The Cardiff Times

CHAPTER XI. JOHN CRANE INTERFERES. John Crane had never seen Frank Jeaters until th.6,latter came into the shop at Muscovy-place Witn Edith Orr that afternoon. John Crane gazed at the tall handsome stranger with steady, inoffensive, unoffended eyes. 34r Crane," said Mrs Orr, gravely, this Mr Faneourt who has taken our rooms Mr A1 ancoiyt, Mr Crane who helps us with the busi- Se*e, and looks after all the work that has to be «one." p Miss Orr has just been telling me of Mr yrane," said Jeaters bowing politely. "She has informed me, Mr Crane, that only for your distance the difficulties of her mother's business worild be very great indeed." John Crane bowed, but said nothing. This fl.10, d-looking lodger," he thought, "seems to have taken more than lodgings he seems to have taken an interest m the family with the rooms." "I must run away now, Mrs Orr," Crane said turning to the widow, I have only just wme to catch the ferry." He bowed to all, lifted ■Hs hat, and left the shop. Mr Crane lives at the other side of the river, Faneourt, and comes to us every day," said Mrs Orr, If you would like to go to your room, they are quite ready." "Thank you, said Jeaters, "I think I will run up for a'few minutes anyway." You will use the rooms to-night?" she asked. He started. Use them to-night ? I am not sure. I will let you know later," and be went through the side door into the passage, ascended the stairs, entered the sitting-room over the river, a.nd flinging himself into an easy chair gave a SIKh of relief. Jeaters did not feel himself to-dav. He was suffering from a double reaction from the re- action after the terrible excitement of the right and after the drug he had taken to stay "ls thoughts. He had not gone near St. Vin- cent's Place. He felt relaxed, shattered. He could not make up his mind to anything. He fenew logical thought was an impossibility in his Present condition. Since his awaking that day he had told himself hundred times that he had done nothing which *a'd him open to the law of the land, and now he telling himself with pitiful insistency that he been guilty of no serious offence against even tu« moral law. Of course, he had on the previous evening given Pollie an account of purely imaginary Recurrences the night before, but many men hardly ever told their wives truly of bow they P&d 3pent their time when out late, and their ltlvention3 are but laughed at or are treated as venial faults. If he had only not opened that accursed trap °°or, or if he had only shut it down before leaving, ■here would have been nothing of consequence for to reproach himself with. Had that unhappy woman risen from her bed J)1 sleep, and while wandering about the great •toll been attracted to tli« spot where she knew the pit existed, and fallen into the pit ? If so, at then ? He would not, be could not, think of such a Matter. Why should he ? It was absusd, grotesque and if it were so monstrous, why did he allow it to torture and madden him ? Ay, he could and would answer this last ques- tion. The idea tortured and maddened him kscauae he was out of sorts, because ho had made a fool of himself last night in imagining evils Jfhich could never asiae; because he had swallowed that baneful drug, and was now well-nigh dis- traught. Because, in short, he was at present a craven fool. One good result had come out of the past few days he had secured this haven of safety where eVe:1 his name was not known. He could not be traced to Muscovy-place from either Hoxton or "t Vincent-place. At Muscovy-place he was a new man a bachelor, with no record. .If he should want a refuge here it lay open to "Htt. Of course he did nob contemplate requiring sanctuary, but, any way, it would give him a sense of security to know he could walk into this nouse at any time, and rest unidentified with his otber self, and at peace. In fact, he was using the place to-day as an asylum. Had he not come «ere as a matter of course 1 and could he not stay here as a matter of right ? This house, with the river under his window, Owned an advantage which had profoundly im- pressed him. This river ran under his window, and although he was not a particularly good dimmer, he should not be afraid to trust him- self to the water at the back if he were threatened 111 front. With a start he bethought himself of a strange Sjece of forgetfulness. He had omitted to provide irnself with luggage What would the people of the place deem of a man who took up his quarters with no baggage, no goods but the clothes he wore ? This omission must be rectified at once. He rose and descended the stairs to the halL If Frank Jeaters had been in doubt as to the triminahty of his thoughts one singular fact Ought to have relieved him of that doubt. He had Not in all his cogitations even allowed his mind to rest on Edith Orr, although her figure was Sever for an instant absent from his imagination, although she, and she alone, bad been the cause of his taking the lodgings yesterday. Jeaters went out by the side door, meeting no one on his way. He had found something to do, and finding something to do just now was better than getting a legacy in ordinary times. Earlier that day, in coming to Muscovy-place, he had avoided Verdon. He did not want to pass the St. Vincent now. He had no care to shrink from general observation. His person was unknown hereabouts, and his real name had been kept to himself. He walked briskly to Forham Railway Station and booked for London Bridge. .Crossing the river, he found a tailor and out- fitter's in Bishopsgate-street, bought a suit of ready-made clothes and a supply of linen, and told the tailor to put his purchases on one side until he came back with a portmanteau for them, adding that be was on his way from Lincolnshire to Cornwall, and had lost his luggage. He took a hansom, drove to Houndsditch, dis- missed the cab, bought a second-hand port- manteau, and, carrying it in his hand, went to another shop, where he obtained twenty yards of inch rope, which he put into the upper compart- ment of the portmanteau. He drove back to the tailor's, packed his new clothes in bis valise, reo crossed the Thames, and went back to Furham by train. He stepped out of the Furbam Railway Station a new man, almost his old self. The run up to town, the feeling that he had been doing some- thing to complete his plan, and the increasing distance from the terrors of last night and the malign influence of yesterday all tended to soothe and cheer him. The frenzy of last night, he told himself, had been completely, or almost completely, groundless —a trick of overheated imagination. Nothing dreadful had happened at St. Vincent-place. He had never meant more than to startle Pollie and rouse her up a little. She wanted rousing up, goodness knows. Perhaps he had not been very wise or considerate in leaving the trap door open; perhaps he had not been very kind in leaving her another night to go to bed in that empty barrack by herself perhaps he had not been very good. natured in telling her the yarn about that dead woman found in the river. But all these together fell very far shorb of real wickedness, to say noth- ing at all of crime. He bad been making a fool of himself in attaching tragic importance to things in no way out of the path of common every-sday ex- perience. Pollie was all right at St. Vincent- place, and as soon as he had deposited his valise at Mrs Orr's he would go to the hotel and see how Pollie had been getting on in his absence. This whole affair of taking lodgings under an assumed name was nothing more than a harmless attempt to get rid of the tedium of his humdrum life. It was merely a feeble and somewhat childish device for trying to satisfy a somewhat silly craving for the semblance of a romance. Frank Jeaters having by these thoughts and reflections cajoled himself into a pleasant state of mind, stepped out with an elastic tread towards Muscovy-place. While her new lodger was in town that day, Mrs Orr received a letter which threw her into a state of extreme agitation. She was a talkative, but not communicative woman. She never blurted out that which she had resolved to keep to herself. John Crane was to speak to Edie, and it would be best to leave all he had to say for him to say it. She told herself that when there is no occasion for elders to appear with a veto in a love affair it is best to leave the whole matter in the hands of the young people themselves. Some time after the introduction of John Crane to Mr Edward Faneourt in the shop, the widow got a letter by hand from Crane, and with the substance of that letter she did not know how to deal. She was in no danger of telling Edith that John Crane had proposed, but she felt in some doubt as to whether she ought or ought not to tell her daughter the contents of this letter. Only that John Crane had made plain to her his inten- tions with regard to Edie, this letter would never have been written. It would look like presump- tion for him to interfere in domestic arrange- ments if he was likely to own no stronger claim upon her attention than that of being her paid servant. But knowing his aspirations, nothing could be more reasonable than that he should write this letter. Edith was busy getting the tea ready when Mrs Orr made up her mind to speak, and called the girl to her in the shop, I am sure I don't know what to do about a letter I have just got from Mr Crane." A letter from Mr Crane, mother criad the girl, in astonishment. She had come into the body of the shop, and was standing outside the counter, restingJtev elbow on one of the counter glass cases in which were displayed a few old fepeetacles and a few cheap, silver trinkets. What can he have to write about? It is only a little while since he was here." It isn't about the business, child. It's about Mr Faneourt." About Mi Faneourt, mother! cried the girl, still more astonished. In the name of wonder, what has Mr Crane to say about Mr Faneourt? I thought they never met until you introduced them here to-day." No they never met until then, and it's very awkward but here's the letter. Read it for yourself, Edie, and tell me what you think of it. Mr Crane wrote because he is not coming here this evening." The mother held out Crane's letter. It ran as follows:— "Dear Mrs Orr, "Of course, I have no right to interfere in the matter. I am sure you have done all the case requires, and that Mr Fancourt ia a highly- respectable gentleman. But 1 trust you were very particular about references. Remember, the goods in which you deal are not ordinary goods, and that though you have a safe and put the jewellery into it every night, no safe is any good if the key goes astray. I have often thought of suggesting that you should take that bill out of the window, but I put off doing so because you told me you never had even an inquiry about the apartments. A jeweller ought not to let lodgings to anyone who is not personally known to him, and I do not think lodgings ought to be let in a. jeweller's where there is no man, unless the lodger is a relation or personal friend. I have seen Mr Fancourt only once, to-day, in your presence, and I was favourably struck by him. If you arc quite satisfied with his references you need not give this letter another thought, and I am sorry for troubling you with it. I am, dear Mrs Orr, Yours very sincerely, JOHN CRANE." The girl drew back into the middle of the shop when she had finished reading the letter, and let the hand holding it fall to her side with a. gesture of decision and disappointment. Well, Edie," said the mother, what do you think of it ?" Think of it!" cried the daughter with a frown. Why, mother, there is only one thing to think of it. Mr Crane is perfectly right, and we were perfectly wrong to take Mr Faneourt into the house without any land of reference at all, and there is only one thing for it now." And what is that, child ?" said the mother, anxiously. Keep to our bargain, and let him stay 1 He is surely not a thief, dear ?" We can't tell him now, mother, that we want references; but we can and must tell him we want the rooms in a week, and we must ask Mr Crane what we are to do in the meantime to make all safe hero. We must remember that often we have valuable things which we could not pay for if they were lost, and often we have things that mere money could not make good to the owners." "My dear child," said the old woman, her breath taken away by the vigour and decision of the girl, I hope you will think well over this. It would look very strange to let our rooms to the I gentlemen yesterday, and tell him to-day we must have them in a week. Then remember the fifteen shillings. What a help that would be." "No doubt it will look strange, and more than strange but if we have behaved like silly people, mother we must take the consequences, even if the consequences are disagreeable 1 But we can do nothing to-night." "He is not going to sleep under this root to-night, mother. How on earth could you think of allowing such 3: thing. Ill tell him he cannot stay to-night. He can go back to his former lodgings, or get a bed at an hotel. I'll write to Mr Crane and ask him to call and advise nS. He will como to-night I dare say, if I ask him specially. We need. only speak about to-night to Mr Fancourt until wo see Mr Crane. Mr Faneourt is gone out. I heard the door bang.1 Very well, child, you know best, I dare say, but it is very disagreeable about having to tell him he can't stay here to-night, and the fifteen shillings a week are badly wanted." It can't be helped, mother. And now I may tell you I am very glad ha is not to stay. I met him by accident as i was coming in a 'while ago. I saw him before he saw me, and his face was not I the same face as you saw with him here." Good gracious, child, what are you saying ? Your face is changing, too. Do you mean that I he was disguised V "No, quite the contrary. I mean to say be had put aside his disguise. When we saw him here he was disguised. I think he is most of his time disguised." "You terrify me," cried the old woman, time disguised." "You terrify me," cried the old woman, rising, and staring in fear at the beautiful girl, whose face had gradually grown pale and ab- stracted, as though she were communing with invisible things. The girl came back to herself with a laugh and cried playfully, "Mother, you need not alarm yourself. I don't mean that he has false whiskers and a limp. I mean only that there are two men in Mr Fancourt, and that one of them isn't a bit nice, is like a frightened cur. I noticed also that while be has been hers, he never looked in my face once. Now Mr Crane always looks me straight in the eyes, and I like him for that." "Yes, my dear, I think Mr Crane a very honest man." "I think so, too, and I don't believe Mr I Fancourt is- but hush, mother, and sit down for goodness' sake. Here comes Mr Fancourt with bis pormanteau." CHAPTER XII.—THE HOME-COMING ow I' FKANK JEATKBS. On his way from the Furham station to Muscovy Place, J eaters had plucked up courage. He persuaded himself that he had done very little, if anything, blameworthy. At the worst he bad been only a tune inconsiderate in his talk, and the leaving of the trap-door open was no more than an accident, or a piece of repre- hensible carelessness, of which there was no need to think further, as nothing untoward would come of it. He should be back at the Verdon to-morrow, telling Pollie of—well, telling Pollie something or other, fact or fiction, but if fiction, harmless fiction this time; suppose, about his chance of being appointed private secretary to a great nobleman, or getting an appointment t the head office in town. He opened the shop door at Muscovy-place just as Mrs Orr, in a painful state of trepidation, sank back to her seat at the head of the counter inside the window. Here I am with my modest belongings," said he to the two women as he let his portmanteau drop to the floor. Edith had gone back to her former post by the counter.. "Oh," said the girl, you have brought your portmantea." "Yes," he answered, looking at her straight in the face for the first time, and smiling brightly. He had acquitted himself of all charges, and could look the whole world in the face now. He had banished all tragic thoughts from his mind, and might now, surely, without reproach, feast his eyes on the radient beauty of this blithe girl. In ail his life he had never until the past couple of days denied himself the pleasure of ex- ploring lovely eyes, he was accustomed to the smiies of lovely eyes, and he knew the girl before him had the most heavenly and inspiriting smile ever encountered; and 1 yet now when his gaze rested on her face it was sober, not to say grave. He looked au the mother. Mrs Orr looked still more dis. quieting she seemed troubled, almost terrified. He glanced from one to the other. He felt at first perplexed, then uneasy, and finally alarmed. He found no welcome on the face of either women. He knew they had Tueen a iong time on the look out for a lodger, and that they were poor. He had taken the xooma without bating them a penny. It was as clear as noonday he was not welcome in this house to-day. Why ? Had anything happened at the St. VIncent" ► and were these two women in possession Of all the; facts ? He knew he changed colour, had pale. It was a good job he had put down the valise, or it would have fallen from his unnerved' hand. "I—I suppose," he said hesitating and stammer- ing, I suppose I may go upstairs 7" His manner was enough to convince the most confiding and innocent that something was wrong. On receipt of John Crane's letter, and while discussing it with her daughter, it had more than once come into Mrs Orr's mmd that the letter sprang out of Crane's desiro to guard Edith from contact with a good- looking and attractive stranger. No loyer^could be insensible to the danger of finding such a possible rival in his way, under the very roof with the girl he loved. In addition to the reasons mentioned to Edie for pausing before turning away this desirable lodger, was the feeling that John Crane wished him gone for considerations apart from the security of the stock. But Fancount's present manner was more conclusive than sworn evi- dence against him. In this house this man should never stay. That Mrs Orr now fully resolved. He looks at this moment like a man who knew the police were after him. When he glanced at the door before speaking to Edie. it was as though he expected to see constables coiring in with handcuffs for him." On question about his going up" stairs, Mrs Orr looked at her daughter with trembling apprension. To her horror, she heard 'I tho girl say :— Shall I carry your portmanteau for you ?" What I" he cried. You carry my port- manteau upstairs!" His worst fears were not confirmed by the question. She had not said I Your wife is dead. We cannot have a mur- derer in the house." He began to recover from I his fear. He tried to smile. "Surely," he said, you do not suppose me capable of allowing you to do such a thing ? I merely wished to I know if I was at liberty to go to my rooms ?" Mrs Orr looked at her daughter, and, unseen by him, made a gesture imploring the girl to dissent. Because, you see, Mr Faneourt," said Edith, coldly, "we are in the unfortunate position of having no servant, and until we get one we shall t be in a difficulty about attendance. My mother is not strong, and I—1 am not used to it." Bless my soul, Miss Orr, your serious face alarmed me," cried the man. I would not for any consideration have you think of attending on me. I can easily manage for a day or two until you find a servant." Never in his life bad he experienced such relief. He had been expecting to hear a tale of appalling ghastliness in the sequel of which he knew not how he might figure; and here was he met by one of the most commonplace of domestic troubles! He burst into a loud, long, hysterical fit of laughter, and clutched the glass case on the counter for support. He is an escaped lunatic," thought Mrs Orr, gazing at him with the round eyes of powerless horror, and drawing back as far as her seat would allow. The girl did not flinch. She stood eyeing him severely. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, in a calm, clear voice. I see nothing to laugh at in what I have said. Perhaps as the attendance is not satisfactory you would rather leave the rooms. We shall be very glad to take them off your hands." He recovered himself at once, and cried, Oh! pray, excuse my most unbecoming behaviour. I nrtlSt have laughed or I should have died. But I did not laugh at what you said, but at some- thing in my own mind. Since I was here to-day I have been in town paying my bill at the last place where I lodged. I found myself at London Bridge with one shilling, and that shilling I broke to come down to Furham. When I spoke in my off-hand way of going somewhere for to-night it suddenly occurred to me that I had only fourpance with me, and the picture of my applying for admission to the casual ward flashed before my mind, and was too overwhelmingly comic to be resisted. I apologise most humbly to Mrs Orr and you for my ill-timed levity and boisterous con- duct. I do not remember ever to have so mis- behaved before. Mrs Orr, you, and you, Miss Orr will, I hope, be generous, and pardon me." No speech could have been better conceived or better spoken for the occasion. The voice and manner of the man was so full of sincere con- trition Mrs Orr forgave him at once. Her daughter, more nice, hung back and simply accepted bis apology by an inclination of her head. I feel," said he, with a very earnest manner, that my conduct has been very distressing. If you will kindly lend me a shilling for my railway fare, I will take myself off and get a bed in my old lodgings until you are quite ready to receive me." Mrs Orr handed him the shilling, and with it passed from her all faith in his honesty. She felt sure that if he had only succeeded in sleeping under her roof that night they would have been robbed before morning. He pocketed the money, bowed, and left, saying he would call to-morrow, and that he hoped Mrs Orr would not allow herself to worry about the servant as a. few days made absolutely no differ- ence to him. I'd have given a. sovereign, ay, a five-pound note, to be rid of him. Ho's a thief if there waa was a thief. We shall never see that shilling or Mr Edward Fancount again, thank heaven, my dear," said Mrs Orr with a sigh of relief when the door was shut behind him. But, mother, he has left his portmanteau, and he never got back his watch, which alone is worth ten or twelve pounds," said the girl. He will be back to-morrow. What on earth are we to do, Edie ? cried Mrs Orr in despair. "I'll send a note at once across the river to Mr Crane, asking him to come to us. He is sure to know more about such matters than we do, mother, and I'm certain he will come." He will, I am sure," said the mother, with a quiet smile to herself. Jeaters did not turn to the right when he got at the top of Muscovy-place, as ho should if he were going to walk to Verdon. It would be safer, he reflected, to go there by tram; in the first place they might see him from Orr's, and it would be wiser to seem to go back to town. Verdon was the first stop on the way up, and he could book for London Bridge and get out at Verdon. Indeed, for the future it would be safe, to come and go by train, for the chance of being traced would be much less than by road. He would always come and go by train in future. In future Then there was a future for him once again Once again he could look forward to cheerful everyday events Once again he could dwell with pleasant anticipation in what the morrow would bring forth There would be sunshine on the clouds in the sky, and people in the teeming streets, and cigars to be smoked in quiet hours. No doubt, there was still Pollie, but really she did not do any active barm, and never interfered with him, or questioned the truth of what he told her. If he were not tied to her, if he were not bound down to her she would not be so bad; she would be quite, or almost quite satisfactory, if he were a man of no ambi- tion—if he, like nine men out of ten, like ninety- nine out of a hundred, were content to live his life without aspiring to a career of brilliant success. And then there was Edith Orr. He should keep the lodgings he had taken, and visit Furham everyday, just for a change. He should go there the very next day, and tell the Orrs they need not trouble about a servant, for he did not think he should sleep there at all, and he could easily get his meals out. And as to the future, beyond a few days or weeks ? Well, let the far-off future, the future of a few weeks hence, answer for itself when it came. The present and the immediate future were enough to take heed of just now, and there was nothing threatening or dangerous in them, they were pleasant enough. What a fool, an idiot he had been last night, and in the earlier part of to-day, troubling himself about imaginary evils, about fancied catastrophes! And here was Verdon at last, in the early dark, with the cheerful gas lights springing up. And now to make up a story for Pollie, who would swallow with implicit faith any ho told her. Well, he hadn't been very good to her of late; and out of con- sideration for his neglect of her, and her willing- ness to believe what he told her, let him make his story as artistic and credible as he could. Here was St. Vincent-place now. After his wanderings and his frantic terror it looked familiar and homelike. To be sure, the Place seemed a little lonely and deserted and the great hotel dark and lightless and dead. But, then, it was the inner side of a dwelling one knew as home. It was the warm light and the cheerful welco'me known to await one within that com- forted one when one came in view of the house he lived in and Jeater's knew the bright lamp would be burning in the small sitting-room, and he was sure no man in London would have a warmer welcome than he this evening. After all it was not the four walls or the lamp, but the human heart of sympathy and love you expected to find open to you that made the difference between all other places and home. I Jeaters opened the wicket gate in the great cats of the hotel yard, passed into the hotel yard, fnd walked up to the back entrance or shore end „f t-iie great hall. It was quite dark within the great hall. Testers could see nothing, absolutely nothing, but a few feet of the marble pavement at the thOne o'f Pollie's favourite songs was As I view those scenes so charming." He had, dozens of times suDg it for her, and often turned it to an amusing use by singupg the first line on seeing «r»ne unlovely place. Often and often he had used the first bars of the song as the herald notes of his approach She knew him by them. In the old days before she had them that not only was he coming, but that he 'nO" in good humour. I the darkness him. ° £ Wd" urs'at dark hall with quick steps, .»d"StVn.atA. The floors were open, lnere was a jignt in neither room. He stole on tiptoe m the sitting- room, and looked round. He sTepSnto the bedroom and looked round.- He S't out into the great hall, and stood in thHe SKna soft voice, "poUiel" He called in a soft VOIce, Noanswer. „ Then louder, Of poIlle No answer. 1\ P « t" I Then louder atiU, 0 18 Th^calling of her name now made him reool- lect bis calling her name three times the night before last. But there was a difference, a terrible difference. before tart he caw b figure. Now he saw no figure. Then the great river door at the end of the hall was open, and the trap-door was closed. Now the great river door at the end of the hall wa4 closed, and the trap-door was open! Open, was it ? Let him try. His match had burnt out. He lit another. He stepped over softly to-the left sid&of the' hall. Yes, the trap-door was open. And Pollie was gone! ( To be continued.)

AN EXTRAORDINARY CAREER OF CRIME. Lord Sherbrooke made a. good deal of money during his nine years at the Australian bar, but I there is only one forensic speech of his at the Antipodes that is worthy of comparison with his oratorical triumphs in this country. The occa- sion was a sensational trial indeed—the appalling' finale of a lurid life. One of the oldest and most respected of English families—whose head sits in the House of Lords, and whose name is by no means unfamiliar in the Commons, had the misfortune in the early years of the century to be cursed with a son who developed extraordinary criminal instinct in his very boy- hood. He was sent to sea, and had risen to the position of a commander in the Royal Navy when he committed a robbery, was tried at the Old Bailey, and transported to Australia under a sentence of 14 years. On landing in Sydney, "Smith," as we shall call him, was promptly liberated on ticket-of-leave, and then he gave full play to his criminal instincts, committing nearly every crime in the calendar I short of murder. At length the Colonial authorities resolved to send him to that lonely speck in the Pacific, Norfolk Island, which was then reserved for the worst and most incorrigible prisoners. He was accordingly placed on board a Governmentbri in company with some forty other irreclaimable criminals. One night the brig was caught in a terriffic storm, and bmith," notwith- standing that he was heavily irened, contrived to get on deck, seize a quantity of arsenic, and throw the poison into the ship's cooking utensils. Next day every soul on board, save Smith" and nine other desperadoes whom he had taken into his confidence, was seized with violent pams and became absolutely helpless. Thereupon "Smith" and his confederates took possession of the brig and ruthlessly threw oveboard alike the dying and the dead, not even sparing their fellow-convicts, who, in their irons, were brought up one by one and cast into the sea. Smith then assumed com- mand of the brig and sailed away for America. What a situation for Mr R. L. Stevenson Un- fortunately for himself, "Smith" touched at a New Zealand port, where the brig was recognised and recaptured, Brought back to Sydney, Smith turned informer, alleging that his part in the piratical seizure was played under compulsion. So he saved his neck, while his nine confederates were hanged. On the urgent solicita- tion of very influential people, "Smith" was given one more chance, and permitted to remain in Sydney as a labourer in the Government dock. yard. But one morning a poor widow was found lying in her house barbarously murdered with a tomahawk. One finger had been severed and taken away, the murderer ih his haste being unable to pull the gold ring off. The ring was soon afterwards pawned for a small sum, and, from the pawnbroker's description. "Smith was promptly identified and arrested as the murderer. Robert Lowe was retained for his defence, ana the facts of the prisoner's guilt being conclusive, he relied solely on the plea of "instinctive criminality," supporting it in a speech of marvel- lous power and psychological insight. But it was all of no avail. Smith was convicted and executed.

BALLOON ACCIDENT AT LLANELLV. A Thrilling Incident. A thrilling incident occurred at the Llanelly Football Club Sports on Monday afternoon in connection with the ascent of a balloon. Mr Arthur Charles Spencer and Miss Spencer were announced to take part in a balloon and para- chute display, but the young lady was not present. About five o'clock preparations were made to inflate the balloon by means of hot air. A trench had been made in the middle of the well-known football field for the pur- pose, and a five having been built the air was sent into the balloon through a chimney three or four feet high. During the operation of filling the balloon about two dozen men, who had volunteered to do the work, were holding the ends of the balloon on theground,and as it grew in magnitude, and the huge bladder was rocked to and fro by the high north-west wind which prevailed at the time, these men were tossed about, which caused con- siderable amusement to themselves and the .crowd which stood on the stand and around the ropes. As the time drew nearer for the ascent, and the balloon, which had a capacity of 60,000 feet, grew in dimensions, the excitement increased to fever heat, and the ascent was awaited with eager interest. Suddenly, however, an incident arose which struck terror into tho hearts of all. The balloon was almost full enough of air for the ascent at about a quarter-past five; at that time Mr Spencer was preparing himself for the ascent. The balloon continued to rock to-and-fro, and it appeared almost beyond the power of the score or more men to hold it under restraint. Presently a sudden move was perceptible amongst the men on the west side, and as the balloon was seen to rise gently above the ground on that side Mr Spencer quickly told some of the men to cling to the ropes to keep it down. The men endeavoured to do so, but failed, all efforts to keep the balloon down being unavailing. Seeing this, Mr Spencer rushed forward, but as he did so the balloon continued to ascend, and quite a stampede followed, the people around the nalloon rushing away. Those below Ü, however, made a gallant attempt to hold on, but the effort was abortive. Several of those engaged then let go, and Mr Spencer ran towards the tachute which was ready for the ascent. Then a thrilling scene occurred. The balloon rose, half-a-dozen men were struck violently down, and fell on to the trench and into the small pit alongside, and as the balloon got higher one of the poor fellows was seen clinging to the ropes, and as he was being drawn along, just above the ground, he struck against half-a-dozen men, who were hurled to the ground. The balloon was filled about 20 yards from the stand, and as it went in that direc- tion and drew the man swiftly along, the latter fortunately struck against the bottom of the railings, which caused him to loosen his grasp of the rop;s. This was, indeed, a miracle, for if he had not struck against the railings he would have been carried up with the balloon, which rose swiftly into space. Several of the ladies present screamed with terror, and the scene which followed almost baffles description all the people made a rush to the spot where the poor fellow lay, but the police and others kept them back, and the injured man was carried to the open field. He appeared quite unconscious, but in a short time he recovered, and it is satisfactory to know that he was not seriously injured. The balloon and parachute went gallantly along at a great height towards the Gower coast (Pen- clawdd), and must have dropped a considerable distance from the field. Mr Spencer then ascended the stand, and addressed the assembled crowd, several expressing great indignation at the occurrence. Mr Spencer expressed regret at the incident, and explained that it was quite beyond control, owing to the wind. He, however, pro- mised that be would make the ascent in the field again as soon as he recovered the balloon. The injured man, who is about 55 years of age, is Mr John O'Brien, High-street, a labourer at the South Wales Tin-plate Works.

A THREATENING LETTER. At Winchester, on Saturday—before Mr Justice Wills-Frederick William Andrews (M), car- penter, was charged with sending a letter to Phoebe Andrews threatening to kill her.—Mr C. Tyrrell Giles prosecuted.—The prisoner lives at Bournemouth, and on Friday was tried and con- victed of setting fire to certain buildings, on April 28th, in the possession of a Mr Weayer, a builder, doing damage to the extent of £1,000. On April 27th he sent the threatening letter to his stepmother (his father having been dead many years), whohad always treated him with great kind- ness. He pushed the letter under Mrs Andrews's shop door about 10 p.m., after having first smashed a number of panes of glass. There was insanity in his father's family, but the gaol surgeon said he had been unable to find any trace of insanitp in the prisoner, who himself stated that it was through drink that his crimes were committed.—In his defence the prisoner now merely observed that he was sorry for sending the letter, but he had done it in a passion, having no ill-feeling towards Mrs Andrews.—He was found guilty. He had been previously convicted of arson in 1883, and in 1885 was sentenced at these assizes to eight years' penal servitude for placing obstructions on the railway and thus en- dangering the lives of passengers. He was now sentenced to 10 years' penal servitude.

U1 DAMAGES FOR SEDUCTION. At the Leeds Assizes on Saturday, before Mr Justice Day and a Common Jury, the action of Wilson v. Wilson was decided.—Mr C. Mellor appeared for the plaintiff; the defendant being represented by Mr Waddy. Q.O., and Mr Banks.-The plaintiff, Isaac Wilson, a grocer, living near Helmsley, brought the action for damages for the seduction by the defendant of bis sister, Emily Wilson, who lived with him, kept his house, and assisted in the management of his business. Notwithstanding the identity of names no relationship existed between the parties. The defendant was a local preacher and class teacher. Miss Wilson gave birth to a child of which she alleged the defendant was the father.—The Jury found a verdict for the plaintiff, assessing the damages at J3500, and judgment was given accordingly.

A MUSIC-HALL ARTISTE BURNT TO DEATH. On Saturday night while Wm. Amery Orr, Music-hall artiste, known in the profession aa Will Lyons, was extinguishing a paraffin lamp at his residence in Liverpool, he seems to have turned the flame into the oil vessel, which ex- ploded, The burning oil went over him, inflict, ing such terrible injuries that he died on Sunday Deceased, who was 24 years of age, travelled with a man named Tracey, as variety artistes. He had an engagement at Stockton this week.

THE editor of the Mediaai Annual ait era care ful examination of Cadbury's Cocoa, pronounces it to h both a food ftud of the bistort anaUtv Mi)

.Recollections of a London Detective. > BY- DETECTIVE-SERGEANT WM. HOLBORN. "THE MYSTERY OF,A- FEIGNED, MADNESS.* IN TWO PARTSr-PART IL We got cabby to whip up as soon as we were clear of the heavy traffic, and in about twenty minutes reached Pratt's house. On the way we had disouseed the position, and decided not to use our search-warrants if we could avoid doing so. Mac's suggestion was a good one, and we acted upon it. The house was rather a nice one,, with a garden in front and behind, and the door was opened by a smart servant girl, who showed us into a prettily-furnished parlour wtiile she took our tmJnes-any we could thtnk of at the moment-to her mistress. When the lady ap. peared I studied her face a little, and saw that she was agitated and watchful, and would need careful handling. 'Morning, ma'am,' I said, affecting the style of a fence who knew how to buy cheap, and bringing out Pratt's business card to put into her hands. We've just come from your husband's place, and we want to look at some of the things-you know what I mean,' and I favoured her with a low wink, which did not seem to raise me in her estimation. 'Surplus stock, as one might say,azid I nudged Mac, and we made a big coarse laugh between us. MrsPratt looked at us as if she could have kicked us both for the low familiarity, but then, thinking better of it, she led the way upstairs to a couple of rooms which were crammed choke-full of bundles, bales, and webs of stuff, from the finest silk and velvet to the commonest cotton. We could not have gone over them all in a forenoon, but we did turn out a web here and there, and found Stan- didge's private marks on several of them. Mrs Pratt watched us keenly all the while, so we had to make a show of looking at thest and passing opinions on its quality to each other, while we were really discussing what to do next. I was a little excited and jubilant; Mac, as usual, was as cool as a cucumber. When he had settled the matter, I said to the lady— We've arranged to take them all, and Mr Pratt is sending along a waggon to remove them, so, if you've no objections, we'll wait and help the man to carry them out." "I scarcely think I could let them away without I a line from my husband," was her cautious answer, and then I thought I might risk it a I little and said- Oh, the man will bring that with the waggon. Ob, it's ail right, ma'am," and I winked again very hard. "It's only for safety they're being taken away. You understand—in case the oops might get 'em." Mrs Pratt gave us a very haughty answer, but allowed us to stay, and even sent in the servant girl with wine and hiscuits. We finished the wine between us in great glee, and by that time the waggon lumbered up to the door. As I had guessed, the driver had a note which I saw him hand to Mrs Pratt. X was at the end of the lobby watching the side of her face while she read, lest there should be anything in the note to give her a clue to our real character and business, but she read the line through without showing either suspicion or alarm, and finally said to the man— "It is all right tnese-these-gentlemen will I help you to carry the things out." I nudged Mac and whispered— "Did you see how the word 'gentlemen' seemed to stick in her throat ?' "Ay, ay; that's because I have you wi' me," was his dry response. Mrs Pratt laid down the brief note on the lobby table, and the moment her back was turned I secured the paper. It merely directed her to allow the man to remove all the stuff at once, and to have him helped if necessary, as there was great danger impending. We led the man up- stairs, and helped him to carry down the stuff, the servant girl lending a band cheerily. When it was all on the wamjon and covered up with the waterproof-cloth, I said to the man— Do you know where to take it to ?" Oh, yes," and he pulled out a card from his pocket and placed it in my hand, saying, Mr Pratt gave me that address." I scanned the card, and there read in Pratt's handwriting the name and address of a not very scrupulous dealer at the East End, who bad also an auctioneer's licence. That's right," I said, handing back the card. You'll go there at once, but we may not go all the way with you. Now, dnue on." The explanation of this modesty on our part is that the auctioneer knew us both well enough to have scented danger the moment he clapped eyes on us. The only chance then was that of picking up an unknown man on the way to follow the waggon and never let the stuff out of sight, which we did manage to do by Mac going on before and sending a man back from the Station-house to meet the waggon. I followed at a distance till the auctioneer's was reached. The waggoner gave the auctioneer a note, which luckily for him- self that cunning rascal did not destroy, and they were proceeding to unload the waggon when Pratt himself appeared in a hansom. He stepped out quite briskly at some distance from the auctioneer's premises,and unluckily right in frontSof the public- house from which I stood watching the unloading of the waggon. He had eyes like a hawk too, and the first thing they lighted on was my face indeed our eyes met, and we saw and recognised each other with a mutual start of disagreeable sur- prise, After all it was only quickening matters a little, for I had intended to drive off to his place and take him as soon as I saw the goods under safe guard. Pratt staggered as he stepped forward, and I advanced out of the doorway of the public. house to meet him. "You didn't expect to see me here?" I said, smiling out as his face became more pale ana clouded with concern. He pulled himself together I in a moment, and brazened the thing out. He affected not to know what I meant by arresting him, and dared me to attempt such an outrage—he hoped I would only try it, I didn't disappoint him; and I was so nettled by his impudence that I clapped a pair of handcuffs on him, which I should not ha vedone if he had been quieand civil. About half of the waggon-load had uow been deposited in the auctioneer's warehouse—my man looking on all the while-so before taking Pratt away I marched him in there. The auctioneer took alarm at the mere sight of my face, and said- I hope there's nothing wrong with this lot, Sergeant ? If there is, I know nothing of it, for there's the first intimation I got of the consign- ment," and he hastily shovedmto my hand a brief note in Pratt's writing to the effect that they sent by bearers quantity of soft goods for sale by auc- tion, adding that a list of reserve prices would be forwarded during the day. The letter was signed "Pratt and Co." The list of reserve prices we found in Pratt's pooket on searching him at the Station- house, and it was evidently low enough to allow of rapid sales. I sent for more men and we had all the goods taken into the auctioneer's, and then we had a nice haul of prisoners to march off—the waggoner, the auctioneer and his assistant, and Pratt himself. Mrs Pratt and her servant were also taken the same afternoon. As soon as that was arranged I went to the firm of Standidge and Son, and asked to see the principal. I found him to bean elderly gentleman, with a cloud of trouble on his mild face, which even my good news regarding the extensive seizure did not dispel. I had expected a warmer reception. He sat looking at me, weary, abstracted, and despairing, instead of rising with a beaming face to thank me. At length he said- I am glad that Pratt has been found out, for I always thought him a rascal, though he was too useful to us to be lightly dismissed, till lately. But, Mr Holljorn, I am more concerned for the present about the absence of my son. He went out to a party orr Tuesday evening—a quiet, nice affair, with singing and music and a. dance for the young people. In the middle of it all James my son, disappeared..Someone had called for nim, and it is supposed that he left in company with that mysterious visitor. He has been a little fast, like most young men, but he never before stayed away from home 80 long without sending an explanation, and I am beginning to get alarmed." Who are tha young man's companions? Have you made inquiries at any of them ?" "Well, no," he answered, with a little hesita- tion. You see—well, the truth is one of these companions was that very rascal Pratt, whom you have taken to-day, and as Pratt and I disagreed when we disoharged him, I did not care to have any further intercourse with him. I don't think they've been together lately, for I forbade James his company. My real fear is that my son may have got into evil company and been robbed—and possibly murdered. There are wretches in London who would do that for half a crown." This remark I allowed to pass unchallenged, for while Mr Standidge had been speaking I had been busy recalling that queer shouted-out mes- sage of Sings' in the chapel at Newgate. With a queer creeping feeling tingling over my body I pulled out my note-book to ges the exact words of that message, and there clearly read the first line ae- Stnndidge's mouth is closed." Even you detectives do not know half of the crimes that go on every day in this city," con- tinued the old gentleman with energy, not' noticing the horrified expression of my face. Why they'll take a man on the Embankment there, choke him senseless, rob him, and pitch him into the river right under the noses of the police. I know those that it has been tried on. The men go amissing, sometlmes their bodies are found, and sometimes not; but it's murder all the same. Now sergeant, they say you know the worst parts of London as well or better than anyone in the fordte. Could you not take in hand to And my sou Y I should have given in the case sooner, but I've been always expecting him home —or a letter." Unless I can get some clue to work upon I well loot for a pw at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean," I remarked; but while I said so to him. I thought that such a. clue would not be hard to find. In the first place, I laid it down as almost certain that young Standidge's disap- pearance was connected in some way with the whole conspiracy and robbery of Pratt and Co., ¡ and if that premise proved sound there were so many in that conspiracy that I did not despair ¡ of finding a leak somewhere. If a murder had been committed, and I could be certain of the facts, then someone, surely, in that group would be eager to save his own neck at the expense of the others. I left Mr Standidge, and took an hour or two to decide where I should first look for the leak. I had sent Mac for Bings while I had been gone, and he was duly brought in, looking terrified enough. But after a little while I decided that Bings was not in the inner circle of the conspirators, but a mere hireling, who had 1 been called in ta perform a disagreeable task. There was no one I felt more strongly inclined to test than Pratt himself, but it was from him I expected least. I went to the cell in which he had been locked up, and said to him abruptly— "Look here, Pratt. The plunder is got and identified, and you are clearly booked for a. smart sentence. Have you any objection to say what has become of young Standldge 1" None—none at all," ho answered with a blink of a, devil's smile, and a great deal too much readiness for me te trust much to what was to follow. Young Standidge is the principal in this business, and has bolted to save himself from what has fallen on me. I was a mere tool in his hands. Oh, what a fool 1 have been 1" While he said that he was watching me cun- ningly out of the corner of his eye to Sbe how the hes went down. He was not very like a man who could be a mere tool in the hands of any one— especially of a. young fool scarcely half his age I looked at him, and wondered whether he thought me simple enough to believe all he had said. If he did, he was not paying me a great compliment. It took no great exertion of intellect on my part to decide that exactly the reverse of what he had said was nearer the truth—namely, that young Standidge had been a tool in the hands ef Pratt. "Have you any idea where he baA gone to? for, of course," I added by way of a. lure, "we would much rather get hold of the principals than the mere tools in this affair." I looked very artless and simple while throwing out the bait-a. trick I am rather good at—but somehow the fish didn't bite. Pratt was quite a match for me, and would let out nothing that was not likely to benefit himself. I had to leave him, and for two days we set in motion all the means at our command for tracing a missing man, but with- out the smallest success. At the end of that time two incidents came to our aid just when we seemed most helplessly at fault. The warehouseman, Joseph Eggers, confined in Newgate, seemed to have thought better of his position, and offered to tell all if a clear pardon were guaranteed to him. He was told that he might consider that assured if there was no murder in the case, whereupon, strangely enough, he became more doggedly silent than ever. What inference could be plainer ? Clearly there was a murder in the case, and the name of the victim was not difficult to guess. All this information was mercifully withheld from the elder Mr Standidge. To find that his only son was first, a robber, and then had been murdered by his unscrupulous companions in crime, might have laid the poor father in the grave. About the same time a man called desiring to see Pratt, and giving bis own name as Hugo Pratt, brother of the accused. Being asked if he was a solicitor or law agent, he replied in the negative, and was therefore re- fused admission. This Hugo Pratt had not nearly such a distin- guished air as his brother. He was poorly clad, and had a needy and dissipated look. Perhaps it was his appearance, or the insolence and importu- nity with which he advanced his claim that attracted attention but when he left he was fol- lowed. First he went to the chambers of a law agent who had already been engaged by the ac- cused to conduct the defence. He was there only a few minutes. He then moved eastward, and stopped on the way at a public-house, where he had half a a quartern and some sandwiches. He swallowed the drink, but put the sandwiches into his pocket. He went steadily on till he came to a stable-yard, where a number of costers kept their carts and donkeys. All the costers were out in the streets, and the place was deserted. Unluckily as he was crossing this yard, Hugo Pratt caught sight of the man who had followed him, and whatever had been his purpose was immediately abandoned. He struck a light for his pi po. moved with affected carelessness out of the yard, and took his way back, and eventually landed in his own mean lodging, from which he did not issue that night, We went all over that yard, and through the stables surrounding it, that night, without making any discovery, or getting the faintest clue to Hugo Pratt's strange visit to that queer place. I set a strange man on to follow him next day. Pratt lay long, and when he did emerge from his hole was very wary. The man was quite a match for him, however, and in the course of the afternoon saw him make his way to a coster's wife who had taken up her stand near the Bank. With that woman he conversed carelessly for a few minutes, and ended by taking some of her stock, without payment, and eating it before her eyes, a liberty which she did not resent in the least. A little in- quiry showed that this husband was in prison for assault, and that he and his wife rented a stable in the yard which had been so mysteriously visited by Pratt the day before. The stable, however, was empty, as their donkey and cart had been sold, and the barrow used by the woman was simply left in the yard at night. We had not been able to find the key of that par- ticular stable on our visit, but had nevertheless got into it, only to find it empty. When these facts were reported to me I became curiously interested in that empty stable. Hugo Pratt, so far as I was aware, did not know my face, and I resolved to track him myself that night disguised as a coster in case of accidents. One of the strange utterances of the oosterwoman to Hugo Pratt as he lingered by her barrow had been—"If be gets a good breakfast and some supper he's werry well off-many on us don't get that same," a remark which Pratt very heartily endorsed. My man heard this, and noted it down, aud thought the reference was to a donkey; but I didn't. I thought my man was a donkey to believe so. Pratt did not stay out late that night; he was home and in bed by ten o'clock. He had taken some saudwiches with him and a small bottle of gin,^ neither of which he used at his supper. At twelve o'clock he rose, lighted the gas in the room, dressed hurriedly, and stepped out of the house. He went east, to the co3ter's stable-yard, but by a very circuitous route. Ho was a very wary customer to track, and I never had a harder job than to keep him in sight without allowing him to suspect that be was being followed. The yard was empty, and be threaded bi9 way through the crowd of tilted-up carts, and went direct to the stable before named. He unlocked the door, took out the key after entering, and re- locked it on the inside. I saw a light struck imme- diately after, and then heard a scraping sound, followed shortly by a bang, and the sound of descending footsteps. The sound died away, and the twinkle of light went with it. He was about ten minutes gone. The footsteps returned; the twinkle of light came back; the bang sounded once more, and then he approached the stable door and listened intently. I could hear his breathing inside, but took care that he should not hear mine. Quite satisfied, he opened the door, and stepped out into my arms! He was quite taken by surprise, and evidently thought me one of the costers belonging to the yard, for I had a handcuff fastened on his wrist before be could struggle or fling about, as he did a moment later. I could not get him to bo quiet, and allow me to fasten the other handcuff, so I throttled him back against the stable door. The marks of my thumb nnd fingers were ou his neck three weeks after, but it was all his own doing-I only held him back, he pressed forward with all his might, and so almost choked himself. Finding that he would persist in hurting himself instead of giving in quietly, I got out my whistle and called two men wifb had been keeping me in sight while I was busy doing the same with Pratt. Then when ho was overpowered and hauled into the stable, lest the costers should be roused, and possibly attempt a rescne, we scraped away the litter from the floor of the stable and came upon a stone flag, which we raised. A narrow flight of steps was revealed, and by these I got down into a cellar below- a hole, I should say, about six feet square, in which was seated a vouitg man with a face as yellow and sickly nos If he had been shut up for a week in a common sewer. He seemed surprised at the sudden eruption into his den and I was no lessurprIsed to find that he had remained there when there was no fastening to the above. But I soon learned that there had been a fastening there, more powerful than any ever I forged out of iron or steel—the fastening of fear. The young fool-for the prisoner was James Standidge — had been in- veigled to that place and confined there under the impression that the police were after hhn, and that the whole jobbery was blown. A few ex- planations at the station-house, and more especially the revelation as to how he had been tricked, soon drew from him a full confession of the whole scheme. He bad been in want of money, and had asked the sum of £800 from his father to clear some pressing obligation. The money was refused, and at that juncture Pratt, who had him completely in his power, revealed a scheme by which he could" force money from his father without the father ever being the wiser." This plan, which was only dimly understood by the young fool, was the lifting of £6,000 worth of goods by the aid of the warehouseman Eggers. The robbery was done in open day, as coolly as if an ordinary consignment had been sent out by the firm. When it was over Pratt could not implement his promise to let young Standidge have £1,000 down as his share, and the dupe uttered some awkward threats. Immediately following these came the arrest of Eggers, who was strongly inclined to confess all, being in fear of young Standidge doing so before him. The message sent into the prison by means of Bings and his feigned madness reassured him, and at the same time gave him the idea that the dupe bad been murdered. The intention of the chief conspirators—the Pratts-I suspect had been to keep Standidge out of sight till they disposed of the stolen goods, and then fly the country together, leaving him to discover at his leisure what a fool ho bad been. The whole batch cf them were tried separately at the Central Criminal Court. Bings was proved to have had nothing to do with the robbery, and he got only six months with hard labour. The chief witness was young Standidge; and though it was an awful blow to his father to find him so deeply involved with the criminals, it was a great consolation to him to know that his son was not to go to "The Mill" with them. The gentlemanly Pratt got five years his brother got one year,ana the warehouseman the same. The genteel rascal, who was at the head of it a,U,never forgave tnetor my share in the laying bare of the whole case, as I shall prove in another case by-and-bye. But & great many flattering commendations were given me at the trial; and, after young Standidge had -been est free, and smuggled out of tho country bv his father, the old gentleman applied to the Com- j missioners, and was allowed to send me, through them, a splendid gold watch and chain, valued at £30. It is of far greater value to me on account of theinscription on the back. If ever I get into disgrace—and anyone may innocently make; a .1 slip at times—I hope the authorities will remem- ber this and dozens of other cases in which I worked like a slave, and saved stuff, the value of which is far beyond my powers of arithmetic. NEXT WEEK :— M TRACING DIAMOND STEALERS." (THB STRANGE CASE OF THE STRAND ROBBERY. )

A KNIGHTHOOD FOR MR BARNBY The Qaeen has conferred the honour of knight- hood upon Mr Joseph Barnby, late precentor at Eton Codege, and now principal of the Guildhall School of Music. School of Music. Sir Joseph Barnbyconducted the State concerts I given at the Albert Hall in honour of the Shah of Persia, the Czar of Russia, and the German Emperor. He also led the orchestra when the Queen opened the Colonial Exhibition and the ¡ People's Palace, and the choir of St. Anne's, Soho, and the Eton boys at the concerts Riven bv them before her Majesty at Windsor Castle. Sir I Joseph Barnby is the composer of many musical works. The Eton masters recently presented him with a silver loving cup, bearing a Latin inscrip- tion and the College arms, upon bis resignation of the school precentorship, which he had held for seventeeu years, on his acceptance of the post of principal at the Guildhall School of Music. Sir- principal at the Guildhall School of Music. Sir- Joseph Barnby will be conductor of the Cardiff Musical Festival. Mr Barnby (says a London contemporary) is I extremely popular. There is no doubt that he would have received a knighthood long ago had any precedent existed for the granting of the honour to a Precentor of Eton, who in a titular sense is the subordinate of the Provost. Born in Yorkshire in 1838, he was originally a choir boy at York Minster, and solely by his own talents and ability he raised himself to his high position in the world of music. To the public he will be best known as a prolific com- 1 poser of church and other music, and on account of the admirable work he has for nearly twenty years past done as conductor of the Royal Choral Society, our premier London oratorio choir. At the Albert Hall he has also directed all the Royal Command conoerts, while his services to music at Windsor, where he has fre- quently been brought into connection with the Court, have more than once been graciously acknowledged by the Queen and other members of the Royal Family. Mrs Barnby is also highly popular at Eton, and the Eton masters on Saturday expressed their appreciation of Mr Bamby's seventeen years' service as Precentor by presenting him with a massive silver loving cup, bearing a Latin inscription and the college arms.

A KNIGHTHOOD FOR THE LORD MAYOR. We are enabled to announce that her Majesty the Queen has been pleased to confet upon the Right HonQurable David Evans, the Lord Mayor of London, the honour of Knight Commander of the most distinguished Order of St Michael and St George. Intelligence of the distinction thus conferred upon the Lord Mayor will be received everywhere with satisfaction, but nowhere will it be more popular than in the Principality. By common consent the present Chief Magistrate of the greatest city in the d has fulfills! the respon- sibilities of that exalted office in a manner that has extorted praise rrom every quarter. He has distinguished himself by rare devotion to the manifold duties which devolve upon the Lord Mayor, and by his lavish hospitality has maintained the most splendid traditions of the Mansion House. His lordship is known to entertain pronounced political views, but he has risen above mere considerations of party and has dispensed hospitality without any regard to political perference or sectarian bias. When he entered upon his year of office he de- clared bis intention to efface from his mind all purelyparty predispositions,and right nobly has he kept that creditable resolve. The Lord Mayor has I in an especial degree won the regard of his fellow countrymen. From the outset he has brought prominently forward before the citizens of London his own connection with gallant little Wales." The annual civic procession was a dis- tinctively Welsh one, and sine then not a function ot any importance at the Mansion House has been allowed to pass without some feature which called to mind the nationality of the Lord Mayor. Everybody has still fresh in recollection the incidents of the Welsh National Banquet, where every worthy interest in Wales was worthily represented. Quite recently his lordship was received with the utmost cordiality during a State visit to South Wales, and the popular manifesta- tions on that occasion at Cardiff, Pontypridd, Llantrisanfc, Brecon, and Bridgend amply testi- fied to the appreciation felt by his countrymen for tha elevated patriotism he has exhibited. Welshmen everywhere will warmly felicitate the Lord Mayor on the dis- tinction which it has been the Sovereign's pleasure to confer upon him. It is a remarkable circumstance that the posi- tion of Lord Mayor of London should be filled by a Welshman at a period when there has been a wonderful rejuvenescence of national life in Wales such as has not been known for centuries. The circumstance is as notable as it is auspicious.

SIR GEORGE DISBS ON HIS PRISON EXPERIENCE. A Chronicle interviewer who met Sir George Dibbs, who leaves this week for Australia via Canada, asked him for an account of the im- prisonment which it is reported he once served. I served my twelve months, and I should have served twelve years, if necessary," said Sir George. "By unfair, illegitimate means I was cast m a civil libel suit for over £7,000. As a protest, and on the advice of my lawyer, I de- clined to pay the money, and went to prison. My lawyer advised me that if I served the twelve months I would liquidate the claim for £7,000 on me. Afterwards the judges by a majority held this to be bad law. So, although I did my imprisonment, I had to pay up when I came out. I would have appealed to the Privy Council only I was stumped. But upon the whole I had a very good time in prison. Being locked up on a civil action, I had my sitting-room, my dining-room, my books, my turning-lathe, and all the rest of it. With my turning-lathe I made articles which sold to defray the debts of other prisoners; I wrote newspaper articles, and I accomplished an amount of reading for which I have always been thankful. Moreover, I held levees, had all the principal people of Sydney to see me, and, in a wora, spent a very good year. My hardship came when I had to pay up the £7,000. only there was no getting out ot it." Sir Georgo also answered a question in refer. ence to his Republican views and his knight- hood :—" I have said that if your statesmen were to treat the colonies as the Georges treated America, they could not hold them for a day. If that's Republicanism I don't think anybody will take exception to it, least of all your statesmen, who, in their views as to the colonies, are so very far removed from the views which pre- vailed when America rebelled. The interest of English people as a body in the colonies is greater now than it was when I was last there. This seems that the connection betweeu the mother country aud the colonies is getting closer, that their mutual interests and sympathies are broadening out."

INGENIOUS NEIGHBOURS. At the West London police-sourt, on Saturday, Wilfred Waterman, aged 17, respectably dressed, was charged with stealing 10a by means of a trick.—On the 19th July the prisoner called at the house of Mr Bel), a gentleman, residing at Ashburuham Villa, Goldhawk-road, and saw the servant who answered the door. He 1 said, Cun you oblige the lady next door with change of half-a-sovereign ? The servant spoke to Miss Florence Bell, who went down and handed him the change. He said, "She did not know if you had the change, and will send the 10s." He went away, and Miss Bell sawfhitn walk as far as th3 next door, and he then ran off. In another case the lady took the change from him, not feeling disposed to part with her money with- out the half-sovereign. In a third case the prisoner obtained 10s in a similar way fro in Mary Ann Eales, a housekeeper, liviug in Churchfield-road, Acton.—Sergeant Turner said there was a num- ber of other cases.—Detective Wilkinson, who had made inquiries about the prisoner, informed the magistrate that he had going about in that way since March, after stealing plate be- longing to his employer, who refused to prose- cute.—Mr Curtis Bennett convicted the prisoner in two cases, sentencing him to three months in one and six weeks in the other.

ODDFELLOWS'DEMONSTRATION AT MERTHYR. On Monday, a. demonstration of the members of the Mertbyr district of the South Wales and Monmouthshire Order of Oddfellows was held at Merthyr, and en route the offerings of the public were collected by eight men with boxes, in aid of he General Hospital and the Widows' and Orphans' Funds of the Order. The marshal of the procession was Mr E. P. Nash, Lamb Inn, and the leading officials of the Order also present were: G.M., John Jenkins, 8, Mount-street, Grawen-terrace; D.S.M., .John Davies, Ply- mouth^street; S. Sec., D. H. Richards, Twyny- rodyn. About 200 members took part in the procession, which was headed bv a band, and marched from the Whito Horse ion, Twyny- rodyn to Dowlaia, thence to Grawen, Brecon- road, Bethesda-street, Dynevor-street, &c., and finally dispersed at the Lamb Inn, Glebeland. It is said the response of the publio upon this, the first occasion of a street appeal on behalf partly of the hospital, was not as liberal as was antici- pated.

A DECORATION FOR VOLUN. TEER OFFICERS. Friday nighty Gazette contained the Royal war- rant establishing the new volunteer officers' de- coration, which is to consist of h an oak wreath in silver, tied with gold, having in the centre the royal cypher and crown in gold," The decoration is to be suspended from the left breast by a green riband of one inch and a half in width, from a silver bar brooch. It is to be conferred oaly on volunteer officers who have served 21 years, t.Io»4 been recomwsnded by tha fwaijiuwding (I.

Where he will Never Wipe his Feet. j Broker Leo Parka, of the Board of Trade, tells of a funny experience he had recently with an Irishman on the platform at the Twenty-third- j street station of the Illinois Central. The broker has a high forehead—so high, in fact, that it extends nearly to the back of his neck—and the Irishman, who had a shock of hair on his head ? like a monkey-skin muff, caught sight of a section of the bare patch on the broker's bead that the ( felt hat failed to cover. How would yez like to thrade for a thatch) like this?" he said, pulling off his hat and showing a tangled mass of bair that had evidently not seen a comb or brush for six months. I "I would not have that thing for a door mat," j answered the disgusted broker. | "Faith," was the reply, drily spoken, ver | will niver wipe ysr own fate on yer own head. f I Unconsoious Ffim-Ham. Even a mathematician will get mixed in his calculations sometimes when changing mQney: back and forth. A hotel telegraph operator realises this tact, and nine men out of ten would have done ihe same thing that he did without { thinking. { One night a guest of the hotel handed in a mes- sage. The operator counted the words and announced that the charge was fifty cents. The gentleman handed over a ten-doUar bill, which the operator mistook for a one-dollar bill, and gave him back fifty cents. The gentleman left the hotel without noticing the mistake. Presently he discovered it and re- turned to the operator's desk. f Wasn't that a ten-dollar bill I gave yon a I while ago ?" he asked. The operator opened the drawer and looked &t the bill. Why, yes he exclaimed. I thought it was a dollar bill. Here it is," and he handed over the bilL Now I owe you fifty cents," said the entle- man. Ob, no, you don't," said the operator. Oh, yes, I do," replied the gentleman, The telegram was fifty cents, you know," and he I handed over a half-dollar and walked cff. I rm into that fellow fifty cents," remarked the operator to the bookstand keeper, and I can't make him see it." Not much," returned the bookstand man. He's into you fifty cants," and the operator has been trying to study it ever since. I What He Wanted, There was a puzzled look on his face when ha entered the drug store, as if he wasn't quite sure t he knew what he wanted. But he walked boldly up to the clerk and sid = Give me a bottle of mutton, tin and rum." I don't understand the order quite," replied the puzzled clerk. Confound it! I never can remember the names of things. Perhaps it's veal, copper and gin. Got any of that? No, sir. Try again." He walked up and down the floor a little while and got madder and madder. Presently he burst out fiercely,— See here The name of the thing is corned beef, brass and whisky, or something like that. It: £ full of meat, metal, and alcohol. Confound I your stupidity, you must know what it is The clerk felt like signalling for a fool catcher, but he restrained himself, venting his roused energies in pulling down a lot of bottles and put- ting them back again. The customer began figuring it out with him- self. "Let me see," he mused. "Is it pork, silver and brandy ? No, it isn't that. Chicken, lead and mercury ? No, that doesn't sound like it. Ham, fjold and alcohol ? No confound the blankety Just then his eyes lighted on a sign. He gave a grin and, pointing to it, said to the clerk, Give me some of that, and the clerk took his money and handed him a bottle of beef, iron and wine. "Vlhat stupid people drug clerks are," he soliloquized as he left the store. What She Wanted. ,I The clerk with the waxed moustache and bangs I listened rather impatiently while the little woman I explained what she wanted. "Yes, yes," he said at last, "I understand." He took down a roll of cloth and added, Here's just the thing." But I 6aid—" she began. I know," he interrupted. You want the cloth for a wrapper and this is something extra fine." Oh Is it ?" said the little woman. "Yes, it's all the rage," he returned, as be un- rolled the cloth. "It's just what you want, and it's cheap, too." "Really!" yes. It mashes you? complexion and nothing could be better for a wrapper." And you are sure I want it for a wrapper ?" I Why, I suppose, of course ——" I And you're quite oertain that this is the piece i of goods I want she interrupted. Really, I'm usually so accurate is my judg- ment that I can hardly believe I Can you think of anything else that I want f f she asked. t "No. madam," he replied, with some nervous- ness, I confess that I can't." Let me tell you, then," she said, eyeing hina sharply over the counter. "I want a clerk who will let me know a little something about what I want n.yself. ill you kindly ask the young woman at the next counter to come and wait on mer He did so, and she purchased material Jfar a teagown. His Father Wouldn't Catch On. The young man laid his cigarette down on the hall table while he went to interview his father ØÐ i the financial situation. After a few ppeliminarifts be said,— | By the way, pop, can I have a few stamps to-day ?" Postage stamps ?" inquired the father inno- cently. No, sir," was the impatient reply. I mean 'scads. my son ?" inquired the old gentle- man, in mild astonishment. I mea.n the tin,' of course." And what is the tin,' may Iaak 1" Ob, the ready,' don 't you know t" No I don't know." Don't you know, spondulix ?'" I can't say that I do. Who is be Aw, come off, pop. What I'm out for is the What stuff ?" Why, the 'soap,' of course." The soap ? Are you in need of a bath V and the father looked over his speoh inquiringly. No, no," impatiently. I mean the 'sugar. Oh. Sugar and soap ? Going to make a plaster. are you ?" "Pla.ater nothing. I want the 'chink. Chink ? Whatrs chink, pray ?" Why, it's dust.' Anybody knows that." Oh, yes, excuse me. Get the brush over I there." 'Tisn't that kind I want. It's rocks. Well, there's dust in rocks, isn't there V Won't you never catch on ?" exclaimed the; young man. I want the duff,' the where- withal,' don't you know; the rhino,' the boodle,' plain, ordinary, every day oub, pop that's what I want." "Oh." exclaimed the father, in agreatlyrelieved tone, here'a a dollar," and that's all tb«,young man got. A Common Case, There's a certain public man in Chicago'who has a habit of saying the next day after ghrntg a reporter his opinion an any matter, B'tame that young fellow, lie wrote about four times as much as 1told him." The man has a partnw- fat and jolly-who has beard the criticism- so often when he thought it undaeervid I ¡hat he thought he'd lay a lituie ¡ snare for its author. He instructed the steno- grapher of the firm—whose desk was very near that of the "certain public man's"—the nextv time a reporter came in to interview the c.p.m. she was to take down the entire conversation between them, and afterward make a typewritten L copy of it and give it to him, the partner taktngcare 1 that the a p.m didn't know anything about it- Nothihg whatever was said to avy reporter. One day last weok in came the representative of a paper and asked the c.p.m. what be thought of a certain matter. Laying down his pen, and | tilting his chair, the c.p.m. unburdened himself 1 freely. Next morning the result of the reporter's call appeared in type. Scarcely bad the c.p.m. reached his office and laid aside his ooat and hat ¡ when he burat forth: You remember that reporter coming in here and interviewing me yesterday ?" Guess so," answered the partner. Well. sir, he's done just what I wish to Heaven I could get the reporters out of doing I" Yes ? What's that ?" Making a quarter of a column out of half a dozen or so littte sentences I give them. How much would you think I said to that reporter yesterday ?" Oh, a few hundred words." Nonsense. Excuse me, but I know I didn't speak a hundred words of my opinion all told. You must remember that I chose my words very carefully and used few of them—surely you win recall that I did so." Oue of those half-earcaetic, very plaguing smiles —to the other fellow—spread over the face of the fat, jolly partner as he took from a drawer in his desk a bunch of type-written manuscript. Then he remarked, Have you a moment to spare T "Certainly," replied the c. p. m., with lamb- like innocence. The partner proceeded to read a verbatim re- port of every word that had passed between the c. p. m. and the reporter. What pictures were to be seen on the features of that c. p. m. a face may best be imagined. He is to be credited, how- ever, with having heard the document read en- tirely through. When the partner had finished he said; Now, Mr after eliminating all the re- marks that are plainly irrelevant to the subject matter of the reporter's call, and counting only those which it is reasonably plain you want for publication, you will find that you spoke exactly 2,347 words, or nearly a column and a half of opinion to that reporter, and you say that he his put it all into a quarter of a column—about 500 instead of 2,347 words Go out and buy the jtoung jaan a box of perfostos rudoit" said &8 he duur

ODDFELLOWS' JUBILEE AT PONTYPRIDD, Imposing Demonstration. The Pontypridd District of Oddfellows (Man* Chester Unity), established in 1842. on Monday celebrated its jubilee with considerable 4clat. The district embraces no fewer than 17 lodges, and the mCimbers numbering altogether from 900 to 1,000, turned out en masse to oelebrate this inter. esting epoch in the history of the Order. The demonstrationists wore favoured with delightful weather, and were honoured with the presence of the Grand Master of the Order, Mr Henry Flowers, of Norwich, to whom a most cordial reception was accorded along the entire route. The day'a proceedings commenced atone o'clock in the afternoon, when the members of the Lord Ad are, Ely Valley, and Pride of Glamorgan lodges left the Butcher s Anns, Peuygr&ig, for Dinas station, where they wera joined by the Rbys-Williams Lodge. Headed by the Tonypandy Brass Band, the procession marched on to Porth, being joined at the Ty'nycymmer Arms by the William Morgan Lodge. Forth was reached at two o'clv>ck, and here the members of the Order from the Rhondda Fach Valley were found in waiting. They cotnprised the members of the Brynawet Lodge of Ynyshir andtheRhys-ap-TewdwrLodge. At the bottom of the Cymmer hill another detachment fell in, headed by the Cymmer Brass Band. This detachment included the Teg Lodge members and the Seren Morganwg Lodge members. After a slight delay for marshalling purposes, the procession, which had now assumed gigantic proportions, marched over a distance of four miles to Ponty- pridd. The heat was well-nigh overpowering, and the processionists at times were almost com- pletely hidden in the clouds of dust that arose in course of the journey. The weariness of the march, however, was considerably relieved by the merry music of the joint bands, and, though tired as they must have been, the processionists appeared to thoroughly enjoy the novel march. While this was in pro- gress the various lodges of the Pontypridd district had assembled in the Mill-street School play. grounds, accompanied by the Pontypridd Brass Band. The Rbondda section reached the schools a few minutes before four o'clock, and after a few moments of well-deserved rt, the processionists again fell in. and, marshalled by Provincial Corresponding Secretary R. T. Richards (of Porth) and the district officers, entered the town and perambulated the principal thoroughfares m the following order Band, open carriage con- taining the Grand Master (Mr Henry Flowers); and the Past Grand Masters of the Pontvpridd District, Messrs Dd. Rowlands, Daniel Williams, Aaron Cula, and W. Seaton. Mr George Evans, Tyyica-crescent, rode in the carriage. Fol- lowing came the lodges in the order given below, the three bands occupying suitable positions at intervals Lst, Triumphant Lodge; 2nd, Good Intent; 5rd, Fraternity; 4th, Lord Adare 5th, Ann Powell 6th. Rbys-ap-Tewdwr 7th, Twyn Teg; 8th, Ely Valley; 9tb, William Morgan; 10th, Rhys Williams lith, Seren Morgau wg: 12th, Brynawel; 13th. Fairfield 14th, Merlin; 15th, Lily of Glyntaff 16th, Jabei Evans; 17th, Pride ot Glamorgan. Shortly after five o'clock the procession, which. attracted along the route many thousands ot spectators, returned to the assembly room of tha Butchers' Arms Hotel, whtire the following honorary members were initiated into the mysteries of tbe Order amid considerable enthu. siasm—Messrs Lloyd, Porth; Preece, Porth J. F. McCiuue. Pontypridd; W. Jone^-PowelL Pontypridd R. M. Evans. Pontypridd — Coles, Porth; Alderman W. ll. Morgan, Ponty- pridd Botterill, Trehairxs Rev Llewelyn Lloyd Davies, vicar of Llanwonno; Mr Morgan Rees, Glamorgan Hotel; Mr George Evaus, Brewery, Pontypridd; and Mr W. Seaton, Pontypridd. It is interesting to note that the district is in a most flourishing condition, both financially and numerically. According to the figures given in the course of an interesting ad- dress at the banquet by the P.C.S., R. J. Richards, the value of the lodge sick and funeral funds stands at and the manage- ment fund at £90 63 3d, while a sum of £88 Is 8d stands to the credit of the Juvenile fund. The value of the district funeral fund is £7112Ij, The demonstration was a moat imposing one, and the credit for its unique success is undoubtedly due to the energy of the district officers, Messrs Thomas Charles, Provo G.M., Medad Lewis, D. Prov. G.M., and R. J. Richards, Prov. C.S. In the evening the brethren assembled thousand strong around the festive board at the Market-hall, Pontypridd, wlwre a magniticent spread had been provided by Mr and Mrs Evans, of the County Hotel, The hall had undergone elaborate decoration, conspicuous places heing assigned to the gorgeous banners and regalias of the order. Mr R. Williams, of the Tredegar Hotel, catered the wines. His Honour Judge Gwilym Williams presided. The cloth having been removed, tbe usual loyal toasts were proposed from the chair and duly honoured.—Mr J. F. YwCl-; proposed the military toast, to which Major Grover responded. —Bi o. X>. Rowlands, P.P.G.M., gave the clerical toast, and the Rev H. J. Williams, B.A.. the vicar, and the Rev Dr Roberts spoke in response. Bro. A. CULE, P.G., in an appropriate speech, then presented the Gtand Master with ae ad- ,dress of congratulation. The album, which was beautifnlfy got up, was executed by Mrs Evan John, Llautriaant, and contained a aeriee of excellent photographs of local beauty, spots and places of interest from the etudio of Mr Thomas Forrest. The toast of "The Manchester Unity of Odd- fellows and the Grand Master was submitted by Mr W. JONES-POWELL, and honoured with enthusiasm. Mr HKNKY FLOWERS, of Norwich, the Grand Master of the Order, speaking ia raspouie, returned thanks for the flattering address of whkdl he bad been made the recipient at their bands. He regarded it not as an honour to him so much as a tribute of respect to theGrand Order of which he Vfaa that night a humble representative. He was proud to say that he had been a member of the Unity for 40 years, and it was interesting to compare the condition of the Order now with what it was at that period. In 1852 they had 453 districts, 3,219 lodges, and 225.194 members; whereas in 1891 they had attained 462 districts, 4.515 of 9 districts. 1,296 lodges, and 447.879 members. During the 40 years as many as 212,008 members and 127,160 wives liad died, and relief in resect of them bad been paid by the Unity to the extent of three million Marling. Since January 1st, 1891, 50.900 new members had enrolled, while the deaths and secessions iwnouuted to 23,286. leaving their present membership at 665,687, an increase over 1891 of 22,614. Their net gain for the past two- years had been 43,797, and he appealed to tbe brethren of the Pontypridd district to assist him to batter this record during his year of office. (Cheers.) Their receipts during 1891 from itfl sources had been £1,;)61.314 7s Id, and the tofcul payments Bl.086,810 138 SM, showing a favoura.Me. balance of £214,503 15s 4d. (Loud cheers.) He expressed satisfaction at the nificeØt demonstration be had witnessed that and fpoke of his delight at seeing iall along tb8 rout* the eaonwms material they had around them to make Odd- fellows ot. (I*nghtar and cheers.) He had DMB with pride the splendid homes provided for tha working classes in that district, and the beautiful structures they had erected for religious worship. Proceeding, the Grand Master spoke ct the vahia of irieadly sasiotiea, and impressed upon the members of tbe Ponty- pridd district the paramount importance of establishing juvenile branches and women'a societies in connection with the unity. The Trade of the Town and District war proposed by Mr Wm. Seaton, coupled with the tuuaaee of Mr Gordon Lenox, J.P., and Mr D. Leyshon* chairman of the Pontypridd Local Board. The remaining toasts were The POB (ypridd Districts of Odafellows M.U. proposed by BN. Geo. Williams, P.G., and acknowledged by Bro. R. J. Richards, ProY. C.S. The Chairman," proposed by Alderman W. H. Morgan, and drunk with musioal honours The Honorary Marabezs," proposed by Bro. U. J. Riciiardts, and replied to by Bro. George Evans; "Kindred Sooteties." submittad by Bro. Thoe. Charles, Prov. G.M., coupled with the names of Mr W. Jones, A.O.F. and Bro. J. H. Davies and The Press," submitted by Bro. William Hutebinge.

IETIQUETTE Of SALUT A 11011. The Spectator devotes considerable apace to < discussion of the question as to the proper form of salutation between man Alld MAB, or man and wornxn, not belonging to imprecisely the aame ceuehe saciale. That it is difficult question, we have (says the Spectator) ao sortol doubt. How many men are there ahve this day in England who can lay their hands upon tbetr hearts and swear that they are able to meet their maid-servants out walking without tbe slightest feeling of embarrassment as to how they shall acknowledge the met that they are not strangers ? It is obvious that, in some way or ano&er, master and maid must salute each other. What form M their salutation to taks? In old days, as the writer in the St. </<uacc'« Gazette points out, there would have btxm no difficulty, for the maid would have curtsied and the master swiltid. Such conduct is, how- ever, impossible nowadays, and therefore soma other plan must be found. In iheoiy it III qatto obvious, of course, what this should be. The master should take off his hat just as he waold take it oIf to any other lady, while tbe maid should acknowledge the eaJutewith that inflection of the head and neck, between a nod and a real bow, which is now called a bow. Unfortunately* however, is not half S(I easy a solution M tW difficulty as it looks. In spite, however, of fact that. to begin with at any rate, more rather en an less embarrassment would come from hat-lifting, we venture to racosraaend it to gentlemen, who find themselves in tha difficulty propounded by the writer in the SC. Jame s s GautIe. If enough people- would oaJy take to "capping" their maids, the shyness which now oaoaee embarrassment would aoon wear off. Again, the maid* wenld very soon hit on » bow becsnaisg to tha relation of employer and employed. Only in this way will it be possible to obtain a workable, and what is more, a comfOIiwilile arrangement in regard to salutations. In any ease, the idea of introducing a new form of itamtation to be practised on inferiors ia wboUy out of the question. Of that the writer in the James's Gatette may make quite sure. It is perhaps worth while to pursue little furtbar the ftatling which has caused the difficulty as to the proper mode of saluting 9 moid-servant. If tlxe British householder U6 been a person of addi«ss and graoe in regard to tbe conventional side of life. it is clear that the difficulty would nevaa- have arisen. As the smiling and cv died out, he would have passed quite easily to the hat-lifting. The true Briton is, however, not hing if not shy, awkward, sad BMiWOTiBnitiwr u Buectioea at BIMMI i