanteau." "But it is not J Bring me the book." What was his ama^e^jga at finding, instead of a very plain English Qf of two syllables, the following portentous enijjJ j hunseU; Monsieur WaMantedaoiidle*1^'

THE. PIG AND THE DOLL Oh, mama! come and see ze dear little tillet tawnty 'ittle piggy-wiggy." ,,Nice Pigiry-,D-n-n-ice ittle piggy-go way IL •* w- >. ry. BOO-oob-ooh I M-a-a-a-mar!"