The Pontypridd Chronicle and Workman's News

JALL EIGHTS RESERVED.} I HlVAGABOND'S HONOUR, BY I ERNEST DE LANCEY PIERSON, I iUTHOR OF I "A SLAVE OF CIRCUMSTANCES," "THE SHADOW OF THE BARS," THE BLACK BALL," ETC. Anne i"mi.frr—and Mrs. Rossiter started as if somebody had uttered a profanity. I suppose, Mr. Rossiter," said the old lady, that your passionate scenes are not all the result of personal experience." "Naturally not. I am afraid," with a faint smile, that my wife would offer some insuperable objec- tions if I were to go in search of some of the adven- tures described in my books. She gives me invaluable aid herself, though, in posing as the heroine. That is where her dramatic ability comes in so valuable. The most important feature, how- ever, in a realistic romance is to create the atmosphere and vitalize the accessories and mwe- en-scene. Inaminate objects are quite as important in the parts they play on our x-eaiistic stage as animate. The arm-chair or tete-d-tete in a boudoir are no less important than the people who occupy them. The frill on a pillowsham can a rouse as many glowing thoughts as the fair head that rests upon the pillow. When you describe a chair, for instance, it must be diflerent from any other chair. You can convey the idea from your description just what kind of a woman it belongs to, whether she is yonng or old, homely or fair, and whether she wears open-worked stockings. You can give BUCII an air of abandon to the detailr, of the legs of r that chair that the male reader will be as much interested as if you were describing a ballet-girl. 011 are very frank in exposing the tricks of your trade," putin t lieMnjor, apparently addressing a piece of fish on the end of his fork. It is my opinion that realism in fiction is being pushed too far. I remember, when I was in Paris last summer, hearing of a j^oor devil of an author who died in attempting to be a realist. He had never been able to get his books on the market, so he thought it would be a brilliant idea to hang himself. He ex- pected to be cut down in time by his friends, of course, and proposed to write up his experience while dangling in mid-air. ell, the friends went off and got tight. They were a couple of students, and forgot all about the poor devil on the end of the line. When he was finally cut down, it was too late to write anything." It is so hard to attract attention now in the literary world," said Mv. Rossiter, that new authors will resort to any trick to gain the public ear. Just take the case of Townley Fessenden. He used to write absurd stories of low life, where everybody tallied blank verse, and the heroine generally died in the spring with a buuch of violet s at her I least. That man knew he would never 1 make a name writing that sort of stuff, so what » does 1-1-1 do but goes and marries the material for a novel." ".Married the material?" asked Aunt Fanny, looking around the table blankly. That's what I said and never did a man pur- sue a stormier path to fame. You may have heard of Mrs. Jossamy, a widow who once gave select receptions to patent-medicine poets and contribu- tors to the chambermaid weeklies. She had the reputation of being a perfect ogress was married several times, and got rid of the husbands with suspicions expedition after the briefest of honey- moons. Fessenden saw her; she was not bad- looking saw in her also the material of a great realistic novel; and married her." Mr Rossiter paused and drew a long breath. "Every time after that, when she smote him with a slipper, or went into hysterics, or indulged. in other diversions of the kind, he wrote a graphic description of the incident in his note-book. He lived with her a year. A marvel it was that he lived that twelve-month through at all; but he hungered for fame, and lie would have celebrity even if he was hustled into it with the slap of his wife's resounding palm. That year must have seemed like a century of purgatory to the poor man. And yet there was a compensation for his woes in the note-book crowded with the richest material for a realistic romance of a quality no one could dispute. There was no difficulty, of course, in getting a divorce, for there was the note-book 1 to give silent testimony to the widow's might. When he was free he drew upon the matrimonial journal for the facts of a story, and the result was A Marriage Venture,' now in its thirtieth edition. It made him famous at once. Ah shaking his head, the way that man can describe a slipper striking bare skin is superb you can almost feel it yourself—you really can There was some laughter over this, which seemed to irritate Mr. Rossiter. He looked upon us evi- dently as persons who had no reverence for realis- tic art. Come now, Cousin Jack," cried Sylvia, gayly, you are the most adventurous spirit of the party. Thrill us with some startling story of adventure. Are you going to let these stay-at-homes bear away all the honours of the occasion? Tell me some- thing romantic about the bushwhackers." Or the Greeks," said the Major, quietly trans- fixing me with a direct glance that startled me strangely. I stammered, because I knew he was staring at me. What could he mean by that allusion to card- sharpers ? There is nothing very romantic or poetic about my only encounter with a bushwhacker," I hasten to say. The one it was my misfortune to meet was dirty and profane, and knocked me off my horse because I had nothing to give him but a bad sovereign and a railroad pass of the year before. No material in that incident for a story, Mr. Rossiter." (( If I had been there myself," said the novelist, I should have got the material for several novels out of him. He would have been the most robbed of the two, I assure you. I never lose a chance to turn such an incident to account," wagging his head. "I bought a haunted house once, when I was engaged in writing a spiritualistic story, but I caught more colds prowling around the damp halls at midnight than I did ghosts. As for burglars, I generally get more out of them than they do out-pfeme. They find a few plated spoons, and I interview them and get the nucleus of such a story as The Midnight Mystery or The Cat's- eye Ring.' I suppose you have read them." I nodded in a non-committal way which he might interpret as he pleased. Both of these stories were taken from life. It is the only way to write a real book. Why, just to give you an inkling of my methods, I assure you that when I was getting up A Modern Lothario I used to climb up a ladder into Mrs. R.'s boudoir, just to appreciate the emotion of such an adven- ture." I should think the emotion would have been far from pleasant if someone bad happened to be passing and filled your illustrious person with buckshot," said Sylvia, roguishly Oil one must expect to suffer a little in the cause of art," said the novelist, loftily. Think | what a realistic effect the escapade had on paper I never met anyone yet who did not say it gave them a guilty tremor to read the narration of that midnight exploit. That's what the reading public want nowadays,—that is, in America,—a distinct shock, pleasant or unpleasant. They would just as soon be disgusted as delighted, and if a writer can blend the two his fortune is made." I should think you would find more material for your stories—ah—in Europe," drawled Major Carriston, keeping his eyes more on me, I thought, than on Rossiter. 11 America is too new to have the proper atmosphere for novel-writing." "It is improving every year, Major. You can find in the lower parb of the city more races than in Cairo. As you say, the atmosphere is too new to generate a great literature, but we shall get that in time. I am doing a great deal myself. We shall see," bowing his head modestly. Give us time. I might find a better field for literary endeavour in the Old World, but it takes a long time to convince people that a modern novelist knows more of his art than a Balzac, and in the meantime I should starve." Hunger is a great incentive for work, Mr. Rossiter," put in Sylvia. Think how many men have starved themselves into immortality "Immortality is amystery that no one can grasp or understand. I prefer to write for the present rather than for the unborn generations to come. If, as some scientists say, the world is intellectu. ally degenerating, there will come an era of idiocy. The penny dreadfuls of this century may become the classics of the next. To write for immortality in this age is to attempt to forecast the tastes of the future, and that is beyond anyone's power. That's where the dingy Grub Street hacks had the best of us latter-day literarians. They were not hampered with silly prejudices and the scruples of mercenary publishers. Society is pretty much the same at heart to-day as when 'Tom Jones' was written, only it has learned better how to dis- semble." Now, Mr. Rossiter, you are getting ready to abuse the age," said Aunt Fanny, shaking a warn- ing finger. Be careful, sir." My dear madam, the age is all right. I am to blame for having been born in it with an eighteenth- century brain." I should think you would find it fossilized by this time." Sylvia smiled maliciously. She turned to me with a look of half-anxious inquiry on her face. You look pale and tired, Jack. Perhaps this dinner has been too much of a tax on your strength." It will soon be over," I said, as the coffee was brought on. "I tlflnk, after all, ifc has cheered me up to hear the others talk, though I am not much in the mood to be entertaining myself." I should like to shine, if it be only to show the Maj or that I am not an utter idiot; but my head aches terribly, and my ideas seem to be in an in. extricnble tangle I feel his eyes are upon me even at that moment. Strange that they should give me such a qualm of fear It is because I am treading on strange ground, I suppose, that makes me suspect every- one. Your ring, Mr. Henley-" I feel myself flushing, and hastily move my hand out of sight. I had forgotten all about that ring. I ought to have thrown it away or buried it out of sight. It links me to the past that I want to for- get. This momentary embarrassment does not escape those sharp gray eyes of his as he con- tinues You will excuse me, Mr. Henley, for referring to your ring, but that strange setting of silver filigree reminded me of a little incident that trans- pired while I was in Vienna. It is a story that cost, me five thousand francs, so it ought to be gOOd I would write you one for less money," mur- mured the novelist, in an absent-minded way. Well, this was an adventure I did not seek- um ah I don't think I should care to repeat it either, don't you know." "Do tell us," piped Sylvia.. "Do." returned Mr. Rossiter, pricking up his cars, while his eyes assumed a business-like glitter. "Bul. I warn you beforehand that I shall steal it for a book if it is at all novel and dramatic." Welcome, I'm sure—but it's only an incident. I made the acquaintance at the hotel of a Russian prince, Sergius Rouloff he called himself, though I believe the beggar had no right to either name or title. Very pleasant scamp he proved to be; a cool hand at cards, could pink the ace at twenty paces every time with a dwelling pistol, rode like a centaur, and danced like the devil in a dress suit. He knew the best wines, the best restaurants, and where a pleasant evening could best be spent. We used to play cards together in the hotel. I generally won. One night we plaited a proprietary club. I had dined—ah—heavily, and was in a genial mood towards the world and everyboby in it. Was introduced to some friends of his there, all men with high-sounding titles. We sat down to playa game of American poker." Instead of flipping my coffee, I lifted it to my lips. My hand was trembling violently. The Major's eyes seemed to be boring their way through me like gimlets. He continued in the same pas- sionless voice: "The Prince did not play, but sat by my side where he could see my hand. During the game heady wines and liqueurs were freely circulated. As the evening advanced I lost heavily. The Prince suggested, sympathetically, that I might stop whenever I wanted to, bu t I was in a stubborn mood and resolved to sit there and retrieve my fortune if it took a week. I might have played myself into the workhouse if my eyes had not been opened." Ah, now we shall have it! exclaimed Ros- siter, as he rose like a gudgeon to swallow the situation of the story. I noticed that the Prince kept one hand care- lessly on the table. I was reminded, seeing Mr. Henley's ring, of the incident, because the Prince wore one just like ib. The flashing of this ring attracted me and drew my attention to the hand resting carelessly by my side. I noticed that the Prince often moved his fingers, particularly after looking at my hand. Observing him closely, I saw he was telegraphing to a confederate." "And then-and then ?" whispered Mr. Rossiter, tragically. I rose to my feet. 4 Voleur!' I cried, flinging the cards in his face; and in the confusion I rau from the place into the night." Everyone present started. The cup had fallen from my hand and shattered noisily on the table. Everyone was looking at me wonderingly, amazed. The room was a revolvingwlteel of colour. Where was all the coolness that had carried me through so many hazardous adventures? I was not strong, and the story had unnerved me. For I had been there that night. I was the lieutenant of the Prince or, rather, of the blackleg who had swindled him. It was the same ring now glistening on my finger. Carriston must have recognized me. This was a warning, the first gon from the enemy—a hint that I must leave the house or I should be exposed. These and a thousand other thoughts flashed through my brain as the room swayed before my fainting vision. "Ab, Jack, you are ill," cried Sylvia, almost with tears in her voice. The sweet sound rallied me at once. "Is there anything I can do for you ? I am like a skeleton at the feast," I said, with a nervous laugh, as they all pressed around me with words of sympathy. I think I had better go to my room, for a while at least." I felt angry to break down before such an audi- ence; it seemed so childish but then that cursed story had set my brain whirling. "Major Carriston, will you give my nephew your arm ? said Aunt Fanny. "This is his nrst) day out after a long illness, and he has overtaxed his strength." "Delighted, I'm sure," returned the Major, offering his arm as gallantly as if he were about to escort a pretty woman to her carriage. My hand trembled as ib touched his coab. I wonder if he noticed it. I could have banged my head against the door from sheer vexation I was making such a fool of myself. I shall not let you out again very soon," said Aunt Fanny, shaking a warning finger at me as, half supported by Sylvia and the Major, I moved towards the door. I was not much of a burden on the Major as we made our way upstairs. I kept my eyes averted lest he should read my story in my face, though half-believing he had guessed it already. They left me at the door of my bedroom with many expressions of sympathy and solicitude. I felt much more courageous now that I was in the sanctity of my own chamber, where I held secret interviews with my old self when alone. So I convinced them that the faintness had all passed away, and apologized for giving them so much trouble As the Major and Sylvia passed down the stairs I heard her say How strange that lie should have been over- come while you were telling that story 1" Yes," rejoined Carriston, with his lazy drawl, it seemed rather a peculiar coincidence." CHAPTER V. THE FOURTH STORY BACK. A gray court, a broken fountain, a red-haired woman knitting on a red stocking in the sun. Such are my first impressions as I pass from the noisy street into the malodorous shadows ofCrim- min's Rents. Half timidly I glance up at the windows on either side of the way, as if I expected to catch a glimpse of a vacant face, dull eyes, and trembling mouth outlined against some grimy pane-the face of the man I am looking for—John Henley Ab least I can do something to help him, though I do not reinstate him in his rightful place. If it is possible to make his life comfortable, no expense shall be spared, and the people who have taken him in shall be amply rewarded. Of course, I argue to myself, if his case is hope- less, if he can never have his reason restored, why should I take the trouble to tell Sylvia or Aunt Fanny about him at all ? It will save a great deal of unpleasantness if I keep the secret. To delude their kind heartswould be certainly more merciful, in the present instance, than to tell the truth. How much better to cherish the delusion than be bur- dened with a helpless reality The Fogarty family are evidently well known in Grimmin's Rents, for the lady knitting the red stocking pulls herself together at the sound of the name and offers to direct me how to find their apartments. She leads the way into a foul-smell- ing hall, keeping up a rattling accompaniment of apartments. She leads the way into a foul-smell- ing hall, keeping up a rattling accompaniment of remarks regarding her trouble with her neighbours, as I plod on over the greasy boards in her wake. Every door we pass arouses some ireful reminis- cence. According tcmy cicerone there are a great variety of infamous characters in the house and a certain Mrs. Ginger, in particular, appears fre- quently in her conversation, whom she avers thab she will some day deprive of her heart. I am glad to cross her dubious palm with silver and make my escape up the stairs in the direction of Mr. Fogarty's apartment" Knocking at the door, a shrill Irish voice Come in I do so. Mr. Fogarty, muffled in a blanket, is propped up in a chair by the fire, smoking a blackened clay pipe. Two children whose sex I cannot determine are rolling around about his feet. He springs up on seeing me and limps over to a chair, which he dusts carefully with a bandanna handkerchief which he has removed from his throat. "Have a seat-ptisliingitlowardsme. The new collector, I suppose ? with a dubious look of inquiry, stroking his chin whiskers thoughtfully. Ah, sur, I'm afraid ye've come a little too soon for me to be glad to see you. The fire, ye see throwed me out of a job, and havin' this acci- dent," illustrating his remarks with a limp, "it's the divil's own time I've had gettin' a sup of any- thing to ate for meself and the childers." Bill; I'm not the collector," I hastened to add. Naw?" taking his pipe out of his mouth slowly and eyeing me over doubtfully. Mebbe a par- son, then ?" I almost burst out laughing. I must be cer* tainly improving in appearance to be taken for a clergyman. "No, indeed, Mr. Fogarty, I am neither, and you need have no fear about your rent; it will be forthcoming." "Eh, what's that?" as if he did not quite under- stand me. I say your rent will be all right. I'll pay it myself. First answer a few questions as quickly as you can. You rescued a youn", man from the burning of the Carlton House." "No, sir." What's that? "I didn't reshcue him. He was already reshcued when I found him." Oh I am relieved You see, sur, I found him wanderin* about the ruins on the mornin' after thefoire. All the others was tuk away, but somehow they come to forget him. Anyway, he couldn't slipake his own name, and seemed daft and foolish like so, as no one interferes, I just up and broughb him here, d'ye moind? And me and me old woman—site's oub e work in' the" day for a lady-we have took quite a likin' for the poor thing, though all he does from tnornin' until nighb is sittin' in the sun playin' and singin' to himself." Mr. Fogarty," I cried, you are an angel What's that?" starting up as if I had called hi in a disagreeable name. I repeat, you are an angel. You nave gone out of your way to be kind to a helpless stranger, a burden that few people would have readily as- sumed." I was in such a glow of enthusiasm that you might have imagined I had helped Mr.Fogarty in his benevolent work. Now, what a fuss about a little thing pro- tested the Fogarty, stroking the paintbrush on the end of his chin caressingly. '• Why, I'd do the same for a tramp cat in an ash-barrel, 'lone a human bein'. It's my opinion," puffing thouht- fully on his pipe, that the poor man got hit wid a fallin' timber that. knocked ITnn silly, so's he endn't remember his own name nor nobhin' at all, at all. Well, I knowed if I didn't take him in they'd haul him off to the hospital, where thiin doctors Would have a high old time experimentin' wid such a curiosity. I had a brother once that got struck by a train one mornin' as he was rollin' home wid his shkiu full o' mountain jew. It was his head was bad, like the poor gintleman yonder," point- ing with his pipe. Well, when thim doctors got trew wid him, I tink dey must have put his brain again in his head upside down, for from that day he always talked backward, and his thinker was that mixed up it tuk us a long whoile to get tho way of it,. When he asked for a chew of tobacco, he meant, a hair-cut, and whin he said it was going to rain, he wanted a glass of whiskey, d'ye moind? Ah, it tuk us a long, long time to git onto the change in his cranium. Out o' that, ye divil to a tow-headed child who had stolen up while he was talking, and taken a secret pull at the pipe resting on the arm of the chair. "Ah, he's his father's own b'y," said Mr. Fogarty, running his fingers through the jute patch that crowned the young one's mottled face. "I was just such a howly terrer meself when I was Dinnis's age." Then reflectively, "Would you like to see the poor gintleman ? at the same time filling his pipe. He's very quiet, but he's not mortal fond of strangers. He shlapes most of the time when not fiddlin' "Fiddling?" I ask Yes, he's got hold of my old man's violin, and is that fond of it that I haven't had the heart to take it away from him since." I9 there any way I could see him without being seen ? I ask, in a half-ashamed sort of way. I felt as if I could not face the poor man. It would be like bringing a murderer into the presence of his victim. Oh, that's aisy to manage," said Mr. Fogarty, with alacrity. "It's the next room but wan. Ye ¡ can take a chair, get up on it, and look over the 8kylight, d'ye moind ? Hear that?" as the sofb ■oundf of a violin was heard from without. "He's playin' agin. Always sad as the wailin' of a ban- shee. It gives me the creeps sometimes to hear bim." And there was a world of sorrow in the strains of the violin as the music rose and fell and died of the violin as the music rose and fell and died away in faint echoes down the corridor-a sobbing in the strings, like the moaning of someone in pain, the wail of a lost soul groping in the night. Ye may well look sad," said Mr. Fogarty, noticing how serious my face had become bub do you know, sir, I think the poor crater is tryin' to tell me his story through the violin ? He's dafb himself, so he puts his soul in the strings so thev should slipake for him." Guided by the plaintive voice of the violin, I made my way along the deserted passage, carry. ing in one hand the stool Mr. Fogarty had kindly loaned me. I was trembling all over with excitement-jusb why, I could not tell. What I was about to see could not be so horrible—only at the worst a vacant face, a crouching figure, and two lustreless eyes. It was some time after I had reached a position where I could look into the room that the occu- pant could be defined in the uncertain lighb. Something was moving about in one corner, sway- ing to and fro as the strains of the violin rose and fell. By and by this object lurched toward the window and stood in the light, playing a sad melody that was like the wailing of the wind. Was this old man in the tattered dressing-gown indeed Jack Henley? Had it not been for the violin I might have fancied that I had made a mis- take, and that I was looking in upon another room. There could scarcely have been more than a year's difference in our ages, and, having led a wild life myself, I might easily have been taken for thirty-four. But the man before me looked fully sixty. His sufferings on that terrible night of the fire must have been beyond imagining, for his curling I hair had turned almost white. I could not get any definite idea of his face, because it was covered with a stubbly beard. His features were regular and his mouth was not feeble, like an imbecile's. It was only when he turned his eyes toward the light that I could see they were cold, as if cutout: of lapis lazuli. Now and then, as he played on the violin, ho sang over and over again these melancholy worda: Art thou lonely in thy tomb? Art thou cold in such a gloom ? Rouse thee, then, and make me room. Miserere Domine." The place, gloomy as a grave, the vague grey light that fell upon the singer, gave a spectral shade to the picture, and I could not repress a shudder. In the next moment be had left his dirge-like eong far behind and was humming a blithe air from a comic opera. His face was smiling now as he swayed to and fro to the rapid music. Yet the sight was so incongruous of this poor, witless creature being gay at all, that I thought the sad song was more in keeping with the place As he swayed to and fro in the light from the grimy window I called him by name. "Henley, Jack Henley," I said, softly and yet distinctly. But he did not start, though I know lIe must have heard me perfectly. He paused for a moment in his playing, and looked around the room with an attentive air. He evidently did not recognize the sound of his own name, for his eyes t-howed no flash of intelligence. As I did not speak again, he took up the violin and resumed singing the dreadful dirge. I turned sadly away toward Mr. Fogarty"ti room. I felt the weight of a great guilt on my mind, thinking of this poor, miserable creature playing there in the twilight alone. "Mr. Fogarty," I said, when I had resumed my seat by the fire, I am not even a friend of this poor fellow. I never saw him before until to-day, but I am interested in his case, and I pro- pose to do all I can for him." Mr. Fogartv nodded and sucked noisily at his clay pipe. 1 was in that fire myself," I resumed, and I cannot think without a shudder that I might even now be in his place if I had not been so miracu- lously saved. I think I can best show my grati- tude for preservation by doing what I can for— what do you call him ? "Well," said Mr. Fogarty, "I call him Hey- wood." My own name You see," he added, they found the hotel register some days after the fire, and on it was the name of a party called Heywood who didn't! turn up at all, at all, so I give it to him yonder," waving his pipe in the direction of the violin player. Here was a strange coincidence. We had both changed our identity. If Major Carriston were to pry into my secret now he would be completely mystified. My position was growing more and more secure. And does he understand you when you call him by name ? Well, at first the poor thing looked as if he'd never heard the name of Heywood before, but now lie seems to understand well enough." And are there any signs of his intelligence re- turning ? Oh, he has flashes, when he talks as good as anybody, but of what's past he don't remember nothin'. I've tried him again and again, but he only shakes his head and puts his two fists to his forehead like as if his brain had turned to stir- about," Now, Mr. Fogarty," I asked, would you feel insulted if I were to offer you a little money for the trouble you have taken for the poor man ? It was Henley's money I was offering, so I could not believe I was doing wrong in providing for hit comfort. f "Mr.—Mr.—" began Mr. Fogarty. "Henley," I said. Well, Mr. Henley, I didn't expect this, but I won't say but what it comes in handy, bein'sas I've lost me job as watchman at the hotel, and me old woman has the rumaticks that bad she can't go out much. So I'll take it (it was a twenty-dollar bill), and thank you kindly for the same," stowing it away in a jar on the mantelpiece. cc Does there seem to be any hope that Heywood I will recover?" starting at the sound of my own name. You have had a doctor We have that, sur, but he always shakes his head after looking at the poor crater. He says he thinks that perhaps there's some piece of the skull pressin' down on his brain, and that some of them great doctors might be able to do something, bub ib's beyond him. I think he said they might tin-pan him. Now, phwat the divil did he mean by that? shaking his puzzled head dubiously. He probably spoke of the trepanning process. The skull is perforated and a piece taken out to relieve the pressure on the brain." Oh dear oh dear Cut a chunk out of his head, is it ? Bore a hole in the top of him, is it ? Well, what next?" holding up his hands. It is a very delicate operation. Did the doc- tor think of performing it? cc Oh, dear, no be said he couldn't. It was out of his line, which is just dosing people; but he said there was them as could do the job, though there didn't seem much use of tryin' it in this case." The shadows were gathering in the room. Mr. Fogarty got up and lit a kerosene lamp and stirred the fire. It'll be time to be givin' the poor chap his medicine purty soon," he said, nodding towards the clock. I give him a big shpoonful every two hours," taking up a bottle of some red liquid and shaking it up in front of his eyes. It's a caution what nashty things them doctors do fix up for a man when he can't help himself. But this must be mortal good, for it smells enough to knock ye down," making a wry face as he brought the bottle up to his nose. My, but that's awful to put in yer stummick? How do you manage to give it to him in the night? "I asked. Oh, I luk after that meself. You see, I've been a night watchman for these ten years back, an' I can't get out of me old habits of roamin* around at night. Me old woman looks after him durin' the day, and I takes me turn from six to six in the mornin'. When she goes out washin' I have to get me sleep when I can, as I did to-day. Between the two of us the poor thing gets his shtuff reg'lar." And what would the result be if you failed to give him his medicine at the proper time?" I asked, with an awakened interest. Well, he gets worse at night, and the medicine quiets him. If we can keep him down for a few weeks, now, the doctor says he may in time get to know something again. If he were to lose his medicine all night and get roarin' aroun', why sure there would be no hope of his ever findin' his thoughts again. His brain would never re- cover." Never recover never recover The words rang through my brain with endless reiteration. I'm sorry I have no refreshments to offer ye," said Mr. Fogarty, looking hard at his youngest born as if in doubt whether to offer it to be grilled or on toast. I might send Dinnis out with the growler if yez could fancy a glass of ale." Don't put yourself to any trouble on my ac- count, Mr. Fogarty, I beg." Oh, it's no trouble." "But I am not thirsty." Well, I'll get some, anyway, for I'm mortal dry myself; and then, you see, it's comfortin' for me to have a sup around when I'm doin' night I work. Helps me keep awake. Here, Dinnis," to the boy, get me a quart of new and old mixed, and don't be whiskin' the froth off on the way home or I'll skin ye." The growler," a huge stone pitcher, almost as large as the boy, was dragged out of a corner, and Dinnis was dismissed with a parting admonition to kape yer uose out 0' the foam and tell Grogan to give good measure, because it's for a sick man." How is it," I asked, after the child bad gone away, that no inquiries have been made aboub this Hey wood by his friends? Have you arranged it so that he can be found if anvone comes in search of him ? Oh, yes, sur. They know at police head- quarters that I have him here. Me ould woman has been down there several toimes, but you're the only one that's inquired about him yet. I'm afraid he's a stranger in these parts. Well, it's small matter if he's^ot called for, because we like him. When I bring him his medicine, or his bit of tay and mate, he don't say anything at all wid his mouth, but he shpakes like a born oraytor wid his eyes, as if he'd like to thank me but couldn't." Mr. Fogarty looked sympathetically in the fire, and I felt a twinge of shame when I thought of my own cowardly part in this strange drama. I did feel a decent desire, however, at that moment to arrange for the comfort, of poor Henley. Give me credit for that. cc You have been so good to this waif, Mr. Fogarty, that I don't think he could be placed in better hands. I will feel very much indebted to you if you will do all you can for his comfort. The case is so peculiar, and I am so grateful for my own life being saved, that I want to make a hand- some allowance every week for this victim of the fire;" and I mentioned a sum that set Mr. Fogarty's eyes dancing with wonder. I could afford to be generous, since it was Henley's own money I was spending. Ah, it's kind of ye, sur," said the good-hearted Irishman, grasping my hand warmly in his, while a tear glistened in his eye. YTe see, we've tried to do what we could for the poor thing, but he's a gintleman, an' used to comforts which take more money than we have handy. The Lord reward you, sur, for your good- ness to a stranger." Then I was aware that the blood in my face was becoming abnormally warm, and I coughed drily and turned away my head lest be should see the shame in my eyes. I felt that he must see that I was an impostor if lie looked me full in the face. But lie had turned to the fire again, his features wreathed in a glow of kindly thoughts, and when he looked at me it was with a half reverent expres- sion, as if he were addressing an'angel fresh from the clouds. To be Continued.

William Haynes was, at the Marylebone Police Court, sent to hard labour for three months for having stolen jewellery from Norfolk Mansions, Wigniore Street•, the property of Miss Beaumont, a lodger, an well as several art icles from the library of the Royal Yaclil Club, where he had been em- ployed as a Waiter. An engine-driver named Robert Smith, of Long- eight, Manchester, in the employ of the London and North Wee, erti, fell down dead whilst on his engine, at Rugby. Death is attribu ed to heart- disease. Deceased, who leaves a wife and five children, was jutt aboub to start a Manchester express train when his death occurred. One oftheNew York newspapers has made public the fact that) Miss Helen Gould, the daughter of the late Mr. Jay Gould, the millionaire, who inherits a large share of his estate, is constantly guarded by special policemen in plain clothes from the intrusion of "crauks" who hany her with offers I of marriage. Mr. H. T. Steward has made his award in the arbitration arising out of alleged injuries to the | Monte Carlo Hotel, Leicester Street, London, by ] the electric lighting engines of the Empire Theatre, j for which £ 2,000 damages were claimed. The award is in favour of the Palace Company on every ( point, M Gulfanti, the claimant, having to pay all costs. Mr. Marshall, a Devizes solicitor, has been awarded £ 300 damages in the Sheriff's Court as a recompense for having been 1 belled by a Mr. Pickett. Mr. Marshall had acted for Mr. Pickett in the purchase ot some property and in arranging a mortgage, but after a time Mr. Pickett went to another solicitor, and took to writing libellous letters aboub Mr. Marshall.

THE LADIES' COLUMN. | DON'b SLEEP IJT LINES', j The world, or this part of it, is full of house- keepers who think that there is no material for elieebe and pillow-cases comparable to linen. They don'b always have it, to be sure, because it, is expensive, but they always covet it and finger the shilling breadths lovingly and L wonder if the time will ever come when all these things shall be added unto them. But the truth about the linen is that it i*n't the ideal dressing for beds at all. It is cold and slippery, and insures a sensitive person the dream of sleeping on an iceberg, which does well enough for an occasional experience, like sea-sickness, but which palls on 100 frequent repetition. Besides that, it wi inkles and tumbles in spite of its heavier body, much more than cotton does, giving a bed after one night's use a most slovenly and uninviting appearance. Nobody recommends liiiai for body wear. It,s firm text ure 111111 hard efface make it wholly non-absorbent it allows the body to become chillelt by refusing he perspira- tion, and so has been known to bring on serious illness. For outside wear in summer, linen may be tolerated as clothing, hot no- where else. Where, however, it is it, itii use- follest and best is in household usos. For table service, for the toilet, and for minor ornamental details, ib is simply invaiiinble-it,ii smoothness of texture, its brilliancy, which landerhig even increases, its exquisite freshness makes it the one fabric fit to dn.p' the dining table, and to use in the toilet, while its suitability for needle- work decoration makes it admirable for all kinds of fancy work. And liei-e it. is ripliffitily used, but to wear next the s): in and L-leepiti-No NURSERY SUPERSTITION. One of the deepest grounded yet most, ground- less superstitions of the nursery is that regard. ing the second summer." h is generally believed that the child that pa-,osee through the second summer has shown the proper vitality to run life's battle. Now, the fact isthatthereare more children to die in the first summer than in the second, and the mortality of the second summer is due to the ignorance of parents in feeding their babies, the summer complaints all being affections of the digestive organs, which can be surely guarded against. Poor little, baby Superstition makes his lot a hard one from the day of bis birth until he has cut bie eve beeth. TO SECURE A DIGNIFIED CARRIAGE. Women and girls who wish to retain their grace and contour of figure should begin by learning to stand well. This ie within the power of every girl who takes paiiim with her- self, providing, of course, she is properly formed but it necessitates years of vigilance, and, whether sitting or standing always pre- serving her erectness and pose. By the time she has finished growing it has become second nature to her. By standing well we mean the throwing forward and upward of the chest, flattening of the back, with the shoulder-blades held in their proper places, and the definite curving in the small of the back, thu* throwing the whole weight of the body on the hips. No other women hold themselves so well as well- born Englishwomen much of their beauty tiee in their dignified carriage, the delicate erectness of their figures, and the grand poise of their heads. All this, with a reasonable amount of exer- cise, preserves the figure, because it keeps the muscles firm and well strung. It is well 1,0 remember also that an indolent, slouchy manner of walking is not only exceedingly ugly, but it is positively injurious to both heart and lungs. Tile younger generation has, at, any rate, no excuse whatever for these bad habits, seeing t hat at most schools now gymnast ics form part) of the regular education, and, besides, girls now are allowed to playgames requiring nctivity tliitf, wa- iiiikviowti to their mothers oven, to say nothing of their grandmothers. These very games, doctors tell us, are making girls inllci 1 tiller and stronger than earlier iu the cent ury, and it, is a pity we see so many round backs amongst them TIIE THIRTY BEAUTIES. Branlome, >>1. i.jmttie beauty, gives the Spanish version of ihe thirty "ifs." If-flow. Indies, lend a ear— IfT'ooe tilings are wiiit,e skiii, teeth, and hands Tinee things black—eyes, eyebrows, and eye- lashes Toree things red—lips, cheehs, and nails; Three things long—waist, hair, and ban Is Titi,ee sliort-t eel It, e,irt- aii,i feet, Three things wide—breast, front, and IJrow; Three things narrow — mouth, waist and unklo Three things large—arm, hip, and cnlf; Three things fine—lips, hair and fingers Three things small—nose, head, and bosom Then there are thirty beauties in all. TO MAKE MILK OF ALMOXDS Milk of almonds is a very useful emollient for the face, and it is so simply made that it may iunuaetniiny of our lady readers to mnke it for themselves. Take 30 sweet almonds, and bruise them in a mortar; slowly add a pint of water, rubbing assiduously all the time. A couple of pieces of sugar should be added, to prevenb the oil from separating from the water. When thoroughly well mixed, strain the whole through a flannel. A little orange-flower water added to it gives a very delicate perfume. WHAT TO TEACH OUR BOYS Not to tease girls or boys smaller than them. selves. When their play is over for the day, to wash their face and hands, brush their hair, and spend the evening in the house. Not) to take the easiest chair in the room and put it directly in front of the fire, and forget to offer it to their mother when she comes to sit. down. To treat their mother as politely as if she were a strange lady who did nob spend her life in their service. To be as kind and helpful to their sisters as to other boys' sisters. N t to grumble or refuse when asked to do some errand which mnsb be done, and which otherwise takes the time of some one or other who has more to do than themselves. To take pride in having their mothers and sifteis for their beat friends. To try and find some amusement for the evening that all the family can join in, large aint small. To take pride in being gentlemen at home. To cult ivate a cheerful temper. To learn to sew on their own buttons. If they do anything wrong, to take therf mothers into their confidence, and, above all, never to lie about, anything they have done. A CLEAR COMPLEXION No wonnn is happy "hi) has not a good com- liloxi in. Th<M-e are many muddy-skinned women who only need a short course in cathar- tics to give them clear skins and clean-looking eyes. Then, again, there are others who need to use hot waher and any good unjierfumed soap on their faces once a day. After the face is washed in hot; water it should be rinsed iu cold mid allowed to dry without using a towel. Toweling the ft.ce too much brings on wrinkles. No woman who fails to wash her face in soap and ho' water can claim to have a clean skin. Li tte bumps and swellings or redness are relieved by bathing with spirits of camphor. Ammonia in the water wrinkles the skin. Blondes should never use glycerine on the face. If they must use grease to soften the skin, leb it be a lit,tie almond oil, nixed with almond meal and oat meal or corn meal. Steaming the face, said to be good for a birnpy skin, reddens it: almost beyond repair. Yonng girls with ftubbytinger-tipa should pinch each finger separately after washing the lumds.

A saucepan in which rice, oatmeal, or any. thing sticky has been cooked may be very easily cleaned by putting in a cupful of ashes when taken off the fire. and then filled with water. Women of great beauty have letters of recom- mendation on their forehead, written by fie hand of Nature iu characters legible 00 all.