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[NOW FIEST PUBLISHED.-]
[NOW FIEST PUBLISHED.-] A MINT OF MONEY, ) Or, NORMAN 6ARTRAM'S HEIR. BY GEO. MANVILLE FENN, Author of "The Master of the Ceremonies," Black Blood, or the Lass that Loved a Soldier," Hard to Win," &c., &c. [ALT. EIGHTS RESEBVED.3 CHAPTER LI.—GLYDUYR REQUIRES A PICK-I ME-UP. Guv'nor aboard ?" Glyddyr was seated in the cabin restlessly smoking a cigar, and gazing through the open window, at the Fort, standing up grey and glit- tering in the sunshine, and holding within it, protected by the memory of its builder, the two objects for which Parry Glyddyr longed. He had made up his mind a dozen times over to go straight to the place, see Claude and gently try to coerce her into listening to his suit, but the recollection of that horrible night kept him back, and he gave up to go on pacing the little saloon, talking to himself wildly. For how, he said, could he approach CI a"'1 now—he, the destroyer of her father's ask her to listen to him, talk t lead her into thinking th' become his wife—i that it wa- 1 wr -1.11 ',0 a scorer dOle; he dared not. since Gartram's death he had, with effort, written kindly letters—he could not go to the Fort and speak—telling Claude that she was not to think him unfeeling for not calling upon her, but to attribute it to a delicacy upon his part—a desire not to intrude upon her at such a time, and that he was going away for a cruise, but would shortly be back, then he would come. Three times did he set sail, and as many timas did he come back into the harbour, after being out a few hours, to the disgust of his crew. "The skipper's mad," they said; "drinks a deal too much, and he'll hava the horrors if he don't mind. He used to be able to cruise a bit, a,id now there's -,b se-few Icose in the engine she ev,rei:?ns o tlicre's cloud to win(I'ard le's YeF' 0' back into port,"apd here we are g??ttiiag -usty for want of a run. It was tlways so. So soon t-, they got a few miles away, Glyddyr saw his rival taking advan- tage of his absence, and winning Claude over to his side, and with her the wealth that was to have been his. 'o If I hadn't been such t -c ol," he would mu?'ter, "I ni'?,;ht have ba?l it e,sY enou,?h." And he would sit cl-.y after dc-tn, the Port with his double glass, thinking of the wealth lying there—how easily it could be snatched by foul means, seeing how well he knew the place. But common sense would step in then, and remind him that everything would be locked up now, perhaps sealed and that Gartram's arrange- ments were secure enough to !,ct. even burglars at (. No, it must be by fair play. He must lose i.„ iticro time, but go to the Fort, and quietly show Claude that he was waiting, and contrive to get h,:3r to co-.ifide in him, let him help 'tier, so that e migiit grldually strengthen his liosition. w. 'And it 'Ilts no ?"reiigtheiiin, I.-ie said ang,ri'ty. It was her iather's %-isb, and we are betrothed." Then a fit of trembling assailed him, and he shrank from going up to the place, where it would seem as if Gartram were standing at the entrance, stern and forbidding, to keep him back. He flew to the brandy again to steady his shaking nerves. "No," he gasped as ho drained the] glass, "I can't do it. I'm bad enough, but I can't go ,ind court the daughter now." Curse you, be quiet he cried, smiting him- self across the mouth. Do you want to blab to everybody the story of the accident." He seized his binocular again to watch the way up the Fort, in jealous dread lest Chris, Lisle should go up there, but, though he was constantly watching, and often saw Chris, go out from his lodgings, it was mostl}' with his rod upon his shoulder, and in the other direction—toward the bridge ,and the glen. u And so the days glided by, till one morning as he sat watchin, 1,)nging i to the I,'ort. t i' -"Fi.d .ad. hi but puttin, off the visi till time In more confident and firm, he suddenly caught sight of a figure—the tall, sturdy figure of a man going up to the entrance gate. Glyddyr was all excitement on the instant. A stranger—a well-dressed man—going up there. What could it mean ? He hardly left the little porthole through which he watched that day, but was constantly directing his glances at the grey building. v Towards afternoon he saw tho tall man come out from the study window, and begin walking up and down with his hands behind his back then he stepped in a coiner sheltered from the wind, and directly after there came a faint film of blue smoke rising, and Glyddyr looked blankly on as the man walked to and fro. One of the old man's best cigars, I'll be bound," muttered Glyddyr, laying down the glass and biting his nails "who can he be?" Ten minutes after, as Glyddyr sab there, glass in hand, he saw two figures in black come out of the front entrance, and go along the terrace a little way to stand watching the sea. He had it all there in minature within the double circle of those glasses. Claude and Mary Dillon, and he could almost make out the expres- sion upon the two pale countenances as they moved slowly away, and joined the tall gentleman, who was walking up and down, and for the next hour they were in his company, ending by going in to- gether, and the terrace was blank. "A visitor—seems to be young, On familiar term?. There is no brother. I never heard of a cousin. Who can it be ?" Glyddyr gnawed l:s moustache, for here was a fresh complication. He could see no other reason for a visitor to be at Gartram's house than as a fortune hunter in search of Claude's hand. This then was a new danger-from a man who was openly received there, and seemed quite at home. So that while ho was watching for the dangers of an assault upon tho Fort by Chris. Lisle, another had entered and taken possession. "And I, like a cursed coward, have hunglabout not daring to renew my suit." Guv'nor aboard ?" Glyddyr had heard no splash of oars, nor tho light jar of a boat touching bis yacht side, but that voice made him start to his feet, and stand grinding his teeth. All right, I'll go down." The next minute he was face to face with Gellow, dressed in a jaunty-looking yachting suit, and smoking a very strong cigar. "Well, gttv,nor, he said, with an unpleasant f:?;r?,a3dhe looked Glyddyr in the face, there's if you like to t. in tl;?e it. If you don't, you can leave it alone, for -?t's all the sf,,i?o to me. We p-,7t,,d -ffy iiid short, and I'll own up I ww, g.i.6 _,& to? e very nasty. You 1, Ked out, and it made me feel it. I was going to bite, Glyddyr, but I said to myself, 'No, we've been good friends, and I won't round upon him.' Why have you come down t" said Glyddyr, shortly. "Now, I say don't taUclike that to a man who wants to help-yon. Come down to see you, of course." For money—to badger me for payment of some of your cursed bills." "Oh, Glyddyr, my dear boy, what a fellow you are. There I forgive all your nastiness, and I haven't come down for money. Then why have you come ?" Two reasons." Well ?" To see how you ware getting on." That's only one." To have a chat with you about a certain lady." Glyddyr winced, and Gellow noticed it, but made no sign. We'll talk that over after a bit. But how are you getting on over yonder ?" Glyddyr made an impatient gesture. Your digestion's wrong, dear boy-that's what's the matter with you. But I congratulate you." Con what ?" "Gratulate you, dear boy. Of course, I saw all about that poor old chap dying of a drop too much. Glyddyr shivered. "But it's a grand thing for you. Easy for you to go and hang up your hat behind the door on as nice a bit of property as I ever saw. Pretty yoimg wife, and your yacht, and a race horse or two you'll be able to do that man. By George, you're a lucky one." Glyddyr drew a long breath, and Gellow threw himself on the padded seat. Might as well have shaken hands," he said; but, bah ? it's only form. Very sad about the old chap, but a grand stroke of fate for you. I'm glad you've stopped on here. Very wise, be- cause, of course, there's sure to be a shoal of poor relatives wanting to nibble the cake—your cake— our eake, eb 1" So that's why you've come down V "Yes. Been sooner, but a certain lady has taken up a lot of my time. You didn't want her here now. I've plenty of time, though. I knew you were cpn the spot, "and that nothing would be done till till that old gentleman had been put away quietly, au4 the lady had ordered the mourning—oh, I say, Glyddyr, you'll excuse me, but-" But what, man ?" Don't be so snaggy to a man who is helping you. But what bad form." "I doxi'i anderstand you." Lock at yourself in the glass. Promised wife in deep mourning- and you in blue serge and a red tie. Why, you ought to be as solemn look- j ing as an undertaker—as black as a crow. Glyddyr involuntarily glanccd at himself in a mirrored panel at the side of the saloon. "Changeall t.bat, dear boy That's where I come in so useful', you see. Now, I've done all the pressing work I wanted for the present, and I've come dovm to put my shoulder to the wheel | to heln you well on with this affair." Glyddyr moved impatiently. y"ou see I'm not a lawyer, but I'm quite as good, or better. There are not many legal dodges I'm not up to, and you can take me with you to the house, introduce me to the young lady, and I can put her up to saving hundreds in settling the estates. When are you goi:ng next ?" I don't know." "You'll want a bit of money, too. Don't If-T?in at vo-Lir bacl?, all rr Ft-,nt yc>ur2-e, y ? edoy, o that you cut it f,-tt light through. B rile, Glvdd3-r, voi i tre '?i-,cky. The esttte is about .1 as good ts a in?ll-?Oll of inoiiey." T-W do v(>,a kliow.?" said Glycldyr savagely. i--now, ir-an '??' -,ail Gello-,v, lauih- ",its. Fine thin, wits. You money. I be,an life 11-ws who got the my help, When are you going "I told you-j i don't kao> "Gammon! Don't be absurd, hut.iy 'list we were ,i little out Tli,,t'3 all past. You t I Avzl? -"Own-. ftil,?.ts if Y, te-i to' me )ver, and -et -?-our million without niy li,-?ip. 'out you ein't do'IL, my detr boy, let alone what you owe me, you know, I must boy, let alone what you owe mt>, you know, I must stand in here. "êtanr in? ,;What do yon IIlean I YOU Know: "\Vhv, 0'1 sCOlmdrel N O\V, there you go again. You force me to take up the cudgels in my defence." "I,e:l,ve thi room." Ci),bin, dear boy, cabin. But what for ? To go ashore, walk up to Gartram's Fort—I mean Glyddyr's Fort, if I like it to be—ask to see the young lady, and tell her exactly what you are, and how you stan:1 with a certain party?" Glyddyr stared at him helplessly. No; you wouldn't drive me to such a thing- such a cowardly thing as it really would be, in self-defence. No, no, no. my dear boy you are really too .hard on an old friend—far too hard." Glyddyr's teeth grated together in his impotent rage. Come, come, come, shake hands, and let me heln you to pay your debts like a gentleman, and to drop into this .good thing easily and nicely as can be." -Ls iio resnonse. w, Ccino. -no-,v, tf?ll me how matters stanl. I know pi,?itty *vvel: 1),Lt I.Fhotild ]-?Ize to ]2ear fror,-i you." You'll hear nothing- from me," muttered Glyddyr. Very well. I'll tell you what I know. You can correct mo were I am wrong, eh ? Now, then, to begin with. Papa, told the young lady she was to marry you. That ought to be good enou?,,h to carry t'?i?, (ii?,y out-t-h--re's your little l,u?, It'iiii-thf-re's ,i g,entlc-in-,t-.i, i, 'ivlr Chr-"sto,)hcr P,a,?t -ite and tbt-. Lisle--oi, ? -i rest of it- Nvii,)m the la,lly j -.icuLition. (?,lydclyr uttered ,Aiid then there's so,nc-thii),? Ose on. T,,tll, big,?,,oiit ?top-,)irg;it the Yo-Lin-, lady anci lif3 shut -Utl) together a "How do you know all this?" cried Glyddyr, thrown off his guard by & dread lest after all Claude should escape him. "How do I know?" Gellow, laughing; he asks me how I know. Ah, my dear fellow, you would never have made your fortune by your wits. I'm a treasure to you only you won't own it. Now come; isn't there a tall, biggish gent staying at the house ?" Glyddyr nodded. Of course there is. I don't say things unless they are right. Now, what dies he want ?" I don't know." I don't know." You don't know Well, how long has he been there?" "I don't know that either." Gellow .sat up suddenly, and glared at Glyddyr. "Look here, you are not playing with a good thing, are you ?" Glyddyr shook his head. "When were you there last ?" Mr GeJl-ow, I object to this line of cross- examination -.that you are taking." "Do you? Then look here, Mr Parry Glyddyr, vou'11 have to object. If you don't know what's good for you, 1 .must. New, then, when were you there last ?" "I have not been there since Mr Gartram died." Well, I arii. '?' cric?ei C-ellov, You're engaged b.Cy, and haven't been since the to the --otin, father's death. Why G'd-?lyr w,-?s s??lent. Goc,dlie.?-,en,s, man, don't turn stunt like th't. The.-e a, t:?fr- on, is t-ere no' qear t,ie hous,3 while the I)oor girl i-i -*ii so ir.-uch trouble' at,ibim! cri--d Gellow, exeitedly, "hen'evt;ry (i-.y he -,tops t7.v.?y may mein ten thousand pounch." She may have been ill, and I have been un- well," said Glyddyr, sullenly. And all the time the old man's money might be running down the sink hole, or into the poor relatives' pockets. Oh, Glyddyr, Glyddyr what are you at ?" I tell you I couldn't go to the house with that old man lying there dead, cried Glyddyr, with a half-suppressed shudder. "Look at him," cried Gellow, angrily, "shiver- ing and shaking1 as if he had. been on the drink for six months. Not afraid of a dead man, are you ?" "Mr Gellow, your la-nguage is revolting," cried Glyddyr, passionately. Well, ain't it enough to make any man revolt ? 1 Why you ought to have hold there you ought to have taken possession and looked after every- thing. It's as good as your own. Oh, where would you be if I didn't look after you ? Come, you'd better gat over there as once." No, "said Glyddyr, :aot yet and, in spite L of himself, he shuddered, and then glanced at his visitor to see if it had been noticed. Look at him Why, tire old man isn't there now. riiere, I won't bully you, dear I'GY. I ?,3f,3 ?ir),v it is. tii, b.ell, liavci in the steward 1 an(I let we vou 'I You're down .4Lii,%r,y down. I'll soon -wind You up, and set re, yo,Li!:?oin.7 again. IV'hy, 1'ra like a' father to Clydr.,yr coeyed in a h,Ipless ing for ihe -,?ow,ird, tn(i then orde-ing in th,?? sp?rits. 1; Bring in the liqq?curs, +.oo, my lad-Curacotl Cb,6rtre,ise, K?lmriel, "You want me now, old fellow, but you must take care. Yov're as white as wax, and hands all of a tremble. It won't do. You don't drink fair, Now, as soon as your man brings in tho tackle, I'll give you a dose, and then you've got to go over yonder." "No," said Glyddyr, hoarsely, "no, not to- day." Yes. to-da,y. You don't want that chap cutting the ground from under your feet. Hah, that'll your sort, steward. Better than being aboard ship, and having to put your hand in your pocket every time you want a drink. Needn't wait." The man left the little saloon, and Gellow deftly concocted a draught with seltzer and liqueurs, which Glyddyr took with trembling hands, and tossed off. "Talk about making a new man cried Gel?'ow. You feel better ,tkreaiy, don't you ??voclyr nodded. Of course you do. then tal,e the bc)at and go over yonder. I'm c?,l?'O'US to's'ee the pl,.ice. No imp?ossible," said Glyddyr, f,,isliing. inot t bit it-nposible. Come On bacl? You 11 ?,p. ??e vou there .LNo, T will not t-a'? r-'omin- ro-ancl mofe 2-,id more," said Gellow lau"-hin- Well, will you go alozie ?e, Noe*to-day." You'll le e tbos() two elia,L)s to oust you out av of what is your ?,No. I'll -?o and mil'. When ?" Now "it once." "That's your sort," cried Gellow. is,Novv don't say I'm not your friend." Ten minutes later the boat was manned, and Glyddyr was ready to step in, bit Gellow laid his hand upon his arm, and drew. hiD) back. be alino,t h ?'Don't, t tears in his eyes; 'on't ,,o like that, deor boy. 'i,?l?t do you metn ?" and nh,nf,a th?tt tie. IfYou-haven't??o4- a'i,)Iackone,l-,ti'Lonawllif,O. YGureally couldn'? go like that." Glyddyr obeyed him sullenly, and changed his tie before starting, while his visitor as 3oon as he had seen him off, went down into the saloon, helped himself to a cigar, and took up a glass and the brandy decanter,, A nip wouldn't co me any harm," he said •with a laugh, as he -cmoved the stopper, and poured out a goodly drain. It was half way to his lips, when he, stopped and poured it back. "No," he said, quietly, I want a clear head now. I can enjoy myself when I've g0t Master Glyddyr quite in trim." Ile went oi-i to bein sinol,,ing and asking qu(,?tion?, of the two -me? left m i-oard; but the time he had an eye on C,13'ddyr's bott, ivtteh- ing i?, till it retched the Pi t !OF s ticl ti,en ]I,, was able to se6 -ts owner !t Intervals, till he dis- ?I)pear,cl -imong'th(,- hous(??,. After this C,,ellow -,v,nib below ?nd ised the binocular, fix"ng it upon the l,'ort, till with a siqli of sftiisfac'6ion Ile 1-n, ,,do out G]Yddyr ,.ppro-teli- i:i,- ta, house,, where he stood in the entry for a fc?v moment. tui-ned awa.5-. to a ?'?ervalit, -id then GelloNv set d6wa the thrust his hands in his pockets ),nd -vvellt '?)n (jeck with the cigar in the exact ca-.iti-e of his lips:, 1,)uffi",? away r.-tl-)idly. l,or all worl(-l like ?, stear-q launch," one o" the nieil lo.Ilt on I)oar(I ,vbeil tallin, abo' it -,ifterwards-till C,,Iyddyr can-le on bosre ut Ou?," s,id the lttter" 1,corlically. Fishionablf-) slang for engaged with another srcc-r- eb,tp," si,IGellow, with Glyddyr ttirued upon him fiercely. 11 Don't be w dear boy,scL'4 Clellow, "but. it was qiiice plime came down.' CHAPTER LIL—REMOB.SE. From that climax Sarah Woodham seemedto amend rapidly, but the stem, almost morose manner seemed to increase and to be accom- panied by a curious suspicious and furtive j aspect, which made her seem as if she were afraid, and looked upon all about her as being watchful of her actions. Claude noticed it a good deal, and was several times on the point of asking her if she felt worse, but at the first words a bright light always seemed to flash from the woman's eyes, and her every action towards her mistress appeared to partake of an eager worship that was almost as painful in its way. Mary Dillon, too, had noticed it, and spoke to Claude. It is the result of her illness," Claude said. It will pass off in time." I hope so," said Mary. Mr Trevithick noticed it to-day, and spoke to me. I told him it was only her manner. How long will he stop, Claude." I don't know, dear," said Claude, listlessly. Of course ho is investigating poor uncle's money matters all through ?" Yes, I suppose so." Why, Claude, dear, how rich you will be." "Yes," said Claude, with a sigh, and a far off look in her eyes. "Why, my darling coz., you ought to be de- lighted." "Why?" At being so rich. Thousands upon thousands of pounds, this place and the quarry, and all your own. No, no, no, I will not talk to you like that," she added, as Claude gave her a reproachful look. There, I'll only say this. What a deal of good you will be able to do." I hope so." "Claudie, dear, you will be like a fairy god- mother. What power you will have." "Shall I, dear ?" "Yes, couldn't you—yes, you could make me rich, too, with a touch of your crutch stick ?" "Should you like mo to do so, Mary?" 1 think not. Could you give me a "riele, and make me straight and .nes, de r," t??id le "1"e Ch- sprang to .fH/o vcre directly, and returns. I'll try not to be so v~. gently, "but there aro times wuu ui't Lujp thinking of what it must be to be loved. "You are loved Mary—dearly." "Yes, by you. There, don't let's get upon that subject. Only it's all wrong you know, dear. You are beautiful." "Nonsense!" And don't need money. I am ugly and de- formed, and I ought to be the fairy godmother. But to be serious, Claude dear, you are rich, but vou are a woman, and what was quite right per- haps for your uncle to do is quite wrong for you." What do you mean, dear ?" With all your money You must not keep all that in this house, even if it is as strong as a castle. Why, Claude, if robbers and burglars come to take it, I should say to them, Take it all, only don't shoot us,' and of course that would be vary wrong." I liavo be^n thinking about this money," said Claude, seriously. Doctor Asher hinted some- thing of the kind to me twice over, and, as I understand him, offered to help me." "Don't—don't trust him," said Mary, hastily. "Why not?" "Because 1 don't know." "He is always gentlemanly, fatherly, and kind to us." Always, dear, but somehow, I don't know why, I always feel as if I should not like to trust him." "Prejudice, dear. But I am not going to ask his help. Papa had the greatest confidence over money matters in Mr Trevithick and, you see, I am going to take his advice." "Yes But I thought he was only here to count un, I mean settle accounts-no, no—you know what I mean." "I shall be guided by Mr Trevithick, and I feel that I could not do better. I often wonder, though, that papa did not leavo me some instruc- tions. "There were all those, dear, in his pocket book. "About the money, dear, but not about my future." There was a few minutes' silence, and then Mary said, gravely— Poor uncle had made his plans about you, Claudie." 'N larv 1" A?-il cl '(I not -,nticipate-ob, Claude darlin,, hav, 11 ,-n. J)sc?y 'You t' I ":N-o, Iear, I coi?ida not help it. 1-tliere it is all gone now." lit" Claude, darling, cpn't you co-if?de in me a tl it morc ?e b' "I do coiifide in vc)u, N,). Thcre ire fittle secrets in this l?cor heart —oh," she cried as she laid her hand on her cousin's breast. "how it is breating now. Come. Claude, you will not always be sorrowing. Is it goIni4 to be o,3 dear uncle wished ?" "Hush! Don't talk to me, Mary," cried Claude, with her faco convulsed. "You don't know what pain you are giving me." Mary clasped her hands about her cousin's neck, and a bright light shone in her malicious eyes, as she said to herself— It's no-it's no. She will never marry Glyddyr now." I beg your pardon, Miss," It is nothing, Woodham; come in," said Claude, quietly, as the woman was withdrawing- after giving an unheeded tap, and entering the room. Mr Trevithick's complimsnta, ma'am, and would you see him in the study?" "Ye", at once," said Claude; and both thought how she had seemed to change during the past few weeks, from the slight girl into the dignified woman. Come, Mary." "Isn't it private business?" said Mary, shrink- ing back, strangely. "Yes, dear; our private business," said Claude, passing her arm round the frail little body, and they passed out, Sarah Woodham holding open the door, and stooping to lift the soft black dress which trailed behind her mistress, kissed the hem in a quick passionate way. Claude turned quickly, feeling the slight check. "Nothing, miss," said the woman, deprecatingly. "Your dress caught." Claude gave her an affectionate smile, and crossed to ths study; and, as the door closed after them, Sarah Woodham stood alone in the door- way, with her hands clasped and eyes closed as she muttered softly And let me live for her-die for her," grateful for her undeserved love, "in expiation—oh, my God, in expiation of my sin." CHAPTER LIII.-MR. TREVITHICK ON FIGURES. Ah said Trevithick, rising in wieldy bulk from a chair at the table covered with papers and looking like the great, heavy bashful Eng- lishman he was, as lie placed chairs opposite to where he had been seated. I am sorry to trouble you, Miss Gartram, Miss Dillon too," he said, with a smile, as he beamed upon her. Mary gave him an angry, resentful look, and he turned chap-fallen on the instant, and became the man^of business again, then cold, and seemed te perspire figures. "Miss Dillon takes part in our little conference, Miss Gartram ?" he said, rather stiffly. Of course. My cousin is as if she were my sister, Mr Trevithick." Yes, of course," he said, as he slowly resumed his seat, pursed up his lips a little, and then took up a pen, with the holder of which he scratched his head as he studied a paper before him on the table. Are you ready, Miss Gar- tram ?" Quite." Well, then, I have very bad news for you, I am sorry to say." "I am used to bad news, Mr Trevithick," said Claade, sadly. "My dear madam, I spoke too bluntly. I ba?l news a,3 to MO'?iey matt<rg, i v c M's my l'ou am a man of :Fa. ph wily. I busine,?s a mere machine." Claude smiled her thanks, for the words were utte.re,-l with t minlv sympathy that was pleasant and T?f, r to her rrc-vitiiiek felt better, aii(.1 btame.l once i-io;?e at MarN-. Mary once more re?-,eitte'd that be-trn, and Trev- itllic'k p,%ssecl his liapcl through his short hair, which more than ever resembled a brush, and I sighed and said :— "I have gone over all papers and accounts, Gartra-Tn, over and over ag, -t 'tii-i, -nd an ,tuclitor may p-riitT)s fird an error, but or life of me I can* 't ?e.11 ivliere, for I have the figures night and day, ever since I have been nere, and 1 cannot bring them different. I was wrong to the extent of one, seven, eight, but I found a receipt afterwards, evidently carelessly thrown into the drawer before entering, and I wish I could find the other the same." What other ? said Mary, sharply. "That other," said Mr Trevithic, beaming at her again, being silently snubbed, and collapsing onccmore. As I make it, Miss Gartram," he continued in the most stern and business way, "you inherit from my late respected client your father, the freehold quarry, this residence, also freehold and of great value, whilst the quarry is almost inexhaustible the furniture and plate, etcetera, etcetera, and five hundred and twenty- seven thousand eight hundred and forty-nine pound, seven shilling, and fourpence, including half-a-slieet of stamps." "Indeed," said Claude, with a sigh. "What bad news!" said Mary, with quite natural solemnity. "That is to come, Miss Dillon," said Trevi- thick, with a look of triumph which met so sharp a glance that it was turned aside on the instant, and he took refuge in his papers. "Yes, madam," he repeated, "that is to come. There is a very serious deficit, Miss Gartram. I find according to your late fathor's papers, that there should have been five hundred and sixty-eight thousand, eight hundred and forty-nine, seven and fourpence—a deficit, you see, of forty-one thousand pounds. I need not add, a very large sum." "Yes," said Claude, quietly. "Yes," said Trevithick. "Well, madam, what have you to say ?" I' 11 "Nothing, Mr Trevithick." "But really, my dear madam, I think you ought to say something about this loss, and give me instructions what to do to recover it." Claude shook her head gravely. Yo, she ,3aid, I cannot regard this a, a loss in the presence ()-f one so much greater. Thanli: you, very much, ?Air Trevithiclc, for all t? at you ha.ve done qnd no,v e advice ttray give me F,.m astowhat to do with ismon("Y." 11 Good T,?-ly derlr m?idam, and that I am sure Yo,L7 Will ao." r mean as to its investment. "To be sure. I was coming to that, for the sooner this heavy amount is out of your keeping, I the more comfortable you will be." ) I said something like this to y cousm a i m little v.,hile Nfr Trev-ithick" said Mfkry, sharply. "Pray give her some better advice than that." I The solicitor looked disconcerted, baS he re- covered himself. "Well, Miss Gartram, I have plen who want money, and would agree to pay five per centum, but, excuse me, you don't want to make money, and, its your father's trusted legal adviser, I shall give his daughter the most valu- able advice I can." And what is that, Mr Trevithick ?" "Let me at once invest all this money for you in Consols. Only two-and-a-half now, but there will be no fluctuations, no heavy dividend one year, nothing at all. tho next, and some day perhaps failure. It is very poor return perhaps, but safe as—the Bank of England." Ttl?e th(, ps it once, l?-,Ir Trovi- "ry Ste r -'Oess. th-le,z?" st;d Cl?fau-1e, decisively. ",T'c,ankyou, ma,:Janl," rnalcing a note, "it ht) I be done." ?bid that is tll," saicl ClauOe. Oii, no, my detr The next qtiestioi-i is this residence. If you will part with it, I have a client who will give a very handsome sum for it— its full value, and take it, furniture and all. Cash." "And is that all?" said Claude, quietly. "_No, madam, there is the quarry. I should advise you to sell that to a small company. You can get your own price, for it is very valuable, and retain shares in it if you like; but I should say no—sell; add the purchase money to that for this house, and let me invest it in Consols also." "NQ," said Claude, rising, and speaking firmly, though with tears in her eyes, the opening of that quarry_ was my father's dearest enterprise, a?id the building of this house his greatest pleasure. While I live his quarry and his people shall be my great business and nothing shall be touched, nothing shall be changed in this, his house." -Aly d(,,tr yoll-.ir, lady," said the Ian-yer, e rose and ?lt-etelic-d out girl, -,is he is hiii-?l to t-l?e Claucl(?'s, wli;cll he rti,ed reverently to his lips. "I felt proud of the con- f-'cic-?nce you r,]Ecer -1 in I feel f??.r more proud now, and I horoiir you for what you have just Your v,iz-?hes sf-iill be etrriecl out. Oie will require some assistance matters of the quarry—a Rnd- -.i .V only want help as to vhe nioue: business, that I "ising yourself. :iu. '• -est." The Ia>- '-amed on Mary, biu "Nov/, hax :d Claude. "Not quite. Thu If, as you say, there main. There is enough." "But my late client would n it was put straight." No," said Claude, dreamily, hi. may have had some project of which Wv, norant, Mr Trevithick, with respect to money; we had better wait. You will stay wit. us a few days longer ?" ":1 should say no," replied Trevithick, "but I cannot conscientiously leave these premises till this money is safe, Till then, my dear madam, I am your guest." Claude would have spoken again; but the look she cast round tho study brought up such a flood of painful memories that she could only bow to the great solicitor, and make a sign to Mary to follow as she hurried from the room. "A woman any man might love," said the lawyer, as soon as he was alone. I hope no money-hunting scoundrel will snap her up. No. She is too strong-minded and firm. Now, what have I done to offend little Mary 7" ho aflaed with a sigh. Bless her I don't get along with her as I could wish," He was quiet and thoughtful for a few mo- ments, and then began tapping the table. Gartram had that forty-one thousand. His books say so, and he was as correct as an actuary. Someone knew the secret of this room and got at that cash. Yes. I should like to find that out." (To be Continued.)
---_._-----BRAVERY OF A SWANSEA…
BRAVERY OF A SWANSEA POLICEMAN. During the fire which raged on Saturday morning at the shop of Mr Parlby, chemist, a constable showed the possession of coolness and courage, which calls for the highest commenda- tion. It appears while the upper rooms of the buildings were in flames a rumour was circulated that a servant girl was missing, and soon after lii,, t wts cotifiriiied by the stteme?.it that) after reaching a place of comparati ve safety, she was seen to again rush upstairs presumably for some- thing she had left behind. It eventually trails|>ired that the "something" was a little child named Lily Lenard, who had been sleeping in a back bedroom, aud that tho servant, on reaching the room, was so overcome with the smoke which filled it that she became unconscious. But before this information was obtained—or, in fact, any particulars at all beyond the mere rumour that a servant was mi,ssing--P.C. Parry (13) made a determined attempt at rescue. He was first checked in his effort by finding that the staircase was in flames, and that all chance of a rescue in this direction was impossible. Un- daunted, however, ho dashed off to Caerleon- terrace, where ho found a ladder. The next diffi- culty was to get the ladder up to the window, because of the presence of an obstacle in the shape of a long row of outhouses. The ladder was, however, with the assistance of three young men, dragged over tho roofs, and at last got up to the window, whence dense clouds of smoko were issuing. The ladder in position, the constable, without a moment's hesitation, sprang up it, and, undeterred by the smoke, he got through the window. When in the bedroom he groped about and eventually found lying on the floor the unconscious form of a little girl aged 7, Lily Lenard by name, and suc- ceeded in getting her to the window, where she was received and taken to a place of safety by the young men. Then, although almost suffocated by smoke, the gallant officer re-entered the bedroom, i(?-i in t ?iin-,ilo or two he a-,liii -tiid wl 0 ,ppetu d he had in his arms the unconscious body of the servant. She was likewise safely taken to a safe place and the constable followed to receive the plaudit his heroism so richly deserved. We should not forget to mention that the name of the servant who so pluckily risked her life to save the child is Nellie O'Heefe. Both she and the child were taken to a house in Trinity-place, where, under the care of DR Cou.chs they quickly recovered.
BIRMINGHAM CATTLE SHOW.I
BIRMINGHAM CATTLE SHOW. I Local Awards. The annual cattle show in Bindley Hall, Birmingham, opened on Saturday with a much larger number of exhibits than in previous years. The prize of a silver cup, value 100 guineas, went to a shorthorn shown by the Queen, from the Prince Consort's Shaw Farm, Windsor. Her Majesty also took the president's prize of 225 for the best animal in the cattle classes. Mr PricsandMr Turner,of Pem hridg3, Herefordsh ire, the former of whom carried off the championship prize in 1881 and 1882, and Mr Henry F. Russell, who is well known as a breeder of Herefords, were very well represented. Two animals in tho steer class,_ exhibited by her Majesty the Queen, and which took a first prize and a reserve respectively, were bred by Mr I ?ll' of Pen-ibricl,e. The following are awards ?Rus?;c to local exhibit(-,rs:- Class 2.—Hereford steers, exceeding 2 and not ex- ceeding 3 yetrs-2iid prize £10, Mr A. P. Turner, Pem- bridge. Class 3.-Tlor,-ford steers, not exceeding 2 years—1st prize, £15, Mr Henry F. Russell, Pembridge. Class 4.—Hereford cows—2nd prize, B5, Mr Edward Farr, Pipton. Three Cocks, Brecon (Miss Brown). Class V.—Shorthorn steers, exceeding 2 and not ex- ceeding 3 years—3rd prize, £ 5, Mr Richard Stratton, Newport. Clasr 8.—Shorthorn steers, not exceeding 2 years— 2nd prize, i;10, Mr Richard Stratton. WErjSlI. Class 22.Nelsli oxen or steers, exceeding 3 and not exceeding 4 ye?trs-l-t prize, f,?10, Colonel ii;nry I'latt, Llaiif-.i.-iech-in 2n(l? P?3, ditt?). Cl-,tss 23.-NVeL,;Ii iio?, e-, ell, 3 3,e."Lrs-l-t- ?ig m ?ri,ze, Y,10, Colonel "LlicnrN, .?al a'Tfedian Znd, 5 Mr Robert Rtig?es, IIajif,?tirfec!-h' The butcher?" 6rct 1)rize OE zi) io, tj)o secon(i Dest butcho.s' aniiwal in the show talze by Colonel Platt, of Lj'tnfairlechom, tu(I an i 'tl )red by ilelr Henry I-, ?vlorris, Gwernygoii, -i?lontg ery;Ii re, won the c,tra g'a ly conimended in -uini?.i5, ixld wa3 or Ili the same class
THAT BOY AGAIN. !
THAT BOY AGAIN. OFFICE BOY There's a man outside with a, bill EDITOR :—" Tell him I'm dead." OFFICE Boy (after going out and coming back again): He said he was sorry, sr. I clean for- got t' tell you that th' bill was a five-dollar one t' pay a subscrip."
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Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. e
Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. e Dymunir i'n gohebwyr Cymreig gyfeirio eu goheb- iaethau, llyirau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y canlyn Dafydd Morganwg, Morganwg House, Llantu:it- street, Cardiff.
. AT EIN GOHEBWYR.
AT EIN GOHEBWYR. "YrEiicth Brydwecldol."—Mae'r cyrchiad yn wallus. Euasai" ynwyf," neu "anwyl," yn cynghaneddu eneth," a gwnai yr olaf y tro o ran syuwyr hefyd. "Mabon."—Y llinell olaf yn walIns: Yn wir y me yn flin genyf eich bod yn methu, oblegyd y mao pluck ynoch. Os rhaid troi'r i o'r neilldu oherwydd mai un ddiolwg ydyw, a gosod y yn ei lIe, ni ellid gwahanu lliw melyn.a melin falu, ItC Si yr iaith yn gaos. Ni thai eich athrawiaeth ddiin, frawd-na wna Wlr. "Y Penadur."—Mae gweled gwyneb hen gyf- aill, ar ol hir, hir absenoldeb, yn llonder calon i ni. Penadur campus yw hwn. "Y Baton."—Eithaf offeryn i'r arweinydd. "Y Falwodon.Ie, wir, slwt yw hi. Gwen."—Ie, serchog hefyd. "Y Gwydraid Cyntaf."—Cynghor gwerth ei argnuTu mewn aur pur. Yr Aradr."—Darlun gwych. "Y Llusern."—Cywirwyd y drydedd linell. "Y Galon."—Cywirwyd y cyrchiad. Ym- ddengys y llall mor fuan ag y gellir. "Hwfa Mon."—Digon o sebon, beth bynag. Da chwi peidiweh gwastraffu eich Seisneg—nid oes genych ormod o hono. myn'd yn lien."—Da iawn yw cyfar- fod a hen gyfaill, or ei fod yn myn'd yn hen a gwell fyth yw deall fod mwy o iecliyd yn y babell nag a fu or ys talm. "Y Gauaf.-Priodol. "Cath Mr Domns. Y chydig wyf yn brisio am gathod unrhyw amser, ac y mae diogi hon yn ddiarebol.
— BARDDONIAETH.
— BARDDONIAETH. DYFED. Teihvng brif-fardd ein talaeth-yw Dyfed; Rhed hufen barddoniaeth O'i wir awen yn amrywiaeth, Hidla i fyd eneidiawl faeth. OYNFFIGWYSON. I
ARCH NOAH.
ARCH NOAH. Jehofa, 'n gryd—newydd oes. j'foreld i ddor nowyddfyd veiniai o fedd yr hen fyd, wy Dduw byw i diroedd bywyd. :iyr Vale. MICHAEL THOMAS.
Y BERLLAN.
Y BERLLAN. Llonber lanerch ardderchog,—dan flodau'n Fawledig fwaog, Yw'r berllan, a thaen glan glog Ei phortlilwyni'n ffrwythlonog. Ystradgynlais. D. CYNLAIS JONES,
ANIAN YN YR HYDREFi
ANIAN YN YR HYDREFi Anian glaf geir yn y glyn—yn Hydref, edrych yn resyn Mae gwyrdd do pob bro a bryn Yn llwydo fel dilledyn. Ael anian sy'n felynach,—a'i cheinion Gwych, anwyl afiach Dan y berth blod'yn bach, A'i ddelw yn eiddilach. Huan deg ni cheir un dydd,—na miwsig meusydd na'r coedydd; Agwedd sal ar wisgoedd sydd, A'u dail ar hyd y dolydd. Brynamman. D. AP TEWFEIG.
Y CYNHAUAF.
Y CYNHAUAF. (RHAN II.) Fe sieryd y gwres-fesurydd—hefyd Y ceir iiafaidd dywydd Cywirdeb y gohebydd—enyna Fywyrl cynhauaf i deg hoen newydd. Yna'n glir wybrenau'n glau A welir hub gymylau A cheir holl lu y gweiriau A lion nwyf yn llawenhau A gwyneb nef deg wena, A choir bob dydd dywycid da Tm"J1 ofn gwlaw, llawn o awydd Fydd pob dyn hyd derfyn dydd. Weithgar wyr, cl08th gewri haf Rhag niwaid ar gynhauaf, A nerth braich wrthi, a bryd—gan awydd, Yn egniol ddiwyd Crafanant, gweithiant i gyd- Hyf, hwylus yw'r gafaelyd. Gyda'r big-fforch, wedi torchi;—llewys, Ceir lluoedd vn codi Y mwdwl heb vinoedi; Oriaij braf yr haf yw hi. Grymusol gewri'r nwyfus, Ho/f, hwylus geffylau, o hyd geir yn hynod gain Yn cywain hyd y caeau. Y car Uusg, er y llesgedd, Ddaw lwyth,—eiddil ei wedd. A chydallaw, 'r merched lion,—yn daclus A gwir ofalus, wna grafu "olion." Ac, i'r ddis, y urddasol, o foreu hyd hwyr, dry'n llu niferol, Er iawn ystorio'r gweiriau ystyriol Drwy'r cynhauaf, erbyn gauaf gwywoL O! gynhauaf egmoI, dy gnydau Heria. adfydau'r tymhor dyfodol. Y ddas lanwedd sy' luniad $Dal-wych, hudol ei chodiad, 0 folianus gyflwyniad Od iaeth, —darpariaeth poriad. Y gweiriau 'nawr sy'n gorwedd-yn y ddis Ddiddosol ei nod wedd; Ac anifail, o'i haeledd, Ga o'i flaen drwy'r gauaf wledd. Yr yd ar g'oedd gyhoedda—fod yr holl Addfcd rawn ragoraf I grymanau'r cynhauaf Yn barod yn ystod haf. Dan fendith, gwenich sy'n gwynu,—a'r ceirch, A'r crog haidd, gan grymu Ac i'r amaeth yn awgrymu Godidog log, ha,rdd lwythog lu. Tonant a gwyrant yn gu, Yn ami wen y nielynu. JHedelwyr chwim eu dwylaw,—lu hoenus, Yn hwylus a hylaw, Yn awr geir yn cyfeiriaw, Er ymosod, drwy'r maes draw. Ceir y miniog grymanau—mwy, yn hardd Mewn hwyl gyda'r borau, Yn hyf lunio gwanafau Hyd enwog lawr ydau'n glau. Gwyr deheuig yw'r diwyd—fedelwyr A chryf deulu llonbryd; Yn fyw, hylaw afaelyd, A llawn hwyl ddillyn o hyd. Dwylaw'r glew fedelwyr glan Wiw loria'r gwiail arian Yn dra hardd, gan droi o'u hoi Addurniadol ddyrneidiau: Ac yn mhlith llu'r "gwenith gwyn" Dwylaw'r rhwymwyr sy'n dilyn, Gan destlus, ryinus rwymo Ysgub ar ol ysgub o Wialenau y glan ydau, Drwy wiw raddau'n dra ireiddiol, Yn y gryniau'n aur sypynau, Hyd yr hanaeu, yn dra unol. Gan oresgyn, ar wasgn-yn hyf hwnt, Y fintai ddigymhar [wedd A 'n llu brwd, ell a'u bryd ar—wneud del- Wych ar agwedd ysgubau'n chwareugar. Ac ar led y merched mwyn Yn addfwya wisga yddfau Yr ysgubau'n glau a glan, Yn eirian, am y gorau. A'r llanciau a'u rhwydd Welir yr un mor hylwydd. Hardd yw dull y llu lion,—ceir o'u holau Eu holl ysgubau fel llu o esgobion. Hyd lawr maes medelwyr mwyn, Dan fendith, y gwenith gwyn Brigog wedi'u gwisgo gawn, Yn eu glwys ysgubau glan. Trwy faes ceirch, eto, ar fyr Mae dwylaw y medelwyr Yn medi, a medi yn chwim iawn, o hyd eu dyrnaid hyd hwyrnawn. Ac at yr haidd braidd o'r bron, Yn weithwyr haner noethion, Yn hwylus iawn fmt eilwaith, A'u lion wedd yn Hawn o waith. Tra.'r rhwymwyr egniol geir o'u holau, Gan fedrus, hoffus blethu rhaffau, A ch'lymu baich'n ol baich yn ysgybau, Yn wir gywreiniol hyd lawr y gryniau Yna'n dal am wneud delwau—yn fwy gI, A gwirio weithian eu rhagoriaethau. Ond, ha! mae'r troliau'n y caeau'n cywain, Reb ymaros, yr ysgubau mirain Amrywiog y'nt, ond mav/r mor am-eto Yw'r lhvytho, rhwymo, a'r cario cywrain. Ca.wn y lloffwyr yn cynull "epha—lawn" Hyd lenyrch cynhaua'; Call yw rhwysg holl ha',—wyrdarbodol! Hyd y maes hygarol—dim segura. Yna adlenwir yr holl ydlanau, A chludir, bwrir i'r ysguboriau Gnydau macsydd a'r broydd wobrwyau, Er ein cynaliaeth—hael odiaeth ydau. O! fwyn addas ddefnyddau,—Duw ein Ion, Trwy'i gu roddion sy'n llawn trugareddau. Heibio'r llawnion berlIanau-tfrwythlonog, A pherthlwyni'r ffrwythau Man, glan, cynhauaf yn glau W weithion eu hel hwythau. gynhauaf, rhag newyn Daeth i anifail a dyn Dda gynyrch, do, ddigonedd Livydda'n wir flwyddyn o hedd. Trwy obaith, eu troi heibio Mae'r cnydau glan 'nawr dan do. Weithian oil, am fendithion haf-mewn hodd Yn niwcdd cynhauf, Molianwn yr Hwn a'u rhoes, A'r Hwn einioes. A mynwes Ion Seion sydd Gynhauaf! ar gan newydd Eisiocs am dy rasusau,—yn wylaidd Foli Duw y duwiau, A'i helaeth ragluniaethau Hylon hoff, gan lawenhau, Ond, ha! caf anian-gynhanafau-ci Yn sibrwd i'r oesau, Am un sydd yn ymneshau Y casgl leng gysgle angau. Amom ni'r awr hon mae'n haf-fywydau ) Addfedwn, daw gauaf A borau'r Mawr Gynhauaf I Boed in' adnabodNaf. ystradgynlais, D. CYNLAIS JONBSJ
FACT AND FANCY.
FACT AND FANCY. In Unequal Proportions. Tell the house that I died with the grip,* said the drummer as he was fished out of a wreck breathing his last and his valise tightly grasped in his hand. The devil chuckles this time of the year, to see some nitn stay away from church 011 account of the cold and then quietly sneak off to a ball. Mistress Bridget, the telephone is ringing and I wish you would answer it. Bridget Air me afthur atin' onions fur me dinner. Sure, do nothin' of the sort, for who knows bud fwath it bees the young man as delivers the groceries. Come, come, old man. If you can't brace up, go drown your sorrow," said a sympathising friend. That's all very nice," said the other, "but I've tried it." "Well, didn't it work?" No, I guess my sorrows all wear cork life preservers." Mrs Gazzam (to Sadie Bloobumper): Where's your mamma, Sadie ? Sadie: She went over to Mrs Gargoyle's two hours ago to stay five | minutes. THAT IÆT lIBr IN.—Sappington: Do you know, Miss Amy, that nearly all great writers are downright fools at other things ? Amy la that so, Mr Sappington Why, then, I should think you might succeed as a writer. Teacher: Thomas, you are not paying atten- tion- Why do you smile ? Thomas I was "s»tro thinking about something. Teaehe. ..Jell, please bear in mind that if you want to you have got to do it outside this school house. IT WAS EVIDENTLY TRUE.—Tangle I see in this morning's Scarcr that poor Binks was run over on the railroad yesterday and killed. Sad, isn't it ? Cooley Dear me, is that so ? Why, I met Binks just now, and he never told me any thing about it! THE WOOLLY WEST.—Eastern Man: You have no railroad here yet, I believe ? Native: Wal, no they's plenty o' rails, an' plenty o' I roads, an' we sometimes give a feller a ride on a rail along a road, but we ain't got no steam cars, hyar yet, if that's what you mean. ARE YOU IN THE SWIM ? If you want to bo in the swim, You Ultlst look quite inane, Wear trousers flowing, Your spindle legs showing, And carry a six-pound cane. Wear a monocle in your glim, A derby with narrow rim, A four-in-hand tie, A collar real high— Wear corsets, yawn, simper, and grin. My husband has been gone nearly three hours from the house, and I can't for the life of me imagine what has become of him."—" Perhaps he has gone fishing."—Oh no, he hasn't gone fish- ing, for the whisky flask is on the dining-room table." Thin old man (cramped and cross) This car ought to charge by weight.—Stout woman (re- garding him contemptuously) If they did they'd never stop to pick you up. THE COMPARISON OF NOTES.—Miss Tablette: The wretch and so he has been proposing to both of us ? Miss Brenton It seems so. Miss Tablette: I wish we could think of some horrible way to punish him. Miss Brenton I have it! Miss Tablette What is it ? Miss Brenton You marry him, dear. I will be a sister to you," she said. "Thanks, but I've got seven now, and really there is nothing in it. You see they dress in the height of fashion, which calls for stiif shirt bosoms, and the way they wade through my collar buttons, collars, cuffs and neckties is appalling to a man living on a moderate income." "That woman over there has only seen 25 summers." "Indeed, why she looks 50 at least, and is very gray. She must have had lots of trouble." "No, that is genuine age, she is 53 years old." But I thought you said she had only seen 25 summers." "True. She went stone blind in her 25th year." Oh PIG LATIN.—First Milwaukee High School Girl I do wish your teacher would permit us to chew gum during school hours. Second Mil- waukee High School Girl That doesn't trouble me in the least I get in a half hour's work on my tuti-fruitti and the teacher never tumbles. How do you manage it?" "While the rest of the class are reciting the latin lesson I chew." Judge Snuffy: Erasmus Lightfoot, you are charged with chicken stealing. Have you a lawyer ? Eraspms No, sah. Judge Snuffy Do you wish the Court to assign you a lawyer ? Erasmus: No, sah; no, sah. Judge Snuffy What do you wish to do about it ? Erasmus: Well, Jedge, if it's all de same to you, I'd jess as leave dismiss the case. Wife (looking up from a book) This writer says that half the miseries of married life come from the fact that wives do not have a. certain, regular sum per week to spend as they please. Husband: True; and the other half of the miseries come from the fact that husbands do not have a certain, regular sum per week to spend as they please. Mrs de Cott: And so you won't let me have this flat, although I am willing to pay the advance ? Agent No, madam you have too many children. Mrs de Cott: But all flat and house-owners, too, talk the same way. What am I to do ? Even if I have children, I must live. Agent (confidentially) Move into the suburbs, and stay there until malaria kills a few of 'em off. SAD ACOTDRNT.—Mrs O'Coork Arra worra, an' so poor little Teddy do be dead. Phat hap- pened Mrs McQuirk Poor angel It wor an accidint. You know how the broth av a bye wud amuse hisself breakin' Chinymin's windies, an' t'rowin' bricks at the hay then ?—Mrs O'Coork Yis. Bliss the dear choild's sowL Mrs McQuirk Wull, this avenin' he t'rew a brick at a Chinymin, but he made a mistake, poor bye, an' hit an Oirish leddy. She kilt 'im. An Englishman was shot dead at Genoa, on Monday, by a sentry, for not replying to a chal- lenge. An Englishman is naturally conserva- tive, and he dislikes very much to step out of the old rut. To speak to a stranger before an intro- duction is considered by them the height of ill-breeding, and they look upon it as an insult to have a stranger address them. It behoves one to look well to who is doing the addressing in a country where sentries are rO:1ming about, and answer, whether it happens to be quite the pro- per caper or not, don't ye know. RIVAL TO JUTE,—A Tifiis journal describes the discovery of a plant, which, if it possesses all the qualities attributed to it, threatens to become a powerful rival to jute. To what special genua the plant belongs is not stated but Monsieur Brackenburg, a chemist, who discovered it grow- ing abundantly on the shores of the Caspian, has given it the name of "Kanoff." The plant pos- sesses a splendid fibre, soft and elastic, with a glossy, satin-like texture. It is strong and plia- ble, and can be dyed without injury. Monsieur Brackenburg believes that from its marvellous abundance and eonseoLuent cheapness, and its exttaordinary durability, "Kanoff" will success- fully compete with any other textile for sacking, ropes, and pack-thread. Tho fibre has a greater resistance than hemp, and its specific gravity ia! less. A CATCH TO IT.—An elderly woman called at an insurance office to announce that she wanted to in- sure her house. "For how much?" asked the agent. "Five hundred dollars." "Very well. I'll como up and investigate in a, day or two." I don't know much about insurance," she said, pausing in the doorway. It's very plain, ma'am." If I'm insured for five hundred dollars, and the houso burns up, I get the money, do I?" "Yes." And they don't ask who set it afire ?" Oh, but they do. We shall want to know all about it." Then you needn't come up. I heard there was a catch about it somewhere, and now I see where it comes in." An Englishman told a man about a hard-riding country squire who was thrown from his horse and had both legs broken. The doctor came in a hurry. "Why did you send for a doctor?" growled the huntsman; "I don't want a doctor for a little thing like this." "But, I tell you, the services of some physician, not necessarily myself, are absolutely essential to your recovery," said the doctor. "They are en? What will you bet?" "It's' hardly a subject for betting." Well, now, I tell you what I'll do," said the squire "you take one leg and see how quick you can cure it, and I'll take the other. If your leg gets well first, I'll pay double; if mine get well first, not a penny. Is it a bargain ?" "It is," said the dootor. And whose leg got well first ? asked the listener, a3 he rose to go. The squire's, of course." THE INVENTOR OF CAMEO GLASS.—The ten- dency of corporations to' absorb the work of in- ventive genius was never moro powerfully illustrated than in the case of cameo glass. For years Josiah Wedgwood laboured to find tho secret of the Portland va:-» The vase had como from a Roman tomb and undoubtedly served to hold sepulchral ashes. By a fall in the fortunes of the great Italian family which owed it, it came to England and was purchased by the Duchess of Portland, though Wedgwood bid in sharp competition for it. When the purchaser found that he desired to use it for a. study in pottery, she generously loaned it to him. The result was jasperware—the more familiarly known in households as Wedgwood. The great potter know that his work, though it made his reputation and fortune, was a failure, so far as solving the secret of the material of the famous vase, though he died still believing the vase was a species of porcelain. In later years, a workman in the employ of Webb and Company, of London, whose name has been utterly absorbed by the great house, discovered the true material of the vase-layers of semi opaque glass—and the Portland to-day may be reproduced for a few hundred dollars in all its delicacy of cameo cut and beauty of colour. Besides this, myriads of shapes have been made and the most exquisite effects in colour produced at exceedingly moderate rates. One of the prettiest uses to which cameo glass has been put besides ornamental vases is in lamp shades and fairy lamps, intended to be half hidden in clusters or plateaus of flowers on tha dinner table.
- ililliIIIIi!-T !FARM AND…
-,vh.3 c,Lt!L,, '?iti?-elf --eclel-ic Cli?."?toi), :irl -?r i a -),,vn of alc)11L?, tlie o,, e dln,, To the, t. Hansford. He espies a light in i house near and asks for alms. Evidently a £ reete< I. by the position to which he has been reduced, 1 faints away as [ the door is opened by a young If ADY, Agnes Ellis, Her uncle and cousin, George anc 1 Roger Cumber- land, shortly afterwards arrive, and the elder interests himself in the strange r, whom, though he confesses to being a tramp through his own ill-doing, he employs in his cfillie ry. The younger Cumberland, however, is in love with Agnes, and ridicules the employment of the young man. As time goes on Chilton earns t fit* esteem of his emoloyer as well as the love of Agnes. Roger Cumberland, who is rejected b y Agnes, resolves to rain Chilton, being convinc 3d that he has a dark past which he has hithert o kept concealed. On the morning of the marria- je of Chilton and 'o o the ( 1,?,irc, 1-iterrupts F ,er t)l-lrst,, int h, the cfreiwony- ?,iid as l?rpnk Chester, a convicted forger d thief. The accused does not deny it, and A pees faints in her uncle's arm. CHAP. IV. AXD V.—The scei fp at the church ever Mr George Cumberland ra-ites to Chilton ?n?Z -.n I place, anl reqiiest* nterview. Th:.s C'niltc,ii then that ti vau,-h he is a con- v'cle-l forger be was wro,-i?,,full, r convicted. ?Al r resolves to f-iiicl o?,? the i-iilysVr-v, a-nd bv dint of pfrseveri-i.- incluiry discoveri that t ji?-iior c'i(,.rk -in the b-t-nlz in u Lich Ch-*Iton was employed was the real cul; a-it. This clerk. Mather by name, is in prison ( Hi another charge of forgery, and he confesses to the forgery for which Chilton served twelve m onths. CHAPTERS VI. ANT) VII.—C hester is soon made aware of the confession of Mather, who clears him of any charge with referei IeJ to the forgery. He and his sweetheart asrree to be married tj," following week, and are full of joy at the prospel of their speedy union. As the v are taking a w 0, noi.-If-? iz; of tj?e 11.1ch turns out to I-)-- in ex T)ios-*?cn 'o pit. Che"ter rtisbo?? the seen ?. and the shaft, anxious to do wha 3 he can of rescue of the entombed min ers. Rr land follows him, and at his .U" e- jig brow. A partial fall of r oof and Chester at the instance o: T a mound of coal into the wo, diabolical thought enters E Colli oily manage to (list,- liun-- t,,n?oin cntop.-iberl -,D" a-, tho-?igilt 'lie an(] ?e, coal c?'I.4h' Tig d,),Arn b--t,T 1.14 in a in its fall fills ur tomb. j' ou.-rd by L e Iru?-n. T',113 --ini 'T4? the r, he, 1'7i h ay,- .?.-3 to do, anl It;; t rem(-r,-cloiis hey a?, t. rc- port si- has 1--en 'ea rge CLin-iot-rland c pit b ank- and to miss 'd .,ibsenc,e, A to come up, but he had 3 the old J "rimers declared or those dow n the pit, af'er jii. Still six men descended puvposo of rescu ing him, Roger tnej number. In the meantime, uis best to find his wayoutofh>s ithout avail, and he yiel ds to a feeling nd weakness which creejps over him. PART I. CHAPTER X.—WED WITH A CURSE. On descending the shaft Roger Cumberland and Job Rushton, and tl ie men who had voluntered to amoii? aiiy theiii, i ,iade their ,?ay orthwit,i to Y, -3 tcpof which Frank Cl?e?-,tcr the I)rc,,v at tt was knownl tO ?e im? riioi,ied. What the outcome of that expedition would be no man could tell. I t seemed the most forlorn of forlorn hopes but t hey had given their word to try and save Chester nd would keep it faithfully. But the task of rot ,ching the fall behind which Frank was proved n o easy task. The second explosion had shaken down the roof in several ,a,ces, tiicl t'?ic resc?u,- 1 party hid to cut a pissage p for itself through all tl to fresh falls. But the miners fell vigorously to work, Roger and Job working also »"d surely, if somewhat slowly, they won their way farther and farther up tho Jig-brow." Most of the new falls were only of a trivial character, ai id half an hour after mid- night the party whose l nission was to save Frank passed beneath tho J ig wheel and arrived at the great fall. Who shall say with wlvat varied feelings Roger Cumberland approached .the heap of fallen rocks ? What would his eompan ions hava thought of him had they known that his hand had plucked down the loose stones and thus imprisoned the man they were endangering their lives to free ? The one thought uppermost in the criminal's mind was Is Chester dead or alive ? He half regretted, was half glad of whathe had done. "Rut his mind was; fuliv made up on one thing. He hoped from the bottom of h'.s heart that his rival was removed for ever from his path to his cousin's love. But even if Chester was rescued alivo and well woizlcl have 'tiad his revenge, Ro. I,(, -er thought. Whac 10114 he havo suffered imprisoned for all this time with only the dead for company. The men set to work on the fall and Roger directed their labouir. His eagerness to know what was behind the fall exceeded that of all his comrades. To the others the matter of Chester being dead or living was merely a question of sen- timent to himself it was an affair of joy or des- pair—life or death almost. At last a narrow passage was formed across the top of the fall, and Roger was the first man to crawl through to the other side. After him 6w 'sL followe(i the other?:; in ir?di.n file. A f ??)s uT) ?iie 1)r,)w ,6-nd t'liey were all ?;tand,'ng besic.,e tfi?, prostrate fc)rln of him they had come to save. He is dead said Cumberland in low husky tones, but the feeling in his heart belied his sadly spoken words. He turned away, afraid to touch the body, and thinking now that his cousin would most assuredly become his own ere long. Rushton took the senseless figure in his arms I ?,'s e-?r to Chu,,ter'.i mouth, his htn(I oil rank s b,%r(- breas'. The iqe-ih iv?ts wttrrii fain?ly i ly 't rose and fell beneath the man,-L- yet perceptib ger's palm. "He's alahve Rushton exclaimed. "He's on'y fainted, or bin struck wi' th' afterdamp. He'll be aw reet in o bit Roger was on his knees in an instant beside Che's?,. -er. Job's words bad flled his soul with blackest despair—had put all his newly revived hopes and dreams to fhght. Yes it was true; His rival was alive still, and his criminal act had borne no fruit save disappointment. If Roger and his slowly recovering victim had been alone at that moment Frank would have never regained consciousness. In his passionate despair and hatred Cumberland would not have scrupled to take the other's life. While Rushton and one of the pitmen endea- voured to bring_ Frank round the others made a hurried examination of the adjoining roads, finding therein only those objects already de- scribed. A little later Frank came back to conscious existence, and the joy he experienced on finding himself safe and free may be imagined more easily by the reader than tho narrator can describe it. Then they set out for the shaft, reach"* 1 it in safety, and five minutes later Frank and the rest were standing upon the pit bank in the warm sunshine of the summer morning. The great crowd that had gathered about the bank and colliery yard on the previous night had now dwindled away, but George Cumberland was there still. Through tho night he had paced the brow with troublous steps, thinking more of ni"n,?KI hoines Fr,tT,k Chest,,r's pii,i of the in Hansford, than of his own great monetony loss. And when at length the signal bell in the engine-house rang three times, and the cage began to ascend, his suspense became fearful. Alive or dead he knew that the rescue party was bringing bach his niece's attianccd husband. For his darling's sake, for his own, he prayed that Chester might be alive. His heart had gone out to tho young man, and he loved him now as if he were flesh and blood of his own and when the ca<*e reached the surface and his eyes alit on Frank s face he ran for ward to jjreet him. Chester was surprised at trie fervour of his master's expressions of pleasure at his safety, but he did not dream of attributing this to any esteem the mine-owner might have for him. He thought it was only concern for his relative's I welfare which prompted Cumberland to greet him so heartily. After some conversation relating to his recent experiences, I-'raiik i-eniarke.:I: "I trust, llr CLi i-nberlau?l, that Ague, i w&,3 not informed of my danger V 1 t so 'But ,rt,?ini 1;1 go?,zip who was is uo (I ,,Bt r. But let us 0 ve t ?i,r fo?t, bw'd rotbin, ?ecl thi- selitiment, aTd went home- .ster ceiio feeling as if he had not been asleep for few hours later, when Agnes Ellis awoke x fitful, troubled sleep—sleep that had been v 1,, over's peril-t'?ie know- ?ioni of her I of the preceding night came back to her a painful rush. hasty toilette, she be' -cry r-iise,rable-ea-er to _low, io0liTi!4 N something definite about Frank, yet fearing c lest the worst might have happened. joined her uncle at breakfast, and after il attempts to speak calmly managed to cut in a breathless manner at ofFr.-tnk? Ispestfe?" VI" j.'ou heard, then, of his danger Oh, yes But tell me, is he-" "Quite safe, darling; and at home asleep now." "Thank God for that!" she cried brokenly," tears of joy flowing down her cheeks, a»d going to her uncle she threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed like a child upon his breast. Some weeks later, when all the bodies of the ill-fated miners had been recovered and interred, and the pits were at work again, there was a quiet wedding at St. James's Church, Hansford. Again the bride was Agnes Ellis, and the bride- groom Frank Chester. The marriage ceremony was not interrupted on this occasion. The selemn service was spoken, t[10 responses made without a hitch of any kind, and at last Frank and Agnes wore husband and wife. Both the mine-owner and his son were present. It was at the wish of the former that the wedding had not been put off to a later day. On account of the serious disaster which had turned Hansford into a town of mourning, the lovers had decided to put off their union for some f', ? Ge,)r-e Cu,nl,-crland would not hear of .such -?u' pro ced'n,?, Since the explo?,On he had not been a the ?-,acnie inin a,,i befoi:e. His heiltli had quite broksn down, and the doctor had urged him spend the coming winter abroad. He had decided to adopt this advicc, ?cd to go to Ttalv in SL-pternber o?-,fore'ae left E-?7,lar.(l he wa,' ,irri?d. So and !,rink m. I wedding took place. Roger Cumber1' moiiv, thoue-1 watche'1 "no .e happy them his _te maledictions nouse, he swore such dark only a. madman could have .aiiied in his heart such resolutions hatred r nd spite as only a human fiend .ve originated. d day-to-mrrow, in a year, or twenty, .lance would come, and when it did come he aid be merciless as fate. The man and woman no had walked to their happiness over his heart should some time be made to feel a little of what he felt. Suffering, despair, utter ruin should be their portion if ever he had them in his power. Of that hour he would dream henceforth for that chance he would pray and wait patiently. If heaven had intervened to secure to Frank Chester and his wife happiness; Hell could be called upon to help him to effect their rain At that moment Roger Cumberland was assuredly near the brink of madness. As the bridal party passed from the Church, the infuriated man rose in the pew to go hence. ,I *1?c; ?ace ite I*N, ?sion, his eves was qu I -id h-itli 'h -ally, -,vrec'er's fir ,nebr, -t anl balef as es ,t3 litera tfla, Xe W: his brain w, ily ?th vindictive schemes his heart was turned to bitterest gall. Then he left the place hurriedly. In the sight of heaven he had registered hia vow, in spite of hell itself lie would keep it. CHAPTER XI. -THE FmST Bww. Winter again. The season of rain and hail, frost a>id snow the time of feast giving and ball going to the well-to-do the time of hunger, pri- vation, and misery to those poor wretches who grope in the shadow of great cities. Happy only as a pair of young and fond lovers could be, Frank and Agnes Chester lived in their humble home. Suited to each other in every s ard theiraf,'ec. ti?)US. each (Iiy c;7tr-qe and went by in one unr,iT,d cir?,am of jo3-. ,?'i-ank ivas now e-trniii- stifficie?-it wag I ,es to L-er-P hims6]L' and iii-,4 v.,i,'? in c,,mfort. Beloi,?- goi-.1,?-I a-,vay to the South of Itaiy, N,?-tiere lie s-ill remained, eleor,(3 Cumberland had gin,e li*?, niece her a solid tol?cen c? his feelinl-s towards them. The under-cashier at the colliery having ob- tained a better situation elsewhere, the mine- owner had given the vacant place to Chester, and as the wages were almost double those he formerly received the young fellow had good reason for rejoicing at his good luck. Then George Cumberland went to Macerato, a small watering- place on the eastern coast of Italy, there to seek the renewed health he was destined nevermore to find, and his son was left in sole charge of the collieries. A great change had come over Roger since his cousin's marriage. He had been proud and intol- erant enough before now he was unbearable. Whatever good nature he had possessed seemed to have left him altogether. He was cold as ice t to every one, was a harder master than ever and II never a smile was seen to flit across his floridly lwondsomc countenance. Had he lost a wholo host of dear ones—father, mother, wife, and children—he could not have brooded more. He never exchanged a word with Chester, although they were naturally meeting and passing each other frequently, and the names of the happy husband and wife were never uttered in the Manor House when he was present. He was not a man to utter a hot word and then forget it. Each of these mad curses and wild revengeful vows he had uttered in the church that day were remembered still and secretly cherished. Instead of being diminished by the passage of time his hatred grew till it filled him, body and ? oul, from head to foot, overflowing in his heart and ever simmering in his brain. And the happiness of the wedded lovers fed his ever gro?v iii,- hatred, i,s the wliitc-r rains feed the stre.tiii-4 w,ile!) ?i-e tli;-?i i,, su.Inn-ier. Htl they been unhappy, had their marriage proved a mis- take, 'io. mi?,,fit have fort- iven them. 1'),it lie co,,ild not forgive the- when they seemed to derive more pleasure from mere exis- tence than the rest of the world. Their joy was a constant reminder of his own misery-it had been won only through his own ruin and despair. Thus ran the tale of Roger Cumberland's erotic woes. He harped upon the theme con- tinually—in imagination, of course—and was con- tinually striking upon some new note in con- nection therewith—was ever inventing now causes of hatred against a perfectly blameless pair of young people. And so a change for the woist in every way had been wrought m George Cumberland's son, and it is worth mentioning that if he had been successful in lieu of Chester his character might have been very different from. what it bo- came. As the twig is bent the tree is inclined. As the mind is turned so is the character developed. With Agnes Ellis for his wife Roger Cumber- land's bitterness of tongue, gloominess of coun- tenance, and _hardness of heart, might have been transformed into suavity of speech, brightness of face, and generous nature which characterised Frank Chester. But of this sufficient has been written. The dissection of human motives and the analysis of human idiosyncracies may very well be left to those who have a taste and a fitness for the pastime. Since the elder Cumberland left England the younger one had had solo control of the collieries at H?insforcl, and already Iii is niorose aiict arb,- trai-y temper bad maoe itielf ff-,IL Some di te "T'th,, in regard to wages htO, arisen at the pits, an f,ar6h and ungenerc),Lis way in which Ro,er had dealt .vit!i the iiiiners' proposals, althoiigr it ,ii,i not cause a strike, had engendered great bitterness against him. -But of this feeling he seemed, and was, per- fectly carel#ss. In his present mood he even took delight at setting at defiance every just and reasonable consideration. It was his way of expressing his contempt for equitable dealing— his method of revenging himself on the world for what he suffered. It was now February and George Cumberland had been in Italy just five months. The mine owner had corresponded at irregular intervals with his son and niece, and Chester also, and they were forced to notice that his allusions to ais health were far from being satisfactory. The rejuvenescence that his medical adviser had said that ho would find on the genial shore or the Adriatic proved difficult to discover, and was never found at all. 1"(-)-,er felt that his father, *s congtitutioii was L)roicen, or'.cast breal-,ing, and a faint desire that he ,-n?,ght nc!l,j: Ynore be dispo:se-sed of his pre- ,iontpo??,er,,tirre,-Ihi.,jbeart. gtill- lip- was -reatly surprised, and even a little shocked, when one morning the post brought him intelligence of his parent's sudden death. But the momentary feelings ox pain and re°ret were, quickly swallowed up, blotted out from°his mind, by the burning thoughts that his father's death at ence suggested. His eyes gleamed with a vindictive light, his brain was intoxicated with the alcohol of power and opportunity. That for which he had prayed so fervently a I few'short months ago was already his. The opportunity for wrecking his hatred upon his foe I was within his grasp. He was Frank Chester's master now, therefore let him beware He would inflict upon him indignity, oppression, trouble, shame without ruth j crush him utterly if his power would permit. Roger Cumberland did not go to the colliery that morning. For a long time he sat in his own room, his breakfast neglected, but hI8 bmm busy. Now and again he turned to tho letter before him and re-read the words which for him meant. so much. The communication which conveyed to the young man the knowledge of his sire's end was penned by the English doctor at Macerato who had atteurled George Cumberland in h13 last illness. The writer stated that the dead body of his late patient would be on its way homo by the time his letter reached Hansford, and the name of the vessel that carried it was given. The dying man had wished to be bnried in his native town, and without waiting for instructions the doctor hacl taken the liberty of carrying out this desire. Presently Roger rose to go to his father's private room. In passing thither he met Mrs Jenkins, and to her he curtly conveyed the in- telligence he had that morning received. Then he entered the small apartment in which the dead mine-owner had formerly transacted his business, locking the door behind him. Walking to tho window he looked out for a few moments, but his thoughts were not centered upon the landscape spread before him. Turning away, he went across tho room to where an old oaken bureau stood. In one of the drawers he found his father's keys, with one of which he proceeded to open a large drawer at the top left hand side of the cabinet. Tho key grated harshly within the wards of the lock, showing that it was USP 1 infrequently, being a re le for papers. A few minutes r'' Roger had re- which he will rr to parent had ■viil was made, and a new one, or added .J the old one. Roger had his iiis cousin would be well provided .cocher, and it was to learn the truth point that he began to overhaul his sire's .»pers. He soon found what he sought, and something also that he had no desire to find. There pinned to tho old will that his father had showp him soon after he—Roger—had attained his majority, was another sheet of foolscap, headed, "The Last Will and Testament," and signed by his father, Mrs Jenkins, and the Coachman. The date upon it was less than six months old. This new will had been made, then, only a short time before his father left England, and that fact aroused all the young man's latent sus- picions. There was no tolling what foolish things his parent might have done with his property. George Cumberland's Quixot ic generosity and exaggerated fondness for his niece, and that fellow"Chester, might have induced him to enrich them at his son's expense. With fast throbbing pulse Roger reoo- the new will, and as he gathered its import his rage found vent in deep curses that fell from his lies as he read. Before he had concluded he was striding about the room, fully determined that this last testament of his dead sire should never be put into effect, and devising a method of carrying out his purpose. The new will was in his father's handwriting. He had drawn it up himself, using the old will as a guide, and making only a few alterations and additions. But these were of a nature that was eminently distasteful to the son. As he had feared his cousin and her husband were to share his father's fortune with him, Agnes to the tune of two thousand pounds, Frank to that of five hundred. Bus this should never be Was he to permit his deadliest enemies to reap such benefit from his father's death ? No A hundred times no Instead of deriving a small fortune from George Cumberland's death, they should receive from it only misery, degradation, perhaps ruin. In the old will neither of those whom he hated was mentioned. That will should live, the other he would destroy. He unpinned the two documents from each other, wondering as he did so what had caused his father to_keep the old will, and then replacing the old will in the drawer he turned the key and returned to his own room. On arriving thither he closed the door, and in a few moments the obnoxious document, which if he had permitted it so take effect would have placed Frank and Agnes in comfortable cir- cumstances, was reduced to filmy scraps of bhck ash. A couple of days later the remains of the late mine-owner reached Hansford, and on the after- noon of the day following the interment took place. Both Frank and Agnes were present at the funeral, but neither of them had been in- vited they had not even received from the dead man's son any intimation of hia father's sudden end. Mrs Jenkins had told them all they knew of the sad affair, and, despite the. son's brutal rude- ness, they respected the deceased too much to be absent from his burial. Roger saw them in the church, and again beside the open grave, but his only recognition was a look of malevolent hatred. Even in the very presence of the grim Reaper his enmity was too intense to be concealed. The same evening a thunderbolt fell on the little household of the Chesters in the shane of a letter from Roger Cumberland. A soccial mes- senger from the manor brought the communica- tion, a.nd being at home when it arrived Frank immediately and eagerly read its contents. A note from Roger, said Agnes, as lier hus- oanci proceeded to break the envelop? i: J thinl" I can tell what it is about, It must' be concern- ing poor uncle's will Before he went away he toid me that he had remembered us both and that we should have no cause to regret his d^ath when it occurred. Poor undo It is probably as you say, dear. What is this My God Can he mean it These exclamations fell from Frank's lips at intervals as he ran through the note. When he- had read it all, he sank back in his chair, white as a sheet, and the fatal missive slipped through his fingers to the floor. What is the matter, Frank ?" Agnes cried in amaze and fear. Let me read it." She picked up the fallen letter and read it. It ran as hereunder:— "Manor House, Hansford, tir, C1. T "February 25th, 1854. Hear Sir,—I have much pleasure in convey- ing to you the pleasant fact that neither you nor your wife will be benefitted to the extent of a penny by my father's death. Of course, you will be glad to hear this, for no mercenary motives moved you when you conceived the idea ofwooillg and winning my cousin. ° "You thought you had managed the business very cleverly, and that you and your wife would come in for a tidy lump of my father's money. But you are foiled, for the will, which was found and read this afternoon, did not even mention either of your names. What do you think of that > hat does your wifo think of it Of course you are delighted So am I There is another matter I may mention-in fact, it was for this purpose that I took the trouble of writing to you. You will understand that I am not bound to perpetuate my father's criminal follies. If he was unwise enough, and foolish enough, to employ a convicted thief and forger—a man who had consorted with the scum of tne earth and dono the Lord knows what I do not cnoose to follow such a deplorable example I am master now, and prefer to have about ir« men who know their fathers and mothers If ever you snow your faco about tho colhery again I will have you kicked away from tho place. So take this as a warning, and never show your face near the pits or the Manor. "I may also inform you that you need not write to me for a character. I refuse to give you what you never possessed; and if I hear of you obtaining employment anywhere I will write to your employers and make them acquainted with your past. I have resolved to fling you back to tho degradation from which vou sprang and I have indicated the way by which I mean"to work out my purpose. "Present my compliments to your charming spouse, and accept the same from ° Yours fraternally, ROGER CUMBERLAND." "He is not a, man; he is a fiend Frank Chester cried hoarsely, as, after reading the startling letter, A.gnes turned to him with amazed face. "He's a brute—a scoundrel, Frank, to write to you in such a strain Never mind him, dear. He cannot rob us of our love ?" The brave woman flung her arms around her husband's neck, and her cheering words lightened a little the dark cloud which was hovering over him. He kissed her tenderly, passionately, and felt that so long as his dear wife's love was left to him he would never be either poor or degraded again. On the following morning the struggle began. Despite Roger's threats Frank went to his work as usual, and be was politely, even sorrowfully informed by the head cashier that his services were henceforth to be disjiensed with and in lieu of the customary notice of dismissal a fortnight's wages ware placed in his hands. ° Without a word of remonstrance Chester went away. But he had no intention of permitting his foe to drive him away from the town without a. hard fight. During his sojourn in the place he had won for himself the respect and confidence of most men with whom he had been thrown in contact, and it would go hard with him if none would aid him now. Anyhow, ho could but make tho attempt, and if be failed to obtain work in Hansford there was the world for him a.nd Agnes, to turn in. He was loth to quit Hansford, but quit it he must if the worst happened. But Frank soon found that he was fighting an unequal fight with Roger. Ia a week's time certain ugly rumours were flying about the town, and in the face of these it was impossible for Chester to obtain a situation. Beside, the town was only a small ens, and vacant situations were not plentiful. Little by little the little stock of money the Chesters had saved became Jess, and week by week the difficulty of getting employment ap- peared greater, and in another month or so they would be penniless unless something turned up and the situation of the young people waa ren- dered the more desperate from the fact that Agnes was expecting to become a mother in the course of a few months. Roger had conquered. The blow had struck home. Those against whom he had set his heart and hand had now only two courses left open to them—beggary orimmediate flight from the town. They chose the latter, and one fair morning in June they left Hansford, their destimation known l not to a. living soul save themselves. END OF PAKT I. (To be continued.)!