The Cardiff Times

THE SECRET OF SINCLAIR'S FARM. By HARRY BLYTH, Author of "SNATCHED FROM DEATH," QCSEN I OF THE AIR," 44 DONB IN THE DARIt." I "A WILT WOMAN,' &C., &C. CHAPTER XVIII.—A CHAXOZ AT THE FARM. I a reflected Mr Decker, as he I enjoyed the thick juicy steak to which ho had jlJrst sat down, as described in the last chapter, 6%9 will suit us fifst rate." I suppose I shall see a good deal of you at Fingie?" Ralph said. 44 Well, Mr Weir, that depends. Thai depends ■mry much, sir, 011 the progress I make with a littie detective business j have on hand." Detective business?" littie detective business I have on band." Detective business?" "Just as near about it as possible. The fact is I I am very anxious to discover a certain young gentleman—(he drew the inevitable portrait froin fois pocket)—not to mention an amiable and loveiy young lady. That's a picture of the young maa, now if you should happen tc come across I axj^one like that ■ Why," cried R ilph, I know this fellow," Knew him!" Martin cried joyfully, starting from bid seat, and bringing his head in violent contact with the chandelier, to the wrecking of one of the globes, and the consequent demoralisa- tion of the supper-table. "Eureka Nevermind the glass, Mr Weir, my uncommon length is always doing something; tell me all you know "Q¡¡ut this party." If you had been here a few weeks earlier you wiglit have seen him in this very room." "Here? Astounding! Fate has been most propitious to me. Your news, sir, is most refresh- ing. This is, indeed, a night." The excitement of this lank man and his gro- tesque movement amused as much as surprised Ralph. But." said Martin, abruptly checking his ex- ultation, "the question is-where is he now ?" Ah," said Ralph, there you beat me, I don't know." Don't know ?" Mr Decker ejaculated blankly. "That's bad. But if he was here so recently, we Can find him, Mr Weir-we must fina him." Of course I'll give you all the help I can, but it won't won't be mnch, I fear. He bad a rather Serious illness here, his cheat was bad-" 64Goodl That's the man." 1 ra* Wtt AT THJE FAB*. "And he left this house for the Infirmary, and that was the last time I saw him. I understand I that he recovered and went away,, bat where to, nobody seems to know." Umph. He has not gone far, I'll be bound. What was his name ?" "Allan Jones." M Allan is right, but Jones isn't. Did he ever mention his wife to you ?" 44 Never. I had no idea that be was married. He had quite a boyish look." "Like that photograph ?" "Exactly." M It's a face that time nnds it hard to write any IeeOrd on. Had hh any money?" Not a ponnd." Ah. A decent enogh fellow, I suppose, Mr Weir, or be would scarcely have been a friend of I years?" Ralph hesitated for a moment, and vhen said— "To tell you the trutb, Mr Decker, I am afraid be was a complete scamp. I did not find him out at first. We met originally in London, where I was spending my summer holidays. He had money then. We were close companions all the time I was there. I rather outran the constable, and he lent me a few pounds. Soon after my return, he came to Glasgow, too, and our old inti-I macy was renewed. In the end be treated me badly, and I bad determined tc have nothing more to do with him. He pleaded hard for a bed one night, and I could scarcely refuse him that. I lie was taken ill here. After a little he was re- moved to the Infirmary. And now, Mr Decker, you have the whole story." And during all this time did he never make any allusion to his wife?" Never." "Mr Jerdan was right," Martin mused, "he has abandoned that sweet g;ri, and heaven only knows what privations she has endured. Unless— j union she is dead." The bare possibility of Lilian being in her grave I compelled him to itppiy his variegated handker- chief to his eyes. "He did not appear to have any friends ot relations. I never heard him allude to a single connection of his, except an o!d man in Ayrshire, who knows something of him." What is this man ?" Decker asked, eagerly. M A farmer." "Ah." Martin rubbed bis hands with satifac- tion. 44 H is name ?" I "John Mure." "John is right, but M ire isn't, if he's the man il I take him to be. Mr Weir, sir, we are on the track, after all. I must see this man with as little delay as possible. To-morrow I have matters to I fcttend to in this city, but iu the afternoon or •venini? I will start for the place. Ie is no dis- tance, I suppose tance, I suppose ?"' Well, it's about fifty miles from here. The I Farm itself is a couple of miles from the station. If you go at night, ytsu bad better secure a bed in i the village, and walk over in the morning. I can I jpve you full directions. I know every iuch of ( the ground. 1 Mr Decker was now in an excellent bnmour, I but hi* conversation was restricted to ti« subject btit. hii; conversation was restricted to tive subject of Allan Jones's doings in Glasgow. He asked innumerable questions abont that promising you-ig scamp, hut exhibited no inclination to give ) Ralph any clue as to the reason of his desire to I see him. It was late ere Mr Decker totk his departure. He exhibited much warmth of manner to his host, and he promised to send off the first thing in the morning a glowing account of Ralph's capabilities to Mr Jerdau. A considerable change had come over Sinclair's Farm since John Mure's visit to Glasgow. When be returned home, after t earing at the Infirmary of the death of Alan Jones, he gave each of his hands a sti a glass of wh'sfcy, and, much to their amazement, he made free with them, too, and from that time forward there WM an end to much of the gloom that had hung over the place. Softgs and laughter came from the bothy, and John him- self was less taciturn, and though he could never hn jelly, he certainly was cheerful. The neighbours were cot keen observers, and they considered that this alteration had come about gradually, attributing it to the presence of (tab, a frolicsome fellow, who contined to be a favourite with "lis master, and popular all along tbe country oide. Ave," said tbvs worthy, M b. discoased a mug ot aie one evening in the village tavern with some of his cronies, "I mind when I first went to Sin- eiair's Farm. the days were drary enough, but rt Just M ligbwme now as any other place," 44 Ay, but it's no canny," observed one of the company, with a solemn shake of the head. "You're a fool to say so. John Mure's a man, and as tor Sinclair' Farm, though the land is none of the betf, tbe house is as comfortable as any on the c tin try side," Rab returned, indignantly. "Atany r;ite, we don't need to tie knots on onr calves' tails to keep them on the right side of the hedge, as you have b do at yonr place of ruin, wnere you have to wiisstle for y"nr moat. Man, yon farm cf Wilson's is a beggarly place. I wonder yon have the daring to say one word aboot Weirdiands." "You're a liar," retorted the other, angrily." Wilton's is the best house hereabouts for your meat." "Ay." Rab returned, is thit a fact? I admit W ilscn knows a lot about peboie broth. Strong digestion's a tine thing. Tuminas Moigan said to Wilson, when got a piece of dry bread for supper, 4 Ech master,' says be, 'it',3 true as the Scrip- ture says, "your bread shall be given you and your water sure," but no word is spoken of butter.' Ye must surely be far done," he added, to the quarrelsome fellow, "or you'd never have stayed with Wilson so long." "You're just a long-tongued idiot," fumed the other, "and little would make me give you a good walloping." "Gracious," cried Rab, contemptuously, "the days of mighty meu of valour haveu:t passed. Sit down, you fool. I don't fight with ill-fed wasters." I'll take none cf your sauce," declared the other, furiously. "If you're a man, stand up." If you must fig-bt, you must, I suppose," said Rab, indifferently. He rose, and it was then seen that one of his feet was bandaged. The rest of the company endeavoured to separate the would-be combatants, and the noise and confusion which this created brought the landlady's daugh- ter, a red-cheeked buxom lass, into the room. Ie What's the matter?" cried she. "Think shame of yonrseif, Will, and you, Rab, you're aiways in some mischief or other. If you don't sit down and keep quiet, I'll slap you both with my dishcloth. Can you not take your drink but you must fall afighting like dirty tinkers? Hold your tongue, Will, or you'll get no more liquor in this hcuse." Gracious me cried one of the men, now that comparative order was restored, what a shrew 44 Peggy is fair mad because she cannot get a lad," Rib laughed. "I'm not needing one," replied the girl. Sure as death, that's a sure sign. Everybody knows what happened to Mary Waters. She was always saying she didn't noed a lad, and faith there came a lively little stranger to contradict her." A boisterous burst of laughter greeted this speech. "You're an impudent fellow," cried Peggy, reddening, "and the rest of you are little better.' "I'm just advising you for your own good, you know," Kab continued. Ye'll find a brave lad a comfort to ye, theral-i not a doubt of it. What ails ye me?" I'd not take a rough boor as you, anyhow." "Would you not ? Well, you may wait longer and get less. I know your meaning, Peg. You are just over ears in love with me, but in com- pany it's better to keep it down. Give me one from your cherry lips, and we won't mention it to anyone." "My lips are not for the likes of you," said the girl with a toss ef the head. ":1 kaow my own vafue." "So it seems," says Rab dryly. What's wrong with your foot, Rab asked one of the men. "I was senseless enough as to drive my grape into my big toe, and it s not very comfortabie." It's a soce misfortune." "The more so aa we're going to have a great ado at the farm on New year's Eve. If the toe is I no better, I'll hardly be able to lead Peggy through the grand march." She won't need you," said that damsel. "Dancing at Sinclair's Farm ?" cried an old labourer. "Why, man, snch a thing hasn't been this many a year." "That may be," said Rab, "but we'll have it this year, at any rate. When I spoke to Mr Mure, he just said, 4 As you like, Rab;' and by my troth we'll have rare sport, I warrant you." CHAPTER XIX.-JoH-; Mun's FIRST FOOT. The news that there was to be a bit of a do at Sinclair's Farm at Hogmanay caused quite a flutter in the district. The tidings, amplified, exaggerated, and more or less coloured, passed from steading to steading, bothy to bothy, tavern to tavern. The bands discussed Mr Mure's sudden desire to make merry as they worked in the fields, the farmers and their wives talked it over by the ingle nook, and it kept the tipplers in the howffs busy with their tongues. It reached Greenfield, and Mrs Weir—who never could get over hor old superstiious dread of the farm—prophesied that something strange would come of it. It threw Bernie's memory back to her visit to that dreary house, when the name in the Bible bad so terrified her. It made Walter declare, jestingly, that Mr Mure bad got over his fear of woman, and was now eager to find some lady who would make him a good wife. It even travelled to Ayr, and proved a most useful piece or gossip on market day. Some with whom he did business ventured to banter him on the sub- ject. John met their questions with a wan smile, and invariably with the one feply- It's a poor heart that never rejoiceth." ■" Who was to be invited ?" was a question which sorely exercised the minds of the gossips. Then came another to perplex them-" Who would go I" All of them were curious to see John Mure at home, but this curiosity was not so great as the eerie feeling which made them dread visit- ing that strange house. "I'm not denying," said Mrs M'Flinfc, of Stoneybeaks, "that I'd like well enough to see the creature in his owu house, but I wculd'ut be seen at Weirdlanda for all the gold in the Bank of Scotland." "Hold your tongue, woman,"cried ber husband, Ie what do you know about the farm ? I'm thinking a drop of John Mure's whisky would tickle the throat as pleasantly as your own." "I'm not miscalling John Mure," bis spouse returned. "Heaveu forbid that i should give anybody a wrong name; but you'ii admit your- self that Sinclair's Farm :s not canny. Anyway, I'll not spend Hogmanay there for all the kye on the farm." You've not been asked yet, my lass." griuned the farmer. "There's one thing about JohnMure," he continued, 44 which I can't say I approve of. He's too friendly with that ploughman of his, Rab." "An impudent, ranting feliow," broke in his wife. "It's hopeless to keep the girl« at their work when he's near. I wish the Evil One had kept him from coming to to this count: y side." "Speak lower, woman, or the devil him-elf will have you. But really Mure is too mnch at one with Rab. A man who keeps servants should always be kind to them, seeing they'te flesh and blood as well as others. Look at old Sampson he treat his swine better than hia servants. Bot John Mure goes to the other extreme. Rab thinks himself as good as his master." Much better, or I'm no woman. But go and look after your business, man." Mure's intimacy with Rab bad already attracted much unfavourable comment. The beiu farmers of that part of Ayrshire resented one of their own order making a companion of a plougtunan, It tended, they thought, to lower their own dignity, and it certainly encouraged their own hands to be free with their tongues. Mure himself was ignorant of, or indiffereentto, this feeling. He had been without a companion for so long that now be had found oue who was capable of taking him away from his more gloomy thoughts, he encourged Rab to be frequent with him aird Rab, good-humoured and goud-natured though he was, unconsciously fell into the habit of taking advantage of bis master's complaisance. The more honest the servant, the more likely he is to tall into the error. So indifferent was the farmer to public opinion, so careless abftut propitiating his neighbours, that he left the whole arrangements for New-year's Eve gathering to Rab. Rab was sent out with the invitations, and the result was that all the better class people were deeply incensed against the farmer for the affront he had put upon them, and poor Rab, much to his perplexity, met with nothing but curt, and sometimes angry, receptions, Well, well," said that worthy, scratching his shock head of hair, I never saw the like of it. What airs foik give themselves! Well, we must just make the best of it, as the man said when be e.ttv his barrel of batternrlk whirling down the river. If the ma&ters stay at home* we'll get their men and women, and well enjoy ourselves as well." t Rab had sufficient discretion not to tell bis • master the exact truth of his failure to get the farmers round about to visit Sinclair's Farm. You know, the invitations were not out soon enough, and most of the people had promised others. We must rest content with a few fine lads and some willing lasses." Mr Mure nodded assent. It was indifferent to j to him who came. Rab had suggested that Hog- m:;nay was an appropriate time for merrymaking, I aud the farmer ieeling disposed to welcome any change, had given him permission to arrange the matter as he considered best. It must be confessed that the henchman's guests were somewat of the rough and ready order, were somewat of the rough and ready order, though they were all smartened up. From man aud woman came llU overpowering odour of yeiiow soap and hair oil. Rosy cheeks shone as though thoy had been polished for a week, and green ties, sometimes spotted with red, were in the asceu- dant. Pink and blue were the favourite colours of the damsels, and on thoir first arrival they dis- played a shueplike tendency to huddle together, played a shueplike tendency to huddle together, talk in whispers, and giggle consumedly. I Not that the men, at the beginning of the even- I ing, were a whit more forward. Good, honest fellows, and boisterous at times, they were shy in a strange place, and awkward in their best clothes. They sat in a row, gazing stolidly before them, bent forward slightly, and their big red hands dangling between their thighs. 44 Welcome, lads," said Mr Mure, pleasantly, but always with that echo of sadness in his voice I which never left it. I am glad to see you all. You must just make yourselves at home. I'm ¡ getting past the time for much jigsjinjr myself, but I like to see others at the game. You're welcome, I too, lasses, though you'r not often seen at Sin- clair's Farm." He was sitting in his favourite armchair, and smoking a long clay pipe, which he waved now and again to emphasise his words. 44 Rab here must act as master of tho ceremonies, and it's my wish he shall not spare the whisky nor the meat." Gurgling s'>ands of approbation came from the men, more giggling and nudging of elbows from the women. "Put it about, Rab—put it about," cried Mr Mure. I'll do that," Rab answered, dryly. I'm thinking they'll not need me to help them when they get into tha swing of the thing. No spirits for you, Maggie! You never take it? Sure as death that's not true. You've many a time put your rosy lips to my glass, and a lintie might have finished what yon left. You're ail in the same mind, are you? Y,)Ti'll iiot drink whisky." Turning tc the men, he continued, "There's some here who won't refuse it, I'il take my oath. I There, lads, den't make two bites at a cherry." J "Hentths," cried the men, and they finished I the stiff dose of whisky Rab had given each of them at one gulp. U All," said Rab, smacking his lips, 41 healths is good enough, but I'm wanting more than that. Another trlass, lads, and I'll give you a toast." The glasses were generously replenished, and, standing in the middle of the floor, R;ib said,— "Maybd you'r thinking I'm going to give you a speech, but speechifying is not much in my way. I am going to give you a toast—but there, I have forgotten the lasses. My word, but everybody must drink this. It is not an everyday one, I warrant. Here's health, wealth, and prosperity to Mr John Mure, and all the good possible to Sinclair's Farm." Whisky is a wonderful kindler of enthusiasm, and this toast was drunk with great acclamation. Mr Mure, who was evidently pleased, made a brief reply, and recommended that the glasses should rgain be filled. I am not very able for the dancing myself, with this sore foot of mine," said Rab, after this third dose had been done thorough justice to, but the rest of you needn't waste time. There's Pattie there, looking as eager for a squeeze of Tain's arm as Tam himself is for another drop of the whisky. Who is your fiddler, Rab ?" said one of the lads." "Fiddler! Man, what are yon talking about? Fiddler, indeed What do you want with a tiddler, when I am the best whistler in the country ?" "It's many years since I played the fiddle," said John Mure, rising, "but I fancy I can manage it yet. At any rate, I'll try. The instru- ment is a good one, at any rate. I'll get it out." Much satisfaction was expressed at the prospect of having some fiddle scraping, Rab's notion of whistling through the evening having been re- ceived with but small favour. If John Mure had forgottea any of his cunning as a musician, there muse have been a time when he was a musician of rare power. His spirited playing of the country dances so popular soon brought the lads to their feet, and sent them whirling round the room at such a rate that at last some of the girls had to cry for mercy, being, as they expressed it, fair sweatin' The men, too, were glad to recover their breath, and to refresh themselves from the bottle. Shyness had now worn off. L;iis and lad exchanged bantering remarks, and even indulged in rough horseplay. During this interval Rab pressed a variety of refreshments on the guests. As he limped about the room, he often murinnred loudly against the "sair mischanter" which prevented him. from sharing in the dancing. But he would sing them a song; and sing he dii at every available oppor- tunity. As tbe gaests got merrier and livelier, John Mure's violin seemed to them to grow more lazy. As a matter of fact it beenmo more plaintive. It was as though now and again lie forgot all about them, and allowed the thoughts which held him at the moment to find expression in the strings he managed so deftly. "That's no music at all," some of the dancers would cry when the fiddla slowed their wildest steps. And Rab) wh. was sitting close to his master, would chime in- A little faster, if you please, Mr Mure." Then the farmer would to wnke from a reverie, and give them such a deluge of notes as soon sent them panting to their seats. "This w a night of nights," said Rab, as he prepared the supper; but we must not forget the hour. Wa'U hear the belle of Greylands Kirk at twelve." "You'll not hear it at Weirdlanda," said one. "Won't we! Go you to the wall by the turnip field, and if you can't hear it, it will be because you have so much whisky in you that you can't hear or see anything." The fun became faster and grew more furious. Often it was wild and rough, but good humour prevailed, and there was no such thing as serious quarrelling, though disputes were pretty fro quent. A little before twelve, Rab reminded them of the hour, and they were most ot them glad of an excuse to get into the fresti air. The night was keen, clear, and irosty. Each lad had his lassie. The most natural place for an arm at that hour seemed to be round a waist. Rab proved himself a sore interrupter to the love-making, for he had carried a whisky bottle out with him, and offered it from one pair to another with such persistency as to frequently be received with no very fair wornq. "I wonder," he said, ao they stood waiting for the bells, who'll be our first foot ?" 44 Hold yonr tongue," cried one. D'ye hear the Tinkle, tinkl -softly, distantly at first, then swelling into sonorous music, they all beard them. It was then made manifest that each man carried a bottle of his own. ThMe were produced simultaneously, and an exchange took place, each one drinking from his neighbour's. Shouts fol- lowed, much hand shaking, a good deal of em- bracing, and finally an appropriate song from Rab. Who, in the name of the seven saints, is that long-legged fellew coming up the hill!" cried this worthy, as they retraced their way to the house. The tallness of the fignre advancing rapidly tcwards them set many of them laughing. When the man stood among them, he was not all discon- certed at their merriment. II Ladies and gentlemen," he said, permit me to salute you. Doubtless my uncommon 'statter' excites your mirth. I am, as it were, a lonely pilgrim on the uvor. But perhaps yon can help me. After a variety of adventures, more or less satisfactory to myself, I am journeying to Sin- clair's Farm." 44 Well, y u'rc as near it as you'll ever get," Rab answered. Where's your buttle-herp'¡¡ mine." "Much as I like whisky," returned Mr Decker, for it was he. 441 never carrv a bottle." 44Do you go iirat-footing with nothing?" 441 am not acquainted with tbe customs of the country," Mr Decker commenced, apologetically, when Rab brokf? in, with some indignation— 44 A first-foot and empty banded! that's a bad business anyway." (To be eontinmd.)

WHAT GER-MAN(E) BY IT. Sergeant Jinks What do you mean, Private Binks, bringing that oil parade with you ? Private Binks Yer told us to take pattern by the Germans, didn't yer ? Well, I tbougat I'd bring one with me.

60LEJEX KH-TS. A bunch of golden keys is mine To make each day with gladness shine. II Good-morning 1" that's the golden key Tbat unlocks every day for mo. When even comes 44 Good-night J" I say, And close the door of each glad day. When at the table, 44 If you please," I take from off my bunch of keys. When friends give anything to me, I'll use the little" Thank you key. 44 Excuse me I" Beg your pardon too, When by mistake soma barm I do. Or if unkindly harm I've given, With 44 Forgive me!" I shall be forgiven. On a golden ring these keys I'll bindt This is its nootto: Be ye kind," III often use each golden key, And tbeo a child polite I'll be.

WELSH NATIONAL STORY. THE WIDOWED PRINCE; OR The Last Days of Llewelyn. By BEfHAH GWYNFE EVANS, Authur of 44 Llewelyn, the Last of the Welsh Princes, "Bronwen," 44 Roundhead and Cava- lier," "The HeIr of Glynavon," "Owen Hu^lres," &c., &c. CHAPTER XX.—THK FORAGING PARTY. The astonishment of tha parvy at Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd, when Wat leaped to his feat exclaiming that Soon was without, may well be imagined. Gre at, however, as it was, it did not equal that shown when Wat returned in a short time accom- panied by Siion and Sir Gruffydd. Mutual explanation followed, and Shon roused burst after burst of laughter as he described the consterna- tion of his captors when the bull broke so unexpectedly into their midst. Sir Gruffydd had stated bis case to Wat before they entered the house, and the young farmer, without committing himself to further action, readily consented to supply the party in the cave with the necessary provisions for the men, and provender for the horses. As soon, therefore, as Shon had satisfied their curiosity by detailing his story, he directed his men to take a sufficient supply of both to last the party for a day or two. Tho knight deemed it wiser not to press the stout yeoman to commit himself further than this for the time being. He felt that events were fast ripening Gwallter to an open breach with his liege lord, aud that it would, on all considerations, be better that the warm-hearted and all too loyal farmer should voluntarily cast his lot in with the nationalist party than that any compulsion should be used. The farm hands were not Ion? in getting together a sufficiency of forage, and were soon ready to start. Go ye forward," said Wat, who bad superin- tended their preparations; 4" ye know the easiest path to Hygad Llwchwr," and by the time ye are there we shall be ready to meet you." Returning to the house, he said to Shon :— "I need not ten thee, friend Shon, thou nrt heartily welcome to stay here with me, and that I will stand by thy side whatever betides. As to thy returning to the smithy, that is out of all question. The castle folk will of a surety seek thee there. Here, however, thou wouldst be welcome always, and safe while we can hold our own." The smith grasped his friend's hand warmly. "4 Nay, Wat," he said, 441 have caused thee and thine all too much trouble already, My smithy is perhaps locked against me at least for a while, and did I but make thy house my home, I should only be drawing down trouble upon thy head, without any good resulting therefrom." If What, then, wilt thou do ?" aaked Wat, while Madlen furtively wiped away a tear with the corner of her apron. If That is easily answered. I have been grow- ing somewhat rusty in the use of arms of late. 1 think that having spent so much time in tho making of them, I should new turn for a bout to the using of them instead. Sir Gruffydd here tells me that our brave Llewelyn hath unfurled the banner of the four lious again, and, by my anvil, I shall rank myself under that banner while there remains a good true-hearted Cymric chief to lead me. Fain would I have thee, good friend, by my side." "I will not dissuade thee, Shon," said Wat gravely. 44 But whether by thy side or not, remember my heart—and th".t of one dear to mn as to thee—will be with thee," and he placed his band tenderly on his sister's head. 44 If evil fortune should place us opposed to each other, the remembrance of the past will lead each to seek some other foe, and more than that, to ward off blows aimed at the other from whatever side they come." Shon's reply was another earnest hand clasp, and then the party prepared to take their way to the place of rendezvous. The knight and Gwallter lad the way. Shon lingered for a moment to utter a parting word to bis betrothed. Sweet, yet bitter, was the parting, and it was with a step far different from his usual blitheness that he at length followed his companions' footstep.^ while sweet Madlen returned to cry herself to sleep in her own chamber. Tbe foraging party were overtaken before the grand water cave was reached, and here Gwallter refused either to enter the cave or to permit his men to do so. 441 do not wish to know more of you and your arrangemanls than is absolutely necessary," he said. 44 When I return to my farm and my work in the morning I ebg.lL^aaj'.to look in no man's face if asked if I have seen a party of armed men. I want my men also to be equally free. That which they hava not seen they cannot testify to. We will, therefore, leave you hero all the pro- visions and fodder we have brought you, and it is for you to do with them what ye will." "So be it," said the knight, "hut let me at least call out my brother that be may join me in thanking thee for thy help." 44Nay, neither is that necessary," said Gwallter hastily. It may be that I may seek you myself in the course of the day or the night of the morrow. If I do I shall use the same signal as Shon made this night, and should there be any special can for seeing me ere I come, do you use the same means." On this understanding Gwallter and his men departed, Shon secretly wondering what could have been his friend's unusual hurry to depart and to bid him good-night. CHAPTER XXI.—A PROMISE MADE. As soon, however, as they had gone out of danger of being heard by the friends they bad left at the cave, Gwallter's haste was explained. Turning to his companions he exclaimed :— 44 Haste ye, lads, haste ye I much fear me there is some devilry yet agoing this night. I fancied I saw a glare in the sky yonder when we neared the cave, and much I feared lest Shon should have noticed it, for of a verity had be but done so he would have hesitated at nothing, but have returned at all risks, and that to his own certain undoing." Nay, Masted Gwallter," said one of the youths who accompanied him, but I see no signs of what tbou sayest." 44 Wait until we cross this ravine nnd mount yon bankj and then we shall be certain," said Wat. With all speed they now hastened forward over the rough and somewhat dangerous path. Climbing up the opposite side, they reached a ridge which commanded a view of the country beneath them. A united cry escaped them as they reached the spot. Right before them they could see, not only the sky red with the glare of fire, but could distin- guished the flames rising, and could almost fancy they heard the crackling of the tire. 4" 'Tis as I feared," said Wat with flashing eyes. "Poor Shou's house hath been tired." "And his mother?" cried one of the lads. 44 Ha! his mother! I had forgotten her, God torgive me," cried Wat. "Surely Madoc will have have seen to her," exclaimed the second lad. Madoc, indeed said Wat. Madoc woald see to nothing but the safety of bis own skin and the filling of bis owu belly." If harm have befallen Shou's mother I shall never forgive myself. Deio, do thou run with all speed to the Cwrt smithy, and hring all the men thou canst to follow us on to the Cwm smithy. I with Twm and Ivor, will hasten forward. Give me thy horse." In another moment, Wat, followed by bis faithful henchmen, was galloping wildly down the rough path, taking the shortest cut for the Cwm smithy, heedless alike of the difficulties and the dangers of tbe path they puisued, while Deio, with steps scarcely less,4 struck a bee line for the farm, aud followed tnem in an incredibly short space of time with every man on the place. Great though was the haste they had made, and rapid though their progress had been, they arrived too late to be of any service, or, indeed, to catch the incendiaries. They found thpir worst fears realized. Shon's house was a mass of ruins. Everything of value, in the shape of arms in the smithy, had evidently been curried away, while his household gods, iew ant insignificant though they wer>>, had been wil- fully destroyed with thtl object of causiug him an additional pang (If bitterne>!s. Even his peat and charcoal stacks had been fired, and now cast a ruddy and unnatural glow upou the countenances of those w 110 stood gazing with set teeth and bent brows upon the scene of devastation betore. them. N'tatrace could be found of either Shon, Shon's mother, or of Madoc, the apprentice, Deio," said his master, 44 thou art a sharp- witted fellow. Haste thee up the way of the oastle but bee thou art not seen by others. If thou canst bring me sure woid of what hath become of Dame Shan, by the time I get back to Cwrt, tbou sbalfc the morrow's morn have the pick of any heifer on the whole land of Cwrt." 1 need no such reward to do Shon a service, or thee either, Master Gwallter," replied Deio, but rest ye satisfied if Dame Shan be in the castle I shall find tha means of knowing it." Without further loss of time the lad started off the u>p of his speed, while the party who were left continued their useless search amongst the ruins. Feeling at length convinced of the futility of their further search, they returned homewards, tlowiy and aadly bat had Master Merfyr known of the fire which burned in Wat'# breaat,be would hardly have felt quite so satistied as he was with the result of his raid. By the time Wat and his men reached the farm they found Deio leisurely waitmg their ap- pearance. His story was given in a few words. He had reached the neighbourhood of the castie in time to see the marauders returning with their pr.-y and their booty. Poor Snan wa.s evidently" prisoner—presuma- bly a hostage for hey son. Madoc, on the other j hand, so far from being an unwilling captive, appeared to form one of the party, and seemed to enjoy particular.Xayour. The young yedm3i?-of C'.vrt Bryn y Beirdd was not a man t" Kit down idiy ander the existing state of affairs. His measures were prompt aud de- cisive. >• I Half a dozen ofthis hands were sent in as many 1 different directiop.3 invite the foremost men of I' the whoie district to;a grand harvest supper at Cwrt Bryn y Beirddvfor that evening. They were cautioned to make no mention of the facts which had come to their; knowledge respecting the attack upon Shon, and ?he!outrage on his mother. The meeting was to bte, presumably, of a strictly social character, and whatever might be the thoughts wbich followed each other through his troubled brain, Gwallter did not wish others to know of them. At the earliest hour he could hope to receive audience, Wat erdered his horse to be saddled, and after a careful toilet took his road to the castle. Before going be turned to his sister, 8aying:- 44 Madlen,. these be not times for waste of words or useless. grieving. Shon's molher is a prisoner in the castle, and I am now going to ask audience of my lord himself respecting her. If I return not, let all preparations for the feast go -on as though I were here, and let Deio g., at night fall to Llygad Llwchwr and inform Sbon of what hath occurred." Her only reply was a warmer kiss than usual, though it was with a heavy heart she saw her brother take his leave. She would not have tried to dissuade him, dangerous though she knew his errand was, even had it been on behalf of one in whom she felt less interest than in Shon's mother. Arrived at the castle, Gwallter found little difficulty in obtaining admission, though he could not but note the undisguised surprise with which his arrival was regarded by the warders at the drawbridge. Entering the large court-yard, he demanded of the officer of the guard there to see his lord, Sir Rhys Vychan. 44 An' it plaa-e you, Master Gwallter," replied the man, 441 must e'en make your request through Master Merfyn." the man, 441 must e'en make your request through Master Merfyn." Make it through whom thou wilt," replied the visitor unconcernedly, 44 One servant is as good as another so long as my lord gets my message." The man with a stare of surprise departed ;soon returning, he desired the other to follow him and led him into a room where he found Master Merfyn seated at a table awaiting him. At a sign from the esquire the man who had conducted Gwallter remained standing at the door. Well, Master Gwallter, what would ye with me?" asked Merfyn. "I would nothiug with thee, Master Merfyn, but that thr>u shouldst bear a message from me to thy master and my lord." The esquire bit h:s lip, I 44 An ye have any business with my lord,"said he," "ye must e'en be content to have it entrusted to my keeping, for in all things I am deputed to make enquiry ere tbey come under my lord's nat.ice, I crave audience of my liege lord Sir Rhys, tbe lord of Dinevwr," said the yeoman, h and I take no audience from thee nor any other servant of his in his stead." "Then," said Merfyn flushing darkly, "thou must return the way thou earnest." II That will I do when I have finished my busi- ness with my lord and no sooner." was tbo bold reply. 44 Wilt thou or wilt thou not convey my message to my lord?" 44 That will I not," cried the other leaping to bis feet, and the sooner thou takest thy way back again the better for thee." II Well," said Gwallter coolly, in that case I must e'en carry my own message. Methinks I have been often enough in the castle to know where to tind my lord." And he turned in the direction of the apart- ments of Sir Rhys, At a sign from Merfyn the soldier at the door would have prevented Wat's progress, but with a single push of his brawny aim he sent the man tumbling backwards, until his arms jingled on the stone floor. With a deep imprecation Merfyn leaped forward and followed the bold yeoman, who made his way straight to Sir Rbys's apartment. E quire and retainer entered together. Gwallter broke out before he could be fore- otaOed. II I bid ye good morn, my lord. I have come over to see ye on business which is of importance." Why not mention it then to Merfyn and let me rest?" asked the other. "Simply because Master Merfyu already knew my business, and I wanted to have audience and speech with my lord myself. A neighbour and friend of mine hath been attacked yestere'en, and his house hath been fired and destroyed, and an old dame, his mother, who is mine own particular friend, hath been brought a prisoner here to the castle. I come, my lord, like a loyal retainer of the House of Dinevwr and a true Welshman to ask that she be released, and that those who have been guilty of this outrage receive due punish- ment." SIr Rhys had got on his feet long before his tenant bad finished speaking, and now broke ont 44 And come ye here to support open traitors ? Is this the allegiance due from ye to the lord of Dinevwr?" May it please yea, good my lord, the man I speak of ia no traitor, and I ask ye to speak now if by any act or word of mine I have "ever been false to my loyalty to the House of Dinevwr." The man I tell thee is a traitor, and as a traitor shall receive a. traitor's punishment. It is time this uneasy spirit in the land should ba put down, aud by my soul it shall be put down, and with a strong hand. And I tell thee this, Gwallter, bold though thou art, thou hast to thank the oU connection of thy family with my house that thou goest forth a free man this day. But think not to continue in my favour while thou ha-rbourest such men as this outlaw. I swear that all who support him shall be outlawed as I have outlawed him. And list thee yet further. That beldame, his mother, shall be hung from the topmast tower of the castie unless by this night se'nnight her be son brought here to my presence. More still, and to show I am not inclined to deem this matter lightly, unless that man Shon be in the castle in my presence by this night se'nnight, the next day shalt thou and thine be driven out of Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd as the traitors ye will be." 44 Aud if, my lord," said Wat calmly, "and if be be brought here by this night se'nnight, by mp, what then ? "Then," said Sir Rby", "bis mother shall go free, and 1 will pardon thee all thou mayest have done against me, and sign a deed making Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd over to thee and thine heirs for a rental of a bushel of wheat per annum, while Llwchwr news from the mountain." Good," said Wat. "Thou hast promised, and will, I alii sure, keep thy promise. I too promise that this night se'nnight, I will myself bring Shon to thee, my lord, ill this room, an' thou be here to meet him." So saying be withdrew. (To be cantintœd.)

THE POACHER AFWORK. Poaching is one of the fine arts, and the most successful poacher is always a specialist. He selects one kind of game, and his whole know- ledge of woodcraft is directed against it. In autumn and winter the" Otter" knows the whereabouts of every hare in the parish; not only the field in which it is, but the very clump of rushes in which is its "form." As puss goes away from the prickly gorsebush, or flies down the turning rigg, ho notes her every twist and double, and takea in the minutest details. He is also careful to examine the" smoots and gates through which she passes, and these spots he always approaches literally. He leaves no scent of hand nor print of fcot, and does not disturb rough herbage. Late afternoon brings him home, and upon the clean sanded floor his wires and nets are spread. There is a peg to sharpen and a broken mesh to mend. Every now and t then he looks out upon the darkening night. I always directing his glance upward. His dogs whine impatiently to be gone. In an hour, with bulky pockets, he starts, striking across the laud and away from the high road. The dogs prick oat their ears upon tha track, but stick doggedly to his heels. After a while the darkness blots out even the forms of surrounding objects, and the poacher moves more cautiously. A couple of anares are set in holes iu an old thorn fence, and not more than a yard aFar& These aie delicately manipulated, and froiM previous knowledge tho poacher knows that the hara will take one of them. TheS black dog is sent over, the younger fawn bitch staying with ber master. The former slinks slowly down the field, sticking closely to the cover of a fence running at riarot angles to the one in which thA wiri'" ,are set. The poacher has arranged that the vfine shall blow from the dog and across to the hare's seat when the former shall coma opposite. The ruse acts, and puss is alarmed, bijit n°t terrified ohe gets up and goes quietly away for the hedge. The dog is crouched and anxiously watching her; she is making right for the snare, and something must be added to her speed to make the wire effective. As the dog c]oses in, the poacher, bowed < uti with hands on his kneos, w;<its, still as death, for her coming. He hears the trip, trip, trip, as the herbage is brushed; "there is a rustle among the leaves, a momentary squeal, and the wire has tightened round her' throat. Again the three tightened round her' throat. Again the three trudge siljnt'y along the lane, Suddenly the trio 8tOp and listens; toheu they disperse, hut fieem to have dissolved. vThe dry ditch is capacious and its dead herbajfe tall and tangled. A heavy foot, with regular {beat, approaches along the road, and 'lies away in the distance.— From 41 Poachers <m$Poaching" iu the" Csrnhill Magazine" for Fth-u&ry.

-+' Contentment is » pearl of great price, and who- soever procures it at the expense of ten thousand desires makes a wnie'hfld happy purchase. A man the otbopday was complaining to his butcher that the piece of meat sent to him was so tough that his motfoelr could not even chew the gr.ivy, nr.. > He (at ChicagOJevensng entertainment): "Do 1 you know that very brilliant looking woman at tho piano, Miss Breezy?" Miss Breezy: 44 Oh, yes, I intimately. I will be glad to present you, Mr Waldo." He:" Thanke. Is she an unmarried I lady?" Miss Breezy: "Yes, she bat been unmarried twice."

EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE. 1- By James McGovan No. 61.—KIDNAPPING A MAN. AFTER the Horse- wynd fire, we natu- rally expected The Ruffian — or some ready tools formed into a gang under his guidance — to spring into immediate activi- ty: but in this we were completely disappoin- ted. As we had ever found the masterly scoundrel erratic, shifting, and uncertain as the wind, so he continued to be. After his trial for wilful fire-raising, and the impressive threat against Penbank, he appeared to have melted out existence like a shadow. I thought he had left of the city Penbank was dubious, though hopeful; but M'Indoe, with a firm thud of his fist upon the table, in his new home in the Horse-wynd, emphatically asserted that ho was still in Edin- burgh, securaly hidden from the keenest eye, rap:dly getting together another gang, and only waiting till our activity should subside to become more dangerous and troublesome than before. That I was quite wrong, and the reformed thief quite right, I have now to shew. Candidly, I may say that the reason for my belief was the impunity with which Simon Penbank still slunk through the city. I thought that if tbe Ruffian was lurking in our midst, the first of his kind attentions would be directed to the spy. And so they really were; but another and more profitable quarry crossing the track, mere revenge was for the time abandoned in favour of gain. £ 200 is no trifling sum, yet that was the first stake that The Ruffian was to play for on his release. The plot against Penbank, allowed to rest for the timo bsing in hope of securing that comfortable nest-egg, I will notice in its proper order. When I was a boy, I can remember that there was among tis-especially after the West Port murders—an unconquerable dread of "dumbie doctors "—a kind of kidnapping bogie who carried mouth-plasters and smothering cloak complete, and had an inordinate love for disobedient little boys as doctors' subjects. As I got older, of course the idea left me. Little did I think to see, so many years after, a case of kidnapping not greatly different performed on a man, and right under the nose of the police, of which vigilant force I myself was to form one. Mr Edward Bennert, bachelor, aged thirty-six, and partner in a Manchester cotton firm, being on a pleasure trip to Ediuburgh, took his way down to the theatre one evening in October, and there trifled away a couple of hours. He was not drunk, but, what with the wine lie had consumed after dinner at his hotel in Princes-street, and some half-dozen adjournments during the performance to consume champagne and nips of brandy, he was rapidly veering towards the regions of confused ideas and unconsciousness. He threw about his money with no niggardly hand, treating all and sundry, which might have led to no great mischief .bad he not at the same time treated himself much too liberty. He afterwards remembered dis- tinctly going into the theatre, and had a hazy idea of someone urging him to leave, and dinning into his ears the fact that the performance was over then he remembered treating some girls at the bar below, and being turned out when the shop was closed and then he was conscious of being trailed in a sleepy, weary way along the dark and deserted streets between two laughing and singing gents like himself. At this point, however, he demurred. 44 Thero, my gnod fellows," he said, addressing his unknown companions as distinctly as he conld get bis lips to form the words, I am not accus- tomed to walk so far, especially through these low, dark streets. My hotel can't be so far away it didn't take me half so long to go from it to the theatre. I'm not goiug a step further—call a cab." All right—ha, ha, ha for he's a jolly good fellow," &c., sang out tho two" gentlemen," and then a cab was hailed, and, with a whispered direction from one of the men, they got in, and were landed in a queer-looking spot, which he afterwards identified as the bead of Leith Wynd. The cabman was paid and dismissed, and then tho gloomy aspoct of the dark buildings on every side drew an exclamation of surprise and concern from the half unconscious Englishman. CI Hullo what's this for? where are we "going to now?" he got out, as they led him rapidly- almost carried him-down and into the Happy Land. 44 The shops are all closed," was the ready and laughing reply. 44 We have to go up here to get some drink." 44 Very good, my dear sir, but we could have got it :at my hotel," gurgled the half-stupefied Englishman. 44No, no !-for he's a jolly good fellow, sang out the others; and you know you said you must see life." "Life? Yes, that's true; but this looks un- commonly like death," demurred Mr Bennett, only half-convinced. "What a dark noisome hole it's like walking into an open tomb," but then they started their "good fellow" chorus eo energetically that be was unwittingly led to join in with them, and soon forgot his fears and sus picions in a wild dream of drinking and shouting. After this bout, the lights in the strange hovel, as well as the faces about him, gradually dulled before his eyes; and then followed a heavy, uneasy slumber—during which it seemed as if he was being borne about, now up to the top of the building, and then swung down again by the shoulders, till at last all consciousness left him. When he awoke, he found himself in a small square call, or underground cellar, without window of any kind, and having a heavy oaken door, which did not appear—from the dirt and cobwebs that covered it—to have been opened for years. A lamp burned dimly against the wall, and, by lighting the place, set the prisoner a-wondering how on earth he bad been got inside. With the first ti isb of consciousness and returning recollection ha sprang to his feet and shouted aloud, but only a dull echo came back from the damp wall; aud then, with a quaking heart, he ran hastily round the cellar and discovered the only apparent means of entrance and exit-a Vt'ry wide and roomy fire place and chimney set in the watt, and leading up to unknown regions above. A series of wild yells in this hole at last brought a response from above. He presently hoard a clattering of swinging feet and the grating of a rope against the sides of the chimney overhead* and then he had to get back into the cellar to make way for a man, who swung down, feet first, stooped down, and stood before him. The new-comer was Jem Congo, a rather hand- some quadroon, so far as features were concerned, but sufficiently evil-looking and powerful, as he stepped out dangliog a neddy in his hand, to cause Mr Bennett to shrink back with the burst of indignant swearing hushed on his lips. Congo was a most expert pick-pocket, but had enough of The Ruffian's cruelty and wolfish nature in him to be ready to turn his hand to anything. His hand- some face, curly black hair, and eyes that flashed and sparkled like diamonds, with his flushy style of dress, helped him a great deal; but these attractions at that moment were mostly invisible, and in his trousers and shirt, with his hair un- kempt, his cheeks pale from the last night's debauch, and a deadly weapon in his fingers, he stood forth the genuine ruffian that he was. What's all this noise about, and what do you want?" he harshly demanded, and with such a threatening scowl that Mr Bennett could hardly believe that he looked upon bis 44 jolly good- humonreJ" companion of tha night before. I What do I waut ?" faintly echoed the Englishman I want to be out of this infernal cel. ur, to be sure. What on earth am I stowed away here for, lika a. rat's bole 7" "Only to keep you from hurtirg yourself," -L-- grinned the yellow-skinned ruffian. 44 You want to get out ? Well, you can get out as soon as you pay your bill." My bill?—what bill?" was the amazed reply. "Why, fcr drink, to be sure," was the brazen rejoinder; "you would treat them all round, and thus spend seven or eight pouuds without a farthing in your pocket. Then there was the money I lent you for cab fares, and the three quid I lent you on your ticker, and something to us for saving you from a band of thieves, and after that from the spots, who were trying to Dab you fnr being drunk and disorderly, which comes to JB15 in all." 44 Fifteen devils!" indignantly burst forth the Englishman. 44 Do you tlmik because I have been a fool that I am mad ? I shall not pay a farthing, and if you do not deliver up my watch and purse, the moment I get out I will inform the police." Jem Congo laughed long and heartily. "Ay, it sounds all very fine, don't it?" he said at last, 44 but you ain't »ut yet." What?" aud the Englishman paled to the lips at the thought; "woutd you dare to kidnap and detain a man against his will ? D > you know the risk you run?—the danger you will be in the moment I'm free?" If we think there is any danger, or risk either, we won't let you go out at "II," was the cold- blooded reply, spoken with a look of indifference that froze the other's blood. U However, I hope we'il arrange it all comfortable and quiet without that. You can't deny what you owe, anyhow, so you'd better send over for the money, and take your leave without any fuss." "That is impossible, for I have net a sovereign left-I am quite cleaned out," truthfully answered the prisoner, who, seeing the desperate nature of the case, was really willing to submit to an extortion rather than have his name appear in a police-court business. 44 Can you not ne content tu retain my watch in pledge till I get the money?" Congo whistled derisively. We've got that already, and you too—there's a pair of you in pledge, you see," he said, with a cunning leer. But where have you to send for the money í" 44 To my brother in Manchester." 44 Ah, that's awkward—to send so far means delay-delay means danger to us—great danger, for even the hotel people may miss you, and make inquiries-and danger must be paid for smartly. I'Ji have to consult someone before I go any further," and to the horror and fear of the prisoner, he ^again backed towards the chimney which had given him au entrance. 44 For heaven's sake, don't go and leave me," imploringly burst in Mr Bennett, who dreaded the solitude of the damp hole more than the loss of a few pounds. Call for your principal, and I will agree to anything, but don't leave me Call for him ? I'd need a strong pipe," grinned Congo in a way that made his captive, curse every one of the white teeth that gleamed out from the dark lips. 44 He ain't here nor near it." to Where is he, then?" Laid up in lavender." And where is that, pray ?" 44 lu the clouds—stowed away—hidden." 44 Oh, I understand—wanted by the police, perhaps—well, I hope they may get him," hotly returned the prisoner. 44 Don't wish that, for if I were taken, it would be as good as signing your death-warrant. Not another soul knows you are here. You see the place above is empty—been so a good while, owing to a sudden fright the respectable tenants got from the spots and a man call' d M'lndoe. And am I to starve here till you make your arrangements ?" "Not at all—you'll get whatever you like to ask for- the best of everything," quickly returned the thief. 44Order what you please, for it'll all be charged in the bill. I'm afraid you'll find our hotel rather an expensive one before you've done with it," and again the regular white teeth gleamed malignantly in his face. To this Mr Bennett deigned no reply. Coolly seating himself on the rude bed which he had occupied, he curtly gave orders for food and drink, and then turned awny to brood over the best means of escape. As soon as his jailor had disap- peared up the chimney by the aid of the rope which had helped his descent, he turned his atten- tion to his surroundings. By watching the ascent of Congo he got a dim idea that the feat could be accomplished even without the rope; but his heart died within him as he saw the thief get out into the 1 ght above and immediately drop an enor- mous fl igstone with a cold, dull thud on the hole. The heavy sound and the clanking of some iron fassenings above effectually shut off all hope of escape in that direction, even if the dangerous climb could have been accomplished unaided and in safety; and after sounding the cellar door with his foot, Mr Bennett became convinced that the passage to the door-if one had existed-bad long since been built over and filled in with earth. "If it was to be a desperate struggle for life, I might get out," he soliloquised, as ho gave over his investigations and sat down. U But, as it is, I may as well pay down and get off easy. When once I am out, what is to hinder me turning on them—informing the police, and having a fight for the money they have robbed me of ?" In about half-an-hour there was a shout above, and, looking up the chimney, he saw Congo lower- ing a basket containing food and drink by means of the rope. This the prisoner himself unhooked the rope waa drawn up again, and with an injunc- tion to him to keep himself easy for an hour or so, the thief disappeared, and dropped the heavy flagstone as before. In two hours Congo returned, descended the chimney, and stood before his prisoner. From his pockets he took a bottle of ink, a pen, and some writing materials, and then from his. breast pro- duced a small note, carefully concocted out of printed words and letters cut from a newspaper and pasted in order on a sheet of newspaper. 44 You're to copy that and seud it to your brother," said Congo, with an imperative rap of the neddy on the stool that served for a table. 44 Look sharp about it, too, for there's little enough time to catch this forenoon's post." Without a word, Mr Bennett took the miserable looking scrap and read as follows;- Mr Bennett. Dear Brother,—I intend to run a little further north, and require some money. Please let me have draft for J650 by return, and bo sure to make it payable to benrer. Do not send it to my hotel, but to the General Post Office,to lie till called for. Your affectionate brother, EnwARD BENNETT. This prisoner read this once through with a flush of indignation steadily mounting his cheeks, and was about to crush it in his hand, or tear it into fragments before his jailor's eyes, when there suddenly flashed upon him an unexpected ray of hope, which made him exert a mighty effort to control himself into a semblance of thoughtful calmness, and stifle the hasty words rising to his lips. The demands of the thieves he could sea were steadily rising,and the artfully-worded letter gave him not an inch of power even though its requests were obeyed. The money might be sent, drawn and squandered, and yet himself be not a whit nearer liberty. Nay, they might even extort more—drain him till they could drain no longer, and then leave him to die like a rat in a hole. 44 Wtio saw 4lie enter this strange den? No one," he thought, as the dreadful suspicion gained ground in his mind. Where am I ? They refuse to tell, and I myself have not the faintest idea. What should prevent them even murdering me if they could get no more out of me, and feared retaliation ? No, something must be done. I must save my-elf," and as he scanned the curious note, the first loophole of escape seemed to rise before him. To rouse the suspicions of his brother was the only chance; and as a first step towards accomplishing that without exciting those of his captors, he resolved to increase the sum to JS200. You seem to have forgotten that I will require money for my own use after I bid farewell to your C, estimable society," he smilingly remarked, placing the point of the pen on the sum indicated in the strange note. "Supple I got two hundred pounds sent, and pay you tho fifty out of it? Would that please your hidden leader as well?" "As well?—better," emphatically returned Congo, falling at once into the trap, and brighten- ing up with a rapidity that instantly confirmed Mr Bennett's suspicions. By all means put it down two hundred." Mr Bennett took the pen and sat down. It was cunning and far-seeing intelligence matched against villainy and insatiable greed, and I shall now show how tbe intelligence was to come out far to the front. The very first thing that caught the eye (.f the prisoner was the fact that the style of composition was quite different to that which he was accustomed to use in addressing his brother and co-partner. In familiar notes he invariably addressed him, 44 My dear Joe," and signed him- self "Ned." This was the first stumble in the plot, and of course it was the thieves themselves who ma.de it. The next thought that flashed upon the prisoner was that he might so disguise his own hand that his brother would at a glance suspect forgeiy; and, as a final clincning mark of suspicion, he resolved tomukeuseofapeculiar sigu, which was known only to himself and his brother and which was always understood to represent DANGER. In the business transactions of tlie firm f it. had been the habit of the brothers, when a customer was unknown and desirous of credit, to customer was unknown and desirous of credit, to refer him to the other partner in a polite note but, if the solvency of the would-be customer was doubtful, the last three letters of the signature were invariariably underlined by a horizontal ) whip, with the lash wound round tlse handle—the whole, by long practict), done with one flourish of the pen, as if merely a finish to the autograph. I When this secret mark accompanied the signature I credit, of course, was at once politely refused. It will now be evident that there were three chances in the prisoner's favour so far as tha letter was concerned but whiie he wrote the document, alld submitted it to the eorutiny of the keen-eyed Congo, who posted it forthwith, there were other iorces at work in the same direction. The hotel people, surprised at the non-appearance of one of whom they knew to be a gentleman of means, had become alarmed, and after instituting inquiries had traced him as far as the theatre, where all clue was lost. As the second day wore away, and he did not turn up, their alarm in, creased, and they at last decided to inform the police. The facts were duly placed before me, but., though I instantly set to work to hunt for the missing man, I did so with a bad grace, because, in the first place, I did n<>t really believe him to he lo«t, and, in tho second, if he was lost, he had his own folly to blame for It-his weakuess for drink and company having been c«refudy aud minutely {.-hotngraphed to me by my informants, After all infinite deal of trouble, I managed to ferret out the cabman who drove him, or a gentle- man answering to his description, over to the head of Leiih Wyntl; but, while I stood with him, over at the stand in Princes-street, trying in vsdn j, to hammer out of him the direction taken by the party after leaving the cab, it unfortunately happened that I was sighted from tht. oppositG side of the street by one of the flish girls who had been engaged in the early part of the kidnapping, This girl, who was linked in some way to Congo, smelt danger at once, and while I remained there 44 blethering," stole along the street, jumped into a cab, aud tore over to the head of Leith Wynd, as fast as a two-shilling drive could take her. Dismissing the cab, she fl w down and into the rickety land, where she burst in on Congo like one beriift of reason. 44 Giit your man away—show him out, and fly yourself this instant," she breathlessly cried. "The spots are after him. I saw M'Govan and the boots of the hotel standing just now over in Princes-street questioning the cabman who drove you over here—and you know if he but strikes the right CIlIA, it will be one swoop, and a fiver for you. Kidnapping a man Why, it will set the whole city on tire. Out with him, and wash your hands of it 1" 44 No, indeed we can't afford it," was the gruff reply. The Ruffian would kill me, if I did; besides, there's a tidy .sum to be made out of him —he's as soft and pliable as a bit of wax; and, instead of fifty quid, we're going to collar two hundred. Think of that—whole two hundred." "But how much of that will go to you?" feverishly rejoined the girl. 44 Not half—not a third—not a quarter, perhaps. You are fresh to the city, or you would know The Ruffian better, Take my advice—got h:m to swear silence, and shove him out." "Not I I" defiantly returned the thief. 44 I'il get out of here, though—go and consult The Huflhn-he moy want him shifted and stowed away out of here. Be off now, as quick as you like, down the Wynd, and I'll go up before it's too late." This quick move was at once executed. With a sigh of fear the girl departed by the lower way, while Congo slipped out and away down St, Mary's Wynd towards the south side. Just a few minutes after, I came upon the empty nest. I searched it to the best of my ability, but, of course, I had no idea of the existence of such a place as the cellar beneath, and hearing no sound, I departed, unsuccessful, to hunt for Congo else- where, This being the position of affairs, let us now follow the letter—with its three chances of arous- ing suspicion—to Manchester. Mr Joseph Bennett, the elder brother of the two, received the ietter on the night of the day on which it was posted—long after bank hours—and so had time to study well its contents before com- plying with its request. Strange to say, neither the altered composition nor the carefully disguised handwriting excited the slightest suspicion in his mind, and that for a singular reason. 44 Ned was certainly drunk when he wrote this —be always is when he sends for extravagant sums," he said to hiimelf with a knowing chuckle but when be had got thus far in his wise conclu- sion he was suddenly pulled up by noticing the carefully and legibly executed danger-mark beneath the signature. "What on earth can he mean? That means 4 Don t send it,' and here again ho has put the same mark beneath the sum £ 200!" and the staggered millowner scanned the curious mte closer and closer, and then came to a strange con- clusion. There is something wrong," he em- phatically said to himself. he mad fool has got into trouble—he always does when he travels —he has run up somofootish debt, got into prison, and been forced to write this letter; and at the same time wishes to warn me not to send the money. Very good—then I will not send it." This was a conclusion easily arrived at, but not so easily acted upon. It cost Mr Joseph Bennett a whole night's rest thinking it over; and, even whan done, he could not deny to himself that all his reasoning was founded upon a surmise. c, He may really want the money, or the debt may be a just one which it would be a reflection on our name to leave unpaid. Oh, what it is to be pestered with the follies of a brother! I could wish him and his debts at the bottom of the sea. There is only one course that I can see—I can take the express for Edinburgh, see what the mess i, insist on the debt being paid if it is justly incurred, and at the same time give him a hearty blowing up for all the trouble he has given mo." Tbi" resolution was promptly acted upon. With I some trouble he got together £200, and by seven in the morning he was speeding by express towards I Edinburgh. Late as it was when he arrived, he went straight to tbe hotel in Princes-street, and inquired for his brother, and was petrified to hear that for two days be had been missing, and that the police had just been set upon his track. This startling news sent him flying up to the Police Offiee, where a man was at once sent with him down to the Leith Wynd to meet me. Quite at a loss where to go next, though suSicientty s'arttod by the disclosures of the alarmed brother, I came slowly up the High-street in his company tiil we reached the corner of the Bridge, where I happened te come on M'Indoe taking one of his slow walks, leaning on a stick, accompanied by the faithful Nosie Nincher. To him I had no hesitation in imparting the strange particulars, when I was astonished to hear him say- If you want Congo, you had better go south. He is out in that direction now—I did not see him but Penbank stopped me, in great hurry, saying ba was after him. You know the shivering coward has got the idea into his head that The Ruffian holds out somewhere about the Grange, or beyond Lover's Loan, and whenever any h of your bairns turn their noses in that direction, he is after them like a shadow. It Is his own miserable life he fears for, so you may depend on something being in it." Tne Grange, and all that district, I need scarcely remind the reader, at that time was mostly green fields and bare roads, with only a lonely house here and there. It therefore follows that any persou approaching the Haunted House could be seen a long way off if the night happened to be a clear one. This was exactly the case with Congo as he approached the hide of his leader—he was recognised some distance off-but unfortu- nately the same eagle glance detected what the Quadroon could not suspect—the slim form of Simou Penbank gliding steadily along in his wake, There was only a minute to do it, but that minute saving the biding place for the time from diseovery. Before Congo was within a hundrtd feet of the house up went a danger signal known to them- selves in one of the front windows, and the moment this was sighted by the approaching thief he walked straight past the house, without so much as glancing at it a second time, leading the unsuspicious spy in his wake, and cursing and wondering not a little at The Ruffian's move and its cause. Further en, when he had got down to the Meadows, he heard the patting footsteps of Penbank in his wake, and for the first time happened to glance round. Place of concealment there was n'nH; the spy was recognised in a moment, and Congo, though sensible of the narrow escape both he and The Ruffian had just made, wag foolish enough to lose his tempsr and turn furiously on the inuocent-looking Simon Penbank. 44 What the d-l are you following me for?" he burst forth, advancing threateningly as be spoke. Simon Penbank bent forward with an ex- pression of glad surprise and faint incredulity, and then cried, rapturously— "N", it cannot be Yes it is—my dear friend, Congo Give me your hand, my friend. Ah, you object ? Well, let that pass. My dear sir, I sincerely trust that you keep your health well ?" "What are you alter, I say?" roared Congo, with a ferocious whowiug of teeth that made the other inwardly quake and glance round furtively for a policeman. "My iriwnd," sighed Penbank's in reply with a pensive sIdRA, "I have but one pursuit in this world—the acquiring information. Information is a species of knowledge, I need scarcely remind one who has been taught to write from the most approved copy he-id lines, is power." "Ha and you want power iver me?" savagely continued Congo, feeling in his pocket for a knife and looking round on every side in a way that, froze the smile on Penbank's lips, and set the cold sweat trickling down his back—" power to nab me and land me in quod—^h ?" "My dearest friend-" began Penbank, in reply; but at the moment the last word was formed upon his lips Congo had whipped out a dagger-knife with a spring back, and began tuggmg a,t the blade with his teeth to open it and, waiting no longer to use his weightiest weapon, his tongue, Penbank took to his heeis and sped along the sirie of the Meadows towards the end of b'uccleuch-str^et with remarkable agility, shouting Murder at tho top of his voic", and with Congo thundering along in his wake brandishing the open knife, and uttering the most appalling threats against his life. I Just as Pen bank turned thd corner towards the Sciennes, he dasher! full against tiiree persons— Mr Joseph Bennett, myself, and a policeman of whom we were milking inquiries. The next moment, before the breathless spy could utter a word of explanation, Congo himself rounded the corner, da-hed into our minst, and was iustantly disarmed, collared, and handcuffed. What's all this for? 1 was only chasing him for a bit of fnn," he doggedly lemaiked, as soon as he could recover from the siio^k ot surprise. "Pi) tell you what its for," 1 said, silencing I Penbank's piteous torrent of protestations and charges. "I want you for trapping this gentle- man's brother. VVli-re have you stowed him? Better make a clean breast of it. The game is blown—not a farthing of money to be gamed by it—nnd your only chance lies in telling :dl." I don't know what you're talking about," boldly returned the captuied thief, with a defiant scowl. "I never saw his brother, far less trapped hnn-at letist, that I know of." Bah What has become of the gentleman who got cut of the cab with you two nights ago at the head of Leith Wynd ?" I impatiently demanded. 44 Gentleman ? Oh, that's a good un," he cried, with an attempt at a laugh. He was only a swell mobsman from London, spending some money among us, J'VQ enough to do watching the spots without keeping an eye on prigs as well. He may be up in the moon by this time, for aught I know.' This ingenious story came out so quickly and readily that, though convinced of its untruth, I was for a moment staggered and the moment's pause gave him time to strengthen his position. J j took him away up to the Onice but, as he would not alter bis story, I had to lock him up and give up the pursuit for that night at least- l In some magic way, The Ruffian ha.d either scented danger, or heard of the arrest; for scarcely I three hours after Congo had been li cked up tuer" i was a clanking sound over the chimney leading | down to the queer prison, and. looking up» i according to his own statement, Mr Bennett saw » the face of au 44 old and frail-looking man, with white hair," peering down at him, holciin", a lighted candle in his hand. A shout of joy mingled with a burst of wild entreaties for freedom brokn from the terrified prisoner, but weie instantly hushed by a gesture from the strange apparition above. 44 I have come to set you free," the old man— who could have been no other than The Rdfhn- whispered down in a fearful way, 4" But before I do it, you must swear, in the words I will repeat, never to reveal aught you have seen or hearcf within these walls, and also not to prosecute or recognise or in any way identify any who have j, been the meant: of putting you where you are,. Hush, do not answer hastily," added the appari tion, as he was about to promise anything for dear: life and liberty. 44 Hear the alternative. If you: refuse, yon will be left where you are-left to perish from hunger,—to become food for the ratM. iandcockroaches. More, if you break faitii after* you are set free, your hfa will not be worth a, i moments purchase. Now decide." 441 have already decided," impulsively cried the overjoyed Englishman; oh, bless you for your goodness—propose any oath, my lips shall be sealed while the Rnffi ins live." The oath was instantly administered in buch appalling terms that there was little likelihood ofc it being broken the rope was lowered, and ad- justed under his arms by himself, and then he was diawn up with a strength surprising in one seem- ingly soared. Up above he found the light extinguished and the old man in waiting, and, like a simpleton, he submitted to have his eyes hlindfolded before he was led out of the building. Out into the cold night air they went, dowu m>va» steep slopes and up other?, till at last the old man" quitted his bold of the Englishman, the bandage was torn away. and the kidnapped man awoke to see a shadow fleeting round the corner, to find himself at the toot of the North Back; Canongftte, and above :dl to realise the sweet fact that he was at last free ? He wandered round to- the front of Holy rood "Palace, aud there one o th& sentriea enlightened him as to hia'whereabou's andt the quickest route to his hotel in Pcinces-.<iraet^ where he arrived at an early hour in the moruiligt to rouse up his astonished brother, and to answer all inquires by a strange silence, or by a mere hint that he had got iuto some queer company that he would rather noti-psak abo^t. And to this strange and infatuated resolution ha stuck to the last. Next day, when brought face to face with Congo in the Court, he firmly persisted in not recognis- ing or criminating him in any way, the conse- quence of which was that he himself got a severe reproof from the Bench for his folly and Congo —who pleaded gutlty to the charge of threatening PenLank with a knife, but said in extenuation that he only did it "for a lark," was ifned tweuty- one shillings, with expenses, which lie instantly paid. As he passed out of the Court be stopped and whispered Penbank— It's no use trying to trap us. Simon you will make nothing by it. Wait a few day?, and I may put somethfng in your way that'll gl va yuu a lift- downwards," he added under his breath to him. self. About this" lift—downwards," as it had a con- nection with the identical person of Mr Bennett, I will have something to say in another sketch.

MENDELSSOHN AT WORK. When I do not feel inclined to oomposa, there is the conducting and rehearsing, and it is quite a pleasure to see how pluckily things go and then Dii'seldorf is so charmingly diminutive I that you always fancy yourself in your room, [ and y«t it is complete in its way. There is aa I opera, a choral society, an orchestra, church 1 music, a public, and even a small opposition it 1 is simply delightful. I have joined a society for I the improvement of our stage, and we are now <• rehearsing tha 4 Wassertiajer it is quite touch- V] ing to see with what eagerness, what appetite, the singers pounce upoy every hint, and what trouble they take, if anybody will ba at the pains of teaching them: how they strain every nerve, and really make our performances as p erfect as can be imagiued, considering tile means at our disposal. Last December I gave Don Juan (it ¡ was the first time. I conducted an opera in puolic), and I can assure you many things went better and with more precision than I have heard them at some of the large and famous theatres, because, trom first to last, everyone concerned went in for it heart and soul well, we had twenty rehearsals. The lessee of the, theatre had, however, thought fit to raise the price on account of the heavy II expenses, and when, at the first performance of Von Juan, the curtain ros- the malcontent section of the puolic called ior Mr Derossi like mad, making a tromendous disturbance after hve minutes, order being restored, we began, and went through the first act splendidly, constantly accompanied by applause; but lo! aQá behold! as the curtain rises for tha second act, the uproar Wreaks out afresh, with redoubled vigor ami per- sistence. Well, I felt inclined to hand the whole concern over to the arch-fiend-never did I conduct under such trying circumstances. The opposition consists mainly of beerhouse keepers and waiters in fact, by four o'clock p.m. half Dtisseldorf is intoxicated anybody xvanting to see me mustcall between eIght and nine in the morning it is quite useless attempting to transact any kind of business in the afternoon.From, 44 Mendelsohn's Letters to Mosoheles," by WK. F.APTHojir, in "Scribner's Magazine, »